Priest (Trident Agency #2)

21. Priest

21

PRIEST

T he flight back home was strange.

Everything was changed, and yet it was exactly the same. Oliver kept close to him, and Priest stayed curled around him as long as it was physically possible to do so. They stopped for dinner on the way to his house, holding hands in the drive-thru, kissing when they were at traffic lights.

It was easy, and nothing in Priest’s life had ever been easy before. It should have terrified him, but a lot of it was Oliver’s calm that kept Priest from sinking into the what-ifs. They had a few days of peace before he was supposed to head to HQ to meet with Jeremiah and the others, which meant a few days of giving in to his desire to touch Oliver. To make him beg, and sob, and come.

It was satisfying in ways Priest didn’t think he could be.

Once upon a time, the idea of relationships had sent his skin crawling. The idea of monogamy was so foreign to him it was like an unknown, undeciphered language. But now, the thought of looking at someone else—at feeding on anyone else—made him feel sick. He was happy. He was content.

And that’s what terrified him the most because they could lose this battle. They could fight this war Jeremiah wanted to bring down on these people, and they could lose. Oliver could die, and if that happened, Priest knew he’d go with him.

If he didn’t perish right away, the madness would take him because nothing would ever sate his hunger again.

Part of him wanted to pick Oliver up and squirrel him away back with the Dragons until the people fighting consumed each other. He could live in a wasteland so long as Oliver was by his side. But he also knew he owed it to Knight to do better. To do something to bring him the justice he deserved.

They all had earned that. And he wasn’t done searching for the answers to all the new questions that had arisen.

Who was he? What was he, really? A Demon, yes. An Incubus, yes. But what defined those two things now? It was strange enough coming to the realization that he could live his life fully and completely without the threat of madness and starvation hanging over his head.

So could that be the same fate for others out there like himself? And gods, but would things have been different—would his mother have kept him—if she’d known?

“Baby?”

Priest blinked in surprise when he realized Oliver was talking to him. No one in his life had ever thought to call him something sweet. His heart felt thick in his chest as he opened his arms and let Oliver crawl into them.

They were lounging on the couch, stomachs full, sleepy and lazy. It was the perfect evening, especially now with Oliver resting against him.

“You were thinking really hard. I could almost hear it in my head,” Oliver told him when he was settled.

Priest dragged fingers through Oliver’s hair. “There’s been a lot on my mind since, well, everything.”

“Because of me?”

“Yes, but not because I have you. It’s because of what you said about our bond and how it wasn’t just you.” Priest’s fingers trailed down the side of Oliver’s face as he stared into his eyes. They were blacker now, almost matching his pupil. He wondered if Oliver had noticed yet, if he’d hate the change that came from their bond.

“You mean the starvation thing, right?”

Priest bit his lip, then said, “I have no idea how many Incubi are out there. We’ve spent eons trying not to breed because the last thing any of us wanted to do was condemn another soul to this torment. And those of us who do abandon our young.”

“Have you abandoned?—”

“No,” Priest interrupted in a rush. The idea of children horrified him, but if it had happened, he could have never left his child. Not after what he’d suffered. “No. But my mother left me at a group home for Supes like me. It was… lonely. Terrifying some nights. Painful. We were educated on what we were and what we were meant to become. They told me if I wanted to survive, I should go into the service of a royal household.”

Oliver sat up a little. “You mean…”

“Yes,” Priest said softly. “That kind of service. They said there would be no stopping the madness—that I would eventually succumb—but being employed in the service of someone wealthy meant I might delay it for longer than an Incubus who had to find food on their own.”

“So they’d get sex and what? Power? I mean, you’re capable of doing a lot of damage,” Oliver said. “You’re strong.”

Priest wasn’t sure where he was going with that, but he could feel in the bond that Oliver had a point. “Yes. Like Hellhounds, Incubi can be trained as a sort of attack dog… with perks. And I’d have the ability to feed more often than finding a willing being, and it would keep me from going over the edge too young.”

“Convenient,” Oliver spat.

Priest rubbed a hand down his face. “It’s not complete bullshit, my love. I felt it. I felt the gnawing hunger. I felt the madness. And the time I could go between feeds was growing less and less.”

“Yeah, but…” Oliver’s brow furrowed. “Did you ever try to find someone? Not like a one-off, but someone you cared about?”

Priest snorted. “I’m a Demon, little human. Most people—supernatural or not—aren’t like you.”

“I feel like that’s kind of my point. You believed it, and everyone else around you believed it. But you and I just proved it’s bullshit. Jeremiah and Remi proved it’s bullshit. And Knight?—”

They didn’t know if it was bullshit for Knight, but Priest was terrified that no matter what his friend wanted, he might not ever be in a place he could accept it.

“We know the virus is bullshit, so what’s to say that the reason Incubi have all gone mad is because they’ve spent centuries believing a lie and have turned away from their true nature.”

“This is my true nature,” Priest said, starting to feel defensive.

Oliver twisted, pushing up onto his knees, and he cradled Priest’s face between both hands. “This is your nature, Claude. This. With me. The rest is bullshit. I refuse to believe that any creature was created only to die in agony. That there are beings out there who are meant to be alone and unloved. That’s just… it’s not possible.”

“You’re optimistic.”

“I’m following a trail of evidence. I’m a nerd and a historian. It’s what I do.” Oliver leaned in and kissed him. “Believe me. Please.”

The truth was, Priest did believe him, but it scared him. If it was true—if it was all true—it meant thousands before him had lived and died because of a lie. It meant he was abandoned by his family because of a lie. It meant that their numbers were almost nonexistent now because of a lie.

But why? What was the point?

“We need to talk to Jeremiah,” Oliver said, settling back into his arms. “I think he’ll see my point.”

“I think you’re right,” Priest murmured. He dipped his head low and took Oliver in a sweet, lingering kiss.

Maybe he was right. Maybe he was wrong.

But the only thing that really mattered was right there, in that moment. Whatever the truth was for others, Oliver was right. Loving his little human was his true nature now.

Priest watched as Oliver paced the room, his hands moving as he spoke. It was like an intricate dance, and he fought the urge to grab him and pin him to the chair so he could kiss the breath out of him. He didn’t because Jeremiah would have mauled him, though he had a feeling Remi might enjoy the show.

But Oliver had an audience now, and he’d been working on the smaller details of his theory the whole trip to the Trident Headquarters.

It helped that Jeremiah was riveted. It didn’t show in his face, but it showed in the way one hand was clenching into a fist and relaxing, revealing a hint of claw. And in the way he kept his thumb running over Remi’s wrist like he needed the physical touch since everything Oliver was saying was overwhelming.

“It makes sense,” Remi said after a long beat.

Jeremiah turned and quirked a brow at him. “Does it?”

“I mean, it’s just as likely you’d be capable of creating a bond as I would. I’m half human, and you’re full Hellhound.”

“Your parents—” Jeremiah began.

“What if my dad isn’t actually all human? I mean, if Oliver never noticed he was part Angel, what’s to say there’s not some sort of supernatural line in my dad’s family? It’s not like they took DNA tests.”

Jeremiah sat back in his chair with a slight thud. His face looked the way Priest’s must have when he realized Oliver had a point. There was something happening. Something was wrong about everything they thought they understood.

“The journals I took are beyond my education,” Jeremiah admitted. “But I have Caspian looking over them and trying to transcribe the information in more layman’s terms. What I could understand is that they’ve come up with a way to trigger what they call the Genetic Awakening. Vampires are like Nephilim—they only come from human lines.”

“And?” Priest asked.

“Maybe we need to—” Remi started, then blushed when Priest looked at him. “Sorry, I was going over the journals too.”

“Don’t be sorry. Obviously, we need all the help we can get,” Priest told him.

Remi nodded, then looked torn. “It would help if we could find Oz. He used to talk about this stuff all the time when we were dating.” Jeremiah growled, and Remi rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored him. “I didn’t always understand it, but I absorbed some of it. He thinks that there was a… divergence in history, when the continent was being divided. A war that didn’t involve humans, and a lot of the records were lost. There’s some in stories. But everyone assumed they were myths.”

Priest leaned forward. “Like what?”

“A war between Gargoyles and Sirens in the Oceanus Tales,” Remi said.

Priest had no idea what that was, but Oliver nodded along.

“They made an alliance to fight an army full of Hellhounds who were eventually defeated and enslaved. But so far, there’s been no actual evidence of that happening.”

“So what does that have to do with this?” Jeremiah asked.

Remi bit his thumbnail for a moment. “Well, in the Oceanus Tales, the Sirens subjugated the Hellhounds and basically sterilized them to keep them from breeding. They decided the most humane thing to do was to let them die off without mass killing them all.”

“Charming,” Jeremiah growled.

Remi cast his eyes down. “Yeah, it doesn’t make my people look great.”

“I just don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Priest cut in. “I mean, I get it. Sterilize them and let them die off, but that clearly didn’t happen.”

“Well,” Oliver said softly, “the thing is, you can’t really mass sterilize an entire population. The army, sure, but what about the others? The average citizen? The children? How do you subjugate them all?”

Priest lifted a brow, waiting for the answer.

“Create a massive lie. A myth rooted in some truth. Tell the world that Hellhounds are different—that they’re not like us because they don’t have mates. They live and die alone. They’re weaker and mostly infertile. Work laws into the system that prevent them from being welcome on most continents. Slowly, over time, that becomes public knowledge.”

Priest felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “We have no evidence that’s true.”

“No, not really.” He glanced at his mate. “Except you. And the notes saying that everything everyone has believed about Vampires is a lie. And if they’re lying about that—and if both of you can have a mate bond, then it’s possible that’s a lie too. It’s possible that other Hellhounds and other Demons who have found their mates have kept it quiet for fear of what might happen to them if they told anyone.”

Priest swallowed heavily. “What would be the point?”

“It’s hard to say,” Remi answered. “Maybe something to do with the war. Maybe it’s about power.”

“It’s usually about power,” Oliver says, a haunted look on his face.

“And if we can find your friend, he might know more, right?” Priest said.

Remi hugged his middle, and Jeremiah pulled him close, smudging a kiss over his temple. “Yeah. I think he would. He’s dedicated almost all of his life to ancient history, long before he decided to attend Hillsland. And if this is true—if we’re getting close to something—it’s probably why he was taken.”

“You’re so sure he was?” Oliver asked.

At that, Jeremiah looked up, and his expression was far from happy. “We found something in that security footage.”

Pulling out his phone, he tapped on it a few times, then handed it over to Priest. Oliver hovered over him to watch, and together, they saw a grainy, black-and-white image of a tall man with dark hair in tattered clothes and glasses with bent rims dragged past a doorway.

“That sort of looks like him,” Priest says, handing the phone back.

Remi nodded miserably. “I’m a thousand percent sure it’s him. But I don’t understand how. He should be able to crush them.”

“Yeah, but they had something that brought me and Priest to our knees,” Jeremiah said, running his nose along Remi’s hairline. “So it’s safe to say they might have had a weapon that could work against him too.”

Priest sat forward and smiled grimly as Oliver began to rub his lower back. “So we know they have him. Now we just have to figure out where he is and get him back. Any ideas?”

Oliver tapped him gently. “Azriel and I are both Angels. Well… I’m part Angel. I managed to find Poe, and he’s stronger than me, and he could feel the power in me. So maybe if we have somewhere to start, he and I can work together to get some kind of location.”

“It’s as good a plan as any,” Jeremiah said. “Will Azriel be willing?”

“All we can do is ask. He promised to call me soon,” Oliver said. “As soon as Poe is ready to see other people.”

Priest hated the plan. He hated it because it put Oliver front and center, but he also knew that his beloved little human wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, this was all of their fight now. “I can send him a text, but right now, I think all we can do is wait and see if?—”

“This is him,” Oliver said, cutting Priest off. He was holding his phone. “He must have sensed I needed him.”

Jeremiah looked at Priest, who nodded. “Take it. Make the plan to see him. At this point, I don’t think we have any other choice.”