Traveling to Hell was never a pleasant process. Even when under the Org's controlled conditions, there was risk. It wasn't a pleasant thing for anyone involved, but then again, it was Hell.
Sleep came to me in rough sandpapered chunks as I woke up every few hours to check the time. To make sure a demon wasn’t crooning over me or avoid the nightmares of my dying family over and over. Standard fare. Eventually, the turmoil ended, and the bright sun of the unrelenting morning kicked my biological clock in the head. I was awake and today was a day of death.
Hopefully not my own. I rolled from my bed, now used to the cold sweats. Despite my attempts to shutter the windows, burning light still streamed through the gaps to shine probing questions amongst my den of depression and assorted piles of debris. I avoided the day as much as possible and the only reason I hadn’t become a total night owl was that demons weren’t too considerate of my preferences.
You had to have a permit to be a night-only Demon Hunter. My track record of not bending the knee to the Organization's demands left me at the back of the shortlist for the piece of paper that allowed me to sleep late. I rolled my eyes as I shuffled across to the wardrobe. The door didn’t work too well, as most things in my life tended to trend towards. Instead of sliding nicely across the rollers, it shunted off track and bowed towards the floor. It might be an easy fix. Still, it opened enough for me to grab a dress shirt and a fresh pair of slacks.
Not the most battle-ready of outfits. Melissa always said I looked good in a suit. I winced away from the thought. It had been a habit to try to keep her from my mind as much as possible - any time her face illuminated the dark reaches of my mind; I flinched away. Retreating to the shadows once more. I shunted the wardrobe door back into place, and it slid open a few inches in defiance. Close enough.
[Good morning, Eric]
I turned from the obstinate furniture to observe Wight, who had appeared behind me while my thoughts were in decline. It always irked me when he was polite. Of the other Demon Hunters that I had the displeasure of meeting previously, Wight had a very neutered personality. Cordial at times. Almost unlike a demon, if I dared even think that.
“You good if we get started early?” I stretched my neck out with a click. “After a coffee.”
[I have no reservations.]
Perfect. I pushed through into the kitchen. The only room that was both clear of languished clutter, yet hardly ever used for its intended purpose. Across the far counter, stacks of candles and bundles of incense sat in loosely organized sections. The tiled floor was mostly clean, save for the marring of past markings, the dark rust of dried blood clogging up the gaps between the white tiles. I skirted around the center and pinned the piece of paper left by Pearl atop the cupboards.
[Are you going to attempt this solo?]
I waved the demon out of the way as I went back into the main room to retrieve the revolver and my jacket. “Naturally.” That's how I had completed all of my Quests so far.
[It would be advisable to take another. There have been a few new Blanks that-]
“No. I’m not playing found family until I’ve laid my first one to rest.” I worked my jaw at my own outburst. It was not a good sign that I was snappy with the demon this early in the day. Other Demon Hunters were insufferable, and Blanks were… just strange.
I had met a couple during initiation. Humans that were considered to have ‘pure souls’ and could neither manipulate nor be corrupted by demons. The thought of anyone’s soul being pure was laughable at best, but the results spoke for themselves. After some training, they became handy sidekicks, with the added benefit of being able to take down Demon Hunters who lost control of their pact.
My tongue clucked as I had waited for Wight to try to convince me further, but the demon had just remained hovering impassively beside the kitchen doorway. I holstered the revolver in the inside of my jacket and took a step towards my near bloody future.
Then there was a knock at the door.
Mid-step, I paused. It was almost a certainty that I had paid rent on time. This month, at least. My lungs emptied slowly through my nose as I considered leaving it unanswered. A second knock was like a nail into my skull. I really needed that coffee. To avoid further mental anguish, I navigated the towers of my decaying refuse to reach the door.
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It swung open slightly more abruptly than intended, a squeal of the aged hinges betraying my impatience. Before me, a young man stood. Dirty-blonde hair sat messily atop a round face, where a slim goatee fought for the world’s most pitiful facial hair trophy. It was definitely in the running.
I met his pale green eyes with a half-scowl. “Sorry, kid. I didn’t order a pizza.” Part of me wished I had, but being portalled to Hell often allowed you to taste a meal twice.
“Er - no, the Organization sent me.” His hands played nervously with the hem of his zipped-up hooded top.
Now it made sense. My shoulders sagged as I opened the door and gestured for him to enter. The weird aura around him wasn’t just teenage angst - he was a Blank. I shot a glare at Wight, who bobbed in the kitchen doorway still like a puppet watching the real show unfold. Whether he hoped I'd agree to the assistance and the Blank would show up just on time, or he knew I wouldn't be able to turn him away either way... I just sighed and eyed the kid up.
“Name?”
“Rodney Bla-“
“Just the first is fine, thanks.” Avoiding getting too attached was in the top ten rules of being a Demon Hunter. Job satisfaction was at an all-time low, and getting ripped to shreds by demonic entities on the regular meant turnover was high. “What are you good at?”
“Navigation, Reconnaissance and Information Processing, uh, and I’m a dab hand with a dagger.”
“Rodney, if we’re ever in a situation where you’re in dagger range of a demon, we’ve both fucked up.” I wanted the kid as far from danger as possible - preferably on the other side of the city. Not only because having his blood on my hands would really sour the day, but also the way he casually eyed up my mountains of filth made me uncomfortable.
“Understood, Mr. Redd. Rest assured, I intend to stay on this side of the gaping mouth of hell.”
“Uh, don’t say gaping again, please.” My forehead seemed unresponsive to the soothing rubs I attempted to apply. “You know how to make coffee?”
Rodney nodded but hesitated, perhaps about to lament my treating him as an intern. For all his worth, that was how the Organization treated the Blanks - and technically, I was his superior. Lowly Level Three or not.
“This way to the kitchen then; this is where all the magic happens.”
“Clearly,” he stated with a quick glance towards the disheveled bed.
Despite the scowl that quickly washed over my face, I did respect a quick wit. There was something about sarcasm that was like a cool shower on a hot day. Perhaps he wouldn’t be too painful to work with, at least if he was staying this side of reality. I wouldn't have to worry about my tiny edge of given friendship being immediately consumed by the dark pit of death. Not yet, anyway.
We’d see what he was capable of first.
[He came highly recommended and pairs well with our
Wight received just a grunt of acknowledgement. Rodney may not have realized what he was getting into if the demon arranged his acquiescence, knowing that I would shirk it. Maybe Pearl was right, and I was a tool…
I shook my head at the thoughts of the female demon. No good would come from allowing her to sink her talons into my brain - a most likely eventuality. Instead, the whistling of the kettle interrupted the trauma-juggling.
“How do you like it?” The Blank asked, a frown across his brow as he tried to find something functional and in-date in my cupboards.
“Just a big scoop, that’s it. Say, you can’t see or hear my patron, correct?”
“That’s right. Unless I give them consent.” He finally found the tin of instant coffee that still had some powder inside, amongst several empty ones.
“Hmm, like a reverse pact.” Imagine having that power to say ‘no, thank you’ to a demonic entity, and they no longer exist to you. “Would you like to give consent to Wight?”
Rodney poured the boiled water into the two mugs slowly before turning with one mug outstretched to me. I took it by the cup rather than the handle. I let the pain of the scalding liquid radiate through the thin ceramic and into my fingers.
“Sure. Demon Wight of the Hells, I consent to your presence. I allow it with the word ‘appear’ and dismiss it with ‘begone’.” He blew the steam away from his cup and raised his eyebrows at me. “Appear.”
To me, nothing changed, but the eyes of the Blank now focused on the billowing mist of my patron demon by the doorway.
[Greetings, the Rodney. I relent to abiding by your consent and hope you are having a good day.]
“Thank you. At least one of you has manners.”
Jaw clenched, I switched my grip to the handle. Whilst cooler, the pulsing heat radiated from my hand still. I liked to convince myself I was building resistance. In likelihood, I was just giving myself minor burns for nothing. If there was a lesson to reflect on there, it would have to join the ever-growing queue of problems I tried to ignore.
“How much do you know of portals, Rodney? Are you able to help me get the sigils written?” I allowed the steam to cloud my glasses as I took a sip. Thank the absent divines that he made it strong. He might have a future after all.
“Actually,” he shrugged, a sheepish grin crossing his face, “I don’t know much about the Hells themselves. They kept me on cross-reality communication, parsing demonic knowledge, where to stab-“
“Okay.” I sighed and tapped a finger against the side of my cup. Painting portal sigils was always such a ballache. While I had terrible penmanship with normal writing, trying to etch out abominable runes on the kitchen floor with chicken blood was both an exercise in frustration and figurative hell for my knees. It was a wonder that a portal didn’t just open up with how angry I would get.
[We have time. Perhaps you should educate him on the Hells, Eric?]
The coffee cup made a sharp thunk as I placed it down on the counter. As I cracked my knuckles, I took a deep breath.
“Alright, let me tell you what I know.”