Borea Jonkins eyed the demon over the stock of his crossbow, his face hard. Unlike the last time he’d been in this position, there was not the least doubt in his mind that he was looking at an actual demon. A genuine devil, which made it a high ranking demon into the bargain.

With the creature contained, he maneuvered around the cage, trying to see out past it without getting too near, groaning at the thought of what things must be like outside for one of them to have made it all the way here.

This was the drawback of a door trap. Once it was sprung, he couldn’t get through either. He couldn’t see any ruckus outside, nor hear any shouting or screaming. Taking a quick decision, he left the thing alone in the cage for the time being, grabbed a quiver full of bolts and his sword from behind the bar, and bolted for the back door, certain he’d be needed out in the streets.

He returned five or six minutes later, even more confused. Everything had been peaceful. No trace at all of anything amiss. Other than the guild master running around like a lunatic waving a crossbow about, of course.

He stared down at the demon, still keeping a bead on it. Initially, he’d been too concerned over other dangers to take the time to kill it. Now he had too many questions he wanted answered. How had it gotten into the town unnoticed? Chaos, how had it gotten in at all, the way the place was warded? Why was it wearing shredded human clothing? Why did it have a drugand sword? What in the name of Jehsha was that pendant, and why wasn’t the containment spell affecting it? He’d have answers before he put it down, that was sure.

It was a damned good thing, he thought as the questions piled up, that he’d gotten the broken bar repaired and had the wizard Mohrdrand in to recast and reinforce the containment spells, or who knew what might have happened?

The demon’s eyes opened and it looked up at him with a pain-filled expression. It didn’t immediately engage. He’d expected some sort of attempted casting. It looked around as if to get its bearings. Then it opened its mouth and his face closed down into a scowl.

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to bring me a blanket or something to cover myself?” it asked in a hoarse voice.

When no answer came from the human, Chi reached out for one of the bars to haul herself up. She recoiled in pain at the first touch, shaking her stinging fingers. Nor did Self Heal help. Something about this cage was interfering with her ability to cast.

The pendent around her neck was glowing like a tiny sun, and she wondered what sort of condition she’d be in without it. She shuddered, and decided not to think about that anymore.

Working carefully, she finished shrugging out of her coat and unbuckling her weapons belt, careful to keep her hands well clear of the jagged backed sword. If the human wasn’t going to kill her outright, she wouldn’t tempt it into changing its mind.

Turning partially away, she slipped her bag over her head and lay it aside, careful to keep it clear of the bars. Then she stood, slowly, one arm crossed over her breasts in a vain attempt to hold the tattered remains of her blouse up. Although, she recognized, such thoughts were probably wasted in her current situation.

“You speak Tandrian?” the human growled.

“And English,” she nodded. “And Korean. Along with twenty-seven other human languages from a dozen different worlds, fifteen demonic dialects, and forty-eight monstrous tongues.”

Jonkins’ scowl deepened. “Regular scholar, ain’t ya?” he sneered.

“Actually,” she raised her chin and gave him her best condescending stare, although he towered over her. “I am.”

His sneer faltered at her response. “What are you doing in Mokkelton?” he demanded, voice harsh.

“I’ve come to—”

“Hey, Bor,” a familiar voice from behind stopped her, causing her heart to race. “Wait’ll you see what I go— the hell?”

She turned fully around and beheld Jackson Grenell for the first time in his Mundian form, clad in dark brown leather trousers, tall black boots, and a wide collared off white shirt beneath a long, black leather vest. Her eyes went wide at the change, and a pain-edged smile found her lips.

He’d stumbled to a halt barely an arm’s reach from the cage. “You!” he pointed, anger suffusing his face.

“Me!” she replied happily, her voice as loud.

“You tried to kill me!” he accused.

“You kicked me in my face,” she shot back, leaning forward at the waist, the hand not holding up her blouse fisted at her side at the end of a rigid arm as she did it. She was going for Tinkerbell scolding Peter, and wondering if it would work.

“Kicked...?” he sputtered. “How is that remotely—” his voice cut off abruptly, his brows lowering as something clicked. “I know that voice,” he hissed.

“Do you now?” she smiled, her cheeks flushed, having completely forgotten the grouchy man behind her with the crossbow.

“Judy?” he leaned in, staring bullets down at her, his head twisting sideways. “Judy Jay?”

“You do remember!” she clapped her hands, the movement allowing her blouse to fall clear of her breasts.

He flushed, and covered his eyes.

“Oh, come on,” she chided. “You’ve seen them before.”

He peeked between his fore and middle fingers, giving her a long look up and down, his face moving through a range of expressions. “Well,” he observed with a hint of mockery. “I suppose this does explain how you managed to vanish from a third floor hotel room in the middle of the night without disturbing the swingbar.”

“I am sorry about that, Jackie Boy,” she frowned.

“Don’t call me that,” he ordered flatly. “You don’t get to call me that. Not after skipping out without a word. One minute you were—”

“Uhm?” Guildmaster Jonkins called from inside the guild hall. “Man with a deadly weapon over here.”

“Give us a minute!” they demanded in unison before turning back to face one another.

He flinched and lowered the crossbow.

“Why?” Jack asked her, almost pleading.

Chi looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “Why what?” her voice had lost its previous cheer.

“Pick a topic,” he snarled. “You and me. That goddamned bus. This,” he waved a hand to indicate her demonic form. “Why you’re in Mokkelton?” He growled. “Your boss send you for another try?”

And then he stopped short at the stricken look that had come to her face.

“You don’t know anything,” she whispered so softly he could barely hear. Then she shook herself and looked up at him, tears brimming. “I’m here in Mokkelton,” she sniffed. “Because I don’t have a boss anymore, and because I don’t want one. Ever again.”

“And how do those things connect?” he brought his hands to his hips and squared on her.

“I...” she faltered. “I’m here to look through the window.”

He reared back, eyes going wide. Behind her, she heard the guildmaster snort in shocked disbelief.

Jack looked up and met the guildmaster’s eyes.

Jonkins was shaking his head, eyes hard. “Not a chance!” he barked. “That’s the game, eh? Sneak in and destroy Jehsha’s Window?” he shook his head again, harder. “No! Not a chance!”

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Chi struggled to get hold of herself. She’d been unprepared for any of this. And particularly, she’d been unprepared for the surge of emotions she’d felt when Jack Grenell had showed up out of the blue. She’d forgotten how much she’d... She steeled herself and turned away from her hero and faced the older man. “I have a message for you, I think,” she said, no longer brash. “If you’re Borea Jonkins.”

He clearly didn’t believe her. “And who might be giving such as you a message meant for me?” He demanded. “I don’t recall setting up any correspondence with no demons.”

She toed the message scroll around until it lined up between the bars and gave it a kick. It slid out and across the floor.

He eyed it as though it were a venomous serpent, but sidled over. Gingerly, he edged a toe over and rolled it until the familiar seal came into view. He’d been less shocked when he’d learned of the hero’s impossible sentinel class.

He looked up from the scroll to the demon, eyes narrow, trying to decide what the trick might be. Then, with both the demon and the hero standing near atop one another, it hit him that it hadn’t a crystal any more than he did.

He bent carefully and took up the scroll. Then he looked to the demon again. Then to the scroll. Finally, he turned to the bar, laying the crossbow atop it. Turning back and leaning against the heavy wooden structure, he ran a finger beneath the seal.

His face paled as he read. It was all there, including the recommendation and sponsorship. He staggered half a step sideways and collapsed onto a barstool.

The old enchantress had sent him a wandering bird days ago, alerting him that she’d be sending him someone who needed to see the window, but hadn’t specified who —He looked up at the demon, who’d turned its back again and was engaged in conversation with the sentinel— or what it might be.

He looked back to the message. ‘Full confidence,’ it said. From Rosaluna Galbradia. Full confidence in a gods forsaken devil? He was at a loss. On the one hand, ‘full confidence.’ On the other, how was he to set a devil loose in the city?

In the end, the old enchantress’ recommendation won out. He’d trusted her many times over the years, with everything from his own life to the safety of the city. He’d trust her now. But she’d hear of it when next they spoke, if ever again they spoke.

Reluctance shining from his every pore, he moved around behind the bar and deactivated the trap. Those in and around it jumped as it snapped into motion, disappearing once more into floor and ceiling.

At the door, Chi stepped forward until Jack was very close. “I missed you,” she whispered.

Considering her current appearance, he remained remarkably stoic. “Right,” he said dismissively. “I’m sure you—”

She stood on tiptoes and leaned forward quickly, pressing her mouth against his, her eyes closing as she pressed herself against him, her arms going around his waist.

Jack’s hands shot forward, taking hold of her head to physically remove her from his face. But somehow, they stopped obeying his commands along about the time his fingers tangled in her ruby hair. They betrayed him then, pulling her tight instead. The kiss grew passionate as he remembered the blonde girl he’d known. Whom he’d thought he might love.

When, at last, he allowed her to pull away, her eyes were glowing. “Ooh,” she purred. “I did miss that.”

“You,” he whispered very slowly into her partially open mouth. “Tried. To. Kill. Me.”

“Oh,” she licked his lip mischievously. “We did more than try.”

His eyes went wide, his mouth flat, and he grabbed her by the shoulders, stiff-arming her away. “Goddamnit, Judy,” he glared. “Or whatever the fuck your real name is—”

“Chi,” she grinned. “My real name is Iktchi-Chi.”

“Whatever,” he growled. “What are you up to, you freaking creature of darkness? You think you can just play around like this and not see any consequence?”

“I didn’t mean it,” she told him, grin vanished. “It’s a long story, Jack, but know this. None of that was anything I had any control over.”

He wasn’t buying. Or maybe he was. “So, all of that nonsense—”

“Was me risking torment to spend some time with you,” she finished for him, understanding instinctively where he'd go.

“I wasn’t supposed to, you know,” she explained softly. “I was only supposed to observe. Look for weaknesses. Plot your death. I wasn’t supposed to get close. I wasn’t supposed to care for you.”

“Sure,” he said, still holding her by her shoulders. “But I’m so friggin’ great you just couldn’t resist my manly charms, huh?”

“It was more your spirit,” she said softly. “I... I mean, don’t get me wrong,” she shook her head. “I really, really enjoyed your manly charms. But...” one hand came up to cup his cheek, although he jerked his head away. “You never stopped,” she told him. “You never gave in. And you were always ready to help anybody who was in trouble. With all you’d been through. And you were always kind.”

She stared into his angry, pain-filled eyes. “I couldn’t not get close to that,” she confessed. “Even though I knew I’d be punished if I was caught.”

Across the room, Borea Jonkins watched the hero and the demon engaging in what was clearly a lover’s spat, and wondered. What did he make of that then?

Bob, the hero’s little orange dog ambled over and sat beside his barstool, looking up. “Ale?” Jonkins asked. The dog yipped, his tail thumping.

“So, I take it they know each other?” Jonkins asked as he set a bowl of ale before the corgi a moment later.

“She’s a creature of the Dark Lord of Tarr,” Bob, the dog, said as he lowered his muzzle and began lapping at the ale.

Jonkins bolted upright. “The hell you say!” he demanded. “The world he’s supposed to have been sent to?”

Bob paused and looked up. “That’s right,” he told the man. “She was one of those who launched the attack that nearly killed him.” He went back to lapping at the ale.

Jonkins stared at the pair in the doorway. “The way they were swapping spit, there,” he commented. “I would’ve pegged their relationship somewhat different.”

His bowl empty, Bob plopped his rump onto the floor and watched the two in the doorway. “I’m getting the impression there might have been some... contact... prior to that final encounter,” he observed wryly. “Just a hunch, of course. Whatever it was, it happened before I was sent to watch over him.”

“We should get them out of the doorway,” Jonkins said once it became clear the two weren’t moving.

“Oh,” Bob returned, his tongue lolling. “I dunno. I’m sort of inclined to see how long it takes one of them to notice the crowd they’ve gathered.”

Jack stared down into the orange-red lava eyes of the demon. At the horns sprouting from her forehead, the pointed ears her disheveled ruby hair allowed to peek forth, and at the fire engine red skin. He saw again in his mind’s eye, the sight of her leaning out from that bus and blowing him a kiss as the hood of the bus occluded his view, and he hated her.

But he also saw in her features, in the way she held her head, the little blonde he’d met at the public range that day, who’d been so comically bad with her brand new pistol that, in spite of how dangerous he’d known such an offer to be in the warfront modern society had become, he’d introduced himself and offered instruction. And he couldn’t hate her.

Bob pushed past his legs, mercifully silent and unnoticed, and headed into the guild hall.

Chi reached up again to cup his cheek, and this time he didn’t jerk away. She’d resisted any urge to seek him out once she’d arrived on Mund. She’d made light of their time together when she’d hinted at it to the old woman during their initial meeting in Tumblebrook. In truth, after the harsh punishment she’d undergone after having been caught at her transgression, she’d deliberately distanced herself from any feelings at all for this troublesome human. She’d had to. But none of that hard won distance could survive his close proximity.

“You’re right,” she sighed, looking up into his eyes. “I am a creature of darkness. That’s not my fault, though. I just am. And I was a creature of the Dread Lord of Tarr, and that wasn’t my fault either. I was its slave. Until you freed me.”

“Until I what?” he pulled his head back. “And when was I supposed to have done that?”

“I told you,” she prodded. “Remember? You kicked me in my face. You knocked me loose from the bus and, somehow, pulled me into the void with you.”

“Void?” he was confused.

“The void between worlds,” she told him. “A place of nothingness between realms. A place where nothing and no one can live. The place you were sent to finish dying.”

His mind clicked. “So, when you said you’d done more than try?”

She leaned her head against his chest. “The spell was designed to throw you into the void without destination. Whether the bus killed you or not, you were to be hurled into the void. There’s no escape from that.”

“So,” he worked it through. “I wasn’t sent here, then, was I? Accidentally or not.”

“No,” she swished her forehead against his chest. “You were pulled clear by this world’s god. How it knew you to be there, I don’t know. The odds of it happening are blindingly small.”

His knitted his brow. “And you?”

She smiled, although he couldn’t see. “I was pulled along with you, of course,” she said. “Whatever had stuck us together when you’d pulled me in, remained in force when you got yourself hauled out. And once I arrived on Mund,” she sighed. “I was a free devil girl. Oh,”

She raised her head from his vest and craned her neck to look up into his eyes. “That’s what I am, by the way. A devil. Can you forgive me for that, Jack?” she wondered.

“For being a devil?” he wondered.

“For killing you,” she frowned. “I didn’t want to. But a slave doesn’t generally get to choose what she does or doesn’t do. And a slave of the Dark Lord of Tarr cannot even escape into death to shirk her duty.”

He wasn’t picking up all of what she was putting down. Couldn’t escape into death? What was that? Wait! Slave?

“Jack?” she whispered up to him.

“Hmm?” he was still trying to work out the slave thing.

“Take me someplace close and ravish me senseless?”

The hell? “What makes you think I’ve forgiven you?” he demanded, fresh anger flushing his face.

Her eyes glinted and she looked down. He followed her gaze, realizing that, although he still had hold of her shoulders, his arms were no longer straight, and he’d pulled her tight against him.

“Just a hunch,” she answered throatily.

He thrust her back out to arms length, bringing a pout to her lips. “Oh, screw it!” he snarled then, and yanked her back, reaching down to catch her mouth with his.

It was at this point that Bob finally decided they weren’t in any particular danger of noticing the crowd out in the street, staring in mingled awe and horror at the hero groping a half naked demon right out in the open.

“Ah, Jack?” he interrupted from just behind Chi.

Jack held a forestalling hand out as he continued kissing the devil girl with some purpose. When finally he came up for air, Bob chucked his muzzle towards the street. Jack looked over his shoulder and flushed nearly as scarlet as Chi before hustling her in and slamming the door behind them.

For her part, Chi was breathing rather heavily as she sought to gather up her belongings from the floor without unduly flashing the guild master. Looking up from this pursuit, she caught sight of Bob. There was no need for Identify; she knew instantly what he was. “And just look at you little godling,” she giggled. “Such an adorable good boy! And just who did you piss off to get stuffed into such a tiny body?”