Sometimes it was easy to spend so much time and energy searching for something only to find it drop into your lap, or be right in front of your nose already. Like my glasses. I’d found them, and they me. Together, the world was painted with sharp definition, enough to cut through the blurred deceit of the questions that danced before me. Were they ever fulfilling? Hard to say. Sometimes the beauty was the chase, and sometimes you didn’t realize you were following the thread right into oblivion.

Slowly, I unlocked the door and opened it.

A robust man of dark skin and pale eyes stood expectantly at my doorstep. Jovial might be a stretch, but he looked in somewhat reasonable spirits. The black suit and open collared white shirt didn’t scream Church, but then again, they were supposed to be extinct.

“Come… in.” I reluctantly opened the door wider. “There are some ground rules, though.”

“Of course.” He nodded to me with a smile and stepped over the threshold.

Part of me expected him to turn into a vampire, but perhaps that was the corruption talking. Maybe the corruption could just detect vampirism. I narrowed my eyes before I continued.

“You must know I am a Hunter; my patron is overtly my equal and you’ll treat him as such.” I worked my jaw as I watched his concerned expression read over my current appearance. “Also, don’t question this - I’m relatively fine.”

“Clearly.” He smiled again, some of the edge lost.

I gestured for him to follow me into the dining room.

[Hello, the Isaac.]

“This is Wight, you can probably see him, huh?” Whether it was because he was a member of the Church, or because Wight was skirting the boundaries of his pact intention, I cared not.

“I can, and it is nice to meet you, Wight.” He gave a slight bow, but seemed awkward at having to do so towards a demon.

I pushed my glasses up, and the room became monochrome, as I gestured for him to take a seat. Nothing interesting showed up. Wight moved his plate around the table to sit beside me.

“So. Lots of questions come to the top of my head.” I pointed to where my head was.

“Yes, I can imagine. If I may go ahead and drop my spiel, then we can fill in any gaps after?”

That was nice. I liked that. My head bobbed in acceptance. Nice when people got straight to the point and had everything prepared. Like eggs.

“Very well. You have no doubt heard about the Church and had been told we had long passed. In effect, that is mostly true. There are few members remaining and we are spread across the globe. It made tracking you down… difficult.”

My hand wormed its way to my holster. Not that I thought this man was a threat, but I had an aversion to being singled out. Especially by unknown forces.

[You seek out Eric due to his power?]

“In part. We first had a flag that certain information was being looked into. The time the Church helped the Org. A certain Archbishop.”

I nodded again, but something wasn’t tasting nice. We had assumed that this was part of the reason Rodney got kidnapped, or his mother killed, but it would be far too brazen for those responsible to turn up at my front door. Within shooting range.

He tilted his head, seeming to read some of my building tension. “Tell me, Eric, how much do you know of what is beyond this world?”

“There’s a stack of Heavenly layers that mirror the Hell ones, but someone has messed with the barrier between us and Heaven, cutting divinity off from reaching us.”

Isaac blinked slowly and opened his mouth. No words coming out at first. “That’s more of an astute take on the current issues than I was expecting…”

“I am a great detective.” I tipped my hat at him. Despite joining the fold very recently, I was keen to take credit for any moment my two brain cells managed to collide inside my skull.

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He rubbed his round chin and observed me. “Is that all?”

At this point, it felt like I was giving him more information than he was giving me. I should have been the one knocking at his door. Perhaps if he gave me his address, we could do this thing all over. “What is your purpose here, Isaac?”

“It depends what you care to believe, Eric.” His face remained unchanged.

I exhaled through my nose. “There is some divinity left, as I have a friend who has divine powers. The Org calls them-“

“Blanks, yes.”

“Yeah, and we know that the forces should be equal. So somebody with a long broom has to go un-fuck the blockage up top there.”

His grin widened across his face. “And who do you think should do that, Eric?”

Maybe I could just have a redo of the whole day. Not hunt for fish-boy and not answer the door. Go to the Org and support Rodney. Sit at home and help Wight draw. None of this forsaken destiny bullshit. I sighed because screaming in frustration wasn’t a good idea in front of house guests.

“The Last Lantern should.”

Isaac’s face practically illuminated as joy and relief flooded through him. “So you are the Lantern. I should be bowing to you.”

“I might literally die of shame.” The one thing to finally kill me. “I don’t really go in for this fate stuff, but you’ve heard enough from me. Your turn to spill.”

He nodded and tried to compose himself. “Right well… let’s start with… how do you think the Org gets their patrons?”

Starting the information off with a question grated on my patience. I didn’t want shadowed history being drip fed to me. I wanted to know which bloodied mouths to jam my death-dealer into so I could sleep better at night. “Never thought to question it much.” I raised an eyebrow at Wight, who shrugged in response.

“The demons are plucked from the Sea. Stolen - if you imagine it like a giant syringe, the Organization will locate something suitable and jab it in. The demon is trapped in this way until it agrees to sign the pact for temporary freedom.”

That didn’t quite explain how Wight came to be in the same situation - but perhaps the method of moving the needle into the right location was more of a shot in the dark than a surgical procedure. It had missed the mark, and instead of failure, they had caught a whale-seized bite of power.

Issac continued. “Of course, you know how things must be balanced. Plunging their fist into Hell couldn’t go on without… mishap. The first Organization headquarters was destroyed by a demon who had escaped. Next one, employees became corrupted. Then for the third… they came to the Church.”

I nodded along. Exposition was one thing. I only wished that those with sounder minds were here to hear this - Rodney especially.

“Their current HQ sits atop one of our holy sites. A place where a divine artefact lies. Using this power, along with some other abilities the Church held, they turned the area into a deadzone for demons. Or so they say.”

It hadn’t done anything to me when I had strolled around, despite having my own demonic power. Wight had been free to be there too - so something obviously wasn’t as they were purporting.

[What is this leading to?]

He raised an eyebrow. “Depends on what you’re willing to do.”

Isaac seemed like a nice enough person. Couldn’t stand him, though. He clearly knew a lot of what was going on, and was fleshing out the part of my brain that was starved for answers. Something about him didn’t sit right, though. Intuition was a marred knife, but I didn’t know whether it was one I needed to hide from the authorities or brandish as a symbol of my keen sense of smelling out bad blood.

“I’ve had a long day,” I drawled out to emphasize my point. “Cut to the chase.”

“We believe the Organization is responsible for breaking the contact with the divine. Either their patron gathering methods, or something else they have planned, has destroyed a key part of the natural order of things.”

The words hit my brain, but it was dull. Did that seem likely? Perhaps. Did it seem possible? Sure, I wouldn’t put it past the Org to ruin things. It was half of the fun of working for them, after all.

“And what of the Last Lantern?” I tilted my head.

“They are said to be the one who can repair the gap and bring the divine influence back into the mortal realm.”

I continued to stare at him blankly. Was it my melting brain that was making me so dense, or did none of this truly make sense? It was believable, but for all intents and purposes, this man had just given me a vague recollection of history and fable. There were no clear lines of what path I must bounce my tired corpse down to reach the finish line.

[How did you find us?]

“Oh, that’s a good point, Wight. Thank you for the reminder. Seems someone got wind that we were asking around for you, Eric.” He reached inside his suit jacket and withdrew a white envelope. “A letter slipped beneath our door that had your name and address, and this blank envelope inside it with instructions to give it to you.”

I pulled a face and accepted it from him. Turned it toward me, only it wasn’t blank.

For Eric’s eyes only, Pearl x

It was her signature pearlescent ink, same handwriting and all. Curious and sobering. I suddenly felt like I had been a bad host to our new guest.

“Ah, coffee Isaac? I could do with a new one.” I stood with a smile.

“Certainly, two sugars and creamer if you have it? Otherwise black is fine.”

[Allow me to take your jacket, the Isaac?]

He nodded and smiled, standing to remove it as Wight hopped down.

I probably should have grabbed the plates and cups to take with me to the kitchen, but I was so enraptured by this letter from the demon that I just slowly stepped away from the table as I opened it carefully so as not to tear anything.

A sheet of paper inside, I began to unfold it as I was almost at the kitchen doorway.

I stopped, as there were only three words on the inside written in large print.

Kill This Man.