I didn't need to fly, run or even walk to get to where the Heads' meeting was held. In fact, I didn't have to move at all: Aya carried me, moving far too fast for me to react. Just to be sure I couldn't perceive, let alone remember the path, she also dampened my senses, mundane and arcane alike.

After what felt like an instant of sensory deprivation, uncomfortably reminding me of the world fading away as my noose tightened around my neck, all those years ago, I found myself in what could have been any conference room anywhere in the world: cheap plastic chairs and table, no windows, and beige, beige, beige, everywhere. The forest I summoned wherever I went was the only splash of colour in the room.

The other Heads were already gathered, making Aya the last to arrive. With a nod to her peers, she took a seat between Shiftskin and Gilles. Whether because she was liked by both or to stop them if they started to fight, I didn't know.

Neither smiled at her, or reacted at all. That's when I knew shit had hit the fan.

The table was a semicircle, so that no one could seat at the head and everyone could look at me as I took my seat.

'Thank you for agreeing to come, Silva,' Gerald Reyes said, looking like everyone's favourite headmaster grandpa. 'We would rather not take decisions involving you in your absence, after what happened last time.'

'Let's cut to the point,' Gilles said, the feathers on his head bristling fiercely, piercing yellow eyes staring at me unblinkingly. 'Do you want to live, Silva?'

That caught me off-guard, though I was more composed than I would've been before that trip to Faerie. 'I wouldn't have come back otherwise sir. Also, ARC cannot execute its personnel outside extreme circumstances. We just hand them to their countries.'

Were they testing me? Seeing if I was too sorry for myself to remember protocol, or care about it if I did? Well, I wasn't. For some reason, I wanted to prove them wrong. Show I still had my wits about me, even now.

'Do not take this as a threat,' Elsbeth Crane said, hands together on the table in front of her. 'But these circumstances are hardly usual.'

'If you want to die but don't trust Romania, Aya can end things right here,' Amara Al-Hazred added, the shadows of her hood impossibly hiding her face from my dead eyes.

I looked from her to Aya, seeing nothing but determination, resignation, and quiet pleading to think if what I wanted was the right choice.

'I don't want to die,' I answered Gilles. 'Even if I did, I haven't said goodbye to those who would deserve to know about it. All of us have made mistakes we'd rather not repeat.'

Gilles stared at me for a few moments, saying nothing, before nodding slowly. 'I can respect that,' he said eventually. 'But you are still a security risk, Silva. Not for reasons you can control. Rather the opposite.'

'My strigoi side is not uncontrollable. I've never lost myself to my instincts.'

'Yes, and that is admirable-'

'Certainly a breath of fresh air compared to Loric Szabo,' Alemoa Elga told him, flashing me a brief, reassuring smile. The ghost lacked the paleness common to her kind, as well as the transparent body. To a human, she might have even seemed alive.

But I knew better. Even from a paltry ten metres away, I couldn't hear the heartbeat or smell the blood in her veins, nor the sweat that was always present on humans, because there was nothing to sense.

And that was not to mention the arcane power she radiated. It felt like I was looking at a much smaller, female Lucas.

'We might even make you the Corpse Corps' public face, David,' the ghost joked.

'Thanks for the offer, ma'am.' Bleh. Hope I didn't look or sound as constipated as I felt. The fact that I was a bad liar didn't help with my reaction at the suggestion. 'But I have stage fright.'

Or rather, I got extremely anxious around people who weren't evil or something for me to kill. Throw me at any monster and I wouldn't even blink, but people with opinions, in a non-violent environment? I clammed up.

My days as a teacher hadn't made me better at it. Just better at faking it, though not until I made it, unlike all the cool people with impostor syndrome. I'd never be Ciaphas Cain. I was more like Jurgen somehow getting turned into one of the books' main character, without Cain around to help him.

Still smelled better than him, though. Low bar, but...

'Don't drag this out, Silva,' Gaol John grunted, sounding bored, though his face-at the moment, he looked like a dark-skinned, rough-looking motherfucker missing his nose and lips-was expressionless. 'And you stop encouraging him, Elga.'

'Thanks, Johnny,' Gilles said. Then, to me, 'I was boutta say that, while controlling your instincts so far is admirable, there's still a risk we can't overlook.'

Oh, fuck off, you overgrown turkey. 'I bet you tell all your recruits that, sir. Talking about them, know what's the difference between us? They don't get called out for having the same problems I do,  and a night a month most of them go insane.'

'The difference,' Gilles said in a voice almost as cold as his eyes. 'Is that weres can't be possessed, Silva.'

...Fuck. 'I-'

'Maybe make sure why you're here before you start talking shit about my agents, eh? Not that lots of people don't, but I've had to kill a fifth as many as I've sent to their countries for execution over the decades. I get a tad miffed, you understand.' Beak quirking in something approaching an ironic smile, he turned to look down at Aya. 'Why didn't you tell him? This ain't the time for preserving suspense, y'know.'

'I assumed the two possessions weren't the only problems we would want to discuss,' the mummy said in a small, flat voice, expression blank.

'Aw, c'mon, Aya...' The weregryph shook his head, then huffed. 'Let's not assume anymore, alright?' He looked back at me. 'Silva, we can't blame you for being possessed by a deity. The problem is that Chernobog seems to want to fuck you, in particular, over. Until we find a way to truly, permanently kill him, you're in danger. Are you patient enough to live like this until then? There's a way out...'

'I want to live.'

Gilles shrugged. 'Then, let's hope we can protect you until we finally ice the fucker, eh?'

'Chernobog isn't working alone,' I said, glad we were getting close to what I wanted to discuss. 'I don't know...that is, I'm not sure who his associates are, but I have some ideas.'

'Nyarlathotep,' Shiftskin said. 'The tentacles that immobilized us in Faerie match Fixer's description, as well as the bodies of several avatars.'

'That wasn't the first time he intervened.' Aya nodded at the wendigo. 'He came to the pantheons' summit in disguise, and we'd have missed him, if not for the Dagda.'

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

What the fucking hell?! 'So he has a stake in this. Do we know why, besides fucking with existence in general?'

'Chernobog is an useful proxy, especially if he believes himself an equal or ally.' Amara took off her hood, revealing an olive-skinned, middle-aged woman with dark eyes that appeared bottomless. Light was drawn into then, as if they were black holes, distorting her features. 'The Crawling Chaos cannot meddle with dimensioned existence without being opposed at every step. Nodens, the Fixer...he has too many equals and enemies, or, at least, beings who do not want to share their toys.' Amara smiled humourlessly.

'So, Nyarlathotep wants to find a way around his restrictions, without doing anything himself, because he's...lazy? He doesn't want to dirty his hands?' Crane suggested.

'Or maybe he just finds Chernobog running errands for him funny. I know I would.' Ying snorted a small puff of ivory flame while scratching his belly, making a sound like coins clinking.

'But why would the Black God agree to this? He's an insufferably arrogant bastard,' the demigoddess replied.

'Aye, but arrogance only lasts so long when you're shit out of luck,' Ying said. 'Remember when Nacht killed him? I'm not using air quotes, because it did happen. Nacht swore up and down he was dead. So did Hex. Everything I checked pointed out to the fact that the Black God was gone. I checked with the Jade Emperor, alongside Wukong and several other Buddhas.'

'We all investigated, Ying,' Elsbeth said placatingly, putting a hand on his left arm. 'We were all wrong.'

'I'm not apologising,' the dragon said. 'I'm saying we should have never stopped.'

'Chernobog was torn apart by an army of copies of his equal and opposite.' Crane pulled her hand back, then crossed her arms. 'Hex and Nacht said the remains of his corpus were inert, before-'

'Before they disappeared,' Ying said, then tapped the said of his head.

'Gods often disappear when slain.' Crane frowned. 'You can be sure I'd have personally checked them if I'd gotten there before it.'

'I thought we were done apologising?'

'Better than passing the blame...' Sam muttered, glaring at Gilles.

'Enough,' Gerald said softly, tapping the table with one hand. 'Let's focus, everyone. Ying, you were saying something about Chernobog being out of luck?'

'Whether the Black God allied with the Crawling Chaos before or after his death, it doesn't matter. Unless we find out someone else is involved, I think we can assume Nyarlathotep resurrected him, yes?'

Nods and murmurs of agreement across the table.

'Well,' Ying pulled his pipe out of nowhere, snapping his fingers and lighting it. 'Do you really see Nyarlathotep doing anything for free? Or in a way that won't amuse him? Even if he isn't puppeteering Chernobog, who's to say he didn't bind him somehow, or set up conditions he has to obey, or he'll keel over?'

'You think that's why they are working together?' Leon said, sounding like he feared something much worse.

'Yeah,' Ying replied in a similar voice. 'Because the thought of those two making common cause without being forced to makes my insides crawl.'

I was about as eager to break the grim silence of the room as the Heads were, but someone had to. 'I'm repeating myself after the Headhunt, but Chernobog all but said he tricked the Dagda into killing Nidhogg and starting this whole mess. I still think those "hurt women" the Dagda found were Chernobog in disguise, or Nyarlathotep, or one of their allies, if there are more. That, or their creations.'

'We are yet to discover anything more about said women,' Gerald said. 'But I agree with you. They were obviously impostors, whatever their nature.'

'The Dagda's own theories are much the same as yours,' Aya told me. Then, to the other Heads, 'However, that will have to wait. We can't cancel the investigation, but it won't be our main focus. As grim as Ying's hypothesis is, we can't discount the possibility of the Crawling Chaos allying with the Black God, and possibly others, simply because they crave destruction. Nor can we discount the possibility of similar deities allying not with them, but with each other-or, at least, not hindering each other-due to similar reasons.'

'Seconded,' Sam said. 'I'd have to turn into an ostrich to stick my head into the sand that far.'

'Lapdog,' Leon said, with no heat.

'And proud of it. You're just scared the big, bad gods are paling around, Gilles.'

'I ain't deluding myself, Shifty. There's no reason not to assume the worst when you're invulnerable  and working in ARC,' the weregryph's voice was filled with bravado, but his eyes weren't. I knew, as everyone else in the room did, that, just because you couldn't feel pain or be damaged, it didn't mean you couldn't be hurt.

'More things to look into,' Gerald said. 'Seems you will continue working, Silva. Anything else, or do you want to return to Omu base now?'

'No retirement offers?' I asked, only half-jokingly.

'Too dangerous, both for you and the world at large. Leaving aside the fact everyone and everything would see you dragging Broceliande around, Chernobog would be possessing you again the moment he felt he could get away with it. And this time, he might never let go.' Gerald gave me an owlish look. 'And let us be honest, Silva. You would be itching to help out in any way you could. Even if you didn't go vigilante, your conscience would be urging you to return the moment you felt you were needed.'

'I could enter the Supernatural Service.'

'You could,' Gerald said, sounding as convinced I'd do it as I did saying it. 'I wonder, what party would like to take you first? I'm sure your chains wouldn't draw the attention of other national agencies. We haven't had a tugging match like that in a few decades.' The mage held up a hand, flicking his wrist like he was dismissing an annoying fly. 'No, Silva. People like us don't "retire".'

'So, I am, more or less, being ordered to stay.'

'Didn't you say you wanted to live?' Gerald raised a bushy eyebrow. 'I suppose we could always send someone to subtly shadow you. John loves using multiple selves for multitasking,' the IA head smiled so widely I was sure he was about to start nibbling on his own ears (made even more impressive by his lipless mouth). 'Or, we could ask Nacht, whom we are waiting for. It could manifest right now, but Hex and it are on a mission, and we would rather talk to both at the same time.'

Alright, Nacht automatically violated my and almost everyone else's personal space due to its very nature, but I didn't want it to take extra interest in me.

'If you keep talking, you will get another playdate with Herr Personality and the second reason he doesn't do PR,' Sam suggested, apparently trying to beat John at psychotic grinning.

Tempting, tempting... 'I think I'll go back to Omu base if there's nothing else, thank you.'

***

Faerie, 2031

It was like trying to hold a beast's mouth closed and open at the same time, with one hand, while trying to wrestle it without moving. It was like trying to hold on to the edge of a pit by just his fingernails, while also trying to climb out of it.

Contradictions, one after another. Such was his people's reward for allowing the Black God within their home.

Oberon had never trusted Chernobog. The suggestion alone would have shocked any madman back to sanity. But playing gods against each other they way they did with everyone else(not that they were different when it came to their kindred) could yield results as miraculous as any dangerous gamble.

As disastrous, too.

Oberon's face was a mask of calm and concentration under his helmet, but none of his subjects could have missed the tension in him. His body was like a coiled spring, but paled in comparison with his mind.

The Blackness Chernobog had planted before his departure to parts unknown had devoured Oberon's palace, then the capital. He and his remaining troops had managed to evacuate most of the citizens who'd been too slow. As for the rest...the blackness could not destroy them, for it had no iron. It could not erase their selves or timeline, however much it tried. It could, however, keep their bodies in a constant loop of pained regeneration, and Oberon was loath to imagine their thoughts, and not just because it would ruin his concentration.

His Titania, bless her heart, had rallied their people around her, even as they travelled further and further from the heart of Faerie. Titles like "Nomad Queen" had started being bandied around, though not in mockery. No one was that foolish, that sure they had nothing to lose, yet.

Oberon took another step back, cursing. The more power he drew from the aether to contain the Blackness, the bigger, fiercer and faster it grew, as if to spite him. Drawing less power did not help, for it still grew. He had almost been trapped inside the Blackness after trying that.

Something small and light as an agate-stone alighted on his left pauldron. She would often do that, when Puck stood at his right.

'They do not want me anymore, King Seelie,' Mab said, her pale lips scarcely moving. 'The humans' sleep was dreamless when I was away, but now, they no longer want me acting as the midwife of their minds. They prefer to let their dreams come by chance, and have put up protections around their beds and minds, to keep me out.'

That she could most likely break through said protections went unspoken. But raping the humans' minds was unlikely to endear the Seelie to them again. And, much as he hated to admit it, they were too powerful to ignore anymore, and only growing stronger.

'Call the Dukes,' Oberon said, grabbing a tendril of Blackness as it lashed at his faceplate and pushing it back down. 'And reach out to the humans' realmsmoot.'

'The Global Gathering?'

'As you say.' Oberon closed his eyes, feeling his realm flow through him. Infinite as it might have been, he knew, in his heart, that the Blackness could and would devour it in no time, if he failed to stop it. But the humans had many warriors with noteworthy abilities, and many more allied to their kind.

Mayhap even that god-eyed strigoi. Attempting to kill him had been an overly-emotional reaction, but one he could hardly be blamed for. The humans did worse for far more foolish reasons, all the time. Besides, he would punish both him and the Black God if he could.

But first, perhaps David Silva could help stop the disaster he had brought to Faerie by bearing the Black God inside himself.