More fool me for expecting things to be… as expected. After everything I’d been through, the questions just didn’t even bother appearing in the front of my mind any more. If you started taking issue with everything that didn’t make sense, you’d soon go crazy. One of the top three causes of Hunter death.

Gunther struggled to parse my request. “We don’t have… I can get you a coffee.”

[One for me too, the Gunther.]

His eyes went back and forth between us, his fight-or-flight response trying to decide if he even had a chance either way. He didn’t, and he knew it.

“What are you doing here? They’ll find me now,” he said, his voice low.

“They aren’t watching,” I lied. “I just had a few questions.”

He nodded to himself as he turned away to go get the coffee. I wasn’t going to drink it, but it kept up the facade. Loved a good brew, but I wasn’t about to try my luck with something made in Hell. Not with so many people around to judge me for it, anyway.

//Movement down the road. Hold for further information…

Could be anything, but I wasn’t worried. Pearl would be watching the roads into our location and could take out anything untoward approaching. Something else had my back up, though. Something worse than the tense man standing in front of me pouring coffee. Even worse than the handful of potential targets in the busy diner.

It was the silence.

My brow furrowed, as I realized somewhere like this should have a lot more ambient noise. There was no grunting, murmured conversations, or the clink and scrape of demons eating with cutlery. Other than the low hum of a machine over the counter, there wasn’t much else hitting my ears.

I glanced around, not moving my head to make it obvious, but my eyes read the grouped demons on the left side. They looked… normal. As far as you could allow that word to describe them, at least. Normal, but placid. Moving slowly, if at all, as if they were sedated. Perhaps we had just landed in the sleepy district of Hell.

Sloth?

It was possible. We hadn’t really touched much on that side of Hell. For some reason, they weren’t so active in causing problems outside of their own area. Maybe had better things to do.

Gunther turned back and placed two mugs on the counter before us. Looked like coffee and the smell definitely tempted my taste-buds. I drew it close so the warmth of the cup could heat my hand.

“I just realized I don’t know what currency Hell even uses.” I smiled apologetically.

“Just ask your questions and leave.” He leaned forward over the counter. “It’s not good for you to be here.”

“I can make it a lot worse.” I narrowed my eyes. “Enjoying your change of career?”

He rolled his eyes and shuffled awkwardly. “Options are few. It was this or keeping a shallow grave warm.”

“You kill a human woman? Around the time of the factory Quest?” The question came out sharp. Pointed. I was eager for the truth so we could move on from the diner.

Gunther didn’t respond at first, his tired eyes trying to read my face. “I never killed anyone that wasn’t a demon, or a Hunter.”

I felt the energy building within me, as if he had left the kettle on and things were coming to a boil. The heat from the cup tingled through my hand as I gripped it tighter. “That’s a very vague answer.”

[Suspiciously vague.]

There wasn’t much chance of Rodney’s mother being a Hunter or a demon. Some divine energy in her? Possibly if the Blank had some, but that just made me think of Melissa. These sorts of things filtered down. Maybe Cody could hold the balance of power naturally without my need to have the Rat God behind me. But then… where would he get his demonic power from?

I frowned and put those thoughts away for later. What was even stranger about this setup was that the previously near-mute Gunther was able to talk clearly.

“My word may not mean much,” Gunther continued, almost whispering. “But Rose was the only woman I killed for years.”

“How progressive.” I rolled my eyes. “Know anyone else that could put a shot through a wall then?”

I wasn’t sure whether I believed him or not. These things followed the natural line of cliches—and the trail pointed straight toward him.

“You know as well as I, Eric, that Hunters don’t really fraternize.” He rubbed his hands off on his apron. “You have me at a loss.”

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His sleeves moved up as he wiped the sweat off, and I saw the runes burned into his skin. Dark, but red despite not looking fresh. Bound to something else, he had made a deal with someone or something for this life he now had. Foolish. Perhaps how he had his voice back.

//Org wants him dead, either way.

That made the process easier. A set route for this narrative to slump through like a body down the stairs. It was never that easy, though, and I wanted more than a loose assumption that he did it. As much as the Org wanted their lost puppy put down, that could also be an act to urge me to scrape some closure from the act. Fill my brain with the remaining ash to cloud over my constant questioning.

“I bet your patron is real lonely,” I changed tact, “are you just going to leave him to sit idle at the Org?”

He shook his head. “I’m sure the demon will survive.”

I raised an eyebrow to Wight. The Watcher had been one of the more personable pact demons we had come across, and it seemed rude that Gunther had no regrets about abandoning him.

//Convoy of three trucks pulling up. Unknown contents.

Gunther looked down at our drinks, as if he was invested in our thoughts on how nice they might be, but annoyed that we hadn’t taken a sip yet. Even Wight hadn’t, which told me something was wrong.

I saw the trucks move along the road. Large, sixteen-wheeler things, dark and with no discernable markings to give away who was inside. The first turned the corner to park against the curb behind us, while the second had pulled up along the left side.

“You should leave,” the ex-Hunter seethed at us.

A smile ran across my face. “Are we bad for business?” We were bad for most things, in fairness. Perhaps time to call in the gang if there was about to be a scuffle.

My face sunk as I felt it in my soul before the vibrations shook through the diner. The trouble wasn’t outside the diner at all. The trouble was the-

I jumped off the stool, something surprisingly difficult—as if gravity wanted me to stay put. Immediately, I looked over the counter at the recoiling and panicked man. He didn’t have legs. Instead, a flesh-like tube ran from beneath his apron and along into the back room. Like a snake’s tail or long tongue.

“I warned you.” He grimaced. “I warned you.”

My hand went down to my revolver. I could put him out of his misery, at the least. As I drew it, the diner shook and tilted. Vertigo made me stumble as the building rose up into the air.

//Diner is a demon. Evacuate.

As he said this, a crack rippled around the room as the walls and windows split in half to open as if on a hinge.

No, it was like a mouth. One that we were inside. “Wight?”

[I advise exiting this creature.]

A way that didn’t involve breaking my legs would be neat. Large tentacles shadowed across the open windows as the diner grabbed onto one of the trucks. There was yelling from below—the occupants probably not signing up for whatever this was going to be.

The rest of the patrons of the diner seems unbothered by current events, and now I realized why. They had become part of the monster itself, just puppets playing the part to lure idiots like me in.

As cups and plates dropped to the floor—something now soft enough that they didn’t break—I sprinted toward the open doorway as the diner twisted around to face the entangled vehicle.

Out into the air, demonic energy flooding down into my legs to soften my landing. Air rushed past me before I struck the metal roof of the truck, rolling to absorb the shock before sliding down toward the cab. The end behind me lifted into the air as a second thick tentacle approached just before me.

I blew a hole through it and it slithered back in shock, allowing me to pass by. Only to bounce off of the top of the cab, then hit the floor. With a groan, I went to stand, and was helped up by a familiar hand.

Pearl rolled her eyes as I grinned. “Never simple, is it?”

I looked past her to see a large group of crocodile-demons emerge out from the building and jog their way over to me. A mixture of drab suits, fedoras, and wide grins.

“Ah, I don’t know,” I turned back to her, “seems pretty cut and dry.”

The first truck was lifted into the air towards the diner, the building now a good thirty or more feet in the air and supported by dozens of thick trunk-like tentacles beneath it.

Demons from the other two long vehicles had jumped out.

“It’s that Hunter,” once of them yelled, pointing toward me. “He let his beast out on us.”

Hardly an accurate take on the situation. But their angered glares and weapons being drawn didn’t care for the nuance.

“Ah, shit,” I said and sighed.

Pearl flourished her sword. “What is it?”

“I need to go back in there.”

She exhaled, but nodded. Not only was Wight still up there, but in my eagerness to not become an Eric omelet, I had escaped without really finishing my conversation with Gunther. Couldn’t go leaving things unsaid.

The head croc made it over to me. “Jikna, boss. Korc sends her regards. What do you want from us?”

“These truckers have some bad manners that need readjusting,” I said with a grin. “If you could keep them out of my way, that would be appreciated.”

“Yes, boss.” She cracked her knuckles.

“Oh, and follow Pearl’s orders if I’m not around, Jikna.”

The croc nodded and bowed towards the demon. “At your command.”

A wry grin went up at the side of Pearl’s mouth before she looked back at me. “Stay safe, cowboy.”

I winked, but couldn’t promise that. Then I was off, not really sure how I was going to get back up into the diner.

//Org wants that dead, too.

My eyes rolled. Wished I had a way of communicating with Rodney without having to speak out loud—perhaps something to work on in the future once this was all put to rest.

‘Everything okay, bud?’

[I’ve had better.]

‘I’m coming back up to you. Might need some help.’

I hadn’t needed any traversal skills previously, although this wasn’t the first time having one would be useful. The spark of a crazy idea flared into my mind. Either this would look amazing, or I was about to almost die in the most anticlimactic way possible. I liked those odds.

The diner had brought up the first long vehicle almost vertically now, about to crunch down on the back of the wide trailer. Three tentacles wrapped around their snack at various points.

“Come here, you fuck!” a trucker demon yelled at me as he approached, wielding some manner of barbed weapon.

A blur of pink passed me and his head left his shoulders as Pearl appeared in the way. She flicked the blood from her blade and then set into a stance facing the others. Away from me, which was great—if this went wrong, then I’d hate for her to have to witness it.

Dropping all my energy from my core down into my feet as I got near the held vehicle, I spun around and jumped, pointing my revolver at the ground.