The drive back to the forest, to the ghost portal, was eerily quiet. What more was there to say? Avery had been possessed by a Guide, flew into the sky, came into contact with a spiraling, black hole of a portal, witnessed a battle with a triceratops, zipped that black hole portal shut, and landed on his feet as if he'd had a regular day at a regular job.

The other Guides had whooped with joy, congratulating him on a successful mission. All I did was float there and zip something up, he'd thought to himself at the time, not seeing why he'd been so important, why his presence was required. Any Guide-possessed human might have done it; why did it have to be him? He'd have been perfectly fine waiting at the portal, hanging out with the ghosts of his friends. Or sitting around while they worked their magic in Limbo, to seal up its rampant portals. Why go straight into danger?

Once assured, again, that all portals and gates on this plane were closed, and all contaminants contained once more, Ada got out of Avery, allowing him to breathe. She'd never have to possess him again, she'd said; and though he'd nodded and offered her a weak smile in response, deep down, he didn't believe it.

There was always something with her. Always something wrong with this planet, this realm. There'd always be threats, the gates would always loom in the distance, ready to open, to spill out their poisonous contents once more. And if it happened again, in Avery's lifetime, he had no doubt Ada would come find him, enlist him to help. Because no one else would ever know how close this world came to annihilation. No matter all the televised events, the horrific natural catastrophes caught on camera, the numerous deaths; humans wouldn't know how deeply magical it all was. They'd chop it up to global warming and astrology, blame it on bad politicians and angry gods. They'd never be aware of just how many supernatural monsters almost destroyed their living space.

And as much as Avery itched to tell them all, to turn what had happened to him into some kind of documentary, he wouldn't do it. He couldn't do it. He didn't owe Ada anything, but even if he tried to explain everything, who'd believe him? There was no proof, aside from the news station footage and potentially some victim pictures and first-hand accounts of occurrences around the globe.

He'd be seen as a nutcase. All the people he'd interview would be mocked. And in any case, gathering those interviews, compiling them all together would take resources Avery didn't have. And he'd have needed Jamie to help with all the technological, video-editing stuff.

Jamie was no longer available to him. Nor was Amy, with her charisma. She'd light up a room when she showed up on a screen, her smile so infectious, her aura so positive, so electric and chock full of excitement. The world would have believed her if she were hosting a documentary with Avery.

And then there was Jessamine. But Jessamine was—

He shook himself back to life. Ada was no longer possessing him, so he couldn't afford to lose his focus as he drove. They were almost there, and Ada had hovered in the front passenger seat the whole time, quiet, reflective. From time to time he glanced sideways at her, catching her profile; for someone who'd saved the world, she didn't look too pleased. She wasn't frowning, but there was no joy in her expression, either.

What more was she hiding from Avery? He sensed it, sensed her, her ominous stillness, how she clasped her hands in her lap and stared out the window, admiring the scenery. She made herself invisible whenever cars passed by, but even if she wasn't quite there, Avery could feel her. He saw her, too, saw through her. He'd always been able to, since day one, and he wondered if he'd ever find out why they were so tethered, and how he could break that connection.

Now that all was said and done, he wanted nothing more to do with her and her missions and followers and ghost-guiding. He was finished.

He parked the car in its usual spot—a rectangle of flattened grass that had taken the shape of the vehicle, with all the times he'd been there—and got out, taking a breath of the normal, fresh, forest air. The sky's redness had all but vanished, though a few swirls of orange and grapefruit remained, signifying the sun's setting. The energy was lighter, calmer; despite it all, the world survived. The world prevailed.

But at what cost?

Ada swished out of the car, fluttering around the clearance, getting reacquainted with her territory. When she flurried over to Avery, grimacing, he squinted at her and lifted his shoulders.

"What? Not as you remembered it?" He found no difference in the house aside from its newer structure. But he wouldn't have to get used to it; he wouldn't be sticking around it much longer.

Ada turned away from him, staring towards the house. "No, it's not, actually."

Avery sniffed the air. "Feels the same to me."

She spun around and snickered at him. "You're human; you can't smell what I do." She was so unsettled, unable to stay in one spot for more than half a second. Her moves were brusque, choppy, and she zoomed from one tree to the next, eyes wide, then narrowed, then wide again. "Something isn't right."

"But," Avery scratched his chin, "we fixed it, didn't we? There are no more threats in this realm, right? Or were we wrong?" He sucked in a deep breath. "Are there still open doors?"

Ada flinched, halfway into bending close to a tree-trunk, nostrils enlarged as she took in its scent. "No, they're all closed." She twirled to the house again, this time slowly gliding towards it. "But others, on other planes, aren't closed. We fixed our part, but... it's not over."

Avery's eyebrows shot up; on instinct, his gaze was drawn to the spot where he'd recently dug up his best friend's corpse, so his best friend could possess it. "Limbo?" He shuddered, recalling Jamie's dead eyes and chalky skin and lifeless limbs as he nodded, smiled, and disappeared into his ghostly plane.

Continuing on to the house, Ada shook her head. "The demon realm," she said softly, slowing down so Avery could catch up with her. "There's still commotion down there."

Avery sidled to her, keeping the pace with her flighty movements. She was restless, internally disturbed, and the closer he was to her, the more he felt it under his skin, scratching at his bones. "How? And how the fuck would you know that, anyway?" She had no affiliation with the demon world; not like he did, not like Jessamine. Unless she'd lied, again.

She stopped abruptly and twisted to Avery, her eyes so round and worried they bore into him and caused his heart to skip one beat too many. "I can't explain how or why, Avery. But I can feel it. Taste it. Something's up in that dimension and it's rattling my insides and I don't like it."

Rattling her insides? She has insides?

"We have to go," she said, pursuing her route to the house.

"Go where?" Avery flipped to peer at his car, not looking forward to hopping back in for another drive. "We just got back, and we're safe; why leave?" Though he wanted to take off, to go home, he wasn't sure he wanted to go on another adventure with Ada. He needed a days-long nap, food that was better than old granola bars found in his trunk.

"To the basement, you fool," she spat, shooting through the front door. The force of her movement pushed the door open for Avery to pass it, and she waited with hands on her hips for him to enter the house. "To the demon door."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Avery raised his hands, palms facing her, "slow down a second. You want me to go back down there? And when you're getting a vibe that things are in disorder in that realm? Are you sure about this? No, wait," he grimaced, "are you crazy?"

Ada zoomed over to the basement door. "It's urgent, Avery, so stop doubting me and start remembering that I know what I'm doing."

"What are you doing?" Avery closed the front door behind him and leaned against it, folding his arms as he studied her. She was harried, hurried, and in too much of a frenzy to make sense. "What aren't you telling me? I didn't realize you could perceive anything from that realm, and all of a sudden you're getting sensations? You're able to detect when something is amiss?"

She quit fidgeting and winced. "I... can hear them. The demons."

"What?" Avery dropped his arms so fast they smacked into the door. "Fuck," he hissed, "you're telling me you've been able to pick up the door's whispers, and what's behind it, this whole time?" He pushed off the wooden surface and glowered at her. "What does this mean?"

Ada shrugged. "I have no idea. It's," she gulped, "confusing, especially to me, which is why I never shared it with anyone. Not my followers, not my fellow Guides. And not you, until now."

Dizziness swept over Avery; if Ada, a Guide, could detect the demon's activity behind the demon door, what else was she hiding? What more was she aware of? What more had she lied about?

"I receive the mumblings a lot," she said, lowering her chin. "Often. Before you and Jessamine and Jamie first came here. Even before your friend Amy. I've been hearing the demons for... centuries."

Avery swallowed his gasp and shook his head at her, his glower intensifying. Was it rage he was feeling? Or pity? Both emotions swirled in his belly.

"You're awful, Ada. So many things could have been different... I might not have ever needed to go through that door. We could have stood there, listening to the whispers together—"

"—hey," she straightened up, her gaze stern, "I never said I understood the whispers, not all of them. There are some complaints that come through clear as day, but recently... I have no clue what they're saying. All I know is no matter how far away I am, they're in my ears. Sometimes so loud it hurts, sometimes such a faint mutter that it tickles and annoys me."

Avery scrutinized her, refusing to get any closer to her. "This is... I can't believe this."

"When we initially found out something was happening down there, their wails... they were screams, utter terror." She arched an eyebrow. "You heard that, correct?"

Avery sneered. "Somewhat. More like irritated whispers, hissing, that sort of stuff. Very... demonic. Why does that matter?"

"It matters because," Ada twitched, peered to the ground, "right now, I'm picking up on nothing."

"Nothing?" Avery paused, cocked his head, opened his ears—sure enough, there was no habitual buzzing from the basement, no subtle murmurs drawing him to the door. "Huh? Nothing, yeah. I'm getting nothing, too. Is that... good? Bad? An omen?"

"An omen, yes, but I'm uncertain of what." Ada pointed at the basement door. "You need to get down there and call out to Jessamine and see what's going on."

Avery's upper lip curled. "I..." He recalled the blood stench, the roughness of his encounters, the coolness of the concrete. And Jessamine's voice, echoing in his head, reminding him of all she'd done. Of all he'd wanted to do to her. "If you can hear them, why don't you do it?"

"Your bond with Jessamine is strongest," said Ada, using her energy to open the door. She waved at Avery to go beyond it. "Please, Avery. If the situation isn't resolved in the demonic realm, it may have an effect on us. It may undo all the progress we made. If anything in there were to figure a means to get out—" She bit her lip. "Please. I'll come down there with you, for moral support, if that helps."

Avery snorted. "Moral support, uh huh." With a perturbed sigh, he marched over and proceeded down the stairs. "After this, it's over. I'm going home."

She followed him wordlessly, her cold aura soothing him the deeper into the beast's lair he went.

Even in the basement, in proximity to the door, he heard nothing. No hums, no yelps, no indication that anything was alive within the demon's dimension. Then again, nothing was alive in there, but they were usually active, attention-seeking. The quiet was disturbing.

"Silent." Ada rubbed her arms, as if she were cold. "Ominous."

Avery cleared his throat as he approached the door, stopping within an inch of its threshold. "Jessamine." He waited, inclining nearer. "Hey, Jessamine, you there?" He raised his voice. "Jessamine, can you hear me?"

He tried, again and again, to reach her; but he received nothing but silence in reply.

"Maybe she's not in range to perceive anyone's at the door," said Ada, who'd been whooshing to and fro behind him, her panic filtering into him, destabilizing him.

That panic fueled the worry he'd left to fester in his gut, and it unleashed as he spun from the door and scowled at Ada. "Or, they're all dead. Including her. What if what got out on that side has massacred them? And they're all in heaps on the ground, while the creatures are waiting for one of us to be stupid enough to open the door and let them out? What if that's why it's so quiet? It's a trap."

Ada's nostrils flared. Her fingertips twitched with energy, and she curled them into fists as she barged up to Avery. "Step aside, then." She didn't wait—she shoved him out of the way and floated before the door, spine arched, arms straight at her sides. "I will call to Jessamine myself; I'm still linked to her, and I'm a supernatural being. Our bond isn't as strong, but my voice may carry farther, may go deeper into the trenches of that dimension."

Avery wanted to lash out at her; the entire time, she could have reached out to Jessamine herself? Why wait? Why all the back and forth about him being the better communicator?

If I don't die today from foreign invaders, this Guide will be the death of me.

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