Things just went from weird to weirder. I had long given up on expecting to find some normality—or at least a base level of oddities than I could stabilize myself on. It was all building to something, like I was circling the drain to oblivion after spending too long in the bath and I had become soup. Whatever warmth I clung to was sinking away, and all I had to look forward to was the loose promise of some kind of end. Down the drain I went.

I sat at the dining table and felt at the wooden texture with my right hand.

Footsteps came down the stairs and entered the room.

“Eric, you’re still up? What’s with the sunglasses?”

It was Rodney, although that wasn’t much of a surprise given how few people lived here.

[Yes, Eric. Tell the Rodney about why you are wearing sunglasses.]

I exhaled through my nose. Having already gone through this with Wight a handful or… two minutes prior, I was reluctant to get more admonishing comments about my folly. Not that I had much say in the proceedings, of course.

“I, uh, lost my eyeballs briefly. This seemed like a good way to not traumatize you.” I winced by instinct, imagining his facial expression.

“You’re blind? Oh, I see you have one hand again too.” He sighed, and didn’t seem keen to sit at the table with us. “Can you even regenerate your eyes?”

“Yeah.” For all the boons that I had access to, the ability to recover nearly all damage was something I was most thankful for. Guilty, too, for all those who didn’t have such luxury. Turned out I had been taking my sight for granted. “It’s not pleasant, but I’ll take it.”

“I imagine the way you lost them wasn’t too nice, either.” There was a sound, possibly him shaking his head. “We have the Church in the morning. How will we explain it if you’re not recovered fully? How did you even get this way? Was the burger that bad?”

I snorted and grinned, before remembering said burger was now laying in a pool of stomach juices and burst eyes in the basement. I’d have to clear that up soon enough.

[Eric thought it would be a good idea to go solo.]

“Asshole, Eric!”

“Now, hold on.” I raised my hand in the approximate direction his voice was coming from. “I was dragged there because of Wight's energy within me.”

[That is hardly my error.]

“Dragged to where, Eric?” Rodney seemed on edge.

Sure, being brought into Hell against my conscious will was possibly something to be worried about, but the ones powerful enough to do so either didn’t care for me or could erase me from existence so easily that it didn’t really matter either way. Perhaps I had just been through a little too much and my brain had chosen to skate past all the horrors.

“It was just the office of a Higher demon in the High Hells.” I shrugged, unable to see how he was taking this. “We had a chat about career opportunities and then gave me a very brief tour of the pinnacle of Hell itself.”

[The palace where the throne resides.]

“What?” Rodney asked. A few seconds of silence followed before he pulled out a chair to sit down on. “What?”

“Mortals aren’t really meant to be able to handle the Highers, so I suppose I am lucky.”

[Just the split second of visual contact you had with the palace caused your eyes to rupture from your head.]

“I think we already covered that,” I said as I nodded, my muscles attempting to roll the eyes I currently didn’t possess.

[Then I had to strap you into the Time Out room for an hour.]

Rodney groaned. “So that was the noises I could hear. I took my headphones off and thought something was up.”

“My brain stayed put, though.” I smiled toward the Blank.

“Ugh, those sunglasses are not dark enough. I can see your sockets through them still.”

The Time Out room wasn’t as fun as I had imagined it could be. But then again, I often imagined I wasn’t alone in there. It had taken Wight a little while to actually get me restrained. Using his strength, he should have been able to overpower me, but for some reason, he had treated me with kid gloves and struggled due to his size.

[Are you going to tell the Rodney the real reason you were summoned by the Frank?]

“The Frank?”

I grimaced. “I don’t know. It’s kind of a heavy thing to go to bed on.”

He shuffled in his chair. “I already have the Church meeting to panic about, and now I have this body horror to keep me awake, too. I’m sure one more bad thing can’t make it much worse.”

[You will be surprised.]

“Rodney,” I began, trying to frown seriously at him. “We have to kill the president.”

“What? Which one?”

[Eric. Do you need the Time Out room again?]

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

They never let me have any fun. It was always me ruining myself and killing all demons. Couldn’t even crack a joke. I felt tired and uncomfortable, the demonic regeneration slowly trying to patch through my broken parts after a very long and exhausting day. A little bit of brevity was what I needed to keep myself out of the Time Out room.

“Actually,” I said with a long sigh, “they want me to destroy the Org.”

A few seconds of silence followed before he responded. “Ah. Frank has the same view as the Church. That the Org are the ones breaking Heaven?”

I nodded slowly. “I’m not sure how much I trust him yet. While I don’t hold the Org in especially favorable light, they are what’s keeping us all bound together at present.”

[As much as I wish to be free of them, they are convenient in facilitating Eric’s destiny.]

“Our destiny,” I corrected him. “Ride or die, bud.”

[Both will be likely.]

Rodney sighed again, and it sounded like he put his hands or elbows on the table. Perhaps wishing he had just stayed in bed. “I’m not…” he paused again for a couple of seconds. “Don’t get me wrong, Eric. I’m on your side, and will help you when that day comes… it’s just nothing I could ever commit to on my own, you understand?”

“Of course.” There were a dozen reasons why something like that wouldn’t be his first choice to attempt. It had to be me, out of anyone, to bring them down. I’d worry about the ramifications and moral issues on a different night, when my empty eye sockets weren’t itching like crazy.

[What of the Passage?]

Movement again, as Rodney shuffled in his chair. “He… doesn’t particularly like being a prisoner of the Org, either.”

I nodded, hoping he saw the movement. “I imagine we’d be setting all the demons free, which might be a separate problem entirely.”

[I will deal with them when the time comes.]

My head tilted in the direction of his voice, the chair next to mine. Although that opened up some further questions, I didn’t have it in me to ask them right now. “I think I’m ready to try to sleep. Will you help me, Wight?”

[Of course.]

My muscle memory for the house was still forming, and as much as I was sure I could eventually shuffle my way to my bed, the sooner I could end the day, the better.

Rodney moved from his chair as I stood. “I’ll turn back in, too. See if the horrors let me get some shuteye.”

I rested my right hand on the table as a wave of vertigo tried to tilt me over.

Then there was gray. I blinked my sore eyes and realized I was looking up at the ceiling of the bedroom. The light of day filtered through, painful for my freshly formed orbs. I removed my left hand from beneath the covers to see that it was there once more, albeit fresh and sensitive looking as well.

With a deep sigh, I turned away from the sun and to the side. Face to face with Wight staring impassively at me.

“Fuck! Sorry, Wight.” I shuffled awkwardly. “What are you doing in my bed?”

[Making sure you had no further corruption complications through the night.]

“Oh, well…” I returned to lying on my back. “Thank you. Looks like I survived.”

[It appears so.]

I hadn’t dreamed, which wasn’t too concerning in the grand scheme of things. Plenty to have been tired about and dead to the world. I couldn’t fault my brain for not wanting to process anything other than recovery. My left hand went back up so I could look at my watch.

“Ugh. David will be here any minute. Can’t believe I slept in so late.”

Wight said nothing further, as I removed myself from the bed and stumbled over toward the en-suite. Would need the sunglasses again today, it looked like, as I winced from the light hitting the white tiles. “I’m going to shower. Could you see if Rodney is up and able to host if David gets here early?”

[As long as you do not die in the shower, yes.]

I watched him walk around the bed and out of the bedroom, staring at me the whole way. Hadn’t even waited for me to promise him, which meant I couldn’t be held liable if it did happen. Although, I’d prefer not to, all things considered.

Where do souls go when they die?

The question inserted itself into my mind like an ice cube, chilling the warm mush that my brain was currently comprised of. I twisted the shower taps, and the water sprayed down. It was an odd thing, like my active thoughts couldn’t settle on answering it—or even consider it for long than… I took my clothes off and stepped into the warm water.

Soothing. I closed my aching eyes and tried to get a hold of my thoughts again. What a day yesterday had been. It would probably be a good idea to stay out of Hell for a bit to make sure the corruption didn’t get worse. Whatever part of me had the influence of Wight was no longer referring to people with ‘the’ in front of their names, so it must have been some manner of an elevated condition that Frank had weighed on me.

To have such power, it was a wonder why they didn’t erase the Org themselves. I washed myself as I ruminated. But then again, maybe the bad publicity would work out worse for them. Evangelize the survivors against them, or something. Not that any human could stand against someone like Frank. Even I had been humbled despite feeling like a demi-god on occasion.

Rinsed off and taps off. I left the shower to get dried. Not that I currently felt like anything more than an ageing man with more problems than happy mornings. It’s always drab before the dawn, or at least I could pretend as such.

A piece of paper on the mirror caught my aching eyes. It hadn’t been there before.

With a furrowed brow, I stepped over to it, the towel now wrapped around my waist.

It was a list of names. Some clearly demon, others very human. The little favors Frank had mentioned, no doubt. I wondered if the the human names were Hunters? A list of loyalists, or those that could throw a spanner in the works when it was time to do the dirty on the Org?

I folded it and brought it back through to the bedroom, where it could find my slack pockets when I got dressed. Most Hunters would probably be on the side of the Org. Certainly, some would want to be free of the choice they perhaps regretted, but most wouldn’t want to give up their power. Their identity. I would need to think about how to approach that, too.

Clothes on. Black slacks, a black dress shirt, and my hat. Traditional and smart for my meeting. It helped that the somber colors were less abrasive on my eyes. I made the decision to leave my gun up here. There was no need to invite violence to cloud over this fresh day. I almost believed that.

I left the bedroom and went across the hall to the stairway, already hearing the brief murmur of voices. Down the soft carpet, into the lobby, and then through to the living room.

Rodney and David were sitting on the couches opposite each other, full to the brim of awkwardness, while Wight sat to the side of them both on a smaller chair. His legs kicked back and forth, and if I didn’t know any better, I would have said there was a hint of amusement at the corners of his beak.

“David!” I announced my presence. “Sorry for the wait. I, uh… had a rough night.” My fingers pointed up at the sunglasses. “Hangover.”

“Eric,” he smiled, still plenty full of nerves, “It was no problem. And your hand?”

My left went up. “I punched a… burning oil golem.”

He nodded slowly, but clearly didn’t believe it for a second.

“You should have seen the other guy,” Rodney backed me up, an approximation of a grin on his face.

[Unfortunately, that is more believable than the truth.]

I waved them off and sat beside the Blank on the couch, sinking into the comfort immediately. “I’m sure you’ve been introduced to Wight, my pact demon. You would have sensed him when you fixed up my skull.”

“Indeed.” He gave the briefest of glances toward the bird-person. “I had not imagined him to be so personable, and… outwardly present.”

“Wight is not like most demons,” I said with a grin.

[And Eric is not like most Hunters.]

David nodded slowly. “I begrudgingly accept the unorthodox… everything.”

“Perfect!” I clapped my hands together, wincing with immediate regret as my fresh one stung. “Let’s get down to business, then.”