Everybody wants to be wanted to some degree. Whatever the reason, being appreciated and sought after was a nail that drove into the soft wood of many a psyche. Even my need to have a family surrounding me turned out to be a want that I didn’t know I wanted until it clobbered me around the head. Now I was the prime pickings for anyone seeking power or destiny. All I wanted was to be left alone.

My legs continued to carry me into the kitchen so that I did not look suspicious. I could almost hear the clacking of my brain as it spun. It was definitely her handwriting. I doubted this could have been forged. But why, and when? Despite trusting Pearl almost unconditionally, there were too many unknowns to simply blast Isaac’s brains across the dining room at her command.

I winced at the indecision. She wouldn’t tell me this for no reason, but then why lead him here in the first place? I put the kettle on in the hope that the eventual noise would drown out my loud thoughts. So far, the Church had seemed reasonably on my side with the whole Lantern thing and restoring Heaven - and Pearl had equally been in agreement that balance had to be restored.

‘The letter was from Pearl.’

[Oh? What did it say?]

‘To kill Isaac.’

There was a brief pause, and the kettle began to whistle as the water boiled. It would be a good idea to clue Wight in, as much as the letter had said for my eyes only - we were essentially a package deal.

[Do you want me to do it now?]

My right eye twitched as my mind quickly painted a picture of that scenario. ‘Not… yet. Allow me to question him a bit and then we’ll see.’

I poured the coffee. Two sugars. No creamer. With a sigh, I fixed my facial expression to something more natural, and brought it through.

“No creamer, I’m afraid.” I smiled and placed it atop the table to return to my seat.

“No problem whatsoever, honestly I should be avoiding it.” He tapped at his waistline. “I’m meant to be on a diet. Always eating whilst I’m working.”

“I’m the opposite.” I slunk back into the wooden chair. “Hardly eat when I’m on the job.”

[Eric, do you mind if I do some drawing?]

I raised an eyebrow and shook my head. “Go ahead, Wight.”

[My markers are in the basement. Allow me to retrieve them.]

“An artistic demon?” Isaac grinned and watched the bird-man exit the room and into the hall. “I have met maybe a handful of demons, but none that showed interest in the arts.”

“He is still learning, but it’s good for him to have a less violent form of expression.” I smiled despite my waning interest in hosting the man. What I wanted was an excuse for him to leave, or at least something to stop me from painting the walls with his blood. “What now? How can I help the Church bring the divines back?”

Isaac sucked at his teeth. “It’s not such a straightforward thing as ticking off a few bullet points, I’m afraid. I’m sure you are used to such disappointment.”

That would be putting it lightly. “If it was simple, then it wouldn’t be worth doing.” Or something like that. I didn’t necessarily agree with the statement.

He tilted his head. “There is an element of faith required. Not that you need to be a believer to be the solution - but have faith in the process, I suppose.”

I nodded to this. Last Lantern had first activated because I needed it to, and wanted it to. Acceptance of whatever I was and whatever destiny had been labored upon me had been the catalyst for enough power to fill me with the radiance to survive the endless darkness that Wight could create.

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“I’m sure the Organization asks you to endure hardship and impossible odds on the regular, so unfortunately it would be the same with us.”

All things balanced. Although, if they wanted to give me quests to go kill demons in Hell, I might start believing the coma theory again. It wasn’t just the letter that had me on edge either. There was an odd presence that emanated from the man. Nothing exactly untoward… just cult-ish. He was still being vague.

“I’m just really fishing for what you want from me.” It was a struggle, but I gave him a brief smile as my patience started circling the drain. “I work well when I have some set-in-stone actions to take. Blind faith is something earned, not easily given.”

He raised his palms to me in a show of acceptance. “Completely understandable, Eric. After all, I’m a relative stranger in your home, expecting you to fulfill some prophecy you’ve hardly even heard of.”

I nodded once more, my eyes slightly narrowing. He was being reasonable, which made it difficult for me to concentrate on my revolver that I was withdrawing beneath the table using my demonic energy. It was a lot easier when Wight did it, but I understood the process.

“So, what… what do you want me to do?” I exhaled through my nose, hoping to get to the point eventually.

“We have a small shrine a couple of cities over. The Church would take you in and help you prepare for the tasks ahead, to do what is needed.”

“The Org might take issue with that.” I worked my jaw, suddenly feeling like they wanted to dress this wolf up like a little lamb. Internally, I cringed at thinking of myself as a wolf. The revolver was all the way out of the holster now. My hands clasped atop the table, I had never tried to fire the weapon purely with my energy.

“That’s another thing…” he eyed over his shoulder to see if my patron had returned yet. “We can remove the pact. To restore the Heavens, having a demonic presence behind your shoulder will only complicate the process.”

“What process?” A flickering flame danced around inside me now. They wanted to take Wight away? That was worthy of my violence already. I could only become the Lantern because of him - how else did they expect me to climb their supposed holy ladder?

“To free the divines and stop the Organization.”

Ah. There it was. Part of the puzzle was the Church trying to get their revenge. Now this part had me conflicted. I did hate the Org to some degree, and had fantasized about taking them out myself a handful of times. What did that really mean, though?

I’d have to give up Wight, for certain, and I doubted I could destroy the Org without him. There was no current proof that they were the cause of the divine blockage, and if we got rid of them and that wasn’t the cure, then it’d cause problems in the Hells. With the nimrods trying to bring up portals, and whatever else they were planning in the shadows, the Org was a necessary evil.

I was a necessary evil.

“You still haven’t told me what I’d actually need to do. Do I just follow you to your shrine and then get sacrificed up in some ritual in hopes that’s the medicine?” The revolver beneath the table tilted towards him. My energy swirled around the trigger.

He opened his mouth and paused. That was all he needed to not say. “Have you not sacrificed for the Organization? What better cause than to-“

The trigger pulled, splinters of wood burst into the air as my demonic shot blasted through the table. A golden shimmer appeared around him as my attack dissipated in the air inches from his face.

“Really, Eric?” He scoffed. “You think I'd have no protection from demonic-“

Wight sprung up from behind him and jammed his blade into Isaac’s neck. The man’s eyes widened as blood began to pulse out from the wound.

“Not so good against normal attacks, though, huh?” My eyes dulled and I pulled over the plate of breakfast remnants. Stuck the cold egg with the fork and placed it into my mouth.

Isaac spluttered, blood running from his mouth as his suit soaked from his neck wound. No words made it out as his life slowly ran away. Wight walked around and placed his markers and paper on the table, followed by the bloodied dagger.

“I think we need a new table.” I sighed, closing my eyes.

Just the sounds of a man’s last few breaths. Blood slowly dripping onto the carpet. The squeak of markers on paper. My heartbeat was slow, calm, tired of life. Not so exhausted to be offered up as a sacrificial lamb to free the divines, however.

“Thanks, by the way.” I opened my eyes and gave my patron a smile.

[It was no problem, Eric. All our enemies will suffer the same fate.]

I raised an eyebrow, but the smile didn’t leave my face. It was a reassuring statement, despite how demented it might sound. No foul deed goes unpunished. I could partly see why Pearl had tipped him off about my presence, and she must have sent him the letter before being summoned away.

He had filled us with some knowledge. Not really enough to change the course of our bloodied meteor, but it gave it detail and context. Were we enemies of the Church now too? Should we tell the Org about what just happened? How was I meant to get rid of this body?

All questions I would address once I warmed up my breakfast and felt more contented.

Footsteps came from the basement, and Wight and I exchanged a glance.

Rodney stepped into the dining room doorway, took a quick look between the three of us at the table, and groaned. He deflated and dropped his bag to the floor carefully.

“Can’t leave you assholes alone for any amount of time.”

I waved my fork in the air. “Breakfast, Rods?”