Page 35
THE DEVIL YOU KNOW
SEAN
“ W hat if I don't want it back?”
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline, for the hint of a joke, for anything that would tell me he wasn't serious. But his face remained impassive, those familiar eyes now hollow mirrors reflecting nothing back.
“You can't be fecking serious,” I finally managed, my voice hoarse.
Cassiel stood silently in the corner, his expression unreadable, watching our exchange with that otherworldly stillness that always reminded me he wasn't human. His trench coat was rumpled as usual, his tie askew, but his eyes were sharp and focused.
Cade shrugged, the gesture so casual it made my blood boil. “It makes me a better hunter.”
I couldn't hold back. “A better hunter?” My voice came out sharp, almost dangerous. I stepped forward, fists clenched at my sides. “That's not you talking, Cade. That's not you.”
“Isn't it?” He tilted his head, studying me with clinical detachment. “I'm faster. Stronger. I don't hesitate. I don't let emotions cloud my judgment.”
“You don't feel anything at all,” I shot back. “You're just going through the motions.”
“So what?” Cade's voice remained calm, infuriatingly reasonable. “I get the job done. Isn't that what matters? I'm more effective now than I ever was before.”
“Effective?” I spat the word. “You're talking about killing people, Cade. Possessed people we could have saved. You didn't even try to exorcise them.”
“They were already dead,” Cade countered. “The demons had them for weeks. You know the odds.”
“We've saved people possessed longer than that!” My voice echoed against the warehouse walls. “But you didn't even consider it. You just pulled the trigger. Again and again.”
Cade's expression didn't change. Not a flicker of remorse, not a shadow of doubt. Nothing.
“It was the right call,” he said simply.
“Jaysus Christ,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “Listen to yourself.”
“I am listening,” Cade replied. “And for once, I'm thinking clearly. No guilt. No second-guessing. Just the mission.”
I glanced at Cassiel, looking for backup, but the angel was watching the exchange with grim fascination, his head tilted slightly in that birdlike way of his. I turned back to Cade, struggling to keep my voice steady.
“This isn't about the mission,” I said. “This is about you. The real you. Not this... shell.”
“Maybe the real me was the problem all along,” Cade suggested, spreading his hands. “Ever think of that? Maybe I was too soft, too hesitant. Maybe that's why we've lost so many.”
The words hit like a sucker punch. I knew he was talking about all the hunters we'd lost over the years. Using their deaths as justification for his soullessness felt like a desecration.
“That's bullshit and you know it,” I growled. “You saved more people than anyone I know precisely because you cared. Because you saw the humanity in monsters when no one else did.”
“And look where that got us,” Cade gestured around the warehouse. “Four seals broken. One to go before the First Nephilim walks free. Maybe if I'd been like this from the start, we wouldn't be here.”
“If you'd been like this from the start, you wouldn't be Cade Cross,” I snapped. “You'd be just another soulless killer. And I wouldn't have followed you into hell and back.”
Something flickered across Cade's face then, so brief I almost missed it. But it was gone before I could identify it.
“I didn't ask you to follow me,” he said quietly.
“No,” I agreed, my voice dropping. “You never would have. That's the point, Cade. The real you would have died before dragging anyone down with him.”
“Well, the real me did die,” Cade replied, his voice cold. “In hell. And maybe that's for the best.”
“How can you say that?” I demanded, stepping closer, close enough that I could see myself reflected in his empty eyes. “After everything we've been through?”
“Because it's the truth,” Cade said simply. “And for once, I can see it clearly. Without all the... noise.”
“Noise,” I repeated incredulously. “You mean humanity? Compassion? Love?”
Cade didn't answer. He just looked at me, his face a perfect mask of indifference.
“This is insane,” I muttered. “You're not thinking straight.”
“I'm thinking more clearly than I ever have,” Cade replied. “And it's my choice, Sean. My soul. My decision.”
“It's not just about you!” I shouted, patience finally snapping. “What about the people you care about? What about us? The people who care about you?”
“That's emotional blackmail,” Cade observed, unmoved. “And it doesn't change anything. I'm more useful like this.”
“Useful,” I echoed, the word tasting bitter. “Is that all that matters to you now? Being useful?”
“Shouldn't it?” Cade asked, genuinely curious. “Isn't that why we do this? To make a difference? To save people?”
“We do this because we care,” I insisted. “Because we feel their pain. Because we can't stand by and watch innocent people suffer.”
Cade considered this, then shrugged again, that maddening, dismissive gesture. “I can still save them. I just don't have to feel their pain to do it.”
“You're being reckless,” I said, trying a different approach. “Without your soul, you're missing crucial instincts. The gut feelings that have kept us alive all these years.”
“I'm being logical,” Cade countered. “And as I said, it's my choice.”
We went in circles, voices rising, neither willing to back down. But in the end, it resolved nothing. Cade simply turned and walked toward the door, as if the conversation was over.
“Don't walk away from this,” I called after him, my voice raw with frustration.
He paused, hand on the doorknob, and looked back over his shoulder. “We're done here, Sean.”
The door closed behind him with a quiet click that somehow felt more final than a slam. I stood there, breathing hard, fists clenched so tight my knuckles ached.
“Fecking hell,” I whispered, my voice echoing in the suddenly silent warehouse.
Frustrated and raw, I headed to Purgatory an hour later, needing space to think. Not the actual realm of monsters, thank God, but the dive bar that served as a neutral ground for hunters and supernatural beings alike. The irony of the name wasn't lost on anyone who frequented it.
The place was dimly lit, smelling of spilled beer and old cigarette smoke despite the citywide ban. A jukebox in the corner played classic rock just loud enough to make eavesdropping difficult. Perfect for conversations about things that went bump in the night.
Juno looked up as I entered, her dark eyes widening in surprise. She stood behind the bar, elegant hands pausing mid-mix of a drink. Her dark skin seemed to glow under the bar lights, and she'd styled her hair in tight braids that framed her face.
“Sean bloody Cullen,” she called out, her British accent cutting through the din of the bar. “Haven't seen your miserable face in what, two months?”
I slid onto a stool, giving her a half-hearted salute. “Been busy.”
“Too busy to check in?” Juno raised an eyebrow, finishing the drink and sliding it to her waiting customer before moving over to me. “Last I heard, you were on some suicide mission to find Cade. Word was you'd gone off the deep end.”
“Yeah, well,” I muttered. “He came back.”
Juno went still, her movements becoming unnaturally precise as only a vampire's could. “Came back? Cade Cross is alive?”
I nodded grimly. She placed a glass in front of me, pouring a generous measure of amber liquid. I drained half of it in one go, welcoming the burn.
“How?” she asked, her voice dropping to a predatory whisper, red flickering briefly at the edges of her irises. “No one just walks out of hell, Sean.”
“He didn't walk out,” I said, the memory of Cade's sudden reappearance still raw. “He just... appeared. Standing on my doorstep like he'd been gone for a weekend, not six months in the pit.”
Juno studied my face, her vampire senses dissecting my micro-expressions, the subtle changes in my scent betraying my distress. “But something's wrong with him,” she stated rather than asked.
Before I could answer, the door opened, bringing in a gust of cold air and Lex, his usual flamboyance on full display in a deep burgundy jacket. His eyes landed on me, and he stopped dead in his tracks.
“Holy shit,” he said, making his way quickly to the bar. “The prodigal hunter returns. I'd heard you'd gone completely off the grid.”
“Disappointed?” I asked dryly.
“Intrigued,” Lex corrected, sliding onto the stool beside me. “Last time I saw you, you were bleeding all over that warehouse in Queens, threatening to skin a crossroads demon alive if it didn't tell you how to find Cade.”
“Sounds about right,” I admitted.
Lex's eyes narrowed, his usual charm giving way to the sharp intelligence that made him so dangerous. “Wait. Your aura is different. Did you actually...”
I nodded, and Lex's mouth tightened.
“Cade's back?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “After all this time?”
“Technically,” I said, and took another drink.
“What the hell does that mean?” Lex demanded.
I stared into my glass, watching the liquid catch the dim light, my thoughts a tangled mess of anger and fear.
“Like I told Juno, He just showed up,” I said flatly. “But it's not him. Not really. We found out why he's been so... off since he returned. He doesn't have a soul.”
Juno's fingers tightened around the bottle until the glass creaked in protest. “A body without a soul,” she murmured, something hungry and fascinated in her expression. “Walking, talking, thinking... but empty inside.”
“How did you figure that out?” Lex asked, his usual theatrics abandoned.
“This angel, Cassiel,” I said. “He did some kind of... examination. Put his hand right through Cade's chest, like it was nothing.”
“Angel?” Juno repeated, her voice uncertain. “Like, actual angel? With wings and halos and all that?”
“More like wings and attitude problems,” I muttered.
“Christ,” she said, looking shaken. “I thought they were just stories the older vampires told to scare us.”
Table of Contents
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- Page 35 (Reading here)
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