After what seemed like eternity we pulled up to the compound. Alex got us past the gate guards, and I barely even noticed what was happening, lost in my own thoughts. I couldn’t get my mind under control, and if I saw my dad like this things would go from bad to worse. Jeremiah Sunder was not a person to whom one showed weakness. If he saw me all shaky he would take me out of the field and have me back in training before you could say “asshole” After a bit of breathing I managed to calmmy racing heart and refocus my eyes, just as we pulled up to the main house.

The compound was massive, with dozens of houses all inside a huge walled estate, under heavy guard, and even warded by a few of the more… reasonable infernals. Not all of them were assholes. Infernals are born what they are, some of them do horrible shit like Lawson, but there are plenty of them that just learn to use what they have. Some are good with magic, some with stealth, some are more the brute force type. Honestly we aren’t sure how they end up that way, theres plenty we don’t know about their powers, they tend to keep it way under wraps, plus theres some sort of…activating event that needs to happen even if you have the blood so plenty of them never even know.

Even the nightmarish ones never make a peep about how it works, about why some are stronger than others, why some can do magic and some turn invisible, its all a giant mystery. Hell we don’t even know how many infernals there are. With how diluted some of the blood is in some of them it has to be pretty widespread, but for some reason we cant figure out how to test for it. Like before their…activation or what have you their blood is totally normal. Hell it wouldn’t shock me if some of us have it. Some of my family members just have to be evil.

I finally reached the end of the dimly lit hallway to my fathers private study. It’s a widely held belief among the family that dad goes out of his way to make the wing of the house where he handles business as unfriendly and ominous as possible. The walls were covered with dark artifacts and unpleasant paintings, nothing outright tasteless but everything projecting a general air of uneasiness. The door to his study was a smooth dark wood, carved around the edges into swirling patterns to disguise the spellwork etched into it. Of course no infernal had ever been allowed this far into the compound, but dad made a point to have the door put together by the most expensive enchanter he could find before having it installed.

In the middle of the wood sat a dull bronze knocker in the shape of a lions head. Urban legend among the family claimed it was part of the doors defenses and that if you tried to open the door without permission it would rip out your throat. Luckily I didn’t need to find out, since I was expected (dad always knows when we get home and protocol is to debrief immediately upon arrival) so when I grabbed the brass ring and rapped it against the wood the lion didn’t even twitch.

“Enter” the voice that echoed from behind the door was deep and resonant, the essence of the commanding family patriarch. It took for granted that he was the master of this place and everyone would obey without question, a man as implacable as the tide. That was my father. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not bitter. I’m not one of those kids who complains that daddy didn’t love him because he was always busy at work. I know my father cares in his own way. I’ve just always resented that assumption of total command. Other kids got parents who would argue or debate, but our house was basically a military organization. No room for arguments. You follow orders, because questioning could get you killed.

I’d always wanted that kind of freedom. The kind Alex managed to have, at least a bit, by being so brilliant and indispensable. Alex was the only one of use that ever argued with dad, the only one who would go to the mat for use if he felt dad was making things harder on us than he had to. We all loved him for that more than anything, I think.

My father looked the same as he always did. Hair as black as pitch, and the bright blue eyes we all shared, cold and sharp as a permafrost scalpel. His face was unlined for the most part, only a faint creasing at the corners of his eyes yielding an inch to the ravages of age, as if the rest of him just disdained the act of growing older. He was clean shaven, as always and the square jaw so common in our family had that ever present tension in it. Despite his constant lack of expression my father always gave the impression of barely restrained violence.

“Report” the word cracked the air like a whip, and I felt my own jaw tighten in a mirror to his, the stubborn nature we all got from him chafing at the command. I never disobeyed my father, no one did, but I was so tired and sad and angry and guilty and despite the fear that usually poured into me at my fathers very presence no dread came to dilute the noxious cocktail of defiance bubbling in my chest. So after years of obedience and fear and kowtowing, all I could manage to say in the face of that cold command was “Say please.”

My father blinked twice. In a normal person that would have been the equivalent of leaping to his feet putting his hand over his heart and screaming “Le gasp!” I was so satisfied I actually smiled at that. Damn that felt good. He raised that same dark eyebrow that the rest of us do and gave me a look that almost dripped ‘ex-fucking-cuse me?’ but I stared him right back in those cold blue eyes that were such a mirror to my own. After about a minute, he cracked a small smile and said “Report, please.”

I grinned to myself and started my report, the smile I had managed to excavate from the remains of my bad mood slowly sliding off my face as I described the events of the last few weeks and last night in particular. Dad looked a bit pensive, but not upset. He nodded “Going over there was the right call. If you’d tried to take him out a distance through the snow and missed he would have probably butchered all of them as a distraction and disappeared in the chaos. He might have done the ritual somewhere private and skipped the welcome buffet, and we would have never found the imp before we had a full dark army situation. Good work.”

Normally this would have been a wonderful thing to hear, but honestly at this point I was so sickened by everything that I couldn’t bring myself to feel pride in the situation, I just nodded to him and stood up to leave. But before I could retreat his voice cut me off “Your next job wont be as messy. No killing, just observe and report.” I turned back around, too shocked by that phrase to even be upset at the lack of consideration for my state of mind, he saw my look and smiled “I’m not a sociopath Ethan, you’ve had a rough few weeks, a little downtime will be good for you. Just don’t get so busy chasing girls you forget to actually do the recon. This will be a semi-long term assignment, and Allison will be joining you. The two of you are going to be enrolling in a university we believe has some connection to the infernal community.”

I actually felt myself begin to smile. I was honestly speechless, my dad didn’t make a habit of empathy, and including Ali in my travel plans made this next job so much more fun. Allison Tierney had been fostered with us for most of her life, she was my oldest brothers intended bride and easily one of my best friends. She was also absurdly pretty and in fantastic shape from all the training, but we mostly each pretended not to notice that the other was drop dead gorgeous. Ali was a constant source of sarcastic sunshine in the endless gloom that was my family, and a long term recon op with her was going to be a blast. This wasn’t a pre strike observation like the last job had been, long term recon meant a real place, with furnishings and comfort.

My dad had essentially assigned me to become a college student for real. I wasn’t one to daydream about pedestrian bullshit like “being normal” (as if there is such a thing) but a long term vacation from the family business became ten times more tolerable when I got to spend it chasing girls and spending time with my best friend in a fully decked out penthouse or condo.

The family had some heavy resources (any organization with dedication that’s been around since the renaissance is going to end up with deep pockets) and they always picked us out the best places to stay. I thanked my father profusely (not too profusely, it doesn’t do to seem overeager about a job, you might come across as not taking it seriously) grabbed the folder he slid across the dark wooden desk and headed out to the spot in the ground I knew I was going to find Ali.