Things had been going at breakneck speed. Frank. Cody. Wight. Pearl. Rodney. Gunther. David. And now the Org itself. Everything coming to a head and popping like balloons trying to get my attention. I wasn’t built for putting out fires—more often I was causing them, but perhaps by fighting fire with fire I could somehow come through unscathed. Or cleansed.

We stood in silence for a moment as the portal spooled down to nothing and the weight of his statement tried to sink into our freshly battle-weary brains.

The Blank looked like a mess of nerves and pent-up emotions. I held my arms out, and it didn’t take much more convincing than that. Only pausing to ensure he didn’t throw his tech all over the floor, he came in for the hug with no hesitations.

He sobbed into my shoulder, and I closed my eyes. Whatever I had set aside from being miserable about my family came again to the forefront, my own tears wetting his shoulder in return. Pearl stepped over and put her arms around us both. Wight shuffled himself awkwardly into the group hug. A strange set of individuals as you were ever likely to find—and yet here we were. Bound by grief and love.

Although we had found out that Gunther had done the deed, we didn’t yet know why. I wasn’t sure if my brain even wanted to conjure up reasons at this stage. But it did anyway. Org mandated seemed the most likely reason, but even then, to what end? Gunther was working with the betrayers. Perhaps he wanted to tie off loose ends while they had Rodney kidnapped. Maybe just another cruel screw to twist in the what we were trying to build together.

He moved away, and our little gathering dispersed.

“Well,” he rubbed his eyes with the back of his forearm. “It’s nice to get a little closure, at least.”

“I know what you mean.” I gave a glum smile to Pearl, and she put her arm on my shoulder. Genuine sadness on her face.

“As nice as it would have been to do it myself… just seeing him erased—there one second and gone the next…” he tilted his head and sighed. “It only all problems were that easy, huh?”

[Like the Pearl’s vocation.]

I raised an eyebrow at my patron, but he wasn’t scowling. Impassive, or dare I say apprehensive? I turned back to Pearl to hear it out from her. “The Org aren’t going to be shitting themselves after seeing that, are they?”

She winced a little, then shrugged. “Their assumption would be that I’m an Enforcer, if they still believe I am a Mids demon.”

“But the truth is…” I narrowed my eyes, not quite insinuating she had been lying to us, but she had certainly been holding back.

“I am a Grand Executioner.” She wrinkled up her nose. “Meaning… I’m one of a small group in charge of killing really naughty demons. Was in charge,” she added, correcting herself.

I raised an eyebrow at Wight again, but he didn’t seem any less anxious, or any more impressed. “So… you’re a Demon Demon Hunter?”

She sighed. “Don’t ever say that again. It’s more nuanced. But less about me and more about the Org.”

True, her previous standing in the Hells wasn’t really the meat of the current situation. Something else to prod her about later, for sure, but right now… the Org. “Yeah.” I rubbed at my head. “Shall we go to the lounge? My legs are aching.”

They nodded, and we made our way up. Looked like dusk already, and the soft lighting of the covered bulbs comforted me as they illuminated the lobby and our destination.

“Still smells of takeaway,” Pearl murmured, before taking a seat beside me. She turned and put her legs across my lap, and I removed my hat to put it down on the armrest. Rodney collapsed onto the couch opposite us, and Wight sat in the solo recliner to the side as usual.

“So…” I began, taking the lead on this. “The Org is located in Hell. Who’d have thought? You have anything more than that, Rods?”

He shook his head. “The distance or whatever they use to exist down there… best I could gather is that it’s in the Mids.”

I raised my eyebrow, my facial muscles getting a rough workout today, at Pearl to see her thoughts on it.

“Nothing has come to my attention.” She shrugged. “It sounds like something that should be easy to track, which leads to further questions.”

“I wonder if their portals are different color because they are a mix of the Church and the Hell-bound ones,” I thought out loud. Perhaps I should keep my hat on and those musings under cover.

[How strange that it is not something I could sense, even when I do go between vessels.]

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Wight had his beak cupped with a clawed hand. I could understand his confusion. All this time we were just going back to some… bunker of divine-protection in Hell. Why would they even want to be down there? Perhaps it made it easier to get the new demons, or it kept them safe from… something?

We sat in silence for a while, all rumbling around in our own heads trying to piece things together or decompress from the intense two days.

“Any indication of what the Org thought of our impromptu mission?” I broke the silence to hopefully get some good news from the Blank.

“Ah… they seemed content that you had killed Gunther and the Greater Mimics. They didn’t really hit me with much about Pearl or the gang. No doubt they having a lot of heated conversations.”

I nodded and patted Pearl on her legs. “And what of you, was I impressive enough to vouch for?”

“Of course.” She rolled her eyes and smiled. “I was only breaking your balls before. I just wanted another day fighting together after so long.”

As odd as that may seem, it filled me with warmth. A joy, even. Most of the time there was no point in her coming along for our Lowers battles, not just because she was often busy or we were hiding her existence from the Org, but she just outclassed anything there. Time spent together was my love language—aside from killing all demons—but I didn’t need my hand held while doing my job.

If anything, that would just allow me to be too soft. Every broken soul and trauma earned was hard fought for. Wight and I scraping what victories we could through our inevitability. Our ascension to the Mids was through jumping through every hoop they wanted, our feet landing on the battered corpses of any who opposed us.

“You were… impressive,” I said and grinned at her. Awe-inspiring, in fact, if not slightly worrying.

“If the Org puts you in the Mids, you’ll be seeing a lot more of that.” She gave me a warm smile. “It’s not so steeped in violence like the Lowers, but the stakes will be higher.”

“Smarter demons with better weaponry?”

She nodded.

[The Org should allow us another boon if you go to the Mids, Eric.]

Maybe it was time for that horse—no, I couldn’t give in to the cliche that hard. Something defensive might be a good idea, actually. While we had been happy enough to shred through most things and allow myself the honor of taking the brunt of any damage, if Mids demons had firearms or… demon magic… then I’d rather have something else to block it other than my skull.

“Likely they’ll grant it?” I rubbed at my forehead.

[I believe so.]

Pearl deflated. “You all want coffee?”

We all murmured that we would, and she got up off of me and the couch to go make them. Despite everything putting pressure on us the last… forever, really—I didn’t feel too bad at present. Not really stressed, just anxious and tired. I had wanted the Mids promotion for a while now, and I was eager to get both of my legs wet in demon filth to see what was going on.

I caught Wight’s eye, and I could see he was thinking similar things to me.

“If we go to the Mids… and the Org is in the Mids…”

[Some big ‘if’s there, but it seems things are working their way to being concluded.]

Things never really tied up nicely at the end, no matter how pleasant that would make my existence. If the old god being raised was what I was destined to save the world from, then what after? As much as my waking thoughts hated to touch on it, there was the assumption there that either I’d lose my powers and life—if successful.

It was all riding on me being able to shoot the right demons in the head to prevent the foul act from being completed. But where to start?

Pearl came back through and passed around the steaming mugs.

“What’s our next step then, Last Lantern?” she said with a wry smile as she sat beside me once more.

I rubbed at my beard. “Today… we rest. Enjoy what we have. If Rodney could get that shotgun finished, that would be nice. Wight, I need you to think of my next boon. Something defensive, okay?”

They both nodded and Wight cupped his beak in thought.

“And what about me?” Pearl leaned against me, her eyes burning into the side of my head.

“See if you can kick up any dirt on the Org headquarters in the Mids?”

She puckered her lips, but gave a brief nod. “As you command it.”

I worked my jaw. Normally, I’d give in and join her in flirting, but I was too preoccupied by what lay before us. Something actually big that we could approach as a proper group, against the Org, against the demons threatening the mortal plane… it was a path I had been avoiding, but now it seemed so clear.

“Not to be antisocial,” Rodney began, lifting himself off the couch and keeping his mug steady, “but I’m going to listen to music and work on the gun for a bit now, try to find some zen.”

“Of course. We’ll be here if you need us.”

He smiled and passed us to go through to the dining room. It was probably cluttered with our abandoned food leftovers, so he might take the weapon elsewhere to engrave.

[I will go to the Org to see if they have any updates for us.]

I waved him off and Wight slowly vanished into the mist to return to the other vessel.

Pearl took my coffee mug and put them both on the low table between the couches, and returned to put her arm around me, squeezing herself up close.

“What do you think?” she said softly into my ear.

Either my mind was all over the place, or that question was terribly vague. For a moment I sat in confusion, wondering if perhaps she had changed her hair or was wearing a new perfume I hadn’t noticed. Or it could be about my imminent demise against the rampaging powers of Hell.

“About my vocation,” she added, able to see my brain frozen up.

“Oh.” I reached over and put my arm around her. “We’re pretty much the same in a way. You’re just a lot better at it.”

She exhaled through her nose. “I feel like trying to explain the nuance would just further your point.”

“You can just tell me when I’m right, you know?” I grinned.

She lifted herself to give me a kiss. “You certainly are different than the man I had to scrape off of the basement floor.”

“Which time?”

“Fair point. Oh, I never asked who it was that dragged you to the Highers?”

“Frank.”

“Frank? Not sure I know anyone by that name…” She wrinkled up her face. “I don’t suppose you got their demonic name?”

I pulled a face. Even at the best of times, I probably would have struggled to remember it—let alone when my very soul was trying to avoid wanting to be there.

“It was…” I clucked my tongue. “Holla… something-za.”

“Hollag’krep-za, Hollapulgi-za, or Hollazukza?”

“Ahhhh… the first one?”

She didn’t reply, but held me slightly tighter and sighed.