Page 2 of Wicked (Dark Delights #5)

“I don’t like doing this,” he said, pious and soft. “You know I don’t. But you leave me no choice.”

The oily glimmer in his eyes belied his words.

Isaac opened his mouth to ask what other sin he’d committed, but admitting he didn’t know would probably be worse than owning up to whatever it was. His conflict was visible on his face, because Hawley shook his head sadly.

“You don’t even know why I’m punishing you, do you?”

Isaac’s mouth twisted. He knew exactly why Hawley punished him. Isaac was different. Born wrong. He wasn’t blessed with a sense of right and wrong, so Hawley beat one into him. If he stepped out of line, he was punished.

The whip scored across his back, shocking a grunt from his throat.

“Answer me, Paladin Morrow.”

“Yes, you’re right,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry, Father, but I don’t know what else I’ve done wrong.”

Another hit made his spine arch, and he dug his fingers into his thighs to keep himself upright. Hawley didn’t like it when he doubled over.

“You lied to me,” Hawley said. “Remember? Right outside, you told me you killed those demons quickly.”

Oh, right.

He was ready for the next hit, the pain hot and sharp behind his eyes. The next one was barely noticeable, as his mind drifted away. Pain was inconsequential—a temporary discomfort at worst—but it was all Hawley had to keep him in line.

Sometimes he liked to imagine what it would be like to turn the tables on him, to stand up and rip the whip from his hands, wrap it around his throat and squeeze .

Self-preservation was sometimes the only thing that stopped him.

If he laid a hand on Hawley, Sloan would kill him.

Even if he didn’t, Isaac would be excommunicated from the guild.

It was the only home he’d ever known. He lived on the grounds.

Without the guild, he’d have nothing. Bowing to their whims was better than the unknown that lay beyond these holy walls.

When he noticed an absence of fresh pain, he let his mind refocus on the present. His back was sore, but he wasn’t sure any of these wounds even broke the skin. Bruises he could handle .

His body shook, an involuntary response he’d never been able to stop, and he bit down on his anger. If Hawley saw even a flash of it in his eyes, he’d start all over again and keep going until Isaac begged him to stop. But if these sessions had taught him anything, it was how to play his part.

“I know it isn’t truly possible for someone like you to feel remorse.” Hawley’s voice was laced with pity, and Isaac bowed his head to hide his fury.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked.

“You may think you are.”

“I’ll try to do better.”

“See that you do,” he said coldly. “Now, put your shirt on, recite the Hail Mary, and then go get some rest.”

Isaac nodded deferentially, hoping that was the end of it.

“And Isaac.”

He looked up at the sound of his first name. Hawley rarely used it.

His murky brown eyes were layered with ice. “Don’t lie to me again.”

He ducked his head once more. “Yes, Father.”

Hawley strode away, his steps echoing on the wood floor, and his office door closed with a resounding snap . There was no need for him to stay and make sure Isaac obeyed. He knew better than to risk it.

Tugging his shirt over his head and down his sore back, he began, “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee…”

Isaac had gone hunting because he couldn’t sleep, but now he was too angry to try.

With the sun inching higher into the sky, he made his way to the cafeteria.

A handful of early- risers were already roaming the grounds, but few greeted him or even looked his direction.

Most people tended to give him a wide berth.

It hadn’t been a big deal at one time. He’d had friends.

Luke Morgan, Nathan Accardi. They were both on the wrong side of the war now.

Cyrus Perron was loosely a friend—more like an occasional training partner.

And while he still attended the secret meetings that some of the paladins had been holding, the ones who didn’t agree with Sloan’s recent policies, he barely knew most of them.

Isaac wasn’t sure of the point, really, but Sloan had instructed him to continue attending the meetings so they knew what was being said.

Sometimes he wondered what they would do if they found out he was ratting them out—not that Sloan gave him much of a choice. He’d just been shown, yet again, that lying was wrong, and they always seemed to know when he tried.

The cafeteria was still mostly empty at this hour, and the cooks were just beginning to put the food out onto the steam trays.

He took a place in line with an absent mind and layered food onto his plate, his gaze drifting over to the stained glass windows on the far wall.

Each depicted a different scene from different books of the New Testament.

There was no escaping God’s judgment here, or anyone else’s for that matter.

He chose a random spot as far from the windows as he could get and stabbed at his scrambled eggs. They were the same as always, bland and chewy, but there was a grim comfort in the familiarity.

A figure swooped into the chair across from him, and he schooled his expression. Daniel’s dark curls were wild and his scruff was verging on beard territory. His warm hazel eyes glanced around them seriously before setting on Isaac’s .

“Meeting in the library soon,” he said. “I sent a text; you’re the only one who didn’t respond.”

Isaac patted one pocket and shoved half a slice of toast into his mouth. “Hello to you, too. Sorry, don’t have my phone on me.”

Daniel spared him an exasperated smile. “ Hello , Isaac.”

“What’s there to meet about?” he asked.

Those golden brown eyes blinked at him in surprise. “You’re kidding, right? Two days ago this place was attacked. We’ve all barely had a moment’s rest since then. And Nate…”

Right. Nathan walked away with the demons—the demons who’d come to help the guild fight off other demons.

It was a clusterfuck, really. Isaac didn’t know where he stood, and he wasn’t sure anyone really cared about his opinions, anyway.

Sloan said all demons were bad, which meant the people like Nathan who sided with them were equally as bad. And Sloan’s word was law.

No matter Isaac’s opinion on the matter, Sloan would want to know what was said in this meeting, so he forced a nod.

“Okay. I’ll be there.” He didn’t really want to finish his eggs, anyway. He shoveled some into his mouth for appearance’s sake and gestured for Daniel to follow him to his feet. “Come on, let’s go.”

Daniel chuckled. “We could’ve waited for you to finish eating.”

“Nah, I wasn’t that hungry. Come on.” He dumped his food and left his plate at the return window, falling into step with Daniel.

The library was deserted at this hour, which was likely why they chose it.

Their steps echoed off the domed ceiling, and the scent of parchment and ink was a soothing one.

There were paintings of biblical scenes on the ceiling here.

Isaac avoided looking up for exactly that reason.

He’d heard a lot of people say it was their favorite part of HQ, but it had always just made him feel… uneasy. Watched.

They didn’t see anyone until they reached one of the private study rooms, where the others had already gathered.

He spared a moment to wonder whether they’d all been waiting specifically for him.

Cyrus, Aidan, and a handful of others sat around the narrow table, and three more stood against the walls.

Cyrus offered him a nod of greeting, carding one hand through his spiky black hair. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, revealing miles of black ink on his corded forearms. Isaac patted his shoulder as he took a seat beside him.

Daniel stood at the head of the table, looking around at each of them. Finally, with a helpless shrug, he said, “I don’t know where we go from here. Nathan was the one who brought us all together, and now he’s…”

Good, Isaac thought. Maybe that meant they would stop having these ill-advised meetings, and he would stop feeling torn in two different directions.

“I can’t believe he just threw his ring down and left with them,” Aidan said, looking lost. Nathan had been his squad captain, Alex his shield-brother. Isaac had heard they were dissolving the whole squad, separating them and sending them to other teams.

“Sloan ordered us to kill them,” Cyrus said coolly, bracing his tattooed arms on the table.

The face of an inked crex demon stared back at Isaac from Cyrus’s forearm. He’d never understood the appeal of tattoos, but he suspected Cyrus was using them like trophies, which, Isaac could admit, was an interesting idea. Why else would he get demons tattooed onto his body?

Cyrus went on, heedless of Isaac’s wavering attention. “After Nate had spent weeks trying to earn their trust. I’m not surprised.”

In the heat of the battle two days ago, it hadn’t been paladins who’d saved the day.

No, it had been the traitors and their demons.

They’d charged in like the cavalry, taking up arms against the possessor demons and their monstrous leader.

It was halflings who brought down Amon the kalmach, the winged beast in charge of the possessors, not the holy warriors who trained all their lives for it.

And following immediately on the heels of the demon’s demise, Sloan ordered the paladins to turn on the halflings and traitors.

Nathan, injured and barely standing, had taken his guild ring off and thrown it down right there on the battlefield.

He’d left with the traitors, and no one had heard from him since.