Page 1 of Forbidden

Chapter 1

There wasa 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 paladinsorstaff, but there was no way he was going to miss this.

People were still filing into the cafeteria when hearrived, 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 clappedmechanically, 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 wereactualmonsters 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 therooms 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?

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