Page 1 of Forbidden (Dark Delights #3)

There was a knot in Ira Faer’s gut as he parked his car in the lot of the Paladin Guild’s sprawling headquarters. On paper, they were a religious school for orphans. In truth, they were a demon hunting guild founded by the Catholic Church. Life behind the protected wall was all Ira knew, and at one time he’d found peace on its holy grounds. Not so much lately.

The sky was overcast and threatening to spit rain, but that didn’t stop the paladins. Men were scattered around the training yard and running track, all in various stages of their career and all working toward the same thing.

Ira, too, was working toward something, but he was afraid he’d lost sight of what.

Every single day for months now, he’d done the same thing. He’d arrive early at the guild, sign in on the third floor of the administrative building where the prophets’ quarter was located, spend the day in a meditative vision room, and leave. Each day, he logged no visions. Each day, that was a lie .

He’d been having visions for months, but none of them were safe to log with the guild. He couldn’t tell them he saw humans and demons working together. He couldn’t tell them about the beautiful man with red eyes he would meet, how he would experience untold pleasures with him. How he would turn his back on the guild’s teachings because of him. They wouldn’t understand. He knew they wouldn’t. He didn’t even understand it himself.

So he lied. His supervisor thought he was having some sort of block. Until he had an appropriate vision he could log with them, he would have no choice but to continue to lie. He was in too deep to back out now. Even if he admitted to the truth, he would be admitting that he’d been lying to his superiors for months. He didn’t know what they would do if they found out, but he couldn’t afford to risk it.

With a sigh, he grabbed his travel mug and locked his car as he trudged toward the building. His stomach growled, so he chugged some coffee to silence it, wincing at the bitter taste. He didn’t care for black coffee, but he couldn’t fill it with sugar and creamer the way he’d prefer while he was fasting. The guild taught them that they must fast to receive their visions, and he needed them to think he was fasting to get over this imaginary block.

He was almost to the door when the loudspeakers came on. “ Paladins and staff, please make your way to the cafeteria for an announcement from Commander Sloan. Paladins and staff, please make your way to the cafeteria for an announcement from Commander Sloan. ”

Technically, prophets weren’t paladins or staff, but there was no way he was going to miss this.

People were still filing into the cafeteria when he arrived, so he hung back and waited until the doorway was clear, then slipped inside and leaned against the wall. The big room was crowded, the scent of breakfast meats and sweet syrup filling the air. Many were still eating, the scrape and rattle of silverware and dishes audible over the din of excited and curious voices. Ira spied Nathan Accardi sitting nearby, elbows on the table, with his fingers threaded together and pressed to his mouth.

Nathan, shaking hands with a white-haired man with red eyes.

Nathan, his gray eyes wide and pleading, speaking desperate and wild to Sloan’s cold, calculating face.

Ira shook himself.

Another man slipped through the door, grabbing the seat beside Nathan. Isaac Morrow. His shock of red hair, tied back in a lackadaisical bun, and sea of freckles belied the viciousness with which he fought their secret war. His future was more uncertain than others. He would have some difficult decisions ahead, and they would determine his fate. Ira didn’t know how it would conclude, and he didn’t envy him.

Sloan came in through a different door on the other side of the room, looking pleased by the turn-out as his glacier-blue eyes roamed the room.

“Thank you all for coming. I know many of you have been hoping to hear this news for some time, so it’s with great pleasure that I inform you all today that we have an official ruling from the council in favor of changing the threat classification of the halflings from a category C to a category A. That means that from now on, if you see a halfling, you have permission to kill.”

The room exploded with cheers, and Ira clapped mechanically, his gut twisting with unease. This wasn’t right. The halflings weren’t the problem. Halflings were human souls that transformed into demons in Hell, identifiable by their red eyes. Sure, they were technically demons, but they kept to themselves here on the surface. They weren’t the monsters ripping people apart in the dark. Going after them was a waste of resources when there were actual monsters out there hurting people.

“What about that club?” a voice shouted from the crowd. “We should burn it to the ground!”

Soot and smoke, heat stinging his skin. Strong hands dragging him away.

No. It wasn’t time for that yet.

Sloan waved his hands, calling for silence. “Stay away from the club for now. We know they have black-eyed demons there. Until we know how many, we don’t want to be taken by surprise or caught outnumbered. But if you catch any alone, they’re fair game. I’m working on a plan for the club.”

Sloan dismissed them, to more cheers and applause. Ira slipped further from the door as people filed out and headed back to their duties.

“…Meet in the library…” He overheard Nathan muttering to Isaac, who nodded.

Making a split-second decision, Ira fell in behind them. He had something of a vested interest in whatever these guys—these future allies—were planning. When Nathan noticed him following at their heels, he did a double-take but didn’t question him.

Ira had always liked the library. The quiet atmosphere and scent of paper and ink was as meditative as any of the rooms in the prophets’ quarter. The ceiling was painted with scenes from the Bible, and soft rugs masked their steps as they crossed the wide, empty room to a soundproof study room and closed themselves in. Ira tried to quell the tossing of his stomach with more coffee, but if anything, the acidic liquid only made things worse.

The study room had a rectangular table with eight chairs seated around it and a white-board on the wall. A round clock ticked above it, and time marched ominously onward. Ira carded his fingers through his shoulder-length hair and leaned against the wall, hugging his travel mug to his chest.

“What’s he doing here?” Isaac asked Nathan, his deep green eyes studying Ira intently.

Nathan shrugged. The paladins were taught not to question the prophets. Prophets answered to the council, who decided what to do with their visions. Paladins were the soldiers who did what the council ordered based on the knowledge gained from the visions. There had always been a separation between the prophets and the paladins. The council was supposed to provide oversight and make the tough calls. Maybe that was part of the problem. The paladins, and even the prophets, were in the dark about why the council made certain decisions. Paladins were given orders and expected to carry them out. Prophets only saw bits and pieces of the future. Only the council had all the information.

What did the council know that the rest of them didn’t? Why were halflings changed to a more dangerous category? Or was something else driving this decision?

One by one, others filed into the room, sitting around the small conference table. Ira only knew some of their names. Daniel, Judah, Cyrus, and a couple of others whose names escaped him.

“What’s he doing here?” Daniel asked, jerking his head at Isaac. “I figured he’d be first in line to start hacking up halflings.” An easy smile followed the quip to let them know he meant no offense.

Isaac rolled his eyes. “I like killing monsters. I don’t care for killing things that aren’t harming anybody.”

“He’s here because we’re in agreement,” Nathan said.

“What’s he doing here?” one of the others asked, looking at Ira.

“That… is a good question,” Nathan said, one corner of his mouth quirking. “But we aren’t supposed to question prophets. Ira?”

“I’m here because it doesn’t feel right,” Ira said. “That’s why you’re all here, too, isn’t it? I’m the prophet, but you can all feel it, too.”

Nathan nodded. “Yes. It doesn’t sit right with me that we’re going after…” he paused, searching for the right word, “ people who haven’t hurt anyone. I think this decision was influenced by Alex Hawk and Luke Morgan leaving. I don’t think starting a war over two outliers is the answer.”

Six months ago, Paladin Alex Hawk disobeyed orders to hunt down the demon that killed his family, and in doing so, he met and fell for a demon named Talon. The guild banished him for his betrayal. And then, three months ago, the guild found out that Luke Morgan was seeing a demon named Malachi, but instead of banishing him as well, they tried to kill him. A squad of paladins lost their lives that day, and their rings were returned to the guild along with their severed fingers. It was a clear warning from Malachi and Talon to stay away from their humans .

Ira was the only one who knew that Alex and Luke wouldn’t be the only ones. He took a breath to say exactly that—but stopped. Would telling them change the decisions they would make organically? How was he supposed to know what he could tell them and what he couldn’t?

Maybe there was a good reason for the council’s oversight of the visions, after all.

He raised his gaze—and found Isaac studying him intently.

“I’m sold,” Judah said. He was the youngest one here, a newly minted paladin just eighteen years old. “If a prophet’s here saying that killing halflings is the wrong choice, I believe him. They know things.”

“They don’t know everything ,” Cyrus said, studying Ira with a cool, hazel gaze.

Ira inclined his head. That was true. He only had pieces. It was like looking at a tapestry with a flashlight. He only saw bits at a time. Figuring out the big picture was still a lot of guesswork and hope.

“Nonetheless,” Nathan said, “I’m glad we’re all, at least, in agreement. Let’s make sure we all have each other’s numbers, so we can stay in touch.”

They did, each person rattling off their numbers to the room while the others typed them all into their cell phones. Ira did the most typing. He only had a few prophets’ numbers, and his supervisors’. It was frowned upon for a prophet to socialize with paladins, so he’d never had an opportunity to get their phone numbers before. But he had a feeling he’d need them.

“What do we do ?” Judah asked when they finished. “We don’t have enough people to oppose the new ruling.”

Nathan shook his head. “No, I don’t think it would be wise for us to stick our heads out right now. We need to lay low. Follow orders. If you’re uncomfortable with killing halflings, just don’t report that you’ve come across any. Focus on the monsters who hurt people. I’ll try to talk to Sloan soon after the excitement dies down.”

“They haven’t hurt anyone!” Nathan shouted, his frustration like a core of steel in his voice. “We’re focusing on all the wrong things, commander.”

Sloan’s cool expression didn’t waver. “Then perhaps you’re the one who’s lost sight of what we’re doing here, Captain.”

Ira shook the memory of the vision away.

“Head down, follow orders,” Cyrus drawled, placing his hands on the table and pushing himself to his feet. His tattooed forearms flexed with the movement. “What a monumental change. Glad we had this talk, everyone.”

Isaac snorted, pushing to his feet. “Cy, you up for a spar?”

“Absolutely, been a hot minute since I’ve whooped your ass, hasn’t it?”

“Nobody says ‘hot minute’ anymore,” Isaac said as they strode from the room.

“Ira,” Nathan called as the others left.

Ira paused by the door, letting it swing shut in front of him.

Nathan sighed, his expression troubled. “Are we doing the right thing?”

Ira hesitated. He didn’t know what was safe to tell him.

Nathan waved a hand through the air. “I know you can’t tell me details. I just don’t know what the right move is. I feel like Sloan has let Hawk and Morgan’s choice to leave the guild hurt his pride, and I worry that’s driving his decisions to go after the halflings. I don’t want his wounded pride to get good people killed, paladins or not.”

“I only have pieces, Captain. From what I can tell… there will be upheaval, and pain, but… I think it’ll be worth it.”

Nathan’s face cleared, and he attempted a weak smile. “Thank you. That’s something to keep fighting for, at least.”

Ira nodded. “For now, that’s all we can do.”

Ira wondered if there’d been some joke about the third floor being the ‘Third Eye’ in the beginning, during the planning stages of the administrative building’s floor plan, but he doubted the early members of the Paladin Guild had much of a sense of humor about that kind of thing. With nothing else to distract him, he made his way there from the library.

Lexi was the student manning the front desk today. He was familiar with most of the students who had shifts at the front desk, as he found himself there almost everyday. She cast him a cheery smile as he signed in. He’d always liked her. She’d lobbied hard for the inclusion of women on the front lines, but the council had shot down her request to become a sword-wielding paladin and hustled her quietly into the prophets’ division after she showed signs of the gift. She seemed happy enough here, but he sometimes caught her gazing longingly out the window at the training yard. The council would never allow a prophet to endanger their lives on the front lines. Their visions were too important. And he had a feeling they’d have similar excuses about allowing a woman to wield a sword, too.

“Morning, Ira. How was your weekend?” she asked, passing a hand over the silk headband that held her springy curls away from her face.

“Uneventful,” he said, which was the truth. They were always uneventful. “How was yours?”

She perked up. “Not bad. Had a date.”

“Ooh, how’d it go?”

“It was—nice,” she said haltingly, with a bashful smile. “He was sweet. Maybe too sweet.”

“What’s too sweet?” he asked.

“He didn’t even kiss me at the end.” She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe he didn’t think I was nice.”

“Nonsense,” Ira said dismissively. “You’re incredible, and if he couldn’t tell, he doesn’t deserve you.”

She looked exasperated. “I don’t know about that.”

“You can’t argue with a prophet, Lexi, we know things.”

“You’re not the only one here who’s a prophet,” she said loftily.

He arched a brow. “You’re still in training.”

“I know, but I’m twenty-nine hours into a fast. I’m sure I’ll have a vision I can actually log soon.”

While the field agents had to undergo rigorous physical exams before they qualified for a squad, prophets underwent certain training programs of their own, part of which involved conditioning their bodies to function over long fasting periods in order to induce visions.

When they found a young prophet—anyone who showed signs of being able to see the future—they adopted them into the guild, if they weren’t already a member, and into the prophet training program. All visions were to be logged with the guild, and priority visions were sent to Commander Sloan to be given to a paladin squad. When trainees had a priority vision that saved a life, they were made official prophets. It led to many of the upper-level trainees pushing themselves for longer and longer fasts in order to force a vision that would allow them to graduate.

Young prophets were also common visitors to the medical wing. Ira didn’t like it, but you didn’t argue with tradition—something Lexi had learned the hard way in her quest to join a different division.

“Well, don’t go too long without eating,” he said. “And be sure you drink plenty of water.”

She grinned, lifting her bottle from the desk. “I’m keeping track, not to worry.”

“Good, good. I better get to it. Hopefully I have something to log soon, too.”

She winced. “Oh yeah, I noticed you haven’t logged anything in a few months. I’m sure you’ll have one soon.”

“All in His time, I’m sure. Have a good one, Lexi.”

“You too, Ira.”

He rapped his knuckles on the desk as he passed it. Alone in the hallway beyond, he let his head fall back in despair.

He hadn’t logged a vision in six months, to be precise. His supervisor, Cara, was beginning to ask him questions about his health. The truth was not so simple.

He let himself into one of the vision rooms. Soundproofed and filled with quiet, meditative things. Soft chairs, a sofa, an incense burner, a tabletop fountain that quietly trickled in the corner. There were silk plants in the corners, soft yellow lamps on the tables, a miniature zen garden with a little wooden rake. Anything one might need for quiet reflection.

Ira turned the door’s lock to show ‘Occupied’ on the outside and set his things down on one of the accent tables against the wall, flopping onto the sofa with a sigh.

The last priority vision he had, he’d given to Alex Hawk. Hawk saved the family he saw in his vision, but he was excommunicated soon thereafter for having relations with a demon named Talon.

Ira rubbed his hands over his face. He shouldn’t even know that demon’s name . Shouldn’t know any of their names. He shouldn’t know that Luke Morgan had narrowly avoided death three months ago. He’d approached him not long before the attack that almost took his life, hoping to share at least a bit of his knowledge with someone who might understand. All he’d really managed to do was confuse Luke and risk suspicion on them both. But Luke was safe and happy with Malachi now, and Ira felt the passage of time like sand sifting through his fingers, counting down to his own doom.

He couldn’t tell the guild that he’d been having visions about himself with a demon of his own, one with red eyes and a beautiful body. He felt as though he already knew this demon, intimately knew his body, his smile, the way his hands felt on Ira’s skin. The body-shaking pleasures he’d experienced in the privacy of his own mind with that demon, pleasures he hadn’t even known were real but would one day become more than images in his head.

He’d never had a vision that didn’t come to pass, but he desperately hoped he could ignore these long enough that they would go away. He didn’t want to wind up like Hawk and Morgan. No pleasure was worth the pain of excommunication. Sloan was already on the warpath. This morning was evidence enough that the guild didn’t plan to forget their losses. Ira didn’t want to find out what would happen to him if he became the third to fall.

“I just want to have a nice, normal, log-able vision,” he despaired to the ceiling. “Just one vision. Anything remotely normal. I don’t care if I see someone taking a dump, at least I’ll be able to log it with the guild.” It wouldn’t be useful to the council, but that was the least of his worries at this point.

He straightened, making himself comfortable in the middle of the sofa, folded his legs under him and closed his eyes. A normal vision. That was all he wanted.

The trickling water from the tabletop fountain was the only audible thing in the room. He let his mind wander, slipping from thought to thought with no deliberate direction. His physical body fell away as he floated. No longer did his stomach gnaw at him with hunger or constrict with anxiety. There was only the endless void.

There was no ticking clock, nothing to mark the passage of time. It might’ve been ten minutes or ten hours before he finally saw something.

A darkened street. Jaundiced yellow street lights were visible in the distance, but the one nearest was unlit.

A door slammed, and a pale figure in dark clothing turned away from it, keys jangling in his hand. Red eyes passed over Ira without seeing him.

Wolf.

He was just as beautiful as every other time Ira had seen him. His dark T-shirt stretched taut over his muscular chest, his jeans hugging him in all the right places. The moonlight streaked his ash-blond hair with pale blue, and Ira’s gaze lingered on the sway of his hips as he started walking.

He strode away from the warehouse building—that was the club, In Extremis—when two figures emerged from the alley beside it. Ira’s heart leaped with terror. Blades gleamed in the moonlight. Wolf gasped, dodging the first pair of swings. One of the paladins worked his way around him. Wolf was a powerful fighter. He grabbed the paladin in front of him, twisting his arm until the man screamed in pain. The paladin behind him lunged, and Wolf wasn’t quick enough to stop him.

“No!” Ira screamed, startling off the couch—and falling straight to the floor, his lower legs numb, his knees aching, his back sore. How long had he been under?

He checked his watch. It was almost midnight, and his heart rate was elevated. If Wolf was attacked tonight, Ira didn’t have much time.

He stopped halfway to the door.

Did he even want to help? If Wolf was killed, his visions would finally stop. He couldn’t have a tryst with a demon who was dead. All his problems would go away if he just… did nothing. If he let Wolf die. But guilt churned in his empty stomach at the prospect. Could he live with himself if he let Wolf die? Could he live with himself if he didn’t ? No matter what he did, it would change things. Either the visions would stop, or he would have to raise a hand against the guild in order to protect a halfling. It was forbidden. Whatever he chose, after tonight, nothing would be the same.

It would be far too easy to go home and pretend he knew nothing. He set everything in the vision room back in order and left. There was another student working the desk now. They worked in five hour shifts, so Lexi was long gone. He signed out mechanically and strode from the building without logging anything once more. He could go home, have a peanut butter sandwich, and go to bed early. When he woke up, all his troubles would be gone. Wolf would be dead. The visions would stop. He could go back to his comfortable, mundane little life.

He got in his gray sedan and drove down the long driveway. The iron gate swung open for him, and he stopped at the road. Left would take him home. Right would take him into the city—and to In Extremis. He didn’t have much time to decide.

A droplet of sweat trickled down his spine and soaked into his shirt. He already knew what he was going to do. It was a foregone conclusion.

He turned right.