Page 22 of Wicked (Dark Delights #5)

“You liked what that demon did to you,” Hawley said. “What about it did you like?” He waved an absentminded hand at his belt. “Remove it all the way, out of the loops.”

Hawley’s cologne was strong, but it didn’t hide the scent of his body odor. Isaac held his breath as he worked the leather through the loops and pulled it out, trying to focus on answering the question rather than what was about to happen.

“I… I don’t know. It just felt good.” He did know, but he didn’t dare say.

He liked giving control over to Shadrach.

He didn’t make Isaac feel afraid. In fact it was the lack of fear that frightened him.

After a lifetime of being taught that the things he enjoyed were off-limits or wrong in some way, being with Shadrach felt like the same kind of forbidden bliss as the spill of hot, fresh blood on his hands. Dangerously good .

Hawley held out a hand, and Isaac laid the belt on his palm. When Hawley circled around him, Isaac’s body went cold, his breath shallowing as he clenched his hands into fists on his thighs. Hawley was going to whip him after all? Was that it? Or was he?—

His thoughts screeched to a halt as the leather whipped against his back. The belt was thicker and stiffer than the leather cord Hawley usually used. It felt more like a bludgeon than a whip. He flinched, squeezing his eyes shut.

“You liked what that demon did to you, because you’re broken,” Hawley said. “You were born wrong, and we’ve tried so hard to make you good.”

Isaac blinked the wetness in his eyes away.

“Commander Sloan had a meeting tonight.”

The belt snapped against Isaac’s back again.

“The council still wouldn’t approve of going after the traitors, even after he told them what they did to you.

That they’d kidnapped and starved you, let demons try to tempt you.

It was all the evidence he needed to prove that he was right, that they do have some sort of plan to ruin the guild one paladin at a time. ”

The belt scored against his back again, and Isaac bit down hard on his bottom lip.

“They were still torn.” Hawley laughed, cold and cruel. “But Sloan has had enough, you see. He brought some of his most loyal paladins to the council meeting, and when the vote was split, he had all the nay voters arrested.”

Isaac’s head shot up. “What?”

Hawley whipped him again. “That’s right, Paladin Morrow. Sloan has taken control of the guild. His word is law for everyone now.”

No, no, no. Panic seized Isaac’s lungs. The council had been the only thing stopping them from going after the Sentinels. Without those checks and balances, Sloan could do whatever he wanted. Shadrach was in danger. Isaac had to?—

Hawley inhaled sharply. “ What ?”

Isaac half-turned before remembering he wasn’t supposed to move. The pain on his back was fading fast, and the blood drained from his face. Were the marks healing before Hawley’s eyes?

“How is this possible?” Hawley breathed. “How are you healing?”

He couldn’t possibly explain that with a simple lie. “I— Ah !”

It was the belt buckle that tore into his back this time, again and again, relentless, until Isaac was bent double with his elbows on the stone and ragged snarls of pain spilling from his throat. He wasn’t allowed to move away or try to escape. He had to endure it.

Finally, Hawley stopped, panting hard. The pain was receding quickly, and a smile lifted the corners of Isaac’s mouth. Shadrach was taking care of him even now, and he had no idea. Isaac had to do something. He couldn’t let them go to the rink—the Rink—and hurt him.

The belt buckle scraped against the stone tile as Hawley rounded Isaac’s crouched form. His loafers passed in front of Isaac’s face, and the buckle left a trail of blood behind him. Isaac’s jaw clenched at the sight.

“How are you healing?” Hawley demanded. He snagged Isaac’s hair and wrenched him upright. “How?”

Isaac squirmed in his grip. “They tortured me,” he rasped. “Cut me up. Beat me. Broke my arm. ”

Hawley’s gaze darted down his body and back up, looking for wounds that were obviously long gone.

Isaac laughed, high and edged with hysteria. “ Shadrach gave me some of his blood. Made me drink it. It healed me. It continues to heal me. I don’t know how long it lasts.” It felt good to say his name. For the first time ever, telling the truth was vindicating.

“Nonsense,” Hawley barked. “Blasphemous nonsense. Demon blood would do no such thing. Healing that quickly would be a miracle.”

“It ‘would be?’” Isaac shook his head. “It is . You just saw it with your own eyes.”

Hawley backhanded him. “Do not speak to me with that attitude.”

Isaac glared at the floor. Being tortured by demons didn’t make him feel this small.

For a moment, he wondered how things might’ve been different if he hadn’t run.

Would Shadrach have locked him back up in the cell after their time in the shower was done?

He asked Isaac to come live with him. Would he have taken him home with him?

He tried to imagine it. Shadrach’s apartment would be luxurious, based on the expensive way he dressed.

Isaac would want for nothing. There would be no whippings, no oily looks from questionable authority figures, and most of all, no fear.

It sounded like a dream.

Hawley’s lip curled. “It’s no matter, really. They’ll be dealt with soon enough.”

Isaac crashed back to the present. “What do you mean?”

Sweat gleamed on Hawley’s bald head. “The directions you gave Commander Sloan were more than enough for him to track down the skating rink where they’d been keeping you.

Now that the council is out of the way, he’s sending two teams there, tonight.

Soon, the traitors and their demons will all be dead. ”

No .

The thought struck him so hard his vision went dark around the edges. He’d chosen wrong, and now they were going to pay for his mistake. He’d told Shadrach that he’d given Sloan their location, but had Shadrach warned the Sentinels? Did they have time to prepare?

“And don’t worry, it’ll be quick. He gave the teams leave to use the stones.”

“The stones…” What stones? His mind was blank with horror. He couldn’t think .

Hawley chuckled, a cold sound that made goosebumps rise on Isaac’s skin.

“Right. They stopped teaching about some of our more formidable weapons. Sloan thought making some of them common knowledge was too dangerous. The Enochian stones are quite powerful, kept safely hidden away in a vault with some other priceless artifacts. It’s a shame we were so taken by surprise by the possessors.

If we’d had time to fetch the stones from the vault, the battle would’ve been very different.

You see, when struck together, they emit a powerful white light that burns away evil. ”

Isaac stared. “Burns away evil,” he repeated breathlessly.

“Yes. The demons will be disintegrated. And when the blight is extinguished, all will once more be well. You’ll see.” He stroked Isaac’s cheek.

Isaac recoiled, pushing himself to his feet.

Hawley’s expression hardened. “I didn’t tell you to rise, Paladin Morrow.”

“You can’t do that,” he said. His heart pounded. He was disobeying, but if there was anything worth being punished for, it was this. “You can’t. I won’t let you. ”

“You won’t let us kill the demons who tortured you? Who turned you into an abomination with their blood?” His disgusted gaze raked down Isaac’s body. “You really did like it, didn’t you? Did you like being defiled by that demon? Did his touch excite you?”

“ Yes .” His face burned, but he forged on. “I did. I liked it. I liked him. And he was in my dreams again last night. He doesn’t deserve to die.”

He was taking a match and lighting his whole world on fire right now. Hawley looked as though Isaac had struck him across the face.

“I-I have to help them.” It was hard to push the words out, to finish pouring the gasoline on everything he’d ever known. He turned away, his eyes finding the distant door at the end of the aisle. Freedom. Escape. For better or worse, he was going to run again.

But before he could take more than a step toward his uncertain future, the belt cracked down against his back.

He yelped at the shock of pain, twisting away and whirling around.

He caught Hawley’s clumsy second swing, ripping the belt from his hand and wrapping it around his neck.

Hawley screamed for him to stop, but Isaac was no longer using higher orders of thinking.

Adrenaline pounded like a drum through his veins as he hurled Hawley around by the belt.

Hawley lost his footing and fell, his head crashing against the armrest of the front pew. Red blood gushed from his temple.

Isaac dropped the belt, grabbing Hawley by the throat and smashing his head into the wood again.

And again.

And again.

And again .

When he finally blinked the red from his vision, Hawley was barely recognizable. Isaac released him, and he flopped to the floor in a lifeless heap. Dead. Blood coated Isaac’s arms, dappled his chest and stomach, and the sweet, copper taste of it filled the air.

He’d never killed a human being before. That was a grievous sin, and his sins were punished, but…

the man who did the punishing was the one leaking all over the tile at his feet.

His mind went quiet, and he raised his head, staring around the room.

He imagined the church on Sunday mornings.

Sloan and Hawley had required his attendance every Sunday and Wednesday.

What would all those people say when they realized the beloved Father Hawley was dead?

What would they say if they knew he’d forced Isaac to remove his belt? To prostrate himself on his knees? Would they believe how hungry he would look when Isaac came to confess, because he enjoyed these whippings as much as Isaac hated them?

It was a sin to kill. Was it twice as bad to kill a holy man on holy soil? He killed a priest in a church. That had to be some kind of double whammy.

He’d wanted to run before, and now he had no choice.

They would hunt him down for this. He couldn’t recall a single moment in guild history when a paladin had murdered someone within the guild, and he killed the unarmed priest .

There would be no banishment for him if they caught him. He would be executed for this crime.

That didn’t matter. He had to get to the skating rink. He had to stop the paladins from using those stones on the demons there.

He grabbed his shirts, pulling the T-shirt on over the blood drying to his chest. The long-sleeved flannel would hide most of the blood on his arms. If he ran, no one would be able to see his hands well enough to suss out what he’d done.

The grounds were usually quiet at this hour, so it was unlikely he would even cross paths with anyone.

They probably wouldn’t find Hawley’s body until morning.

By then, he would be long gone. He didn’t know exactly where yet, but… he hoped.