Some secrets were easier to keep than others. I had managed to hold most of my newfound power tightly in my grip so that the Org couldn’t see. They had suspicions, sure, but every chance they could take a peek, I had a convenient distraction to keep them at bay. It was as if my destiny wanted me to have this advantage over them. Constantly under threat of the truth being unsealed, part of me wanted the freedom to be wholly myself without judgement. But to do so flagrantly could mean the end of everything.

“Balls,” Rodney said, sinking further down into the couch than even I was.

[Extremely balls.]

Their lack of confidence didn’t fill me with much hope. It was too soon to think about destroying the Org to get out of the testing. Almost felt like burning down the courthouse to avoid a parking ticket. Only, what would they do once they found out that I had so much power within me?

It wasn’t like I had a different choice of employer or backup career to hop over to. If I ran from the Org… well, I’d be doing no better than Gunther. No patron demon, and the ire of every other Hunter that thought they had a chance. None did, of course. Despite the Org being secretive, I was willing to bet the number of Hunters in the Mids was low.

Certainly, they wouldn’t have the divine and an eldritch being on their side. Or, apparently, the favor of one of the demons in the High Hells. Two of them, if you counted Pearl—although the latter’s power wasn’t so destructive to my psyche. That just made me wonder exactly how high up the chain Frank had been.

“Oh.” My mind started forming more useful thoughts. “Frank gave me this, in a manner of speaking.” I withdrew the folded paper and passed it to the Blank.

“Odd shopping list,” he grumbled, his eyes going over the names.

[Targets to murder?]

“Naturally,” I said while nodding. He could summon me through planes by manipulating my demonic energy, and had severed my hand with what looked to be a thought. Why he needed us to do some dirty work was beyond me. “Ah, shit.”

“What is it?”

“Just remembered that I left my hand in Hell.”

Rodney grimaced. “You’re thinking they could like… make clones of you or something?”

I wasn’t, but now I was. It didn’t seem like an especially Hell-ish thing to do, and I doubted a faux Eric that had no powers would be useful. I had been more worried that it could be used to further control me.

“I recognize one of these names,” he continued, and tilted his head. “This one… Linus—I’m pretty sure he is a level four Hunter and has been that way for a while. One of the other Blanks from my batch was assigned to him.”

The use of the word ‘batch’ made me uncomfortable, although calling it a ‘class’ was probably too disingenuous. “He an asshole?”

“Name me somebody who isn’t,” Rodney said with a shrug, passing the note over to Wight.

A fair point. There was a slight different between your regular jerk-off and somebody that deserved a demonic shot through the temple, however. “Seems a bit inefficient to be chasing these shadows while the big picture still moves in the background.”

“Demons work slowly, right?”

[Until they do not.]

Org was still expecting my presence, and I’d hardly touched my coffee. I had a feeling it was going to be another long day, even if less violent.

[All these human names appear to be Hunters. None of these demons are targets of the Org, I believe.]

He handed the note back to Rodney so that it could make its way into my hands once more. I declined it, leaving it for the Blank to hold on to.

“Probably a bad idea to take that with me, huh? Maybe you and Passage can get familiar with the names in case someone happens to cross our path?”

He nodded and clasped it in his hand.

[I will meet you at the Org, Eric. I doubt they will let me accompany you for the tests.]

With a deep sigh, I gave up and stood. No time like the present, especially when the near future had a present where this was all done with. Might take the day off and help Wight with his pictures, if the Org hadn’t done something to me on learning the truth.

“Eric,” Rodney stopped me with a word as I started to walk away. “If things go south, I have your back.”

I smiled at him. “The only thing getting destroyed today is the food we’ll order when I get back.” It seemed enough to put some of his worries to rest, and I almost believed my own words, too.

Wight hopped off the seat and followed me around into the lobby.

“You know, isn’t it odd that I went to the High Hells, and you stayed here? I mean, usually the distance between us isn’t greater than the house unless you’re at the Org pact device.”

He stared at me impassively for a few moments, before cupping his beak in thought and looking the other direction. We went through the staircase door and down into the basement.

[That is quite odd, now that you mention it.]

“Something we can just do now? Or was it due to Frank?” I grimaced as I remembered I hadn’t cleared up my mess on the floor from the previous night yet. I’d do it as soon as I got back, I lied to myself.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

[I will stay here when you go to the Org, and we will see what happens.]

I nodded and went to dial in the destination runes—the only ones I knew by heart, due to them being figuratively drilled into my head during training. Would have been literal if Partridge had his way. “Only wait for like… ten minutes or something, though? I’d hate to be in the middle of something without you by my side.”

[We are bound by more than our pact. I will not let you down.]

With a brief nod, I smiled as the portal spooled up and illuminated my sunglasses in a bright blue. One of our few rough patches seemed to be smoothing over nicely. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that he was proud or impressed that I had survived the pinnacle of Hell. Perhaps that was just me desperate for a pat on the back though—appreciation was few and far between in this job.

Before stepping through, I withdrew my phone. No messages, which wasn’t too odd considering the few contacts I actually had.

I love you x

I sent the message to Pearl, just in case the Org turned me into paste. No communication from her was common. The Mids didn’t abide by mortal technology, something about cell phone reception, Rodney had said. Although his eyes had rolled at the same time, so who really knew? I placed the barren device on one of the shelves and turned toward the portal.

~Eric Redd.

~Confirmed. Please proceed.

The voice hit my ears before my eyes had adjusted to the darkened chamber—and it took me a couple of seconds to remember that I had sunglasses on. I gave the room a bow before stepping toward the door. The hiss as it relented caused my right eye to twitch. Should be more panicked than I currently was.

“Mr. Redd,” the receptionist said, barely looking up from the screen that was illuminating her glasses. “You are to head to Prep room three for further instructions.”

“Thank you.” I smiled, giving her a bow. Not that I was appreciative of what was about to occur, but she had at least made the start pleasant enough.

The gloomy corridors didn’t do much to lift my mood. Obsidian blacks, deep grays, and white fluorescents. Needed a splash of red here or there. Soon enough. I ignored most of the rooms as I passed. Perhaps I should have been keeping more of an eye out for the names from Frank’s list, but I already had enough on my plate to chew through.

“Eric?”

I stopped at the mention of my name. Over halfway to my target destination, I turned my head to see Partridge standing there, arms folded. “Sir?”

“Can I see you in my office for a moment?”

An odd request that sent shivers down my spine. I’d never seen his office before, and saw no reason to start making it a habit. I felt like a schoolboy in trouble, and all I could do was nod my acceptance. Didn’t want him to call my parents. For a moment, I wasn’t sure if I was running a little too far with a metaphor, or a ripple of corruption was shaking my otherwise calm waters.

We’d soon see.

He led me around the corner to a doorway that I would have otherwise assumed was a closest to store cleaning materials, or perhaps a fire exit. Actually, I reckoned there was no escape from the otherwise airtight building and there would be no running from a blaze. Mentally, a note was made.

With the door open, I followed inside and stepped back in time. As an odd juxtaposition to the rest of the drab corporate decor of the majority of the Org, his office looked like the cubicle of an office middle manager from several decades ago. The door shut behind me, and he gestured to the simple chair on the receiving end of his cluttered desk.

As he sat at the business end of the room, he sighed and rested his elbows on the light wood and paperwork, fingers steepled and to his face.

“How do you feel about today, Eric? Specifically, the testing, before you go off on some smart-ass tangent.”

A wry smile curled up at the side of my mouth. “If you have to ask, then perhaps you know already.”

“Fuck.” He scrunched his eyes up. “Too big for your boots, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “I’m most concerned about what the revelation will force the Org into doing.”

He worked his jaw, and his eyes opened up to try to pierce through me. “If you are what I think you are, then you’re fucked.”

“If I’m the-”

“Do not fuckin’ say it.” He raised up a finger, which I could see was slightly shaking. “The walls may be thick in here, but certain phrases will find the ears of those who want to hear them.”

I nodded slowly. If anything, that gave more credence to some of the theories rolling around in my head. The Org wanted to know about the Last Lantern, and Partridge didn’t want them to know it was me. Not one to look a gift horse in their expletive-laden mouth, I was eager to find out the reasons why.

Partridge deflated. “Should have guessed it would be your dumb ass. Showed too much of your hand with the whole portal debacle.”

“I did what needed to be done.”

“Of course you did. That’s what you’ll continue to do, which fuckin’ worries me.”

The look in his eyes told me he wasn’t bluffing. From the man that many demons would probably shy away from, the remarkable humanity he was showing was… uncomfortable. “Why are you telling me this?”

He shuffled in his seat and ran his fingers over his mustache. “I’m an old man, Eric. Put my time in as they wanted. For what? Sending broken fucks like yourself off into unimaginable horror, only for them to come back dead, or worse.”

“I’m guessing your retirement plan is as dire as ours, then.”

“It’s a prison, Eric.” He clenched his teeth and sighed. “I ignored the bad parts, thinking I was pushing for a greater good… but this is just a personal hell that I can’t escape from. So much blood and suffering on my hands and nothing to show for it.”

“So you want to be part of the solution now, rather than the problem?” I narrowed my eyes. He wasn’t overtly saying the Org was responsible for the Heaven blockage—this could just be the regrets from his normal job. There was a hint he was giving me. I just had to pull the thread carefully.

“Too far gone for repentance.” He returned a tired smile. “But I can see when the writing is on the wall. You’re meant for something more than gobblin’ through a sea of pigmen dick just to get shit on again even harder the next day.”

“Yes,” I said, mostly because my brain struggled to parse the metaphor—mostly for my own sanity’s sake. “So, what do you suggest for today’s shit sandwich?”

Partridge wrinkled up his face and exhaled through his nose. “There are some strings I can pull, get you off the hook for the testing—maybe just for the short term, but it buys you time.”

I fucking loved time. Which brought something up into my mind. “I have a request for you, too.”

“Fuck me, Eric. As if my ass isn’t on the line enough. What?”

“I want to go to the Mids now.”

He sucked his teeth, eyes trying to read my face. “It’s not so simple as that. You need approval from three sources. Director, Trainer, and a Mids demon that can vouch for you.”

My eyebrow raised at the last one. Then again, they wanted people who could socially finesse demons, not just murder everyone on sight. Some previous rapport would work that out.

“Two out of three already, then. How do I get the Director to sign off?”

His eyes narrowed. “Sure, I’ll do it for you… but who’s the demon? It can’t be under duress, you know.”

I was about to remind him I wasn’t a sociopath, but the pages of my past soaked in demon blood were dripping too noisily. “Pearl,” I said.

It took him a few moments to process the name somewhere in the back of his memories, now jumping out for shock value. “The purple chick you were… didn’t you…?”

“You underestimate me.” I smiled. “What I am capable of.”

“Clearly.” He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his forehead. “Here I thought the meds would have been enough.”

An apology would have been nice. Acknowledgement that it was pretty underhanded to drug your best employee so that he’d kill his girlfriend didn’t mean much unless you could at least pretend to be sorry about it.

“Haven’t taken the meds since then.”

His brow furrowed. “None, at all? But the corruption, and-”

I stood from the chair and dusted off my trousers. The conversation had now tired me, and my dim view of actions vs consequences made my revolver a dangerous friend in this claustrophobic room.

“Are we done here?” A cold smile spread across my face. “I have a higher purpose I must attend to.”