Jala showed up the next day, with Red in tow. Before Jala could even get a word out, Red said, “I’ve been promoted,” and wrapped me in a big hug.

It hurt a bit, but I hugged her back, while Jala looked on curiously. I congratulated Red and explained to Jala that she’d helped me with the case.

“Is that what you’re calling it? A case?”

“I’m not sure what else I should call it,” I said, shrugging.

Jala agreed and Red excused herself. She had to get back to work. Jala, being the boss, could afford to stay for a few minutes.

“Don’t ask her,” Abraxas said. I glanced over to the doorway, where he’d appeared, leaning casually. He looked a bit more rested, but still exhausted. Though again, I probably looked a hell of a lot worse. Pun not intended. “Just let it go,” he pleaded.

I ignored him.

“I have two questions,” I said. Jala smiled and nodded. “First, did you know?” I tapped my Mark and smiled.

“That’s your danger smile,” Jala said, frowning slightly. “What am I supposed to know.”

“Great!” Abraxas said. “She doesn’t know! Drop it!”

I leaned forward in bed, which sent shocks of pain through my body. “You know what I’m talking about Jala. You’re high up enough to know.”

Jala’s face darkened. “Yes, but I’m surprised you do.”

“And when were you going to tell me?”

Jala just stared at me before clicking her tongue disapprovingly. “What would you have me do?”

“I deserved to know. Everyone does. All of us.”

Jala sighed and leaned back in her chair. “And then what? Chaos? Riots? A fearful public, hunting demons? Suicidal Hunters? Is that what you want?”

“No, but—”

“There is a peace. The Guild maintains it.”

I shook my head. “And what about the monsters?”

Jala looked at me and cocked an eyebrow.

“That was the last piece of this case that didn’t quite fit,” I said. “Where are all these big, powerful monsters coming from?” I chuckled. “It was a bit obvious, looking back at it.”

Jala’s face was a mask of neutrality.

“They’re coming from the Guild, naturally. We’re the only people who could’ve supplied them.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jala said, flatly.

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think so,” I said, scratching the stubble on my chin. I mean, the Guild isn’t super popular. Hasn’t been for a while. Monster attacks are declining, bottoming out, really, and with the Pacifist Constitution, we could be on the chopping block.”

I bared my teeth into a grin. “Not all of us, of course. I’m sure some in the Guild have backup plans in the private sector.

“But overall, times aren’t great for the Guild. The world just doesn’t need us as much anymore. So what do we do?”

“What we always have,” Jala said, annoyance seeping into her voice. “Kill monsters. Not let them out into the wild.”

“Ah!” I said, snapping my fingers. “That’s just it. It’s an ethical system, catch, release, kill. There’s probably some breeding programs in there, but I wouldn’t know about that. Neither would you, of course.”

“If you’re insinuating—”

“I’m doing a bit more than that, aren’t I?”

Jala stood up and dusted herself off. “You’re injured. Severely. Probably hit your head, judging from what you’re saying.” She shook her head. “Gods above, Jonas, can’t you ever take the easy way out?”

“I never do,” I muttered.

“For your sake, I won’t report this. But I wouldn’t go around talking about this. There’s a limit to how much I can protect you.”

As she turned and walked to the door, I asked, “Was it worth it?”

She glanced over her shoulder and said, “What?”

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Was it worth it?”

“Was what worth it?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she spat. Then, she turned back and walked out the room, slamming the door behind her.

Abraxas sighed. “You’re a man on fire, Jonas. You burn so brightly, but you also burn all the bridges you cross,” he sad sadly.

I stayed silent. When I blinked, Abraxas disappeared, leaving me in my room, alone.

Aches and pains echoed through my body and my heart stung. I’m not good at much. I’m not good at love, at friendship, or anything like that. I’m good at killing. I glanced at my sword and gun, lying by the door. Yvlan must have brought them there while I was sleeping.

They were cleaned, pristine. I wondered how long they’d stay by the door, unused.

Jala was a lot of things, but she wasn’t a great liar. The Jala I knew would have never willingly participated in the Guild’s dissemination of monsters in the Capital, but people had an annoying, if understandable, tendency, to change, especially when given power.

Jala and I came out of the Last War with some differing opinions, that’s part of why we never worked out. I withdrew from the Guild, becoming far more skeptical. The things I saw, the things I did…I didn’t want to have much to do with the people and structures that had me do that. Of course, I still stayed with the Guild, so I’m not blameless, but I in part, purposefully torpedoed my career.

Jala, on the other hand, was disenchanted with the Guild, but she saw the necessity of it. The Guild provided some of the most effective soldiers. The war would have been lost without us—there wasn’t much debate about that. And reconstruction would have been impossible, with all the monsters ravaging the land. She once told me that she saw the Guild as a necessity.

I responded that the Guild was a luxury would couldn’t afford anymore. We laughed it off, but there was a look in her eyes that I ignored. Maybe I shouldn’t have.

As she’d climbed the ranks, we’d grown apart. It was a slow, but definite process and now I was seeing the results. The Guild was in decline. What was a few monsters, spread around, compared to that? If the Guild had actually, truly died, then if there was a resurgence of monsters, humanity wouldn’t be prepared. Besides, it wasn’t like that minotaur or hellhound had hurt anyone. Well, anyone besides me.

I exhaled long and slow. I was tired. I was too old for Guild politics. I climbed out of bed and clambered over to my desk. There, I took out a fountain pen and a sheaf of paper. Gently smoothing out the sheets, I began to write. I’ve never been a very eloquent person, so I kept it short and simple.

—

When I handed the paper to Jala the next day, she just looked at me. Her eyes bore holes in me, but I didn’t particularly care. Then, she motioned for me to sit. I did, leaning the cane I’d been using against the side of the chair. She was mad at me and I didn’t care.

“You look like shit,” she said. I nodded. She was right. I was covered in bandages, hadn’t shaved, and most of the bruising still hadn’t faded. “Is this about the—” she began to say, but I cut her off.

“Yes and no,” I explained. “It’s a long time coming.”

“Retirement,” she said, turning the word over in her mouth like a stone. She clicked her tongue and pulled open her desk drawer. Placing my resignation letter on the top of her desk, she reached inside and pulled out another paper.

Reaching for a fountain pen, she signed at the bottom of the new paper and slid it over to me. I picked it up and read it silently.

“Honorable discharge, huh?”

Jala nodded. “Look at the middle paragraph,” she said.

I did. “For services rendered,” I began to read, before skipping all the boring legalese, “blah, blah, blah, an increase in pay scale by two grades, effective immediately before discharge. Huh.” I set the paper down.

Jala snapped her fingers and a small flame flickered to life on her fingertips. With her other hand, she picked up my letter of resignation and dipped it into the fire. I watched as the flame quickly caught, spreading over the paper, turning it to ash.

“So let me get this right,” I said, “I can’t quit, because you fire me?”

Jala chuckled, though there wasn’t any humor in her eyes. “The Guild thought it prudent to—”

I flicked the final paragraph on the paper with a hollow thwack. “This agreement stipulates that I’m under a Non-Disclosure Agreement for twenty years.”

Jala nodded.

“I didn’t know those were a thing,” I said. “I understand what it is from the name, but I’ve never heard of it before.”

“Something our legal scholars cooked up based off of new legislation a few years back, all standard practice,” Jala said.

“Standard practice.”

“Yes.” She slid the fountain pen to me. “Sign it.”

My eyes flicked to the pen for just a second before returning to Jala. “You want to buy me out?”

She nodded. I shrugged. “Fair enough?”

Jala looked surprised. “Really?” she asked.

“What’s the point of fighting? The house always wins. I might as well take the money, it’s less in the Guild’s pockets and more in mine.”

Jala scowled and pushed the inkwell and pen over to me. I took them and signed on the dotted line. Then, I walked out the office and straight out of the building.

—

I looked at the bottom of my pint glass, peering through the clouded and murky ale. I lifted the glass up and found a note beneath it. Picking the note up, I read it.

Looking for work? -Yvlan.

I glanced up at Yvlan, who was tending the bar. I slid her the note and said, “I’m retired.” Yvlan rolled her eyes and took my glass from me. “Hey,” I complained, “I wasn’t done with that.”

“What are you doing?” Yvlan asked, leaning on the bar to look me in the eyes.

“Using my pension to buy drinks here,” I said. “I thought it was self-explanatory.”

She frowned and held up my pint glass. It was about a third full. “You can’t even be an alcoholic right,” she said. “You’ve been drinking this one all night. You’re directionless.”

I frowned and muttered something under my breath, but I knew she was right.

“I know of people like you,” Yvlan said. “There are those content to do nothing, and there are those who must do something. You are the latter.”

“Fine,” I said, planting my palms on the bar. “What do you propose I do?”

“I don’t know,” Yvlan said, shrugging. “Have you talked to Char?”

I nodded. “She was furious, she said she’d resign and spread the news all around, but I managed to talk her down from that.”

“I think you need to go home, Jonas,” Yvlan said. “Whatever that means for you.”

I scowled again and stood up. I flicked a coin to Yvlan, who caught it, and I walked out of the bar.

The night air was cold against my skin and if I’d had more than a pint to drink, it might have sobered me up. But I hadn’t, so it didn’t. It just gave me goosebumps. I walked slowly through the Warren toward Xico’s. It had been a month since I’d been honorably discharged from the Guild and I was all healed, leaving just the normal aches and pains I associated with my existence. I glanced up at the night sky, admiring the stars. It was nearing winter, in another month’s time, snow would fall, blanketing the streets.

It was late, a couple of hours past midnight, and the streets were mostly empty. No one up to any good was out on the streets at this time.

Abruptly, I turned left and started walking toward the river. My steps echoed on the cobblestones and I began to whistle a tune.

I heard the muggers coming a full minute before I felt the blade press into my neck.