38 – Hunter and his inner demon get better acquainted

TW:

Spoiler

Child abuse (mention), Depiction of a corpse, Gun violence, Gunshot wounds, Hearing voices, Murder, Smoking (attempted), Suicidal ideation

[collapse]

Thin sunlight streamed through the broken windows of a dilapidated shack choked with kudzu, lighting up motes of dust drifting over the tarp-covered floor. Outside, towering oaks bearded with Spanish moss loomed among clusters of pine trees, and the humid air was filled with the shrill screaming of cicadas. 

Of the shack’s two occupants, only one was still alive. 

Though, judging by the dazed expression on Hunter’s pale face, he wasn’t doing too well either.

[ … Alright. Let’s try this again. ]

Hunter’s head snapped up and in one seamless movement he was on his feet, his single-action revolver raised and its hammer cocked as he looked for the source of the strange voice.

The little room was clear, as was everything outside the windows. He didn’t see any vehicles other than his own stolen truck, nor was there any movement within the trees. Furrowing his brow in confusion, he kept silent and strained his ears, confident that he really had heard someone speak over a radio.

[ Isn’t this the part where you’re supposed to say, ‘is someone there?’ ]

And give away my position for sure? What kind of idiot would do that? Hunter wondered, turning around to check another window but still unable to pinpoint the source of the voice.

[ As entertaining as it is to let you skulk about like an idiot, let me save you the trouble: right now, I'm just a voice in your head. ]

Lowering his gun, Hunter pushed his hair out of his face with his free hand.

A voice in his head? No wonder it sounded so weird, no wonder he couldn’t tell where it was coming from; no actual sound had reached his ears at all.

For a moment he just stood there and wondered if he ought to feel upset about this development, but soon decided it didn’t really matter. To be honest, after sitting for so long in a stupor, having someone to talk to whether they were real or not felt almost comforting.

“Who the fuck are you? My conscience or something?” he asked aloud, retaking his seat. Then, glancing at the corpse tied to a chair across from him, “Don’t you think you’re a little late?”

[ Ha… that’s right. I can’t help but be late, because this is just a memory. You’re dreaming right now. ]

“Oh… so you’re more like the Ghost of Christmas Past, then? Fuck, am I getting Scrooged? That’s not fair, I’m not even that wealthy!”

[ The Ghost of What? What the hell are you talking about? ]

Following this statement was a strange sensation, like a little bird was tapping its beak against a window into his mind. Confused but also curious, he tried letting it in just to see what would happen and found himself suddenly and vividly remembering a whole movie all at once.

“Shit! What the hell?” he spat, bending over and squeezing his head at the uncomfortable, disorienting sensation. 

Was this normally what going crazy felt like? He was pretty sure most people who lost it didn’t suddenly turn into VCRs, yet here he was.

After giving his own head a few knocks to see if it was finished, he mumbled, “Still a damn good movie, though.”

[ Is it? It’s certainly something, alright… ]

“What the hell does that mean?”

[ The story’s not bad, but why are there puppets? And why are humans living with them like that’s normal? ]

Now Hunter brightened up, his previous gloom seemingly forgotten as he said, “Oh shit, Ghost of Christmas Past, my man, you never heard of the Muppets? Hey, how much time do you have, because I know a lot about the Muppets—”

[ Don’t you find it creepy? ]

Just like that, Hunter’s brief goodwill vanished into smoke. Scowling, he pointed his finger at the empty air and accused, “What are you, allergic to whimsy? What kind of heartless bastard doesn’t like the Mu—”

Oh, wait. A dream, a memory, and an incredibly unlikable asshole?

Full realization finally hit him and he sprang back to his feet, raising his gun as he said, “Fuck, it’s you! Show yourself, you demonic little shit!”

[ So you can shoot us both? I don’t think that’s a good idea. ]

“Come on, who said anything about shooting you? I just want to talk,” he replied, all the while carefully scanning every corner of the dark shack for that distortion he’d come to associate with demons. “In fact, I’ve got a riddle for you.”

[ By the gods, is this something you’re going to do every time? ]

“Aww, come on,” Hunter cajoled, kicking open the door and squinting against the bright mid-morning summer sun. Except for the small grassy yard and the half-hidden dirt road trailing away from it, the forest stretched all around him, thick with green foliage. “If we’re gonna try and kill each other, let’s at least have fun with it.”

Shit. This time that little worm had a lot of places to hide.

[ What do you mean, kill each other? You’re the one who wanted to meet with me! You called me here! ]

Hunter still felt a bit disoriented from suddenly finding himself in a dream, but when he stopped to think back he realized the demon was right. 

When Hebe hadn’t shown up for their nightly cuddle session he hadn’t bothered to track her down, specifically because he’d hoped the demon would get in contact. Heck, he’d even tried calling for the little worm in his head a few times before he fell asleep.

“Oh, right… my bad,” he said, reluctantly lowering his gun and heading back inside. “Hey, do you mind if I tell you the riddle anyway?”

[ No. Your last riddle was terrible. ]

“Hey! I’m coming up with these on the spot, if you really feel that way we can workshop it—”

[ I refuse, and I will end this dream the moment you try to. ]

“Okay, yeesh, give me a break! This dream-memory crap is really confusing for me, alright? And hey, is this really our only option? And am I gonna have to put up with this temporary amnesia thing every time? Because it’s fucking annoying.”

The demon’s staticky voice replied,

[ Memories are the easiest way for me to craft coherent dreams, so unless you’d prefer we constantly get interrupted by the random firings of your unconscious mind this is our best option. ]

[ As for your second question, when you recall something, do you go directly back to that moment in time, or do you first pause to visualize your current self remembering it? ]

Settling back onto his seat, Hunter set down his weapon and began methodically stripping off his gloves, his hair net, his boot covers, and so on. All the stuff one had to wear in order to avoid casually leaving evidence, which tended not to show up in movies or TV on account of looking dorky. Aside from the debuff it applied to sex appeal, it was also horribly uncomfortable to deal with in weather this hot and humid, and since this was a dream he had no intention of putting up with it a second longer. 

Doing a little better now that he was reduced to an undershirt and jeans, he pushed his hands back through his sweaty brown hair, briefly surprised to feel how short it now felt in comparison to his current body’s. “Are you trying to say all of it’s my fault?”

[ I’m trying to say it’s a natural side effect of how your brain works. Of course, if it bothers you that much, I can just remind you again in the future like I did this time. In fact, there are lots of ways in which I can help you, and ways in which I’ve already helped you. ]

“That so? Give me examples.”

[ Things like allowing you to see through darkness and fog, as well as sensing other demons and concealing my presence so they can’t easily detect us in return. Can you really tell me none of those things are useful? Or perhaps you prefer hiding behind pillars. ]

“So you’re saying that slug demon wouldn’t have spotted us? Because of you?” 

[ Not one that weak, and if we were to encounter one strong enough in the future I could alert you… Though you’d have to be willing to listen. ]

“Really? Go figure,” Hunter mused, tapping the barrel of his gun against his palm.

As nice as it was to have a conversation instead of fighting, he was absolutely certain that this little prick was up to something.

Their sudden friendliness was setting off all kinds of alarm bells in his head, and so he subtly began checking himself for those numb little ‘bites’ he’d gotten last time. However, the fact that he didn’t find any just made him more suspicious. 

[ Now, why don’t we start with something simple? Names, for example. You can call me Morpheus. ]

While Hunter already vaguely recalled that from Ianthe’s memories, what came out of his mouth was, “What, like the guy from the Matrix?”

The demon seemed to hesitate, and then Hunter felt that little tapping sensation in his mind again. 

Well, alright… fuck it, he thought.

Let the little worm watch the Matrix. It was weird that they’d started treating his head like a Blockbuster, but maybe this meant someone other than Euphy would finally get his references.

[ Huh. ]

The second time remembering an entire movie at once was slightly more tolerable than the first, so rather than complain he rubbed his head and said, “Let me guess, you don’t like the Matrix either?” 

[ I never said that, I just find it strange. I wonder if it’s true in every world that humans are willing to cripple themselves for the sake of convenience. ]

“That’s what you got from that movie?”

[ Well… I also like their coats. ]

“I guess I’ve heard worse takes,” he said, recalling how Euphy’s review could be summed up as ‘why did everyone have to look so greasy.’ Now that he’d thought of her, he quickly asked, “Hey, while we’re at it, lemme clear something up—are you a guy? Or a girl, or… something else? ‘Coz I really don't know how to refer to you.”

[ Does that matter? ]

“Just humor me,” he muttered. 

His daughter was already steamed at him over the dumb shit he said to Lady Stratonice the other day, there was no need to risk getting into trouble over how he referred to the demon again on top of that.

[ I can’t. I don’t know. ]

“What? How do you not know?”

[ Because my kind do not have reproductive capabilities until we reach our final stage of maturity. ]

“What? Wait, hold on, you’re—“ 

A horrible possibility struck him, and Hunter leaned forward and frantically whispered, “You’re not a fucking baby demon or something, are you?”

When the demon didn’t reply, he continued, “Because for fuck’s sake, it’s bad enough being haunted by an adult, but creepy kids are even worse—if this is like a the Grudge or the Shining kind of thing I’m seriously gonna flip out—”

[ I am not a child. I am older than this damn country! ]

Sensing a surge of intense irritation from the demon, Hunter realized he’d hit a sore spot.

Delighted to find an easy way to annoy this guy, Hunter did the math and murmured in awe, “Wow, so you’re at least two thousand-ish years old and you still haven’t hit puberty yet?”

[ … ]

“That’s rough.”

Finally running out of fake patience, the demon snarled.

[ Damn it, cease your witless prattling! My development is in no way analogous to yours, you pathetic lump of worthless carrion! And even if I have yet to achieve my final metamorphosis, I have nevertheless completed most of my life cycle! ]

“Uh… so you’re not a kid, you’re a butterfly? Or, no, the caterpillar mush that becomes a butterfly?”

[ No, I am—actually, you know what? I don’t care! Haha! I don’t care. ]

For the first time Hunter could, just barely, sense that the demon was nearby.

He got the impression that they’d just done whatever the worm equivalent was of kicking a tree stump in anger.

[ That’s right, I am ‘butterfly mush.’ Just call me whatever you like, I’ll use whatever you use if it makes you happy because I do not care. But since I’ve answered your— ]

“Are all demons mush?”

[ Some are, I’m sure! Now, since I’ve answered one of your questions— ]

Hunter opened his mouth, but the demon’s distorted voice grew so loud and booming that he couldn’t hear himself over it,

[ Why don’t you answer one of mine? Tell me, why did you kill this man? ]

“Why do you care?”

[ Call it curiosity. ]

No, I’m gonna call it ‘you really can’t see everything inside my head on your own anymore.’

He'd already noticed a huge difference in the demon’s abilities between their first meeting and the subsequent ones. Initially Hunter had chalked this up to the demon being forced to give up their power to hide, but then Calliope mentioned he’d received a new blessing.

That, coupled with those strange dark strings he’d seen between Lady Stratonice and her ghost goons, a power he was pretty fucking sure Ianthe had not possessed, led him to guess that the Lord might be the one behind it.

As for why the God of Death might have given him a mysterious blessing that helped him resist Morpheus, he wasn’t sure. All he had was a vague and fractured memory that’d awoken when Iphis ‘shared his divinity’ with him, one of being somewhere else and speaking with someone else before he ever met the Goddess.

Regardless, he didn’t want to assume he knew how it worked, so he decided to try experimenting. This time he opened his little mental ‘door’ in advance and focused on how he’d ended up in this shack.

One of the rules he’d always operated under was that he didn’t mess around with civilians. Anyone involved in any kind of organized crime was fair game, but if some group wanted a regular guy dealt with and was too incompetent to do it themselves then that was their problem, not his. 

He also tried to leave them alone on his own behalf. He knew plenty of fellas who’d shoot a guy to death for mouthing off at them in a bar, but Hunter was above that because he was a professional.

People liked to joke that prostitution was the oldest job in the world, but privately he believed that whacking some guy on behalf of another guy had to be a close second or third. That noble legacy was why he never killed because he was angry, or to get his rocks off, or because he found any higher meaning in it.

He only did it because he got paid. 

Which was why this moment in his life felt so fucking confusing.

Back then he’d been passing through some two stoplight town in South Carolina when he decided to grab lunch at a shitty little diner. A church service had just gotten out and so the restaurant was stuffed to the brim with locals chatting away about Jesus’ love and generosity while refusing to tip more than a penny, and among them a guy and his son caught Hunter’s eye.

He saw the way that man squeezed the kid’s shoulder and started staring. The man noticed this, they made eye contact, and then Hunter looked away.

[ A look and a touch on the shoulder? Was that it? ]

“Yep,” Hunter said, noting that Morpheus clearly had no trouble reading his mind if he let them as he closed that mental door again.

“There’s this, uh… little sensitive triangle between your collarbone, your shoulder, and your rib cage, called the infraclavicular fossa,” Hunter explained, using his hand to trace the location on his own body and feeling a twinge of phantom pain at the thought. “If you dig your fingers into it, it hurts.”

Or at least, it did in his memory.

It was almost funny, because he’d endured so many injuries that were far, far worse, and yet in his mind somehow that pain always stood out as something special.

Maybe it was because his father used to hold onto him like that around other people. He could never tell if they didn’t realize his dad was squeezing too tight, or if they suspected but brushed it off, or if they knew and didn’t care, but it did the job regardless:

He learned that his father could hurt him right in front of other people and everybody would just keep smiling and laughing, because even in a crowd he was completely fucking alone.

[ How can you be sure it was deliberate? Maybe it was just a mistake. ]

“It wasn’t. He knew what he was doing, and he knew that I knew, I could tell by the look in his eyes.”

He did not share with the demon that, despite what he was saying now, he hadn’t really reacted at the time. He just got up, paid his bill, and drove away. After all, he had no real evidence anything was wrong and, even if something was, that kind of thing happened all the time. There was nothing meaningful he could do, and even if he could have the situation was none of his business.

But somehow that brief image got stuck in his throat like a fish bone, irritating him more and more every day until he started making stupid mistakes, started lashing out at people, started losing sleep. Soon no matter what he tried he could no longer convince himself that it was safe to close his eyes, and even when he did manage to nod off in exhaustion nightmares woke him right back up.

And as he steadily fell apart a crazy little idea took root in his mind, the paranoid conviction that he and this man could not coexist in the same world, that it had to be one of them or the other. At the time he’d still been self-aware enough to realize this was nuts, so he’d driven back there just to look into things a little deeper and prove himself wrong.

As evidenced from the corpse across from him, that had gone poorly.

[ So… I take it that means what you’re trying to say is that you killed him because you thought he was hurting a child? ]

“No,” Hunter refused decisively. 

That made it sound selfless, like this had been about saving someone else and that wasn’t true. There were other options he could have explored if he wanted to help that kid, but he hadn’t.

From start to finish, everything he’d done was driven by nothing but a sudden and uncontrollable obsession.

“That man challenged me. He thought I wouldn’t do anything, and he was wrong,” he explained, unconsciously reaching into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes and biting one out with his teeth. Speaking around it, he muttered, “Guys like that never understand that there’s always a bigger fish until it’s too late.”

[ And you’re that bigger fish. ]

“So what if I am?” Hunter snapped, pawing at his pocket for a lighter as he glared at the ground. “Who gives a shit? If he wanted me to treat him like a normal person, he shoulda acted like one.”

The reason he didn’t mess with civilians was not out of love or pity, but because it wasn’t fucking sporting. Normal people just trying to live normal lives without really hurting anyone else, why the hell should he bother when they were so obviously beneath him?

If one of them wanted to play at being a big strong predator, then they should have done it without catching his attention.

He hadn't wanted to cross this line.

What happened here wasn’t really his fault.

He fumbled with the lighter a few times, failing again and again to light the cigarette, before giving up and tossing both objects away in disgust.

[ Ha… haha… ]

“What, did I say something funny to you?” 

[ No, I just admire how honest you are. Most people would have made excuses. ]

“Yeah, well, I’m much worse than most people.”

[ You are, and that’s why I think we might be able to get along. Most of my hosts have been cowering, pitiful little things, but Ianthe was different. You’re different. ]

“How so?” 

[ Both of you understand that the only requirement for deserving power is having the courage to take it, and it feels good to be the bigger fish, doesn’t it? Proving that you’re stronger and smarter than everyone else, showing the world that you alone can’t be messed with, isn’t that why you lived like this? ]

Well, if he was being honest with himself, the demon was at least partially right. There were aspects of his old life he’d enjoyed.

He liked the chase, he enjoyed outsmarting people, and sometimes at the very end he felt a brief moment of satisfaction as one more asshole got what was coming to him.

But those feelings were built on the belief that he was different.

Other people might go through shit and get messed up but he was fine, he was stronger than that, he was still in control and he’d been that way for over thirty years so even if his lifestyle was a little unconventional he was no stranger than any of the other guys out there making money off of other people’s suffering.

Then this happened, and he realized he’d been lying to himself the whole time. 

No one had asked for this, no one had paid him for this. Logically he knew that killing this prick would make no real difference, and ethically he knew that killing was not the only answer here, and yet he could not stop.

The loathsome truth was that no matter how tough he’d tried to make himself, he was still as helpless as he’d been at the beginning, just in a slightly different way.

Closing his eyes, he thought to himself that he was now certain the demon couldn’t read his mind or the context behind his memory if he didn’t want them to.

If they could, they would have known that this moment in his life didn’t make him feel powerful.

It made him feel like eating a bullet.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he finally said, letting out a hollow laugh as he tightened his grip on the handle of his gun. “Who doesn’t want to feel like a big man? There’s nothing better.”

He’d always been very lucky when it came to brushes with death. In a bad car accident he’d be the only one to walk away, in an ambush he’d be the only survivor, and in moments like these…

Straining to listen, he could just barely hear the snapping and cracking of a car in the distance driving over dry branches.

In moments like these, something would distract him before he could commit to doing anything stupid.

[ Yes, which is why it’s such a shame that even with Ianthe’s skills you can’t help but fall behind, can’t you? ]

Damn, man, are you trying to make me depressed? he wondered, slouching in his seat. 

“I can’t, can I?”

[ Well, compared to the company you keep, the sad reality is that you are by far the weakest among them. But if I lend you my power, I could help you develop abilities no other human has access to. If we work together, before long even even those odious little beasts will have to bow before us. ]

… Ha.

He already knew he wasn't as overpowered as everyone else, he’d known it from the moment his new friends started picking him up and kicking him around, but what could he do?

None of the gods liked him enough to give him one of those fancy divine blessings, so he’d never be able to access the kind of reality-defying magic Moros and Iphis possessed. Hell, from what he recalled of the game, even the kids were more of a threat than he was. 

Ianthe had been able to go toe-to-toe with them because she had no bottom line, but there were a lot of rules he had to follow if he wanted to remain in Euphy’s life, and he couldn’t pretend that didn’t chafe.

However, could making a deal with a demon really be considered a reasonable solution to that? Especially considering that, in this world and his last, such an arrangement was widely considered one of the dumbest things a person could do.

That said, while he was rightfully skeptical of this offer, a pragmatic part of him couldn’t help but point out that more power was always useful. Since Ianthe and Morpheus had found a way to work together, why couldn’t he do the same? It’d certainly be a lot more convenient than fighting this worm in his sleep.

“Huh. Guess I can’t say that doesn’t sound intriguing," he replied honestly.

[ Does that mean you’re willing to hear me out? ]

“Hmm… First, two questions: can I ask why demons call divine mages ‘beasts?’ I don’t think I’ve ever heard any humans call them that.”

[ The people here used to, but I suppose that was a long time ago. ]

“Yeah, but why? It seems kind of insulting,” Hunter said, getting up and putting his back against a wall next to one of the broken windows. 

[ So? It’s not inaccurate, although I think you might understand it better if I called them ‘hunting dogs’ instead. They are lowly things raised only to kill for their masters, and… heh, just as disposable. ]

“You know my daughter’s a divine mage, right?” 

[ Well… if it makes you feel better, it’s also true that some care more for their pets than others. ]

“Oy vey, even when you’re pretending to be nice you’re a prick,” Hunter muttered, frowning as the sounds of the car in the distance came closer.

[ I take it this means you’re still on the fence? ]

“Well, I am thinking about it, but how can I be sure I can trust you? To be honest, you didn’t make a stellar first or second impression. Plus, I’m sure you’re not offering me something for free.”

[ True. ]

“Although, all else aside, I do appreciate your take on my motives here.”

[ Is that so? ]

“Yeah, framing it as a ‘don’t mess with me’ kinda thing instead of a sex thing. A lot of humans always assume it’s a sex thing.”

[ What the… a sex thing? Why would they think that? ]

“Well, I think it’s ’coz of that Mindhunter guy and all the other serial killer true crime crap, ya know?” Hunter said, shaking out the barrel of his Colt to make sure it was properly loaded before popping it back in. “I can’t tell you how annoying it is gettin’ lumped in with ‘em all the time. I mean, my grandfather killed people, and my father killed people, and nobody accused them of gettin’ off on it, but I do it ‘coz some jerk looked at me funny and suddenly Unsolved Mysteries is implying I’m a pervert! It’s unfair.”

[ What is Unsolved Mysteries? ]

“A television show. This memory is how I got on an episode,” Hunter replied, focusing on allowing Morphy to take a look at what he knew about the series while carefully preventing the demon from forcing him to re-watch any of the relentlessly schlocky episodes.

After a moment Morpheus asked in an incredulous tone,

[ People watch this sort of thing? On purpose? ]

“Yeah, it’s not my favorite genre either. I only watched it for the narrator’s voice—and let me make it clear, that is a sex thing. I mean, he looks alright I guess, but that kind of raspy deep purr he’s got? Fuck, hearing it makes me feel like someone’s giving my ears a massage. I can’t watch it with other people around, I’d just embarrass myself.”

[ Hunter. ]

“Yeah, buddy?”

[ In the future, feel free to keep things like that to yourself. ]

“Haha, sorry, forgot you’re still mush.”

[ … Ha. Now, why don’t we discuss— ]

Outside there was the sound of tires on gravel as a car finally drove out of the woods and into the clearing, its brakes screeching as it slowed down.

“Shush, the show’s about to start!”

He felt Morpheus poke at his memories again, but he refused them access. “Don’t spoil it for yourself, let me walk you through it instead. On one side there’s me, having busted my ass to find somewhere appropriately abandoned and out of the way to deal with this guy, right?”

Gesturing at the corpse, he then pointed at the car and continued, “And on the other, some newly married couple on a drive to find a romantic cabin they’d rented for their honeymoon. So, imagine you were in their place: you’ve taken a ton of wrong turns, driven an unpaved road through deep woods and swamp for what felt like forever, and eventually you roll up on this godforsaken, rotting little shack. What would you do next?”

[ Leave. No one in their right mind would agree to stay in a dump like this. ]

“Right? Okay, so all of the above,” Hunter paused to point his gun through a gap in the broken window, firing off two shots. One took out a side mirror in a burst of breaking glass and the other ricocheted off its hood, shocking the car’s inhabitants. “But now some unseen redneck is shooting at you. What do you do?”

[ Leave faster. ]

“Thank you! See, at the time, I thought that was pretty fucking obvious, but… this schmendrick¹fool disagreed.”

Inside the car, a panicking woman was shaking the man and shouting at him to drive. Ignoring her pleas, he put the car in park and shoved her away. Then he opened the door of the vehicle, pulled out a pistol of his own, and began wildly firing shots at Hunter’s shack. 

[ He’s just going to leave her sitting there? ]

“Exactly! Thank you!” Hunter said, firing a third shot that shattered the window of the open door and yet sadly did nothing to convince the man to give up. “It’s not like I forced a confrontation, all he had to do was keep fucking driving, but he decided to play hero instead! But, but hold on, this next bit’s the best part.“

[ Um, Hunter— ]

The frantic woman unbuckled her seatbelt and dragged her tiny frame into the driver's seat. The car suddenly lurched, its wheels kicking up gravel as she floored it into a tight turn. The man who’d been using the door as cover realized what she was doing and grabbed onto the car, howling at her to stop, but as she built up speed he ended up getting dragged right into a tree stump, the force of the impact causing him to let go with an exaggerated ‘oof!’

She and the car disappeared with a roar into the woods, leaving her husband and a cloud of dust behind her. 

Hunter, meanwhile, was leaning against the wall and laughing so hard he was in tears.

“Fuck—fuck, it’s just as funny the second time around, I mean—look at him! Look at his stupid face! He’s so surprised she just left him instead of waiting around to get shot herself! And my God, the reenactment the actors did in the show, their expressions were so perfect! And, and the narrator saying—“

He put his hands behind his back, striking a pose similar to the one Robert Stack often took as he frowned and imitated his stern voice, “‘This is what happens when fight marries flight.’ God, you need real talent to deliver cheesy lines like that with a straight face—“

[ Yes, but Hunter, weren’t you just shot? ]

“What? Oh, yeah,” Hunter replied, looking down at the gouge that’d been taken out of his side and the blood now staining his shirt. “Haha, yeah, this is what slowed down my damn clean-up. I barely had time to deal with the blood and the bullet before the cops arrived, ended up having to burn this place… fuckin’ DNA evidence, man. It’s so nice to be in a world that doesn’t have it.”

He poked at the graze, happily noting that it hurt but not in the intense way injuries from his last dream had. Apparently remembering an old wound wasn’t the same as creating a new one. 

With that, he lazily fired one last shot out the window.

The abandoned husband, already down a wife and a car, now took a bullet to the hand and lost the gun as well. This finally convinced him to give up, and he fled cursing and bleeding into the forest.

“See that? Now he leaves. Guess it’s not as much fun when he’s only putting his own life on the line.”

[ Then why are you just standing there, aren’t you going to shoot him again? He won’t die from just that. ]

“Ah, well. He did, actually.”

Hunter wasn’t normally in the habit of forgiving people who tried to kill him, but this idiot had given him a laugh when he really needed one, so he’d decided to call it even and stop at disarming him.

Too bad that didn’t work.

“Picked up a nasty infection at the hospital they took him to, died a few weeks later. Ain't that funny?” he sighed, once again idly poking at the gouge on his side. “Even when I try not to kill anybody, people still die. Story of my fuckin’ life.”

[ Well, that is what people do. I’d say you’re simply better at helping them than most. ]

“Haha, I guess so. Alright, you were patient and I appreciate that, so why don’t you tell me more about your offer,” Hunter said, exiting the shack now that he no longer had a reason to keep company with a body that was way past starting to smell. “You don’t want my soul or something, do you?”

[ Oh, no, that wouldn’t help either of us. What I want is much more reasonable: I just need you to feed me other demons. ]

Stretching in the hot sun, ignoring the sting from his wound and the ticklish feeling of blood flowing down his side, Hunter replied, “Huh. I had a feeling you had something to do with what happened Saturday. Thanks for confirming that for me.”

[ Oh no, don’t put that on me. You were already itching for a fight, all I did was give you a bit of encouragement. ]

“But you also stopped me from trying to leave when Iphis asked me to, didn’t you?”

[ … ]

“And made me feel like I was starving to death.”

[ Yes, you had to feel for a moment what I’ve endured for millennia. That must have been very difficult for you. ]

Letting out a sympathetic puff of air, Hunter scratched the side of his head with the handle of his gun as he mumbled, “Well, jeez, man, no wonder you want me to bring you snacks, that’s fucked up. Still, you nearly got me into a lot of trouble.”

[ And you’ve already benefitted from it considerably, haven’t you? Or are you going to pretend you haven’t noticed? ]

No, he’d noticed changes after the fight alright.

First that those weird greenish veins under his left eye got darker, thus forcing him to finally break into Ianthe’s makeup collection in order to hide them, and second that his mana pool grew considerably overnight.

The latter was undoubtedly the most impressive of the two since most people could only expand their mana at a constant low rate. By his estimate, he’d gotten nearly a year’s worth of progress out of one bite, which made him wonder,

“Hey, do divine mages get a mana boost when they eat you guys too?”

[ Yes. ]

“Oh my God, those cheating sons of bitches! They get rule-breaking magic and rule-breaking mana? The gods really do fucking love them the most, don’t they?”

[ That is literally why They grant them Their power, yes. ]

“That’s bullshit.”

[ I agree, but thanks to me you can now cheat too. ]

“Well, in that case I support it,” Hunter replied, taking in his surroundings.

He’d been able to manipulate the last dream, hadn’t he? How far could he push that sort of thing?

As he walked, he began to experiment again. He started with banishing all the awful mosquitos, then played around with lowering the humidity and the heat, and then tried getting rid of some of the trees—

[ If you keep messing with the integrity of this dream, our conversation won’t last much longer. ]

Damn. He’d been hoping getting rid of the forest would help him spot the mysterious little guy, but instead all he sensed was Morpheus’ annoyance as the demon methodically began putting the setting back to rights.

Clearing his throat, Hunter asked, “Hey, hypothetically, what if I took the deal but couldn’t find any demons for you?”

[ You wouldn’t need to find them for me often. ]

“Still, I’ve only run into one of them since I’ve gotten here.”

[ Well… I can also eat dreams, although the process would more involved on your end. ]

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t be harmless, right?” he said, recalling how he’d woken up with mysterious lesions thanks to their last encounter.

[ As long as you don’t keep doing it to the same person, there won’t be any lasting damage. ]

“Then… also hypothetically, what if I don’t take the deal? What happens if I don’t feed you at all?”

At this the dream around him paused. Every leaf, every insect became perfectly still, even the branch beneath his foot paused mid-crack. The background screaming of cicadas was replaced with a sudden and strangely deafening silence as sensations like heat and humidity and pain all faded away.

[ I see. I think there’s been a misunderstanding between us. ]

For the first time since they’d met in the Library that feeling of being watched by something bigger, stronger, and hungrier returned. The suffocating weight of that stare pressed down on him so heavily that even though he could still move, he instinctually froze in place.

[ Hunter, you will feed me. I’ve simply offered two options that will be better for the both of us. ]

“Is that so?” he asked through gritted teeth, his skin prickling all over from the invisible pressure.

[ Well, I could just keep eating you, but eventually there won’t be anything left and I’ll have to find another host. The only other alternative is to drink from the Pool of Communion but… I have a feeling you’ve forgotten about that, haven’t you? ]

Ah.

It was less like he’d forgotten and more like he’d been trying very hard to pretend he never knew in the first place.

There were aspects about Ianthe’s life that he hadn’t explained to the Temple not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t. Even thinking about it this much made him feel like a dark pit was yawning open beneath him, ready to swallow him up like Wile E. Coyote the moment he was stupid enough to look down.

That disgusting red pool, and the monthly delivery Ianthe received from it, was one of those things.

“Well… shit.”

All at once the dream returned to normal, and the flood of sound that replaced the silence felt so impossibly loud that he flinched, winced, and covered his ears.

Unfortunately, he could still hear the demon anyway.

[ There’s no need to look so glum. I realize you don’t have much reason to trust me, but I assure you my offer is a sincere one. In fact, since you’ve already fed me once, why don’t I give you something more than mana in return? ]

“I—I think I’m good, actually—”

[ Don’t worry. It might be a small gift, but I’m sure you’ll like it. ]