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Chapter 1

Nathan

The morning dawned. That was its only worthwhile contribution to the day as Nathan Accardi strode out into the pouring rain, juggling his coffee, his keys, and the rain jacket he’d neglected to put on before walking out the front door.

The trees surrounding his humble house did little to protect him from the downfall, fat droplets dripping from the leaves and landing in uncomfortable places as he opened the driver’s side door and dove inside.

He had a meeting with Commander Sloan and some of the other captains today, and anxiety churned within him. Nathan was the captain of his very own squad of demon-hunting paladins, of the Paladin Guild of Los Angeles. As such, he answered directly to Commander Derek Sloan, but things at the guild hadn’t been right for a while.

Nathan used to have the utmost respect for his commander, but Sloan hadn’t been the same since Alex Hawk was banished nine months ago. Nothing was the same. God, had it really been nine months? It seemed like just yesterday he was still pairing off with Alex during patrols. Alex was an angry young man but a good one. He’d been on Nathan’s squad, and it felt like a bullseye had been placed on Nathan since then, like he was somehow to blame for Alex choosing a demon over his duty. Nathan hadn’t understood Alex’s choices any better than anyone else. He’d always liked the young man, despite his simmering anger over what had happened to his family. It was a tale of vengeance not uncommon in the guild. The difference with Alex was that he’d taken matters into his own hands. When Sloan denied him the chance to go after the demon responsible for killing his family, Alex disobeyed and hunted it down anyway—with another demon’s help.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, a second paladin had fallen in with a demon just three months after that. Luke Morgan had been one of their best soldiers, and he also chose a demon over the guild. But then, according to the rumors he’d heard, they hadn’t given Luke much choice. Attempted murder tended to turn people away from the cause.

But what really sent Sloan over the edge was losing the prophet, Ira Faer. Prophets were precious to the guild, because their visions guided the paladins on their missions. Without them, the guild wouldn’t be able to operate. Sloan believed the demons were staging some sort of quiet coup, corrupting people away from the guild one by one. Nathan had trouble believing that was true, because he knew those men, and he didn’t believe they would fall for something like that. He doubted he’d ever get a chance to listen to their side of the story, but he would be interested to hear it, if he could.

He didn’t understand why Sloan and many other loyalists were personally offended by Alex, Luke, and Ira’s departure from the guild. It wasn’t against the rules to leave. No one had ever done it before, but that didn’t make it wrong. The fact that they’d chosen to leave and be with demons was, ultimately, their own decision. They weren’t hurting anyone, as far as he knew, and if they were guilty of some grievous sin, they would answer for that in the afterlife. It wasn’t up to Nathan or Sloan or anyone else in the guild to cast judgment.

But Sloan didn’t see it that way. And in an attempt to prevent anyone else from ‘falling prey’ to the demons, as Sloan called it, he’d issued a curfew for those living on the grounds of HQ and required daily check-ins every morning for those who did not. Paladins were required to show up and check in with their captains, and captains had to meet with Sloan himself. It was exhausting.

Nathan took his time driving to HQ. The rain came down in blinding sheets against the windshield. This kind of rain was unusual at this time of year. Maybe it was God’s way of helping him stall his meeting. It gave him an excuse to be late, but all too soon he found himself rolling past the iron gate and into the compound.

It looked more like a college campus than a guild of elite demon hunters. The administrative building, recreational center, schoolhouse, orphanage, and apartment complex were all made of matching red brick, while the white church stood out like a beacon. There was a carefully landscaped circular drive in front of the admin building. Nathan followed it sedately, turning into one of the parking lots off the circle and swooping into a parking spot.

With a sigh, he gathered his things, held his jacket over his head, and ran from the wet parking lot toward the stately building. When he barreled into the tasteful foyer, he nearly slipped on the polished wood floor.

“Easy, Nate,” Julian called, holding his styrofoam cup from the cafeteria up and away from Nathan’s damp flailing. He was standing with brothers Daniel and Nicolas Garcia, the latter of which was one of the captains who would also be in the meeting with Sloan. Daniel, the younger brother, was the same age as Julian, and both were in Nicolas’s squad. Nathan had spent more time around Nicolas, who was the same rank and closer to his age, but he’d heard good things about the younger two. The three of them were thick as thieves, Julian’s pale blond hair standing out starkly against the Garcia brothers’ short, dark curls.

“Sorry, sorry,” Nathan gasped, shaking the rain from his jacket and closing the door behind him. “It’s raining.”

Daniel looked like he was fighting a smile, his golden brown eyes sparkling with mirth. “You don’t say.”

Nicolas cast him an amused grin.

“Nic says there’s a captain meeting,” Julian said, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was near.

Nathan nodded, looking at Nicolas. “Yes, there is. Do you have any idea what it’s about?”

Nicolas shrugged. His short curls were highlighted with honey-gold beneath the warm glow of the chandelier above them, his deep brown eyes cool. “I have my theories.”

Nathan hummed. “As do I.” And none of them spelled anything good for the guild. He wanted to oppose any more violence against the defectors and the halflings. They weren’t hurting anyone, and whipping themselves up into a frenzy about the choices they’d made did nothing but hurt the guild’s true cause.

Sloan had been on the warpath since Ira escaped the guild’s prison. They’d been holding him while they debated how to keep him from leaving—and taking his visions with him. Nathan had his suspicions about how he managed it, but there were no witnesses, and no one came forward after the fact. He suspected someone from their little pocket of dissenters helped him, but it was better for all of them if they didn’t come forward. Plausible deniability could go far.

Julian bobbed his head, sipping something that could be coffee or hot cocoa, based on the color. He looked back and forth between them.

“The curfews and check-ins aren’t a great look,” Julian said.

“Nor is the fact that some of our people tried to kill one of them,” Daniel said.

Nicolas looked around sharply, but luckily, they were alone. Arguments in favor of the defectors didn’t go well these days. Nathan had seen more than one person laid out on the training yard for sharing an opposing viewpoint.

“Don’t discuss it here,” Nicolas warned, then shot Nathan a pointed look. “And it’s probably not a good idea to have any more of those meetings of yours.”

They hadn’t had a meeting in a while. He and a handful of like-minded paladins had met up after Commander Sloan and the council changed the halflings’ threat level to a Category A, which meant they could be killed on-sight. It hadn’t set right with many of them, and they’d congregated in the library to exchange numbers and discuss what to do. Ultimately, they’d decided on nothing. Nathan wasn’t sure that had been the right call. Now, it felt too dangerous to speak up. Dissent wasn’t welcome, but staying silent wasn’t the answer, either. Something would have to give eventually.

Nicolas hadn’t been in that meeting, but his little brother Daniel had. Nathan wasn’t surprised Daniel had filled him in, and he didn’t mind. Nicolas was trustworthy.

“I’m not sure that’s the answer,” he finally said.

Nicolas’s jaw tightened. “It’s getting dangerous. I don’t want to see Danny or anyone else get hurt.”

“Neither do I,” Nathan agreed. “But staying complacent is what’s gotten us into this mess, I think. No one was willing to be the voice of reason.”

“That voice of reason doesn’t need to include my little brother, Nate,” Nicolas said.

“Nic, I chose to go to that meeting. I know what I’m doing,” Daniel said.

“You’re my little brother and a member of my squad. It’s my job to take care of you.”

Daniel sighed, softening. “But I’m not a little kid anymore.”

An uncertain frown lined Nicolas’s face. “I know that.”

Julian leaned in, breaking the tension. “You guys should probably get a move on if you don’t want to be late for the meeting, right?”

Nathan straightened. “Right, we should. Lead the way, Nic. Julian, Daniel, it was good to see you both.”

“You too, Captain Accardi,” Daniel replied, stepping aside so they could go up the stairs.

Julian waved them away with a hum of agreement, and Nathan fell into step with Nicolas.

“I’m sorry you feel I’ve endangered Daniel—or anyone else, for that matter,” Nathan offered quietly.

Nicolas’s mouth twisted. “He’s right. He’s not a kid anymore. Doesn’t mean I won’t always worry.”

“Of course. He’s family. As far as I know, that meeting is still a well-kept secret. I’m not surprised Daniel told you about it, but it seems everyone else has been keeping it quiet.”

“That’s good,” Nicolas said. “Maybe you’re right that someone should’ve spoken up sooner. But they didn’t, and now we’re headed down an uncertain path.”

Nathan steeled his spine as they approached the conference room. Nicolas was worried that whoever spoke up would be punished, and it was understandable he wanted to protect his brother. Nathan didn’t have any family of his own to worry about. If anyone should speak up about the insidious tension going on in the guild, shouldn’t it be someone like him? He’d called that first meeting. It was his responsibility to stand up for the people who felt the same way as he did.

There were many conference rooms and offices and meeting spaces in the administrative building, so they found their way to the one on the agenda for today, a conference room with a long table in the center. A darkened projector hung overhead, and a white board gleamed on the far wall. Rain trickled down the windows. Several other captains were already waiting in the rolling leather chairs around the table. Nathan knew all of them at least by sight, but he only knew a handful by name.

“Morning, Nate, Nic,” Mark said coolly. His buzzed hair was peppered with gray, and he bore deep scars on one forearm from a demon’s claws.

Eyes followed Nathan as he sat down near the end of the table. Nicolas sat between him and the others, looking unbothered, but Nathan caught his pointed glance. He sensed the tension, too.

Nathan already didn’t like the way this meeting was going, and Sloan wasn’t even here yet. “How’s it going?”

“Well enough. We were just discussing what the meeting is going to be about.”

“I think we all know that already, don’t we?” Nathan asked, glancing from face to face. This wasn’t like the daily check-ins. Sloan wanted their input about the so-called traitors. Or at least, that was what Nathan assumed. He hoped there was no news about it, that they weren’t planning to move against them. Nathan wouldn’t be comfortable hunting humans, even ones Sloan and his loyalists wanted to condemn.

Mark shrugged lightly. “Probably. I was just curious where everyone stood on the issue at hand. I don’t think it’s right that the traitors are still out there. They abandoned the cause, abandoned their duty, and they should be punished for it.”

Nathan wished everyone would stop trying to draw lines in the sand. The only ‘us’ and ‘them’ they should be worried about were humans and monsters. The halflings were a gray area—but not the real enemies they should be concerning themselves with. Halflings were human souls that had gone to Hell and become demonic. They weren’t like the monsters that the paladins hunted. They didn’t kill people. Mostly, they just indulged in Earthly pleasures and enticed humans who wandered into their club, In Extremis, to do the same. Questionable, maybe, but they didn’t exactly strike him as evil masterminds.

Samson, sitting beside Mark, was looking at the table, hiding his smirk behind a curled finger. The others all watched the exchange with interest, expressions varying between intrigue and boredom.

“I don’t think it’s our place to pass judgment on humans, even those who have made choices we don’t agree with,” Nathan said.

Mark hummed, as though Nathan had failed to pass some sort of test, and his murky brown eyes slid to Nicolas. “What about you, Captain Garcia?”

Nicolas passed an unreadable look toward Nathan and then met Mark’s eyes. “I think it’s probably best to wait for Commander Sloan, don’t you?” he replied.

“Commander Sloan feels the same as we do,” Samson said, sitting back in his chair. “Why else would we be here?”

“To discuss it,” Nathan said firmly.

“And you’ll tell him you think he’s being too harsh on the demon-huggers, huh?” Mark asked, mouth curling in disgust.

“I have total respect for Commander Sloan’s leadership,” Nathan said, and at one time that was true. He tried not to look too closely at the way his stomach turned as he said it now. “I believe he’s a good man, and a good man listens to his subordinates.”

“Plenty of his subordinates agree that something has to be done about the traitors.”

“They aren’t traitors,” Nathan said, struggling to keep his voice calm. “They never moved against the guild. They just left. In Luke Morgan’s case, he disappeared after an attempt was made on his life.”

“If you screw a demon, you deserve what you get,” Samson said, and the rest of the table chortled.

“Again,” Nathan’s voice shook with barely repressed fury, “it’s not our place to judge the choices they’ve made.”

Beside him, Nicolas buried his fingers in his curls and stared at the table.

“If not us, then who?” Samson said.

Nathan opened his mouth to snap, fingers clenching into a fist on the table. But before he could speak, the door opened.

Sloan breezed into the room. “That’s enough, captains. Save your frustrations for the training yard, or better yet, for the demons.”

Mark cast Nathan a smug smirk as Sloan took a seat at the head of the table.

“We’re here today for a couple of reasons. First, I’d like your opinions on our next move regarding the halflings,” Sloan said. “The council and I have been in disagreement for a while now, and I think getting some perspective from the field agents themselves might help us come to an agreement. I’ll be meeting with all the other squad captains throughout the day as they come in, but I thought meeting in smaller groups like this would give you all a chance to speak your mind.”

He wanted hungry field agents vying for permission to go after the halflings, Nathan realized. He thought having the captains’ backing would help sway the council’s decision. It wasn’t a surprise, really, but he was disappointed that Sloan was continuing to target the wrong people.

“The halflings are demons,” Mark said, raising his palms up as though it was obvious. “We hunt demons. I confess, I don’t even understand why the council is having a hard time with this.”

“The halflings don’t kill humans,” Nathan said. “I think it would be a waste of our energy and resources to target them when there are actual monsters out there killing people.”

“Oh, whatever,” Mark said disdainfully. “A monster that doesn’t kill is still a monster. It doesn’t stop being a monster just because it knows how to play nice. Haven’t we always dreamed of a time when no demons walked the Earth? That includes halflings.”

Sloan nodded seriously, gesturing to Mark, who sat back with a smug look.

Nathan shook his head, struggling to stay logical. “We’ve also been known to seek out halflings at In Extremis on rare occasions when we need information about coming threats or local incidents. Targeting them would make it harder to seek out information in times of dire need.”

“You think we couldn’t interrogate a halfling in the future and still get what we want from them?” Mark scoffed. “We know exactly how to hurt them.”

“You’re suggesting we kill indiscriminately and torture any future halflings for information?” Nathan asked.

“They’re monsters,” Samson said coldly. “It’s not like they even feel pain the way humans do.”

“You don’t know that,” Nathan said.

“They’re monsters ,” Samson said again. “Who even cares what they feel?”

“I can think of a few,” Nicolas muttered.

“Traitors, you mean?” Mark said. “Let’s not talk about the ghoulish people who abandoned the cause to… be with those things.”

“They’re still human beings,” Nathan added. “Just because they made choices you don’t agree with doesn’t mean they deserve to die.” He could only say it in so many ways before he started wanting to pull his hair out in frustration.

Sloan held up a hand for silence, but Mark missed it, barreling on.

“They’re welcome to make whatever choices they want, that’s true, but the moment they chose demons they became no better than the monsters themselves!”

“Quiet, quiet!” Sloan called, and Mark sat back.

Nathan blew out a breath. This was going about as well as he expected.

“We obviously all have some very strong opinions about this,” Sloan said, eyes glittering as he looked at Mark and Samson. “This is why I wanted your input. If you’re going to be our front line in this fight, I want to know where you stand.”

Nathan rubbed a hand over his face, leaning forward to brace his elbows on the table. “With all due respect, commander, I think our time and resources would be better spent focusing on the demons who are actively harming innocent people. Yes, halflings are demons.” He gestured to Mark. “But halflings don’t kill people. And because they don’t kill people, I think it’s safe to say focusing on them would cause more innocents to be hurt in the long run, because we aren’t doing what we can to protect them. We’re letting our personal feelings about what happened with Hawk and Morgan and Faer get in the way of our duty.”

“I agree,” Nicolas said softly.

Nathan inclined his head in gratitude. Now was his chance to push for more. He could ask Sloan to grant the traitors mercy. With a fortifying breath, he forged on. “I would even take things a step further, if you’d allow it.”

“How so?” Sloan asked. It was begrudging—but he was still listening. That had to mean something.

“The—traitors,” he didn’t like the word, but that was what most people called them, “are still fighting demons. They still patrol just as they did when they worked here. If they’re still protecting people, regardless of the other choices they’ve made, we might even be able to make allies of them. At the very least, we could maintain a ceasefire. A truce, if you will. We won’t attack them if they keep their demons in line, and maybe we wind up with a few extra people out there fighting the good fight, keeping an eye out when we can’t.”

“What do you mean, ‘when we can’t?’” Joseph asked, his face a mask of distaste.

Nathan gestured to the room around them. “We are very good at what we do, but we’re still sheltered behind our walls most of the time. The traitors, they don’t have that luxury. They’re out there in the thick of it at all times. If we had a truce with them, they could bring cases to us that they can’t handle on their own. They could be eyes and ears that we wouldn’t otherwise have out there. With their connections to the demons, they might hear about rising threats before they’ve had a chance to gain strength. Maybe we could use this as a way to do more good instead of letting them become our enemies.”

Sloan rubbed his jaw. There was no warmth in his calculating gaze, and Nathan wondered if he’d pushed too far. Mark was shaking his head in disbelief. Nicolas watched warily, his face half-hidden behind his styrofoam cup of coffee.

And then Sloan relaxed back in his chair, threading his fingers together over his stomach. “You know what, Captain Accardi? If this is something you feel so strongly about, I’ll let you pursue it.”

A jolt went through Nathan. Really? He hadn’t expected that at all.

“What?” Mark exclaimed. “You can’t be serious.”

Sloan waved him down. “Contact the traitors and see if they’ll be willing to meet. We’ll see how receptive they are to the idea. You’ll run point and speak on behalf of the guild with them.”

Samson’s face twisted in shock. “You’re really allowing this?”

Sloan raised a finger. “That brings me to my next point of order, actually. I’m allowing this for a reason.” He opened up the laptop in front of him, then stood to fetch the remote that controlled the projector. A moment later, his screen appeared on the wall to Nathan’s right. “There’s a new case that’s cropped up. One of my contacts in the police brought it to my attention. I had an email from them this morning.”

A curl of unease went through Nathan as Sloan clacked away on his keyboard for a moment, pulling up a video of what looked like CCTV footage of a street view. Sloan knew a handful of police officers who were aware of the supernatural and the guild’s real work fighting demons. It was rare that their paths crossed, though.

“You haven’t had a big breakfast this morning, have you?”

The captains all shook their heads.

“Good.”

Sloan pressed play. On the screen, people were milling up and down the sidewalk. The sun was shining. The date in the corner was from two days ago.

“Watch that young man with the red backpack,” Sloan said as a young male, probably college-aged, appeared on the screen, looking down at his cell phone. Was this near the college campus? When he neared the middle of the screen, he stopped. His shoulders hunched, and a moment later his phone tipped out of his grasp. Trembling violently, he fell to his knees, clawing at his chest. People on the sidewalk stopped, giving him a wide berth as he screamed. The silent video somehow made it even worse. Dark blood bloomed on the front of his shirt, and he fell onto his back, his body arching unnaturally.

“My God,” Nathan breathed.

His chest burst outward, like something out of a horror movie, ripping his shirt and spewing blood and viscera around him.

Nathan covered his mouth, and the video went dark. Nicolas turned away, his face pale.

“What…” Joseph stopped, shaking his head helplessly.

Sloan sighed. “That was twenty-year-old David Simms, a student at the local college. Local media has been blessedly quiet about it, because despite the weirdness and the goriness, there’s no evidence of foul play. The official word from the coroner is a… freak heart thing of some kind. It looks like his heart exploded—to them.”

“What does it look like to us?” Mark asked.

Nathan wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“One of the eyewitnesses—who will likely be paying for a lifetime of therapy—swears she saw a hand burst through the victim’s chest. From the inside.”

“A ha…” Nathan’s voice gave out.

Sloan nodded sagely. “My thoughts exactly. It looks demonic to me, but it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I’m informing all the squad captains so you can keep an eye out for anything similar.” His gaze settled on Nathan’s. “And unfortunately, you’re right. There’s a chance the traitors might know something about this that we don’t. Our prophets so far have seen nothing related to this incident or any like it. Personally, I don’t think reaching out to them will go well. I don’t think they’ll be any more receptive to the idea of a truce than we are, but if this is something Captain Accardi wants to do, I’m happy to let him pursue it for now. Maybe it’ll at least give us a lead about what happened to this young man. And if not, maybe we’ll learn a little more about what the traitors are up to.” He looked at Mark and tapped his temple. “Know your enemy.”

Mark settled back in his chair with a satisfied look, and Nathan schooled his expression.

It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but at least Sloan was giving him a chance. If he could prove that a truce could be useful, maybe Sloan would let this vendetta go. Nathan would take any chance he had.