Nyx changed tones so quickly after that, it was jarring.

"So, you're here to volunteer yourself?" she asked with a smile. A genuine one, at that; I couldn't begin to comprehend how she associated herself with literal demons. I gave a hesitant nod, forgetting to ask exactly what she meant by "volunteer." She grabbed my hand without a second to waste and started dragging me towards one of those tall, crooked, shadowy halls.

"That's a relief. It's been a while since anybody's come here to become a healer, you know. We might have to start forcing people." She chuckled to herself, and I wasn't as reassured by her voice now, in the dark, no less. Her irises seemed to glow, turning kaleidoscopic the more she looked back to make sure I was still following. I only now was starting to question anything of what she'd said; I had broken out of the trance, my anxiety and learned phobia taking the wheel. Was she really a healer, or was she about to convert me to her weird, demon-worshipping cult? She definitely didn't seem like she'd been lying, but would this be the best way to get ahead in my career? Was coming here even a good idea in the first place?

Had Jack been right?

"Um, Sawyer? Oh, god, I'm losing her. Did something happen?"

I was shaken from my little daze there and held out my hands to stabilize myself. We were standing in front of a charming little wooden door, with a figure carved into it that I couldn't decipher. Nyx looked at me with worry, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"No. Sorry, it's—I'm fine. Really."

"You sure? It's your first time in the realm, isn't it?"

I nodded and dropped my gaze to the floor, my face flushing.

"That's always the hardest one. Well, no use standing out here in the dark! Come in."

Nyx's office, if it could even be called that, was no larger than a college dorm room and about as decorated as one. I could spot two or three things that might've had the slightest bit to do with healing, and about ten others that gave off the impression you were entering a psychic scammer's lobby. In the corner there were two small wooden seats with no backrest, though I didn't quite feel like they classified as stools, either. Nyx pulled them both up to the middle of the room and gestured for me to sit down.

"...what was your surname, again? Rafael?"

I took a seat and nodded, a tiny bit more hesitant than before.

"Perfect. You know, the archangel Raphael was responsible for healing in his little circle. Abrahamic religions, all that fun stuff." She scribbled something down on an old piece of paper attached to a rusty clipboard, eyes squinting in a childlike manner at the word "fun." I laughed and fixed my gaze on a far corner of the room—not that far could really be used to describe any of them.

"Yeah. My parents kind of flipped when I told them I wanted to study medicine, and everything. I-in a good way, of course. Gave me the whole Sunday-school lecture for free. I think I was, like, ten."

"Hm. Old enough to know, I suppose." She flicked a stray piece of hair out of her face and set the paper down, looking at me with one eyebrow raised and a knuckle to her chin. "Fit. Intelligent, determined, polite...that's what I see in you right now," she said, almost like a motivational speaker. I blinked, unsure of exactly how I was supposed to respond to that. Luckily, Nyx didn't give me a chance.

"Oh, don't worry. We'll put you to good use. Now, on the subject of healing with magic, or whatever you wish to call it..."

Who is "we"?

—

She got straight to business from there, and I was sent back home with a spinning head and too many mixed feelings to count. My old worries of whether Jack had been right about the realm adamantly refused to die—and if my "place" in the demon realm was at all hazy before, I definitely got the message about two weeks later.

Jack hadn't visited since we came back; not to check up on how I was handling literal magic for the first time, not to hang out like usual, nothing. I figured maybe he was playing it safe, whatever that was supposed to mean. Maybe he'd gotten in trouble for bringing me there, and had to keep his distance for a bit. Either of those would have been okay by me. I just wanted to know.

I was lying in bed, eyes wide open, waiting for midnight to strike. I couldn't be sure why, but I waited anyway. Maybe I was thinking—well, hoping—that tonight was when he'd finally pay me a visit. I sat up with an annoyed sigh. Even if I got tired of waiting and tried to sleep, I knew I wouldn't be able to.

Then something moved.

No, not something just skittering about in my room; I wouldn't have been able to see that. My bed moved, slid along the wall by a couple inches and then stopped. I drew my legs in and hugged them close, my heart skipping a beat. It didn't feel as if anything physical had moved it, more like it had shifted on its own accord, or like it was falling...

The ground outside rumbled. The entire house seemed to shake with my bed and me, its base weakly clinging to the earth underneath. What the fuck?! I reached for a knob on the headboard, but was thrown forward when the shaking abruptly stopped.

"Ow," I said, my voice muffled by the mattress. I sighed and rubbed my forehead; I'd definitely hit the wall coming down. "What the hell was—"

"Don't talk."

It was less than a whisper, much less, but I could hear the fear in his voice—if that had even been him, anyway. I struggled to make sense of exactly where he was, and ended up peering over the foot of my bed to find a lean figure crouched there, one hand on the wall. I almost reached out, but then retracted my hand. I couldn't see this person's face.

"...Jack? That's you, right?"

After a brief moment, he sighed and rose to his feet, moonlight illuminating his mask from between the window slats. I noticed the screen was still closed; he hadn't entered from there. I let out a relieved sigh nonetheless.

"Yeah, it's you! Hey. I haven't seen you in a while..."

I faltered as he raised a finger to his mask and reached into the pocket of his hoodie.

"...what's happening?" I asked, lowering my voice accordingly. "You felt that, right? Something shook my house just now, like an earthquake, or—"

He leaned forward to grab my arm, frantically shaking his head. I wondered why he didn't just "shush" me, why he wasn't speaking at all. There was a quiet snap from outside and his attention was jerked to the window. He turned his head, the light making his narrowed eyelids just barely visible. Out of his pocket, he pulled a large, jagged knife—the same one he'd threatened me with at the park, shining so unnaturally I could almost make out my face in the blade's reflection—and raised it over my head, not bothering to turn back around.

Well, that was a big mistake on his part.

I ripped my arm from his grip and kicked him off of me, making a beeline for the doorway. A single cough and a loud clatter rang in my ears once I entered the hallway—the sound of his knife dropping to the floor. I didn't look back. I only heard his footsteps from behind me echoing through the entire floor. We were on old grounds again. My head pounded along with my heart as the stairwell came into view. Just before reaching the first step, Jack grabbed my arm again and pulled us both to the ground. I let out a loud shriek as my body crashed into his and he wrapped both arms around my torso to keep me in place. I tried prying his hands apart, to no avail.

"Let me go!"

"Stop. Moving."

His voice was hoarse, guttural and stifled, like he was choking on thin air. Like he'd just been running for his life one minute ago. I kept thrashing, kicking, trying to get a grip on the railing, but he took my arms and held them to my chest as he hugged me from behind.

"Sawyer. Sawyer, stop, it's me. I promise I'm not going to hurt you, it's okay—"

"Then why are you—?!"

"Shut up! Please, stop talking, stop struggling, everything will be fine but please for the love of god stay—"

"There you are."

Jack froze like a deer in headlights, as did I. The disembodied voice echoed in my head endlessly, bouncing around the inside of my skull like it was an empty tunnel, and scratchy like sandpaper being rubbed together next to my ears. The hall suddenly felt so much colder, so much more lonely—not to say I was any less afraid.

"Oh, my god. No, no no no no, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off fuck off fuck off," he chanted under his breath, every muscle in his body tensing up until it felt like I was bound to pure stone. My heart started beating louder, and the echoing voice sighed.

"...Jack."

"Yes, sir," he mumbled to the floor, not moving an inch.

"Do not call me that. This is how you repay me for years of thankless help? You deceive me? You hide parts of your life from me?"

"Funny. Last time I checked, you don't really think I have a life—"

"And then you go so far as to let this human into our realm. Let me get a good look at her," the voice continued over him. I felt an ice-cold, almost airy hand lift my chin. I clenched my jaw, trying to make out some sort of figure or silhouette in the darkness, but there was nothing in front of me. Jack's hold on me tightened. I didn't feel any more safe. Whatever thing had spoken before began talking again.

"All this could have been solved so easily, sonur minn, had you only done your job."

"So it's my job to—"

Jack was cut off once more, but not by any physical thing as far as I could tell. He just...stopped. His breathing grew heavy and tired, like he knew he had lost. Before I could ask any questions he dug his claws into the base of my neck, almost drawing blood, and clamped his other hand over my mouth. I struggled against him, trying to shift back, or at least look up to catch a glimpse of his face. Just to know if he was being serious. The mask was still on.

"I'll do it," he whispered. "I swear I will."

"Go on, then. Be of use to me for once."

Tears started beading in my eyes. I tried to free one of my arms, but he just held me tighter and closer to his body.

"Stop moving or I'll cut your throat open," he growled into my ear.

"You wouldn't," I tried to say. "Please, just let me go—!"

His hand was on the verge of breaking my teeth. None of the words made it past my lips without getting obscured. Jack sighed, rested his head on top of mine, and loosened his grip by a mere fraction.

"Would you mind?" he asked the demon. "I don't like being watched while I eat."

"...of course."

A ringing in my ears I didn't know was there vanished without hesitation, and my head felt lighter, as if I could simply pop it off and it would float away. I shut my eyes, the tears fogging up my vision, and started quietly sobbing into Jack's hand. He could have at least done this back when I didn't trust him. Why now? How inconsiderate can you be?!

"I'm sorry," he said, so softly that I almost didn't hear him. "You have to go."

After ten more agonizing seconds, he looked both ways, then slowly let go of me and brushed himself off. I scrambled back, rubbing my throat, choking on my own words and still crying.

"What—?!"

"Shh. Go. Hide somewhere, anywhere, he's more interested in me than you. God knows he's still watching us," he continued under his breath, lifting his mask with a calm but urgent look on his face, as if this had happened countless times before. I let out a cough of a breath, more confused than ever.

"So y-you don't—?"

"Go!"

Maybe I would have stuck around a couple more seconds if he hadn't pulled that whole "holy shit you're about to kill me in cold blood" stunt just seconds before. That being said, I didn't hesitate to bolt down the stairs and start thinking up places to hide. The thing that had been talking before—his boss, I could safely bet at that point—probably wasn't going to get out of his way for long, so I needed to decide on something quick. But I was interrupted halfway through the main hall by a clamoring of voices above me. One of them belonged to Jack.

"I don't care," I heard from upstairs. "What's the point, anyway?! She's been to the realm, she's started working with Nyx, maybe she can serve you, too!"

"I know you like to think of me as an idiot, boy. Just admit it: you were ready to kill her, even if only for a moment. You've been getting more and more desperate—"

"So what?! Maybe you're not stupid, but you're a coward! An old, selfish coward. You can't handle it if the slightest thing goes out of line—even if she did die, she wouldn't be sent to you. She wouldn't turn into one of your mindless slaves. I know that's really why you make me do this, so you have more bodies acting out your orders."

"I haven't made you do anything. I've done nothing but help you, guide you to make the right choices. Come now, Jack," the demon said in a disgustingly coercive voice. "You know I only want what is best for you. Why try to save her? Why, out of all people—"

"I don't have to tell you anything."

Jack spoke in such a low voice that I could barely make out his words above the ringing in my ear. There was a terrifying pause, and then a noise like scissors gliding through wrapping paper; only this was more gut-wrenching, interrupted several times by the sound of cracking bones, and punctuated by a scream of pain.

"The best of luck to you in healing that."

My hands flew to my mouth in a feeble attempt to stop myself from gasping, or worse, screaming as well. No. Don't make a sound, he's not dead, he'll be fine. It's your own ass you should be worrying about. I shook my head and shut my eyes, continuing towards the living room to settle on a hiding place. But as I turned to enter, a strange gust of wind seemed to push me towards the side of the stairwell.

Towards the door leading to the basement.

I sucked it up and dashed down the cold stone steps, wincing with every pebble my feet got snagged on or tripped up by. My common sense was telling me to get the hell out of there, go outside, scream for help, do something that didn't spell certain doom. I could get cornered down here. I couldn't see an inch past my nose, not if the door ever closed. But I shoved every rational thought to the side and curled up on the dusty floor, in a remote corner no human would think to check.

Well, this thing isn't exactly human, is it?

"Shut up," I whispered to myself. "I-it won't find me. It'll just forget I even—"

"There you are."

My heart leaped into my throat at that voice; it came at me from all sides, engulfing me in its emotionless cruelty. The demon sighed.

"...again, I suppose. Samuel Rafael, isn't it?" Its laughter was loud, its echo ceaseless, and it didn't give me a chance to respond. "You certainly have made an effort to keep yourself hidden. You haven't even told him your real name—"

Stop it. That's not my real name, it's not my name, you're just trying to mess with me. I dug my fingers into my scalp, tangling my already fussed-up hair, the pain keeping me awake. It's just trying to mess with you.

"It? Well, that certainly is a rude thing to say. Don't act like you haven't gotten your fair share of the 'it' treatment, human..."

"You—stop. That won't work, whatever you're trying to do, it won't work, just let me go—"

I shut my mouth when that same icy hand traced my jaw and lifted my head, once again forcing me to look at nothing. Something seemed to revive in me; I regained my nerve, shakily standing up and walking straight ahead towards the basement stairs. Except after a certain point, something blocked me. No sort of wall, or fence, or anything—I could still see the light of the stairs perfectly, at least, as perfectly as one could in the dark. But no matter how hard I pushed or struggled, it felt as if a solid brick wall had been built between me and the staircase. I glared at nothing and clenched my teeth, pounding against the invisible wall with my fists.

"No. No, stop it, let me out—!"

"Were you aware that Jack was on a job when he came to your house?"

The voice was narrowing, focusing itself until I was only hearing it from behind me. I whirled around, unsurprised but still frustrated when I found nothing there again.

"At least, he was the first two times. How many subsequent trips he took here, after you two made that...agreement...well, it's beyond me."

"Liar," I said without a second thought. "You know what he was doing, where he was, you followed him here. You possessed him, you made him hurt himself and drag his body all the way to my home—"

His boss, Chernobog, laughed. It was no less a horrible sound than the last time. "I don't think you quite grasp, human, just how out of control my dear son Jack was. He kept you alive, when I made it explicitly clear that you were to die..."

Something cold ensnared my ankle, and I jerked my leg away with a muffled gasp.

"He's never seemed to have an issue talking back to me, though one could certainly chop that down to him being a disobedient brat..."

"Don't talk about him li—"

"And I haven't laid a finger on him. Not when he's in that rather...animalistic state." He made an odd sound, like he was shuddering. "He was the one who rejected my influence, who tried to force something out that was never there. He did it all to himself, human, and you've had to pick up the pieces. For that, I apologize. On his behalf."

I shook my head, scratching my arm as I felt something crawl up like an insect. "No. I-it's not his fault, you—"

"Well, since he is still not prepared to end your life, I suppose I must finish the job for him."

I was pulled sharply to the ground, as if chains were bound to every limb. I tried standing up again, but something kept pressing against my head, seeming to get a tiny bit closer to the floor with each passing second. A literal glass ceiling.

"And when I am done, I'll drag your body straight to what you humans call hell."

"Why can't you just leave him alone?!"

The lowering ceiling was halted for a split second, my bonds loosening in what I could only assume was the demon's surprise. Surprise that I wasn't even thinking of myself anymore; I could have been about to die, and I still wanted to defend Jack. After a moment, he laughed again, and my hands were slammed to the floor by invisible chains.

"Oh, that really is pitiful. Such a shame...didn't he tell you already?

"I am the one keeping him alive."

My head pounded as I tried to come up with something, anything, to save myself. Nobody was going to rescue me, that I was sure of. I considered screaming, but that might've just made him kill me faster.

"I own him."

"Like hell you do," I spat, eyes frantically darting around the room. They ended up landing on a large vase filled with long-wilted flowers—a housewarming gift I'd stored down here years ago, having been too snotty to actually use it. The flowers were dead as dust, the water was probably filthy...

Water.

I reached up to grab one of the table's legs, pulling forward with all my might and causing everything settled there to come tumbling down. The vase hit my arm, its water spilling over me, its flowers curling up and wrapping themselves around anything they touched, the glass shattering on the floor. I winced as my elbow fell onto a piece, chipping off and cutting into my skin. A horrible sizzling noise filled the quiet night air, and my arm coated in water droplets looked as if it were frying in the sun.

"You—"

He didn't get much of an opportunity to finish his sentence before it started to take effect.

The boss hissed and howled, stretching and contorting the air around it until I could almost make out a shape in the darkness. Large, jagged claws burrowed themselves into its face, dark steam rising from its surface and passing through the ceiling. That was the only thing above my head now; the ceiling. I could move.

I stood up on shaky legs and narrowed my eyes—calm, angry, and with a strange sense of pity rising in my chest.

"That's for my aunt, dickwad."

"You horrible, filthy, cheating human—"

"There's a lot more where that came from," I said through gritted teeth. "Now leave us alone."

Chernobog hesitated. Then he let out a weak laugh.

"Do you really think this will deter me—?"

"GO!"

I surprised myself by how furiously I said that, but made sure not to let it show. I picked the glass shard from out of my elbow, holding back a wince, and flicked it to the ground. The room was silent for a good few minutes. Finally, he said in a choppy rasp,

"May we...meet again...Samuel Rafael."

And disappeared, the ringing with him.

Tears started to bead in my eyes at that name. It somehow hurt more, demon or not, that he might not have been trying to mess with me after all. He believed that was my name, that it couldn't be changed no matter what I did. This fucker really cannot accept defeat, can he?

I glanced down at my arm. A dusty substance, almost like rubbed-off dead skin was coating my arm along with the wilted flowers. The boss's remains. Part of it, at least; I knew he wasn't dead, just ran away to recover. I hadn't expected the water to be that powerful against him. So I guess there's not really a point to "holy" water, when the regular stuff can do the trick just fine.

I made my way to the stairs, still a bit shaky, and stopped dead when I saw Jack's silhouette frozen at the top. We stared at each other for what felt like hours. I wondered what would change when one of us finally spoke.

"...Sawyer?" he breathed, looking taken aback. His mask was back on, a trivial thing that I absolutely hated now. I wanted to see his face—needed to, even. I needed some sort of comfort, some reassurance that he wasn't going to pull any more of his "acting" bullshit, that I wouldn't be led to believe my life was in danger again, that he was okay and unharmed...

Where did that horrible injury go?

Jack's stomach, chest, whatever part of him Chernobog had sliced through was completely intact. He continued toward me, almost oblivious. The scream I heard from upstairs, the sickening sound of a deep wound being created...it was as if he didn't even remember being hurt. Am I just going crazy?

I didn't get a chance to ask before he took the knife out of his pocket and twirled it menacingly between his fingers.

"Say something. Now."

"Wh-what?"

"Prove that it's you. Say something. Go!"

I raised my hands and backed against the wall as he stepped closer and closer. "I don't—Jesus, stay back! It's me, I don't know how else to convince you—!"

"You get ten seconds. Just say something, or I'll find it out another way."

His voice didn't comfort me much, and neither did the knife he had raised in the air. I shook my head, trying desperately to think straight.

"I-I don't know! Your name's Jack Gordon? You're some breed of theatre kid, even if you don't think so—um, USMLE! Ceramic tray! Jimothy!"

He froze as the knife was about an inch from my face, his breathing slow and heavy. He raised a hand and pushed up his mask, tucking the dagger into a belt loop. His face definitely retained all the trauma of tonight, the fear of not being able to help me fast enough. I could see a dark tear on the edge of his eyelid, threatening to spill over.

"Okay. I believe you...Sawyer."

My fear gave way to exasperation as I glared and folded my arms. "You need to stop scaring me like that," I breathed, heartbeat pounding in my ears and against my ribs. I was still shaking, my arm still coated in what must have been ash. It seemed to draw his attention.

"Did...did you—?"

"I don't think he's dead." My voice remained a lot steadier than I thought it would. "Not really. There was a vase with water, and...I don't know. I didn't think it would work. He just kind of shriveled away. What matters is, it's over now." I forced a small laugh. "I-I guess it'd be best if you went home—"

I barely got to finish that thought before he wrapped his arms around me in a tight embrace. It should have startled me, given what had happened when he first came here tonight, but instead I found myself melting into him, holding back sobs I didn't even know I'd been repressing.

"...thought I was going to lose you," he muttered into my shoulder. I let out a shudder of a breath, clinging to the back of his sweater with a vengeance. Part of it felt like it'd been roughly torn in half. Shredded, almost. That only left me with more questions.

"Please...please never do that again," I whispered, choking on my words. "I-I was so—you were going to—"

"No. I wasn't. I would never. You're..." He seemed to struggle with finding the right words, and settled on hugging me tighter.

"You're my best friend."

Yeah, well, aren't I your only friend, too?

I shook the thought from my mind and let go of him with a sniffle. Something in me started to shift as I looked at him now. There wasn't anything different in particular about his face; I felt overwhelmed with a sudden urge to do something. I couldn't have been less sure of what that something was. Did I want to hug him again? Cry? Scream at him for leading his bloodthirsty, demonic patron straight to my house, whether he meant to or not? It was over. Nothing was happening right now. I was safe. So why was my heart beating louder than ever?

I looked around the room. There was no way he could have heard everything from the second floor, not after what Chernobog must've done to him...

"How did you find me?"

Jack averted his gaze, letting it settle on his hand and running a fingertip over the claws. "This is your basement, right?" When I didn't answer, he sighed. "That's where he usually corners people for...well, anything. It's closer to the realm, closer to Christian Hell—not that it really matters to him. He just finds it easier to work when there's no exit, when you're trapped underground." He narrowed his eyelids, expression bordering on disgust. "...it's where he first cornered me. After I lost my eyes, and I needed a place to stay."

I hugged my arms, eyes downcast. So he's the one who led me down here. Who pushed me towards the door.

"He's a twister," I said shakily, trying my best to lighten the mood. I didn't need anymore of this fear, or melancholy, or regret in my system. I wanted to at least make him smile a bit. My mission half-succeeded; I thought I could see him bite the inside of his cheek, as if holding back a laugh.

"Yeah. He is, isn't he?"

The moment was fleeting, and brought on a new wave of disappointment every few seconds. After minutes of waiting, I had to ask.

"What happened before you told me to hide? What did he tell you? I know he did something."

Jack's face fell. "It...it's not important now. He's gone, he won't try to hurt you again—"

"Jack." I scoffed and held his face, completely done with all this hiding. "Okay, I want a new rule: no more secrets. It's made us miserable, and bitter, and distrusting, and it needs to stop. What did your boss tell you that made you want to—"

"I never wanted to. I-I didn't even think about it, it was all just show—"

"So if it's really not important, then you can tell me!"

He narrowed his eyelids at me, fingers locked between each other and fidgeting like he was trying to come up with the best way to phrase this.

"...he said if you...if I finished you off, that...that he'd free me." He reached up to touch one of my hands, stopping about a centimeter away. "That I'd be brought back to life."

My heart sank in my chest as I watched him grapple with telling me that. I wondered if he'd been telling the truth; if maybe he had thought about killing me then, just for a second. I didn't know whether to take a step back or forward, I wasn't even sure how he wanted me to react. Jack moved my hands away from his face, now stony with disappointment.

"See, I knew it. I knew what you'd think, I know you're thinking I really did want to—"

"I wouldn't blame you if you did! I—look, if you really want freedom, I'm sure there's some other way—"

"That's not the problem. You don't have to worry about it, you don't have to worry about me, or yourself, or my boss. I'd rather stay like this forever than be alive again, knowing I..." He faltered with a pained look on his face, then hastily shook his head. "No. Like I said, it's not important anymore. Besides, I know there's another way. He was ready to make a pact, a real one, no double-meaning or tricks involved. He was just never desperate enough to tell me he was capable of it until now. I can get my life back anytime I want," he said, sounding even more doubtful than before.

"Are you really that sure he was telling the truth?"

Jack hesitated, looking a bit surprised. Hurt, even. I shook my head in disbelief.

"After everything that's happened...everything he's done to you, how can you believe him?"

He took my hands, eyebrows furrowed.

"What else am I supposed to do?"

We spent the rest of the night finding solace in each other's arms, waiting for the sun to come up.