Page 19 of Soulmarked (Hellbound and Hollow #1)

18

UNVEILED TRUTHS

T he elevator ride to CITD's executive floor felt endless. Every ding marked another level between me and answers I wasn't sure I wanted. My clothes were stiff with dried blood and whatever the hell had been in those tunnels, and exhaustion pulled at every muscle.

Sean's presence at my back was steady, grounding. For once, he wasn't making smartass comments about federal bureaucracy or complaining about having to play nice. Even Lex had dropped his usual fixer's swagger.

The lights were still on in Sterling's office despite the ungodly hour. Through the glass walls, I could see him at his desk, suit perfect even at midnight, reading a file like this was any other evening. Like his agent hadn't just crawled out of hell's basement with a hunter and an information broker in tow.

My stomach clenched as we approached. How many times had I stood in this doorway, carefully sanitizing my reports of anything supernatural? How many lies had I told the man who'd been more father than mentor since I'd joined CITD?

Sterling didn't look up as we entered, but I caught the slight tension in his shoulders. He'd been waiting for us.

“Director,” I started, but my voice caught. What could I even say? 'Sorry for tracking demon ichor on your carpet' didn't quite cover it.

“Shut the door,” Sterling barked, not bothering to look up as he closed the file he'd been reading. I caught a glimpse of the label. It was my name, in stark black letters.

The click of the latch felt like sealing a tomb. Sean shifted behind me, and I didn't need to look to know his hand was near one of his concealed blades. Old habits die hard, especially for hunters in federal buildings.

“So,” Sterling said finally, looking up to study us with cold calculation. His eyes locked on the blood on my sleeve, the cuts on Sean's face, the way Lex positioned himself with clear sightlines to both exits. “Finally decided to drag your sorry asses in here after nearly getting yourselves killed?”

“Sir, I can explain...”

“Save it,” Sterling snapped. “You look like you went ten rounds with a meat grinder and lost.”

Sterling stood with deliberate grace, moving to the large abstract painting that dominated his office wall. I'd always thought it was just decoration. But as his fingers found hidden catches in the frame, I realized how blind I'd been.

The safe behind the painting was military-grade, its surface covered in symbols that made my mark burn with recognition. Protection wards. Containment sigils. The kind of magic that contradicted everything in the CITD's official stance on the supernatural, etched permanently into a government building's infrastructure.

“You knew.” The words tasted like ash. “All this time, you knew about everything?”

“Why do you think I let you chase your 'unusual' cases?” Sterling's smile held no humor as he worked the safe's combination. “Why I never questioned too deeply when your reports stretched credibility past the breaking point? Because someone needs to stand ready, Cade. Someone with a foot in both worlds.”

The safe opened with a soft hiss, releasing air that smelled like old paper and older magic. Sterling removed something wrapped in cloth that hummed with power I could feel across the room. My mark throbbed in response, a steady pulse of heat and recognition.

“Is that...” Sean's voice was sharp with surprise.

“The Codex Obscura.” Sterling unwrapped the bundle, revealing a book bound in material I didn't want to identify. “One of three known copies. The others were supposedly destroyed during the Schism.”

“Holy shit,” Lex breathed, taking an unconscious step forward. “That's worth...”

“More than your entire network, Mr. de la Cruz.” Sterling's tone could have frozen hell. “And yes, I know exactly who you are. Just as I know about Mr. Cullen's rather colorful history with Hallow.”

Sean went completely still behind me. The kind of stillness that usually preceded violence. “How long?”

“Have I known about hunters? Since before you were born, boy.” Sterling set the book on his desk with careful reverence. “Have I known about you specifically? Since Dublin. That kind of disaster tends to leave marks, even if most people can't see them.”

Sean's jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. “So you've been keeping tabs on me? That's not creepy at all.”

“Someone had to keep an eye on the hothead working with my agent,” Sterling replied gruffly, nodding toward me. “Can't be too careful when demons want a piece of you.”

My head spun as pieces clicked into place. All those times Sterling had warned me away from certain cases, had suggested I focus elsewhere. He hadn't been trying to stop me, he'd been steering me toward the truth at a pace I could handle.

“The symbols in your office.” I looked around with new eyes, seeing patterns I'd dismissed as modern art for what they really were. “The way you arrange everything. It's all protection magic.”

“Took you long enough,” Sterling said, but there was a hint of pride that softened his harsh tone. “You're finally seeing clearly. Though I suspect recent events have something to do with that.” His gaze flickered to my chest, where the mark burned beneath my shirt.

The bottom dropped out of my stomach. “You know about my mark?”

“Course I do, boy.” He sighed heavily, some of his gruffness falling away. “I've known since the night your parents died.”

“That's not possible.” My voice sounded distant, strange.

“The official report was carefully crafted to protect you.” Sterling's expression softened, revealing genuine concern beneath the rough exterior. “You weren't ready to know the truth then. Hell, you're barely ready now. But forces are moving that we can't ignore anymore.”

“Phoenix,” Sean said flatly, shifting his weight impatiently.

“Among others.” Sterling opened the Codex, its yellowed pages covered in dense, intricate symbols that seemed to shift and rearrange themselves whenever directly focused upon. “What they're attempting goes beyond corporate ambition or supernatural politics. They're trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something that...”

A sharp knock cut him off. Alana burst through the door, O'Brien's journal clutched in her hands, face pale with urgency. “Sir, you need to see this. The decoded sections, it's worse than we thought.”

“Well, don't just stand there looking like you've seen a ghost,” Sterling growled, but the concern in his eyes betrayed his harsh tone. “Spit it out.”

I stared at her, processing what I was seeing. Alana was discussing demons and monsters as casually as budget reports. More jarring was how she and Sterling exchanged knowing glances, the kind shared between longtime collaborators.

Sean stiffened beside me, his eyes narrowing in recognition. “Wait. Alana Fitzgerald?”

Alana's professional demeanor faltered for a split second as her gaze shifted to Sean. A flash of something like surprise, then wry amusement crossed her face. “Sean Cullen. I'd heard rumors you were in New York. Still playing lone wolf, I see.”

“You two know each other?” I looked between them, catching the tension in Sean's shoulders.

“We crossed paths during a nasty ghoul infestation a few years back,” Alana explained, her tone carefully neutral. “Though back then, Sean was running with a different crowd.”

“Hallow,” Sean said flatly. “Before I saw the light and got the hell out.”

Alana's lips quirked in a half-smile. “And here I thought you left because they got tired of your charming personality.”

“You're part of this,” I said, the pieces suddenly clicking together. “All those times you helped me with translations or 'coincidentally' found resources I needed... You knew about the supernatural world all along.”

Alana's professional facade softened slightly. “I wasn't always an analyst, Cade. Before CITD, I was a hunter. Sterling brought me in when you joined the division.”

“You were a hunter?” I asked, looking between her and Sterling, trying to reconcile the meticulous analyst I knew with someone who had fought monsters.

“For eight years,” she said with a slight shrug, her posture shifting to something more confident, more battle-ready. “Started when my sister was taken by a wendigo. The official report said animal attack, but I knew better.”

She crossed her arms, her tone becoming more matter-of-fact. “After that, I tracked down every piece of lore I could find, taught myself to fight, and eventually connected with other hunters. You learn fast when your life depends on it.”

Sean shook his head, a hint of incredulity in his expression. “So you went from taking down monster nests to analyzing data for the feds? Talk about a career change.”

“Says the hunter who's partnered with a federal agent,” Alana shot back. “Life takes unexpected turns, Cullen.”

“So while I was fumbling around in the dark,” Sean said with a smirk, “you had your own personal backup team watching your back? Must be nice.”

Sterling cleared his throat. “When you joined CITD, I knew you'd need someone who understood both worlds. Someone who could provide information without raising flags in the system.”

“So all this time, when I thought I was hiding my research from you...” I began.

“I was supplementing it,” Alana finished with a knowing smile. “Making sure you had what you needed without knowing there was already a support system in place. Sterling thought it was better if you found your own way to the truth.”

“Why keep me in the dark?” I asked, a hint of anger creeping into my voice.

“Because knowing too much too soon gets people killed,” Sterling said bluntly, but his voice had lost some of its earlier harshness. “After what happened to your parents, we needed to let you come to terms with this world at your own pace. The mark you carry, it attracts attention. Not all of it friendly.”

Sean moved forward, rubbing a hand over his face. “Look, this family therapy session is touching and all, but can we get to the part where you tell us what the hell is going on? Preferably before whatever's trying to eat the world actually succeeds.”

Sterling nodded, his lips twitching at Sean's impatience as he gestured for Alana to continue while reaching back into the safe.

“O'Brien's research,” Alana spread the decoded pages across Sterling's desk, her movements efficient and practiced. “It wasn't just about Phoenix's experiments. He found evidence they're trying to summon specific entities. Princes of Hell.”

“Awesome,” Sean muttered, crossing his arms. “Because regular demons weren't enough of a headache. Let me guess, we get to clean up the mess with some rock salt, holy water, and a prayer?”

Sterling's expression tightened as he studied the pages, but his voice was gentler when he looked up at me. “Tell me about the demon you encountered. The one in the tunnels. What color were its eyes?”

The question seemed odd, but something in his tone made my skin crawl. “Bright blue,” I said, remembering that unnatural glow. “Like lightning trapped in ice.”

“Son of a bitch.” Sterling slammed his hand on the desk, but the anger wasn't directed at us. “That wasn't just any demon. That was Asmodeus, Prince of Wrath. And if he's already manifesting strongly enough to maintain physical form...”

“We're screwed?” Lex offered helpfully.

Sterling's face darkened as he leaned forward. “We're running out of time,” he said, the words heavy with certainty. Then his expression shifted, the hard edges softening as he looked at me directly. “Cade, there's something you need to know. About your parents. About me. And it's not going to be easy to hear.”

My chest tightened. “Sir?”

“I wasn't always CITD.” He met my eyes steadily, the gruff exterior falling away to reveal raw honesty. “Twenty years ago, I was Hallow. One of their best hunters, or so they told me. Until the night your parents died.”

The world tilted sideways. I gripped the edge of his desk, trying to stay upright as everything I thought I knew about my life rearranged itself. “You... what?”

“I knew Richard and Elizabeth,” Sterling continued, his voice gruff but gentle. “We worked together, tracking signs of demonic activity in the city. They were brilliant. Your father could spot patterns no one else saw, and your mother... she had a way of knowing things, sensing power that ordinary people couldn't perceive.”

“What do you mean? She could sense power?” My voice came out steadier than I felt, the floor beneath me suddenly less solid.

Sterling met my eyes directly. “She was a witch, Cade. A powerful one who turned hunter after seeing what darkness really existed in the world. She could trace supernatural energy to its source, feel disturbances that eluded our instruments.”

I shook my head, memories of my perfectly normal childhood home flashing through my mind. Tea parties and bedtime stories. Science experiments in the kitchen. No spells, no rituals, nothing remotely supernatural. “That's not possible. I would have known.”

“They kept it from you to protect you,” Sterling said quietly, all traces of his earlier harshness gone. “They wanted you to have a normal life, free from the dangers that followed her. That's why they left hunting behind when you were born. At least, they tried to.”

Sean moved closer to me, his presence steady and grounding. “Family secrets, huh? Join the club.” The quip was light, but his eyes were understanding.

“The night they died,” Sterling's voice caught slightly, “we'd found evidence that something big was coming. Something ancient. Your parents figured out Phoenix was involved, but we didn't know how deep it went.” He looked down at his hands. “I was supposed to be their backup that night. But I was delayed, following another lead. By the time I got there...”

“They were already dead,” I finished, the words tasting like ash. “And I was marked.”

“Yes.” Sterling's eyes held a pain I'd never seen before. “Finding you in that alley, seeing what had happened... I couldn't stay with Hallow after that. Couldn't keep fighting their war when I'd failed to protect my own.”

“So you joined CITD instead,” Alana said softly. “Traded one war for another.”

“I made sure I was placed where I could watch over you,” Sterling told me, his voice thick with emotion. “Where I could prepare you for what was coming, even if you didn't know it yet.”

“As touching as this family reunion is,” Sean's voice carried an edge of urgency, though he stood close enough that his arm pressed reassuringly against mine, “can we get back to the part about a Prince of Hell walking the streets of Manhattan? Preferably with a plan that doesn't end with all of us dead?”

“Right.” Alana spread more pages from O'Brien's journal. “According to this, Phoenix isn't just trying to summon Asmodeus. They're trying to bind him. Use his power to open gates for something even worse.”

“The First,” Sterling said grimly. “They want to use a Prince of Hell to break the seals keeping the First contained.”

My head spun with implications. “But that's suicide. You can't control a Prince of Hell. The attempt alone would...”

“Tear reality apart?” Sterling's smile held no humor. “Yeah, well, welcome to Tuesdays in our line of work. And I think that might be exactly what they want.”

I stared at the journal pages, seeing the patterns with new understanding. All those deaths, all those marked victims, they weren't just sacrifices. They were components in something bigger. Something apocalyptic.

“How did O'Brien figure this out?” I asked, needing to focus on practical details before the scope of what we were facing overwhelmed me.

“Because he helped design the initial summoning circles,” Alana said, highlighting specific passages. “But when he realized what they were really planning, he tried to back out. That's why they sent demons after him.”

“The Guardian wasn't just running a protection racket,” Sean added, studying the decoded text. “He was trying to warn people. In his own twisted way.”

Sterling stood abruptly, moving to another safe hidden behind a different painting. “There's something else you need to see. Something your parents left for you, in case...” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “In case you ever had to face what they did.”

The safe opened silently, releasing air that smelled of ozone and ancient power. Sterling removed a long case made of dark wood, its surface carved with protection sigils I'd never seen before.

“Your father spent years creating this,” Sterling said softly, gentleness replacing his usual gruff demeanor. “The materials alone nearly got him killed half a dozen times.”

The case opened with a whisper of well-oiled hinges, revealing something that made Sean inhale sharply. The whip lay coiled like a sleeping serpent, its surface seeming to shift between silver and something darker, more ethereal.

“Holy shit,” Lex breathed, leaning closer but careful not to touch.

“Silver from the Vatican's oldest vaults,” Sterling confirmed, pride evident in his voice. “Woven with fragments from Halley's Comet and strands from an angel's bow. Your mother had connections in places most hunters never even dream of accessing.”

I reached for it hesitantly, feeling power radiate from the weapon before my fingers even made contact. The moment I touched the handle, something clicked into place, like finding a piece of myself I hadn't known was missing.

“They designed it to kill creatures beyond human comprehension,” Sterling continued, watching me test the whip's weight. “Theoretically, it could take down almost anything. But they never got the chance to test it against something like Asmodeus.”

“Let me guess,” Sean said dryly, “the power required to even wound a Prince of Hell could burn out whoever's wielding it. Because nothing in our lives is ever easy.”

Sterling nodded slowly. “Your father called it Heaven's Lash. Said it was insurance, in case the worst ever happened.” His expression darkened. “I suppose the worst is finally here.”

I let the whip uncoil slightly, watching silver light ripple along its length. The power humming through it resonated with my mark in ways that were both thrilling and terrifying. This wasn't just a weapon, it was a legacy.

“Well,” I said, carefully recoiling the whip, “at least we're not going after a Prince of Hell empty-handed.”

“Just possibly suicidal instead of definitely suicidal,” Lex muttered. “Great improvement.”

“I've had worse odds,” Sean said with a grin that didn't reach his eyes, clapping me on the shoulder. “At least the company's decent this time.”

Sterling leaned back against his desk, looking more tired than I'd ever seen him. “Look, there's something else you should know. About what Phoenix is really planning, about why your parents were targeted.”

The mark on my chest throbbed steadily, like it knew what was coming. Sean shifted closer to me, his presence solid and grounding as Sterling continued.

“Phoenix isn't just trying to open a gate to Hell,” Sterling's voice carried the weight of terrible certainty. “They're trying to break the walls between all realities. And they need someone marked by both sides to do it.”

“They need me,” I said, the realization settling like a weight.

“That's right.” Sterling met my eyes directly, his voice softening. “The attack on your parents wasn't random, Cade. Everything since then, the mark, your path to CITD, even meeting him,” he nodded to Sean, “was orchestrated.”

“By who?” But even as I asked, I felt the answer burning under my skin.

“We don't know exactly who marked you,” Sterling admitted. “Because your mark is different from any I've ever encountered. But the being behind all this? The First. He was the original marked one. A being that was once human, once angel, once demon, and now wants to be god.”

“Fantastic,” Sean muttered, his shoulder pressing against mine. “Another day, another apocalypse. Same old, same old.”

“Worse,” Sterling said grimly. “The First understood something that neither Heaven nor Hell wanted known, that the barriers between worlds aren't fixed. That with enough power, enough sacrifice, someone could reshape reality itself.”

Alana stepped forward, O'Brien's journal open to a particularly disturbing page. “That's what these rituals are about. The marked victims, the summoned princes, they're not just collecting power. They're creating fault lines in reality.”

“And they need me to break it completely,” I finished, the words tasting like ash. “Because I'm marked by...” I trailed off, realizing I didn't actually know what had claimed me that night in the alley.

“That's just it,” Sterling's expression was troubled, but his voice held concern rather than anger. “Your mark doesn't align with any known power. It's not celestial, not infernal, not anything we've documented. It's something else entirely.”

Sean's hand brushed my shoulder, the contact brief but deliberate. “So what do we do? Let them keep sacrificing people while we try to figure out what flavor of cosmic crap this is? Not on my watch.”

“We end this,” I said, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounded. “Before they can open any more gates, before they can summon any more princes.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Alana said, but there was approval in her tone.

“Nothing about this is simple.” I touched my chest where the mark burned steadily. “But we can't let them succeed.”

“And you're sure about this?” Sterling asked, his expression showing genuine concern beneath the gruff exterior. “Once we move against them directly, there's no going back. No do-overs.”

“I'm sure,” I said finally. “Whatever marked me that night, whatever game they're playing, I'm done being a pawn in it.”

“Well then,” Sean said with a smirk, “looks like we're going prince hunting. Just another Tuesday, right?”

“Not just hunting,” Sterling corrected, pulling more files from his desk. “We need to understand what they're building. These ritual sites aren't random. They're creating a pattern across the city.”

Alana spread a map across the desk, marking locations of known gates and victim sites. “If we overlay the ley lines...” She worked quickly, drawing connections that formed an unsettling geometric pattern.

“A summoning circle,” Sean breathed.

“They're turning Manhattan into a focal point,” Lex added, studying the pattern. “And once the ritual is complete...”

“Reality itself becomes vulnerable,” Sterling finished. “The boundaries between our world and Hell weaken, allowing demons to cross over freely. Pure chaos.”

“Then we stop them,” I said simply.

“Just like that?” Lex arched an eyebrow. “Take on a Prince of Hell, ancient demonic forces, and a corporation with enough resources to make it all happen?”

“No.” I touched Heaven's Lash, feeling power hum through the weapon. “Not just like that. But together. All of us.”

Sean's shoulder pressed against mine, solid and warm. “Someone's gotta save the world. Might as well be us.”

Sterling looked between us, pride now clearly visible beneath his gruff exterior. “Your parents would be proud,” he said, his voice gentle. “They believed one person could make a difference, even against impossible odds.”

“Good thing he's not just one person anymore,” Sean said, and the possessive note in his voice made something warm unfurl in my chest.

Sterling closed the ancient text with a heavy thud, his expression determined but almost fatherly as he looked at us. “We'll reconvene at first light. What's coming will require everything we have.” He looked between us, taking in our exhaustion-lined faces and blood-stained clothes. “Get some rest, both of you. Clean up, eat something substantial. I need you at full strength, not running on fumes and adrenaline. And for God's sake, take a shower. You smell like you've been wrestling demons in a sewer.”

The order felt strange coming from Sterling. But there was something different in his eyes now. Not just a director managing assets, but someone who understood exactly what we were facing.

We had a weapon that could kill almost anything, a team that understood both worlds, and nothing left to lose. It wasn't much against the forces gathering in our city, but it would have to be enough.

The mark pulsed steadily, like a second heartbeat. Whatever had claimed me that night, whatever plans the First had, they were about to learn that some pawns could fight back.

And we had a Prince of Hell to hunt.