The anger inside Warren melted and left only the fear. For a moment, though, he wondered if dying would have been easier.

  Merihim cocked his head and looked at Warren. Would you have rather died? There are others out there who would preserve their lives and serve me.

  The need for self-preservation pushed away Warren’s fear and indecision. “No.”

  That’s right. You wanted to live. You still do. A smile twisted Merihim’s lips. Tell me, then. Tell me that you’re glad you’re still alive.

  Warren suddenly loathed himself more than he ever had. He remembered how he’d felt when he’d seen his mother killed in front of him, and had commanded his stepfather to take his own life, knowing with certainty that his stepfather had no choice, and knowing that he could have stopped the suicide before it happened by simply telling his stepfather to sleep instead of die.

  For weeks after the deaths of his mother and stepfather, Warren had blamed himself. Not just for his stepfather’s death, but for his mother’s as well. He’d always come up in their arguments, and he’d always been a source of friction between them. He didn’t know exactly how it was his fault that they were dead, but he was certain it was. Back then when he’d been in the hospital recovering from the gunshot wound, he’d often thought that it would have been better if he would have died, too.

  Then, when no one had ever adopted him after they’d discovered his personal tragedy, Warren had blamed himself again. He’d been worthless, a cursed child, and everyone that had come through the orphanage had seen that in him.

  You were worthless, Merihim said. I have changed that. I have changed you. You have value now. I elevated you. Do you think that your new friends would be so interested in you if I hadn’t taken care of you?

  Warren knew that was true. The Cabalists wouldn’t have been looking for him if he hadn’t survived that fire.

  “We were already looking for you,” Naomi reminded him, “before the fire that night.”

  The truth of that helped a little, but then Warren realized that Merihim knew that he was among the Cabalists.

  Children playing with shadows of things they’ve never seen, Merihim scoffed. Misled to visions of grandeur by the paltry bit they’ve been able to ferret out.

  Arrogance? Warren wondered. Or truth? He didn’t know.

  “Steady,” Naomi said. “Every moment you have the demon’s attention, we’re learning something.”

  Merihim’s gaze erupted in baleful black fire that streamed from his eyes. Tell me now that you’re glad to be alive or I will kill you where you stand.

  “Warren.” Naomi’s voice was tense and anxious. “Do what he says. Do what he says or he’s going to kill you.”

  Warren had never felt so helpless in all his life. No matter what he said, no matter what he did, he was doomed. There was no escape.

  “You don’t know that. We can help you. But you have to save yourself till we can.”

  “I’m glad to be alive,” Warren breathed out in a ragged sob. Hot tears cooled on his cheeks, and they felt like so many he’d shed while in foster care. He knew he was telling the truth, and he knew that if Merihim had sensed he was lying the demon would have slain him before he could take his next breath.

  “Good. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Warren didn’t say anything, but he didn’t feel like anything was going to be okay. He just wanted off the bridge and away from the demon.

  Merihim smiled and preened. Then he regarded Warren. How did you find me?

  “I don’t know,” Warren replied. Since he didn’t know how Naomi had sent him on his journey or how she had traced his link back to the demon, Warren hoped that was close enough to the truth. “I went to sleep and you were there.”

  Merihim considered that. Perhaps the bond between us is stronger than I thought.

  Warren wondered if that made the demon somehow more vulnerable. Or if Merihim thought it did. Either case could prove disastrous for him.

  And why did you come to me?

  “I didn’t want to.” That was definitely the truth.

  Yet here you are.

  “Hold on to him. Let me see what I can find out.”

  Warren wanted to tell her no, that he was going to be the one who paid the price for the chances she took.

  Merihim stepped closer to Warren, dwarfing him immediately. The heat from the demon’s body soaked into Warren and took away the chill of standing atop the bridge in the winter wind.

  I can use you, though, so it’s good that you showed up.

  Fear rose in Warren again. He cursed himself for going with the Cabalists. If he wasn’t there with them now, he wouldn’t be here.

  I want you to locate something for me, the demon stated.

  “What?”

  Merihim grinned mirthlessly. You don’t need to know. You only need to know that if you don’t find it for me, I’ll crush you.

  Warren felt Naomi’s power coursing through him, and he worried that if he could feel it surely the demon could, too. But Merihim gave no indication that he was aware of anything.

  “I told you I was good at what I do.” A trace of pride accompanied Naomi’s words as they bounced inside Warren’s skull.

  Merihim hefted his trident and placed the tines across Warren’s brow. You’ll be my warhound in this matter. You’ll run what I seek to ground. The humans are pursuing it as well, and I don’t want them to succeed. The prize is mine, and mine alone. Find the thing that I desire and let me know when you do.

  “How?”

  You will be given the way.

  “How will I know what it is?”

  Because you will know.

  Dark energy blazed through Warren’s brain from the trident. He heard Naomi scream deep within his mind, then he didn’t feel her anymore.

  Go, Merihim commanded. Don’t trouble me any further. Complete your assignment as quickly as you can. I would have my prize before the next day breaks.

  An incredible force slammed into Warren, knocking him over the side of the bridge hard enough to drive the wind from his lungs. He flew backward at least a hundred feet and—for a flicker of a moment—hung out over the long drop.

  He fell toward the dark river where demons capered aboard burning boats and ships. Stretching out his hand to try to turn his fall into a dive, he felt certain that he was about to be knocked senseless from the plummet.

  Too late he saw that he wasn’t going to hit the water at all. He fell directly toward a burning tanker ship that suddenly exploded. Flames reached up for him and he cried out in fear. He crossed his arms in front of his face as the heat rushed out to consume him—

  —and woke on the thin pad in Naomi’s office gasping for air.

  Hedgar Tulane stood just outside the circle. Concern tightened his features, but he wasn’t looking at Warren. Instead, his gaze was locked on Naomi, who lay curled in a fetal position.

  “What happened to her?” Tulane demanded.

  Trying to push through the fog that filled his head, only then noticing the pounding at his temples, Warren ignored the question. Out of breath and dizzy, feeling changed somehow, he pushed himself into a seated position and reached for Naomi.

  “Hey,” he called. “Hey. Wake up.”

  Gradually, she awakened. Pain etched hard lines on her face. She tried to sit up, then got sick immediately. She waved an arm and the candles all extinguished.

  Tulane stepped across the circle then and helped her to her feet. He sent for assistance while Warren sat with his back to one of the walls, too weak to help.

  Kelli stood across the room, staring at them. For a moment she looked afraid.

  Don’t be afraid, Warren thought.

  Kelli took a deep slow breath and the fear inside her dwindled. No emotion showed on her face.

  Help me.

  Like an automaton, Kelli joined Warren. She looked less like herself than ever. Warren knew he should feel guilty, but the fear inside him outweighed whatever remorse he might have felt. Her hand was cold in his, but he didn’t care about that, either. He just didn’t want to be alone.

  By the time the physician arrived and examined Naomi, she was feeling better. She waved Tulane’s attentions away and walked unsteadily over to Warren.

  “Your ties to the demon are stronger than I’d believed,” she said.

  “I know.” Warren stood in front of her on trembling knees. He still didn’t feel right. His stomach rolled threateningly.

  Naomi gazed at him as if she could see through him. “Do you know what Merihim wants?”

  “No.”

  “Didn’t he tell you?”

  Warren felt anger within him and concentrated on seizing it instead of giving in to the fear that rattled through his bones. “You were there. Did you hear him say anything?”

  Naomi reached up suddenly and laid her palm against his temple. Warren shifted, intending to knock her hand from his flesh, but then a blinding electrical pain surged through his brain and everything went black.

  Thirty-Five

  W hat were you thinking?” Terrence Booth demanded. The High Seat’s face was beet-red with emotion. He paced back and forth in the debriefing room.

  Simon stood in Booth’s office with his helmet under one arm. Bruised and bloodied from the battle, he stared at Booth in disbelief. “I was thinking I was saving those people.”

  “Those people made their choice to stay in that house!” Booth roared. “They weren’t our bloody problem!”

  Simon barely kept his mouth shut. You weren’t there. You didn’t see the look on that little girl’s face.

  “When Sergeant Chipplewhite decided to stay to try to save you, he put his team at risk,” Booth continued. “I’ve got six more dead Templar than I had last night.”

  Simon didn’t point out that Bruce’s death was due to the book they’d been sent after, not the encounter with the Gremlins.

  “In all fairness, sir,” Derek spoke up from where he stood slightly behind Simon awaiting his turn for Booth’s wrath, “the situation wasn’t—”

  “Wasn’t for Simon Cross to muck about with,” Booth interrupted, swinging his baleful gaze to Derek. “Nor was it yours. Do you consider trading the lives of six warriors for one a good trade, sergeant? Because if you do, I’ve seriously got to rethink your position as a leader.”

  Derek closed his mouth and put up no further protest.

  Booth stared hard at Simon, like the effort was going to wound him in some manner.

  The old resentment rose in Simon. For a moment he felt like they were back at school when Booth had thought he could bully a smaller and younger classmate. Everything in him cried out to prove that wasn’t about to happen now any more than it had then.

  Don’t go there, he told himself. You won’t win the political battle involved in this encounter. Still, he hated to acknowledge that even to himself.

  “You had your assignment when you went there,” Booth continued. “You were to get that book and get out of that house. It should have been easy. No muss, no fuss.” He paused. “And no loss of life. Not of my warriors.”

  “That little girl,” Simon said in a tight voice, “those people, needed help. If they’d stayed in that house, they would be dead now.”

  “That’s not my problem,” Booth said. “That’s not your problem.” He cursed. “There are a lot of people dead out there. I’ve seen their bodies. And I’ve got a vidburst for you, Cross: there are going to be a lot more of dead people before this is finished.”

  Simon breathed out, concentrating on controlling his reaction. He didn’t have to get mad. That was a luxury he couldn’t afford at the moment.

  “And to make matters even worse, you brought them here. This base is supposed to remain secret!”

  “There was nowhere else to take—”

  “Those people are not our responsibility! We’re here to save a world. Not a handful of people. We can only do that by defeating the demons. Not offering sanctuary. When that woman and her children choose to leave here, if they choose to do that—and if they don’t then you’ve served only to increase the burden here—they could tell others about the secret areas we have in the Underground. It won’t be long before the demons learn where we are.”

  Simon hadn’t thought about that until he’d returned to the Underground himself. He’d concentrated solely on getting the family out of the burning house and to someplace safe. Saving them had come first.

  “We’re not here to save people,” Booth said. “That’s not what all those Templar intended when they died at St. Paul’s Cathedral. That’s not what your father intended when he died so that we could have a chance to carry on this war.”

  You don’t know what my father intended, Simon thought angrily. Then guilt assailed him. He didn’t know what his father intended either because he hadn’t been there with him at the end.

  “We’re here to win the war against the demons,” Booth continued. “Not to lose it slowly.”

  Simon concentrated on his breathing. Whatever Booth said wasn’t going to matter. He’d learned something tonight that had felt good. Saving that girl and her family had felt good.

  “Are you listening to me?” Booth demanded.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Those people,” Booth spoke carefully, “are part of generations that stepped away from everything the Templar tried to teach them about the demons. They didn’t want to see the demons. They didn’t want to heed the warnings the Templar had that the demons existed. Those people watched as King Philip IV broke the ranks of the Templar in 1307. None of them believed in demons. They didn’t want to. No one wanted to admit beings of such immense power existed because it might lessen the place they believed they had in the world. So they lived their lives in denial while the Templar went underground and worked to rebuild their lost fortunes so they could continue that war. That’s not going to change just because you want it to.”

  Simon breathed out.

  “We need warriors,” Booth said. “Not heroes. The heroes all died at St. Paul’s Cathedral. We don’t have that luxury.”

  Simon almost said something. He thought Derek had to hold back a comment as well, but he couldn’t be sure.

  “We can only win this war if we manage to keep enough Templar alive long enough to figure out the weaknesses of the demons and get the job done. They’re not going to do that by trying to play the hero.” Booth spat the word as if it were a vile thing.

  Keeping a tight rein on his emotions, Simon remained silent.

  “If you want to be such a bloody hero,” Booth said, “figure out how to defeat the demons. I’ll mark you in the Book of Champions myself.” He snorted in disgust. “The only reason I’m allowing you to stay at this point is because we need every able-bodied warrior. But if you screw up again, if you risk my Templar by inciting them to act foolishly, you’ll be gone. And I mean forever banished from our ranks. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” Simon’s voice was low and tight.

  “Good. Now get out of my sight.”

  Simon turned on his heel and marched out of the room. He resented Booth’s heavy-handedness and wanted to retaliate, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. He had to walk a narrow path inside the Order.

  Simon went to the hospital ward even though he was tired. When he’d arrived at the Underground, Booth had sent for him at once. The children’s mother, Emily, hadn’t been in good shape. He wanted to know if events had conspired to make orphans of the girl and her brother.

  A few minutes later, he’d found his way through the tunnels to the med center.

  A pretty woman, Simon thought her name was Kaye, stood in lavender scrubs at the triage center. She looked up at his approach.

  “Cross, isn’t it?” Her voice was open and honest. She looked tired.

  “Yes.” Simon stood at the desk. “I brought in a woman and—”

  “—and two children.” Kaye smiled. “Quite outgoing children actually.”

  “I wanted to find out how they were doing.”

  “The kids are fine. The mother is going to need a bit of recovery. Apparently she’s a diabetic and had run out of medication. She’d lapsed into a coma. If you hadn’t found her when you did, she would have been dead within a matter of hours.”

  “But she’s going to be all right?”

  “She is. She’s resting naturally now.”

  Simon breathed a sigh of relief. After everything the night had turned into, that was a welcome bit of news.

  “Would you like to see them?”

  Simon shook his head. The last thing he needed was for Booth to find out he’d stopped by the infirmary to check on the people he wasn’t supposed to have saved. “No. I’ve got to—”

  Kaye smiled and looked over Simon’s shoulder. “Too late.”

  Turning, Simon discovered the boy and girl were in a doorway behind him. Both of them had on new clothing and a few bandages. They stared at him shyly. The boy kept dropping his eyes and looking away.

  “Are they all right?” Simon asked.

  “Other than a few bumps and bruises, they’re fine.” Kaye walked around the desk and over to the children. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

  “I really don’t think—”

  “They’ve been waiting on you. They’ve been begging me to send for you, actually.”

  Reluctantly, Simon followed Kaye. The young woman kneeled down by the kids.

  “This is Emma,” Kaye said, “and this is Stephen.”

  Emma stuck her hand out, then elbowed the boy to get him to do the same.

  “Hi.” Simon shifted his helm which he carried under his arm, and pulled the glove from his right hand. He shook hands briefly.

  “You’re the one who saved us,” the little girl said.

  Simon didn’t know what to say to that.

  “Yes,” Kaye said. “He is.” She looked at Simon. “From what I hear, what he did was a very brave thing.”

  Feeling embarrassed and uneasy, Simon wanted more than anything to escape the encounter. Nothing good could come of this if Booth heard about it. He started to make his departure.