Sleep hit me like a bag of bricks. Thankfully, the bed was much more comfortable than that, despite the lack of warming presence of Pearl. The softer side of me wanted to languish and pine for her return, fill the void in my life I had so craved. But that side was drowned out by the need to grow. The Org wanted to fast-track Promotion? In a week or two, I could raze half of Hell to the ground. Rule the ashes as the Redd God. Maybe after a coffee.

I heard Rodney come down the stairs as I brought the mugs through to the dining table. He had his emergency teal joggers and hoody on, grabbed from his go-bag the last time he went home. Wight had not appeared yet, and I was eager to get scratching away through the filth. Scrub Hell clean.

“Morning, Eric. Sleep well? Thanks for the coffee.”

“Not too bad, you?” I sat at the end of the table and tried to stretch my back out.

“It was okay. Hard to sleep in a new place sometimes, you know? But nice to be away from… the grief.” He gave a shrug and looked into the mug.

“Yeah. I mean, you saw my apartment. Sometimes a fresh start can break the bad habits.” I lifted my coffee and blew the steam from the top.

Rodney frowned and tilted his head toward me. “Who pays the utilities and stuff here?”

“Fuck knows.” I returned his frown. “I sure don’t. Never really thought about it, really.”

“You’ve… been living here like a month, and you didn’t consider your expenses? Huh.” He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the blank wall.

I hadn’t and wasn’t about to start. If the Org intended for me to skate along the bloodied edge of sanity in an attempt to purge demonic entities from the pits of Hell… then the least they could do was ensure I didn’t have to worry about whether I needed to pay my electricity bill today or next Tuesday. At least, I assumed they were the ones covering the tab.

As we sat in silence, eventually, Wight began to pool from my wrist and into one of the chairs.

[Hello.]

“Wight.” I nodded. Rodney gave him a brief smile, but seemed a little distracted. Possibly worried about his patron meeting later.

[I have some news.]

“Good news?”

[Yes.]

Briefly, I considered throwing in my hat. Figuratively, as I was not wearing it currently. The ability of my patron to get me on edge knew no limits and would perhaps be more understandable if he showed any amusement in it - but he did not. I stared at him until he continued, after a few silent seconds.

[Your Level Six Promotion has been granted, and I have allowed you ]

“Ah, not like… Demonic Vision, or Wight Sight?” I grinned at him.

[No, it is not those. Would you like to give it a try?]

“Sure.” I stood up from the table, limbered my shoulders up, and took a deep breath. “Okay, what do I do?”

He sat with his clawed fingers clasped together on top of the table and waited for me to figure it out for myself. Of course, I should innately be able to understand how to activate my patron abilities - seeing as he was tied to the vessel, then it was already part of me, in a way.

I sighed and pushed my glasses up my nose.

My vision became monochrome, everything now a suitably noir shade of white, grays, and black. Except there was also red. A faint sheen of bright crimson painted Wight, and as I looked around the room, there was one other object in the dining room illuminated similarly - the recliner. That made sense. After six and a bit seconds, my normal vision returned.

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[Currently, it allows you to detect demonic presence to a degree. In time, I may be able to do more.]

“No, that’s great, thank you. There’s a bit of a smudged gray area to what it technically does, right?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Would I be able to pick up footprints and stuff?”

[There’s an element of intent to the detection.]

Interesting. While it might seem to be a waste of a boon when most questions were answered by me putting red beams of death through them, being able to chew through a wider berth of issues would give me good-boy points with the Org. If I saved enough up, they might send me on a mission that wasn’t intended to break my soul in half. If I even had a... hmm, should make myself busy.

“Uh, eat whatever you want from the kitchen; I’m going to get ready.”

“Gee, thanks for the hospitality, Eric.” Rodney rolled his eyes and then snorted as I flipped him off.

Personally, I fully intended to fight demons on an empty stomach. Especially if I were likely to be chased around - the thought of the dog-like demons didn’t give me much confidence that I wouldn’t have to evade them, eventually. So, up the stairs. I went and I started digging out my jacket, hat, and holster. Fully dressed, I turned and sighed at the empty bedroom.

As I pushed my glasses up, I activated .

Monochrome, and then there it was - the faint mist on Pearl’s side of the bed. A lingering energy from where she had been. I told myself that I was just checking to see if footprints and the like would work, but I really just liked the slight reminder that… In my peripheral, I turned to see crimson writing on the wall.

Bathroom, it said.

Slowly, I walked through into the en-suite as the ability faded. It looked relatively normal under the stern gaze of my normal vision. I pushed my glasses up. .

I stood and looked at the three short words written above the towel rack on the tiles. Even after the ability ran out, I continued to stare for almost a whole minute - until the afterimage faded from my eyes. My own sigh broke my focus. I lowered my hat, and I carried both my gun and a wide smile back downstairs.

They were already in the basement, preparing things for my Quest. Rodney had a plate of food balancing on the arm of the chair as he dug out his tech. Wight was arranging his pictures on the floor - although they didn’t seem to form anything greater.

“All good, Eric? Remembered your gun this time?”

“Yeah.” I beamed. “Oh, I’m sorry, there’s no dagger for you, Wight.” He didn’t turn to me to reply, but I saw his beak open wide to expel the words.

[It is a disappointment I can live with.]

No, that wouldn’t do. I drummed my fingers on my holster. “Hey, uh. We should steal a weapon for you.”

They both turned to me as if I were a little crazy instead of brimming with good ideas and happy-Eric chemicals.

“Like, knock over a demonic weapons store? Or just give him a kitchen knife?” Rodney scrunched up his face.

I tapped the side of my nose and pointed at the Blank. “There, great idea. The former, I mean. What do you think, Wight? Know of any places?”

[Yes, and no. Or no, and yes.]

Rodney blew air from his nose and almost knocked the plate from the chair with his elbow. “Are you two okay today?”

“Yeah.”

[Yes.]

“Okay… well, decide what you’re actually doing because I have to configure stuff, and I will get real grouchy if it drags on and on because I’m secretly harboring a ton of panic over my Org meeting later.”

“Not so secret, really.” I shook my head.

[Practically out in the open.]

The Blank put his head in his hands. “We don’t have time to Demonic Knowledge a new portal location. So…”

“So we can use one of the old ones - just stick us at the nightclub. There’s bound to be a weapon suited for Wight there?”

My patron tilted his head for a few seconds and then nodded. It might seem juvenile and reckless to want to arm the bird-demon, but we wanted to be at maximum fighting capacity. He did well with Pearl’s knife, and having a backup in the Hells would put me ahead of a lot of Hunters that didn’t have a combat capable patron.

[Most patrons do not engage in combat, even those that are capable. But I’m not like other patrons, am I, Eric?]

“No. You are not.” I pushed my glasses up. .

Wight, the portal, Rodney’s tech, and a glow from beneath the med box. Mostly, as expected, some slight disappointment in there being no more hidden messages - but that last bit gave me pause.

“I thought we had gotten rid of the tainted meds?” I furrowed my brow as I moved across the room.

“We did - at least the ones you were last given?”

Rodney watched me as I moved the med case. There was a small box hidden underneath, almost as if it was set inside the table - like a hidden compartment. Not like the packaging the Org stuff comes in, either. I softly placed my hand atop it and instantly knew what they were.

“Emergency H-Mix.” I shuddered. “Three doses.”

[Let us hope you never need them again.]

We had only used them before when my body was ruined and at my last limits. The result was a fully healed Eric, only now with part of Wight stolen for my own needs. Would another shot of the demonic medical juice grant me more powers or cause me further ruin?

Something about them appalled me, like willingly drinking sewer water, even if there was a chance I could grow in power from them.

“Set the portal,” I said, grunting as I moved the case back over the box.

“Let’s go clubbing.”