I often dreamed that I was falling.

A small figure against an infinite void of pitch black. Sinking as if lost in an unending sea. Occasionally, I’d raise my hands up in some kind of protest. Fingertips just hoping to claw onto some edge in the nothingness so that I could gain some footing.

My right hand burned bright crimson. Black talons scratched through the trail of energy it left behind.

On my left, my hand was a radiant gold. The trail behind it as I fell, a pale white.

There was never any end, or closure, to the dream. I would fall until my brain moved on to something else, or I awoke in a brief panic.

Today was the latter.

I groaned as my blurred eyes tried to focus on the shapes highlighted by the morning light, my racing heartbeat starting to slow. Then swung my legs around and palmed at my eye sockets as I sat at the edge of the bed. With a deep sigh, I felt at the thick carpet with my toes. Comforting. Grounded.

The bed shifted as a figure loomed up behind me. The warmth of a demon pressed against my bare back. Two horns of black amidst silver-white hair. I felt her breath against my shoulder as she gave it a brief kiss.

“The falling dream, again?” She said softly in my ear.

I smiled and turned my head to look into her radiant eyes. Two pools of pearlescent energy were a contrast to her light purple skin. “Sure was.”

She gave me a pat on the back and moved away, stealing away her body heat from me. “I’m no therapist, Eric, but no doubt it’s some lingering amount of corruption.”

Pearl was probably right. It had been an uneventful week, and I had decompressed from the last Quest. There was still trauma from it. No surprise, to be honest. Not only did I take an unbelievable amount of damage, but briefly became both a demon and filled my jug with pure radiant energy. It was a lot for any mortal.

“Plenty of worse things I could be dreaming about.” I sighed and looked back at the drawers and wall ahead of me.

“Plenty of better, too,” she purred. “Remember, I’m going away for a couple of days.”

“Of course.” How could I forget? In the new house, things had been even more of the thick slice of bliss my soul craved. The vacation had been nice, but we each had our part to play in saving the world.

“And what does that mean?” she continued, as she left the bed and walked over to the middle of the room.

I admired her silhouetted figure for a moment before she clicked her fingers, and with a wave of pink energy, she was fully dressed. White blouse, gray jacket and slacks. Business to attend to that required the sharp end of her tongue rather than her sword.

“It means I’m not to get myself into mortal peril or destroy my body any more than necessary.” I added that part at the end, a little bending of the contract.

She tilted her head. “It’s like trying to teach a puppy to behave sometimes. Just don’t die, okay?”

My smile probably wasn’t too convincing. Danger was drawn to me like moths to a flame. The demon standing before me was no exception. I wondered if she had ever had a puppy to train previously. A hellhound? “I promise,” I eventually relented. “These things are usually out of my hands, though.”

Pearl walked over and ran her fingers through my hair. It brought the calming effect reflected from the times she had nursed me away from death’s door. I calmed, much like a trained puppy.

“That doesn’t mean spend all your time in the study being noir either.”

“Now that, I can’t promise.” I grinned up at her and she leaned down to kiss me.

“Stay safe, Eric.” She stepped back, and with a flash of pink, she vanished from this plane.

Immediately, my world cooled and seemed less colorful. Shower and coffee were needed, before I became too morose. I stepped into the en-suite and stretched out, looking at myself in the mirror.

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The trials and tribulations of the last few months had done little to scar my body, surprisingly. Even had a little more mass on my otherwise scrawny body. Times with Pearl around usually had me padding out, as otherwise I didn’t eat a lot when working. And I was always working when not picking up the bloodied pieces of my hubris.

My eyes had borne the brunt of a lot of the trauma. Even the better sleep as of late hadn’t worn away at the dark circles. There was something within there now—I had seen too much. Become too much. I rubbed at my dark beard, which was filling out. It fit my theme. At some point, my glasses had made it to my face, and the round lenses glinted crimson as I turned to the shower before taking them back off.

It ran hot and steam filled the room. I washed myself before I allowed the sound of it to deafen me and separate me from the rest of the world. To just exist in this moment. Warmth enveloped me and I was falling. My eyes shot open as I lulled forward, placing my hand on the white tiles in a panic. That was enough showering.

Out. Dried. Dressed in a black dress shirt and dark gray slacks. I had more comfortable clothes now, but today was not going to be comfortable. Well, that was perhaps a bit melodramatic - but I didn’t intend to sit and pine for Pearl. The Organization might be leaving me out in the cold in regards to new Quests, but I had my own agenda to dig up. My shovel was thirsty for dirt.

I opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. The size of the house was still something to get used to after the being in the smaller one for a while. Along the left wall ahead of me, another white door opened and a short figure stepped out.

Visually, a humanoid bird of dark black feathers with bright crimson circles for eyes. Small clawed hands at the end of his arms instead of wings. A sharp beak of black that picked up a slight deep blue hue in the light. My patron demon.

“Morning, Wight. Rest well?”

[It was acceptable.]

His deep and scratchy voice belied his demeanor, which seemed to switch between childlike wonder and eldritch threat. While patrons didn’t usually have the freedom that he did, Wight was definitely not like most pact demons.

“I’m thinking of doing some detective work after breakfast. You in?”

He titled his feathered head and cupped his beak.

[Pass. I am going to the Org to pressure them into giving us work.]

I nodded. That was the second best thing, but I didn’t feel much like going to that gloomy building. After my run in with the Church, there had been an awkward silence between myself and my 'employer'. Not even a handshake for saving the city from the Deep Fiends spewing out from the portal. It was nice they gave me space to recover after the more traumatic Quests, but a little more communication wouldn’t go amiss.

“Thanks. We’re edging closer to getting to the Mids, and I don’t want them to bench me just because we foiled one plot.”

[You will be needed. They have little information on the god being raised beneath the city.]

Part of me had hoped to ignore that part of the gloomy sky on the horizon. While I had uncovered the plot of the demons, the Org hadn’t hit on any useful bit of information. None that we had been informed of, anyway. You’d think ‘beneath the city’ would be enough of a clue where to look, but it was probably something more hidden than a sprawling evil lair.

“We’ll see.” I shrugged and went for the staircase. A coffee and pancakes sounded like the perfect way to start the day. Wight followed behind me, his small feet padding down the crimson carpet softly. I wondered if Pearl had chosen this mansion due to the current decor - it seemed I couldn’t avoid the noir palette no matter where I went.

Down through the lobby beside the living room where my recliner now sat, and into the dining room - where I found Rodney sitting at the table already. He had goggles over his eyes and was engraving runes into the barrel of the shotgun we had requisitioned from some devil I forget the name of. Unimportant now. The blue earring in his lobe was glowing, the rune inscribed on it occasionally pulsing.

As he noticed me in his peripheral, he switched the tool off and scratched at his dirty-blonde hair with his free hand.

“Morning, Eric. Hope you don’t mind you doing this on the table, uh - the basement has terrible natural lighting.”

I waved my hand. “It’s fine. If you mess up the table, just tell Pearl I did it.”

[You two did ruin the last table.]

“Want to make us coffee, Wight?” I grimaced and tried to shoo him off from causing more embarrassment.

He looked as though he might want to say no, but he plodded off to the kitchen, albeit with his head turned so he could stare at me the whole way.

“Pearl is away for a couple of days, right?” Rodney yawned and brushed some of the metal shavings away. “You’re not going to drag us on more traumatic Quests?”

I clicked my tongue. It hadn’t been totally my fault that we had gone through so much in those few short days. Mostly the one day. “Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to swing by your old place? Grab some of your stuff, do a little investigating…”

He pulled a face. We’d heard nothing from the police or the Org about his mother’s murder. Although the trail was cold and he appeared to be fine to move on or put it to the back of his mind, I wasn’t about to take the silence as an answer. Some of the power Wight had granted me under the supervision of the Org’s ‘Level’ requirements had been shoehorned into detective-adjacent abilities. So that I could let the demonic power fill in for my lack of natural talent.

“That sounds reasonable,” he said before he sighed. “There’s some stuff I’d like to bring here.”

“You super sure about moving in properly?” I crossed my arms. Rodney felt like family despite originally being an Org assigned Blank - someone resistant to demonic influence. With his wide smile, I could see the spark of wanting to tempt fate in his eyes before his mouth even opened.

“Sure,” he nodded, “what’s the worst that could happen?”