If ignorance is bliss, then happiness was a yoke that weighed down on my fragile mortal form. A burden that threatened to pull the rug out from my unassuming feet. However, I was assuming it. When you had seen the death and decay that I had. Known the trials and evil machinations of Hell with my own two weary eyes. At that point, you start seeing happiness as a facade.

The false promise that everything will be okay and that you’ll rise up against any obstacle. For several weeks now, my rollercoaster had been gradually ascending with the click-clack of chains pulling me higher. There would be a fall. A drop that threatened both vertigo and to rend me from my mortal form. It was only a matter of-

I paused as a curtain of lavender-scented white hair fell over my face.

“Sorry, Eric.” She kissed the top of my head. “It looked like you were in one of those moods where you try and think up novel ways of describing your misery.”

Ah. The air beneath my paper wings. “Caught me,” I smiled as she moved away.

I watched as the purple-skinned demon came to sit on the arm of the recliner, swinging her legs across to the other side over me. Her baggy black t-shirt had an almost cartoony skull with horns rising from it and matched with similarly dark shorts.

“You’ve been this way since the Organisation took Wight.”

That was true. I looked up into her radiant eyes as she yawned. We had retrieved the odd-looking bird form of my patron from the park. Nurtured him, and he grew. At first, he was the size of a robin - then a raven - once he grew small arms and started to talk, the Org recalled him. Like some manner of defective toy.

It was some odd juxtaposition to have my patron demon as almost a pet. After seeing what damage he could cause in his true form… if it was even that… now I had been filled with further questions. As if I didn’t already have a backlog. The only reason I hadn’t written them all down was the very real fear that I would drown in the-

“Eric.”

“Sorry, Pearl.” I put an arm around her lower back and leaned into her. We really needed to get a couch; the recliner wasn’t built for two. “Not knowing is almost as bad as not doing.”

“Well, Eric Redd,” she put her head against mine, “what do you want to do? No, wait.” The demon moved away from me and put a finger on my forehead. “I know if I give you the options of Lust, Sloth, or Gluttony - you will choose-“

“Wrath.” We said in tandem.

“What can I say,” I smiled, “I’m a sucker for the classics.”

With the Organisation blue-balling us on any official Demon Hunting business, we had mostly spent time within the house. Which, honestly, was a small slice of heaven. Pearl was a delight to be around constantly. Whether it was covetous actions between the sheets, gorging copious amounts of food, or talking shit about the neighbours - everything was steeped with that too-good-to-be-true vibe. As individuals, our wavelengths oscillated wildly, but they matched - we were in sync, and everything was… calm.

Occasionally I’d find things broken in the house, or my things had been moved to odd places. At first, I thought this was either some passive-aggressive slight against me or cliche marital shenanigans - but the day I came home to find a fork protruding from the table, it started to make more sense.

Little acts of evil. She was a demon, after all - and the tiny amount of destruction brought to the household was her way of keeping herself grounded. It felt like a cat acting out, and was a small price to pay for the otherwise flawless relationship. Even that word still felt weird.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“I’ve had a little cabin fever myself,” she admitted, running a finger down the side of my head. “The Org needs to get you working again; I need my mask.”

After destroying the Jailer imprisoning her and absorbing his power into the dagger, she had chosen to restore her eye colour first. The mask, allowing her to take human form, was next on the shopping list - followed by her wings. Three things taken from her on her banishment from the High Hells.

“A little jaunt in the Lowers then, nothing gross though?”

She sighed. “Most of the Lowers is gross. Although, if you’re talking about-“

“No. We don’t talk about that.” Trying out new acrobatics near the pigmen latrine/communal bath had been one of my top five least favourite things, ever.

With a snort, she turned and hopped off the seat. With a click of her fingers, her casual wear was replaced by ornate leather armour. Black with sections barely hinting at a blue in the right lighting, the silver studs shone out like the stars in the night sky.

“You need to teach me how to do that,” I grumbled, resigning myself to go up to the bedroom to change. I passed her and went into the hallway but stopped at the stairs. “Think we should call Rodney, see if he’s up for it?”

Pearl appeared at the doorway and leaned on the frame. “Depends on what you want to hunt? The funeral is up soon, right?”

“Two days.” I nodded. He had been holding up a lot better than expected. A lot better than I had. He had been around most days since the saloon incident just to talk shit and eat food. Took him a little while to warm to Pearl’s constant presence, but they now got on swimmingly.

“I still feel bad I can’t go.” She pouted with an earnestly glum expression.

I shared the sentiment, but only for my own selfish reasons. After I had buried my wife and child three years ago, I hoped to be next, in some ditch in Hell. Now, I kept on living for them instead. Wight wouldn’t be there either - and Rodney didn’t have a lot of family nearby. It was likely just to be a handful of people.

“We’ll come back here after. I told him he can stay in the spare room if he wants, that alright?”

“Of course,” she nodded with a smile. “You know he is always welcome.”

Love was a funny thing, I thought as I ascended the stairs. Any guilt I had felt over leaving the memories of my previous family behind had been washed away by the present comfort of adoration and vibrancy. They still had a place in my heart, but it was no longer an embedded hook tied to the anchor of false promises. I had been drowning, and it took two demons and a lot of trauma to shine the light on the key to my freedom that I had held the entire time.

Dark crimson shirt. Grey slacks. Black socks. My long leather jacket and deep burgundy hat completed the look. Fastest hand in the Lower Hells. My five-round silver revolver slid smoothly into the holster. The pact weapon cool in my hand. On my other hip, the sheath with Pearl’s Salvation - the cringiest named dagger this side of the mortal plane.

Every time I suited up, I felt that part of me rise up again - the demonic side. The power left over when they had used the medicine to keep me alive. I hadn’t been able to use Last Lantern again, and I sure had tried.

I rolled my tongue around in my mouth, trying to get a taste of the memories once more. Eric Redd, alight in radiant golds. The yellow orb of Last Light. Neither of those things seemed like demonic powers. Blood Redd certainly was - anything with a red or black hue to it seemed pretty on-brand. Whatever the true answer was, I didn’t want to consider it at this stage. Not without Wight present.

“You better not be wasting time being noir up there!”

“I’m coming!” I yelled back, with the sound of her snickering as the only acknowledgement. Juvenile, but it had the effect of melting away any worries plaguing my mind.

With a last sigh, as I looked in the mirror, I turned to head downstairs. The beard suited me. Suited the cliche ensemble I had going on. Somehow, beyond all the trauma and destruction, I had become even more Eric Redd than when I started.

Pearl was now in the basement. Rodney and I had painted it a cool blue and set up a better chair for him and the gadgets. It had taken us a day and a half to set up the permanent portal - after affixing parts of it into the concrete incorrectly at first - but I certainly appreciated the convenience after the fact.

“My feet are itchy,” Pearl complained, standing from the input panel. Yellow lights from the obsidian screen had lit up. “Let’s give Rodney a break for today; we can handle it.”

“Sure - where are we headed to?” I squinted at the runes along the blocky metallic ring as they began to glow in an ominous red light. Not that I could read runic sigils, but I tried to glean any information that I could.

“It’s a surprise,” she winked. “Are you ready?”

I leaned forward and gave her a kiss as the portal burst into being, shading the basement in a waving amber hue. “Always and never,” I nodded back.

With one last deep breath, I dove forth into Hell.