Time had tempered Partridge. Were this whole mess to happen during a time where he had his youthful vigor, things might have shaken out differently. He had grown tired of the smell of the Org. What they put people through, and for what? Their true plan was unknown to even him. He was just a stick they used to beat Hunters into shape. No carrot, only stick. Soon you learned to love waking up alive, and that’d be enough, until you didn’t.

I stepped back through the portal and into the basement. Someone had cleaned up my vomit and eyes, which deserved a gold medal as far as I was concerned. Interesting to note that the new orbs in my skull were the same prescription as the ones lost, demonic regeneration seemingly having some sense of humor.

To my side, I turned to see Wight standing there with his arms crossed.

“You've been there this whole time?”

[I have.]

“Hmm,” I grunted. He didn’t need to stay within a certain distance of either my pact vessel or the one at the Org. “Do I still have it in my arm?” I frowned and pressed against the skin just beneath my wrist. Pretty sure that was just my normal ligaments and bones… or whatever this tired body was full of. Not breakfast, that was for sure.

[Allow me to check.]

He reached an arm out as he stepped a little closer, a tendril of mist moving out and encircling my outstretched arm.

[It is still there.]

Shame. Although I would assume that a lot of things wouldn’t work should it have somehow disappeared. The Org wouldn’t have let me go so easily.

[How was the testing? You didn’t destroy the Org?]

“Not today, bud. Let’s go find some food and I’ll tell you all.” He nodded toward me and we started up toward the stairs. “Oh, did you clean the… mess?”

[I did. Do you want to know how?]

I paused, a couple of steps up toward the main house, and looked down at the clean spot where my previous pile of half-digested burger and eyeballs had been. “No, not before we eat, thanks.”

We continued up into the lobby, daylight illuminating the open space, and I could hear Rodney in the dining room working on the shotgun. I stepped through and he raised his eyebrows, turning off his machine to speak with me.

“That was quick? I expected it to be a long, drawn-out process, probably painful or destructive.”

“Food,” I demanded, taking a seat at the end of the table and deflating.

“Already on the way.” He smiled and tapped at the earring where his connection to his demon was located. “Passage can interface with my phone now, too.”

I raised my eyebrows, but didn’t have anything to add. Seemed like a reckless action to take that could go wrong in several ways. But Eric Redd was not the voice of caution. “How’s progress going on the gun?”

“It’s going well, actually. Give me another… two days, max? Then it’ll be ready for testing.”

It wasn’t an especially beautiful weapon, but the engravings he had been carefully scratching into it gave it a certain edge. A demonic weapon, for sure. If anything, it just made me wonder what else we could engrave to allow me to put my demonic energy into. The toaster? Most likely. My eyes drifted over to the appliance, and I imagined it glowing in a hellish red.

“Not going to fill us in until the food is here?” Rodney tilted his head.

[I am rather impatient for details, too.]

I shook my head. “Did you know Wight was here the whole time I was at the Org?”

The Blank took a few moments to understand what I was trying to say with that question, before catching the thread of conversation. “He didn’t need to go to one of the vessels, you mean? Huh.”

[‘Huh’, indeed, the Rodney. I am mildly perturbed by the implications.]

“There’s presumably no distance that we couldn’t be separated, right? If I could be at the peak of Hell or wherever the Org is?”

Wight just shrugged at me. Despite his impassive expression, it did actually seem to bother him more than he was letting on. I considered that he might be excited about the potential, but he was more worried about why this was possible. My tongue ran across my teeth as I counted them. I had the glimmer of an idea about it.

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I shuffled around and regarded him. “It’s quite simple, actually, Wight.” A little overconfidence about my theory would pay dividends if I turned out to be correct. If I was wrong, then I could blame it on corruption mania. The perfect crime.

[How so?]

Rodney was all ears, too. I took a deep breath. “Just as I have part of you within me, you also have part of my soul within you.” A wide grin went across my face, and I managed to avoid presenting jazz-hands.

[Oh.]

I had expected a little more of a response than that. He didn’t even seem to be considering it. He was just staring at me blankly still. Whether that was because he knew it to be true but didn’t want to accept it, or didn’t think it was possible, I couldn’t tell.

Rodney nodded slowly, however. “You said before you have been a corrupting influence on those around you, right? Maybe it was more literal, part of you being inside him.”

Any quip about Pearl quickly fell from my mind as Wight turned around and stormed out of the room. I shot a glance at the Blank, who just shrugged. Even without chasing him down, I got it.

The all powerful and mysterious Wight was now part human-soul, or something. He drew on it to be more grounded and personable, just as I drew on his being to be more powerful and hardy. It was amusing, almost, but clearly something he struggled to get his brain around. I would have more sympathy if I wasn’t in a constant tug of war between everyone wanting a slice of my destiny.

“Food’s here soon,” Rodney said, removing his safety gear. “Move to the lounge, if we can convince Wight to join us?”

I grunted an acknowledgement. Here we were waiting for me to drop the details of my Org trip, and it had turned into a dine and dash, with my patron demon throwing a strop. I would have been no more surprised if he had stomped up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door.

A sign of the times, perhaps. I relented to getting up and moving towards the comfier couches of the lounge, while the Blank went out the front to wait for the delivery driver. Wight was actually sitting on the single chair as he had been earlier, his feathered arms crossed, glaring at the wall opposite.

“You want to talk about it?” I offered, practically throwing my body onto the longer couch.

[Yes.]

“Go for it, I’m listening.” I laid out and put my hands behind my head.

[I am annoyed about how I feel. That I am a stronger being with part of your humanity within me.]

“I’m flattered,” I said with a grin, “but I’m not sure how true that is.” He shuffled uncomfortably.

[Ironically, it may be the human part that makes me feel as such. Like I belong here, instead of what I was before.]

I tipped my hat down over my sunglasses and relaxed, exhaling slowly. “Well, I’m sorry for corrupting you. Once we break the pact, the rest of you can probably overwhelm or push out the little Eric you have tugging at your sensibilities.”

He was quiet after this, and didn’t respond. I let him have the silent contemplation for himself, and didn’t push for any further thoughts. Far be it for me to assume how a great entity such as he actually considered these sorts of things. I understood it in part, from the point of view of my own humanity. He had a family here, camaraderie and compassion. Whoever he truly was might not have that.

Frank had said demons were driven by the same sort of emotions as us mortals, which made sense. They just had a thick paste of sin over their morality meter. Interesting that the more powerful a demon was, the better they could feign normality. Control. Pearl kept her evil actions out of the house, I assumed.

“You think your true form could kill a Higher demon?”

[Are you worried about the Frank?]

I wasn’t. In the same way that I wasn’t worried about asteroids or earthquakes. If a demon of that power wanted me dead, I would be dead without much chance of arguing.

“We’re inconsequential currently, but eventually we will draw more and more attention.”

[I will keep us safe.]

The front door closed as Rodney came back into the house, the smell of warm food hitting my nose and drawing me to sit up. I smiled at Wight, and he looked more relaxed. Things would be okay. Or at least, I allowed myself to believe that.

Rodney began extracting the small boxes of whatever he had ordered onto the coffee table. “We’re not supposed to eat in here, so no telling Pearl, okay?”

“I promise,” I said, fully knowing it wouldn’t take much for her to extract the information from me.

[Tell us about the Org then, Eric.]

“Oh, it’s pretty simple, actually.” I removed my hat and placed it on the seat beside me. “Partridge pulled some strings so that I didn’t have to do the testing.”

“Just like that?” Rodney paused to raise unbelieving eyebrows at me. “What did you have to do in return?”

“I told him I wanted to go to the Mids. He knows I’m the Lantern, and is tired of the way the Org does things.”

They were both silent for a moment as they absorbed this information.

[Did he decline your request?]

“Hmm? Oh, no. But he has to get a Director to rubber stamp it, so who knows what hoops they’ll make me jump through to get that.” I didn’t even want to take a stab at any guesses, unless the worst options came to be true.

“Mids,” the Blank repeated, tilting his head in thought. “Mmm. Let me grab some plates and cutlery.”

“Sure, I’m actually going to get changed into something more comfortable.” As much as I was used to being in my slacks and shirt, I had learned to enjoy things that separated my work life and home life. The Org wasn’t likely to throw anything at me today, so I would take advantage to actually enjoy my free time.

I stood and went through the lobby and to the stairs, already missing the strong smells of cooked food. My stomach craved it, and after yesterday, it definitely was deserving.

Across the walkway to my bedroom, I entered and pushed the door to. Pulled open a drawer to take out a pair of shorts and a plain t-shirt. So unlike me. I loved them. Popping open the lid of the wash-basket, I started to strip down.

Just down to my underwear and socks, a flash of pink energy briefly illuminated the room from behind me.

“Eric.”

Something was off about her voice, and I turned with a furrowed brow.

Physically, she looked fine. Not injured—her smart suit was almost flawless, in fact, but there was a weight on her face that made my heart sink. She patted the bed as she sat down.

“We need to talk.”