Slowly, life returned to Jean's awareness. First was the strong presence enveloping him, the softness beneath his body, the smell of fresh moss, and the sound of rushing water. His right hand was engulfed in warmth, and he smiled while opening his eyes. Gossamer white light met his sight along with the wall of the cave. Focusing, he saw his limp hand entwined with another and felt pleasant heat on his back. His smile widened when the body behind him shifted and lips skimmed over his neck.

He softly sighed with contentment, satisfied with the peacefulness that surrounded him. But something felt different. As if aware of this, the being in his presence remained still, letting him reorient himself and absorb the change. He couldn't pinpoint how he felt different, but as a hunter, he was required to notice slight changes in his body. He would or might have been concerned if he hadn't been told to expect this.

At the recollection of what brought about the change, he slightly shivered followed by a chuckle in his ear. Deep rumbling reverberated through him from the body at his back along with the sense of smug satisfaction.

"Good morning, love."

The voice spoke into his ear, causing him to shiver once more. "Morning. It's still morning?"

A soft chuckle was made, and a kiss was planted on his skin. "Yeah. It's roughly five o' clock."

He hummed, clutching the hand tighter. "Not bad."

"Not at all...all things considered."

He grinned at the following soft laugh, feeling the warm breath tickle him. "I'm surprised at how rejuvenated I feel. We must have only slept for a few hours."

"We did. Roughly three."

He softly hummed at the thought. Normally, he could only last a few rounds alongside Celezar's insatiable sexual appetite and stamina. It didn't take much to consider he was already beginning to change and had the moment Celezar's essence entered his body. But to go at it for so long...

He turned to face Celezar, smiling into slanted olive eyes shining with happiness. Auburn hair was draped messily over Celezar's face, his expression a contented smile. Jean reached to gently brush some strands of Celezar's locks out of the freckled face, bringing a wider smile to his. Celezar moved to rest his forehead against Jean's, their gazes never breaking.

Words weren't said. They weren't needed.

All was as it should be.

Celezar's eyes flickered. They focused on Jean's blind eye. Jean watched as a finger touched his left eye, and Celezar's expression slowly dropped with shame.

He took Celezar's hand, continuing to look into the green orbs. The eyes briefly lowered before meeting his gaze again. He brought the fingers to his lips and kissed them, causing the eyes to water. Wordlessly, he captured the hybrid's lips in a kiss. Arms enveloped him, holding him close, tenderly, protectively.

Safe.

The word rang in his mind like a mantra. But it was true. He was safe here, in the arms of his mate.

His mate.

He gently moved back to brush the tears from Celezar's face. The slanted green eyes seemed almost sleepy along with the happy little smile on their owner's face, and he softly chuckled.

"Sleep, love."

The presence in his mind was different from telepathy, but he heard Celezar's voice loud and clear along with it.

He closed his eyes, cuddling into the encompassing warmth with a soft sigh.

"I'll take care of everything."

*    *    *

Awareness returned a second time with a start. Jean's eyes opened and he snapped upright upon realizing he must have overslept.

Then he blinked.

What was he doing back in his room at the Memorraw? He was under the sheets and lying beside Celezar, who appeared to be fast asleep. The hybrid wasn't breathing, so it was a true sleep, and he was on his side with his arm resting limply atop Jean's abdomen.

Jean looked to his left at the clock on the bedside table. It was, shockingly, only nearly five-thirty in the morning. There was plenty of time for him to shower, dress and make it to the mess hall. There was the matter of the horse he had borrowed, but...

A soft smile pulled at his lips. It was likely that Celezar indeed took care of everything. He lowered to gently brush some auburn hair aside and kiss a freckled temple. "Thank you, Zarryel," he murmured.

To his surprise, he was rewarded with a single, contented sigh before his mate went still again.

He moved from the bed and into the shower. Under the barrage of warm water, he idly touched his large scar, trailing his hand down his left eye to his navel. He recalled Celezar licking it tenderly every time they mated in the earlier day and the night before. It could pass as completely healed.

After exiting the shower and dressing, he watched his mate sleep while pulling on his gloves. He then lowered his hands, exhaling softly from his nose.

For now, he would let Celezar sleep. He glanced at his bag before leaving the room. He could pack after breakfast.

During the trek to the mess hall, he seldom recognized the faces he saw about. So many had left the day before after the meeting. It was truly a shame. All the bravado and skill, yet the meeting only proved how dysfunctional the Clovuren hunters were as a community. Much as he hated to admit it again, Caden was right. But Jean was planning on changing that.

The mess hall was so sparsely occupied he could easily spot certain hunter leaders and their seconds-in-command. His expression lightened upon seeing Euphemia at a distance. To his pleasant surprise, not only was she present with her second-in-command and younger sister Jolie but was also with Artie and Sarkis.

After choosing his breakfast, he moved to sit with them.

Upon seeing him, Jolie smiled widely and waved. "Jean!"

Nodding towards his companions, he sat beside Euphemia at the empty end of the table with her. Sarkis and Artie sat on the opposite side. "Gentlefolk. How are we this morning?"

"Alive," chuckled Euphemia.

"Just barely," Artie added with a small scowl.

When Jean's brows furrowed with confusion, Jolie nudged her head towards Artie. "As he said. Just barely, after what happened, yesterday."

Jean frowned. "I imagine this has nothing to do with the meeting."

"It doesn't." Sarkis glanced around before returning his gaze at his food.

Euphemia glanced at Jean. "Honestly, I'm not sure what to make of what happened, myself. Shaw picked a fight with Holloway a while after the meeting, and that went over about as well as you can imagine."

The leader of the Shaw Hunters was Gillian, who was one of the people silent during the meeting. Jean didn't think much of him at the time, but this was something he would do. In fact, Jean was surprised it didn't happen immediately after the meeting ended.

One could sum up Gillian with one word: violent. He was another of the most "brutal" hunters known in Clovure. In fact, they were overall antagonistic.

If nothing else, the Lowell Hunters were at least friendly with others.

"Exactly what happened?" Jean asked, beginning to eat.

Artie and Euphemia exchanged glances. Jolie pursed her lips while Sarkis softly scoffed. Not at all reassuring reactions.

"In good ol' Shaw fashion, he went after Holloway and demanded he kill his man, Sylvestar," Euphemia explained. At Jean's astounded expression, she raised her hands. "Shaw felt Holloway needed to set an example as the government's hunters, so he needed to be 'immaculate'. The man even offered to kill Sylvestar if Holloway couldn't do it."

"Cree," Jean exhaled.

Artie made a sputtering scoff. "Apparently, Holloway's sensitive about that thing, because he put up a damn good fight that would have gone on for a while if the creature itself hadn't shown up and literally scared Shaw off."

Jean tried to picture that in his mind. He almost wished he could have seen it. But at the same time...maybe not. From the conversation he had with Caden, the man did seem to be sensitive about Sylvestar. Thinking about it, however, Jean suddenly wished he could speak to this human-turned-inhuman. What was his story? What were his experiences—aside from the obvious ostracizing and contempt?

Leaning forward, Artie stared into Jean's eyes. "I heard that thing talk, Jean. Guttural, hissing. And the way it talked to Holloway; it was as if it revered the man. It called him 'master'!"

Slanting his eyes, Jean's lips tightened. Vampires did have a hierarchy. For Sylvestar to believe Caden was above him was...unusual.

"If that isn't uncanny enough, Holloway didn't like it doing that, calling him master. The thing would have chased after Shaw and his man if Holloway didn't call it off. Then, to make it all the more astonishingly disturbing, it returned to Holloway and bowed before him and apologized for 'disobeying' him!" Wound up, Artie waved his hand. "If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, Jean!"

Setting down his fork, Jean propped his hands up to lace his fingers together. He looked past his cousin in thought. Sylvestar was becoming increasingly interesting.

Euphemia cleared her throat, briefly glancing at him. She spread her hands out, as if to calm them down. "In any case...we're alive. Nothing bad happened. Shaw is gone. Left immediately afterwards, cursing Holloway all the while."

A sudden and unexpected silence overcame the table. Everyone went back to eating, the rush of emotions beginning to simmer from both Artie and Sarkis; the latter of whose emotions were clearly on display even though he remained quiet.

Jean continued to stare off in thought, then looked at his two men. "In any case," he exhaled, lowering his hands to continue eating, "we're leaving after breakfast."

"Sent," Artie and Sarkis said in unison.

Euphemia nudged Jean. "I still want to catch up with you."

Having forgotten about that, Jean paused. "Ah...How about on the way to the hangar? We can take the long way. We have to get our bags, anyway."

She pursed her lips as she looked away in thought but nodded. "You go ahead after we eat, too," she said to her sister.

"Sent, sis."

They finished eating in relative silence after that. As he ate, Jean continued to think about Sylvestar. Without needing clarification, he knew Sylvestar was the same species as the creature that killed his men, a nosferatu. Jean throat suddenly tightened. Maybe if he had known of Sylvestar sooner, or maybe if he wasn't the brutally callous inhuman hunter he once was, he might have been able to save his men...At least one of them.

Quickly retreating from those thoughts, he focused back on eating.

Afterward, he and Euphemia broke away from their companions, who went the shortest route to the hangar. He said his goodbye to Jolie before she left, then walked out the mess hall with Euphemia by his side.

He looked her over, as if for the first time. She looked so much like her brother. All of the Laws had a distinct appearance, jet black hair and fair skin with sienna-brown eyes. The Laws themselves were a family friend of the Lowells. Jean grew up knowing them, but after the death of their only son, Jasper, the families unintentionally lost contact.

Silence persisted between them for the initial few minutes out of the mess hall, but it was companionable. They began their walk down the wide hall towards one of many staircases that would take them to the barracks.

"So, tell me," she said at last, looking up at him. "How have you really been, aside from that whole business with the Celezar thing?" Her expression somewhat darkened after she said the hybrid's name.

Jean shrugged, but it was with a sigh. "Surviving. Life at the isle is the same as it's always been, otherwise. I admittedly haven't seen my mother in a while, despite the fact we live not even a mile from one another. We've just been busy thanks to this whole devil and...whatever-it-is business."

She nodded, a crease between her brows. "Yeah. I can't believe that happened to you all. But, you survived, as you say."

He briefly glanced away. Wanting to drop the subject, he motioned to her garb. "And you? When did your family give in to letting you and Jolie become hunters?"

Looking smug, she cracked her hands before her. "Well, it was a long time coming. Jasper couldn't be the only hunter in my generation, so Jolie, Ciel, Eliza, and I been in training since I was fifteen."

"Really? How did that get by me?"

"Like you paid any sort of attention to me growing up," she teased.

He shortly laughed. "I apologize."

Waving a hand, she said, "It's all in the past, anyway. It's nice we managed to meet up again as fellow hunters."

"Yeah. How's that working out for you, being a hunter?"

She laughed. "I have scars, been knocked around, bled; the usual loveliness."

He was almost sorry to hear that. "And how's the family?"

"Much like yours, nothing really new. Thank the Creator for that. Uncle Henri's been working hard as a mentor to us, but he's going to retire, soon."

"Good. Wouldn't want to lose him."

She nodded with firm agreement. "Absolutely."

Their conversation eventually lightened considerably. By the time they arrived at the barracks, Jean's mind swam with memories good and bad from many years ago, long before seven years ago. Long before eight years ago, even; the good old days.

He and Euphemia momentarily split to get their belongings. Upon approaching his room, he sensed Celezar come to life within his mind. Smiling to himself, he unlocked and entered the room.

The small space smelled strongly of earth after a rainfall and...something else. As the door closed behind him, his eyes raked over the form of his mate who stood topless with his back to him. A white towel was over the wet auburn hair and shining olive green eyes focused on him as Celezar turned around.

"Hey, Jeanie-boy," he said, a mischievous purr in his voice. He sauntered towards him, a black tongue raking over his teeth. The towel was thrown into a laundry hamper.

Scanning him, Jean broke out into a lopsided smile. The moment Celezar was close enough, he took a single step forward to meet the incoming kiss. His already parted lips were spread open further by that tongue, which slipped into his mouth and stroked his insides. He shivered, exhaling deeply with contentment.

He was pushed back against the door and didn't fight it. He freely allowed his senses to be overwhelmed by the sensations of his mate. Rough fingertips trailed under his shirt, tentacles stroked his legs beneath his pants. Every touch sent marvelous tingles through his body. That was different...in a good way. A very good way.

Quickly, he was becoming aroused. How could he not? He didn't even think about Euphemia, explicitly content with the person in his company. He didn't need anyone else, in the moment. He didn't want anyone else.

Celezar chuckled softly into the kiss, then gently pulled away to inhale his soft panting and brush their lips together. "Weren't you going to go on a date with your friend?" he murmured.

Groaning, Jean pulled him closer into another kiss. "I don't want to."

A look of understanding overcame his mate's face. "Mm, I know, love..." He brushed his hand down Jean's cheek. "But. You said you would. You already started to. You have to."

"Fuck." Jean forcibly tore away, his gaze anywhere but on Celezar. As he had started breathing heavily, he tried to calm the warmth that began to simmer in his blood. "This is all your fault."

Placing a hand against the door, Celezar teasingly chuckled, "My fault? How so?"

"I know I've started to change."

"Mm hm?"

"So, this is your fault. I want you more than usual."

"My love, you forget we did spend about, oh, sixteen hours doing nothing but have sex. And in an inhuman world, at that. You've simply become accustomed to it."

"That, too, is your fault."

Celezar only laughed.

"I was fine when I woke up."

"Ah, I love you, Jean," Celezar sighed. He brushed Jean's hair aside and kissed his forehead.

The kiss spread a soothing sensation through Jean's body, much like a sprinkle of dirt to calm the beginnings of fire within him. He took a deep breath, briefly closing his eyes.

He then looked up at his mate. The most adoring expression stared upon him, green eyes sparkling with life and love. It was too satisfied. Too content at the catch that was his love. Steadily, he smiled, and Celezar leaned forward to give him a chaste kiss.

A tendril handed him his packed bag, and only then did he realize the room was organized and otherwise clean. Shaking his head, he took the bag and turned to open the door.

As he stepped out, it was Basker who followed after him.

Euphemia was waiting for him near the operator's desk. Upon seeing him and Basker, her expressionless face brightened. "Aw, Basker. I'm sorry he woke you up so early," she gushed.

While returning his room key to the operator desk, Jean's eyebrow rose as he watched the amiable dog approach her with a wagging tail. Well, that made a good alibi to explain why he took so long.

He and Euphemia continued conversing on their way to the hangar. They made a brief stop on the main floor to let Basker run free outside for a few minutes.

Unsurprisingly, the topic of Elaine came up during their conversation.

"You can't be serious, Jean," Euphemia tut, her gaze pointedly observing Basker.

Jean softly exhaled. He, too, watched the dog run.

"How are ideals like that any different from the ones my family has?" She scoffed under her breath. "Had, rather."

He couldn't argue against that. The Laws, like his family, had strict beliefs in gender roles. They were often called adnuntors because of that, a slur given to people who had such beliefs amongst other ideals. From his understanding, his family publicly called themselves "sympathizers" to the adnuntor beliefs.

It was because of this Elaine was unable to live her dream to be a hunter. But Euphemia was once the same.

"It's not up to me," he finally said. "It's up to her family."

"But you're the Lowell Hunter leader," Euphemia countered. "It is up to you. If you take her in, there's nothing anyone could say against it! You know how much clout a hunter leader has, particularly in your family."

Caught in a corner, he mentally swore. A soft chuckle was made in his mind, bringing a frown to his face.

"Give her a chance, love."

Watching Basker approach, Jean turned his frown onto him. Euphemia lowered to pet him, and Jean caught the slight flash of green in the dark eyes.

Really. Even his mate was on about this.

Nothing of Elaine was brought up again as the three of them arrived at the hangar. The only aircrafts within belonged to a few scattered hunters Jean wasn't too familiar with, Caden, and the Laws and Lowells. Both of the latter jets' engines were running, the whirring of their motors reverberating in the enclosed space.

As they entered the massive space, Euphemia sighed. Her gaze was upon the Lowell jet. "Well. I guess this is goodbye, for a while."

He focused on her. For the first time, he noted a lingering sadness that radiated from her. He never really paid attention to it before. Looking back on it, he always knew it was there. "What's wrong, Euphie?"

Her lips pursed. "Oh. Just..."

Too many expressions fluttered across her face. He saw regret, sorrow, and fleeting joy. He didn't know what could possibly cause it, other than things they had already spoken about. Naturally, they missed her brother. But this had to be something else.

Patiently, he waited.

She softly exhaled. Her expression became a mask; never before did he think it was one. Now it seemed so obvious. She turned a smile on him, one that didn't meet her eyes. "Nothing. I'm going to miss you."

He deliberately met her gaze. She figured what he was saying and waved it off. She was "fine". Without hesitation, he pulled her into a gentle embrace. She startled at first, then returned it, relaxing. He didn't know what was wrong but hoped she would let him or someone else know, one day. "Take care, Euphie. I want to see you grow into an old woman."

She laughed as they parted, pointing to his scar. "You too, Jean. Old and decrepit."

He scoffed, hauling his bag over his shoulder, and saluted. She gave one back, and he smiled before turning around with Basker at his side.

Sarkis and Artie were conversing when they entered the jet. Artie sat at the bar with Sarkis sitting at one of the front seats.

Artie shook his head. "Well, did you go all around the outpost or what?"

Jean held a hand up as he yielded. "Might as well have, yes. Bask needed a moment outside, too."

Upon seeing said dog, Sarkis made a smile. "It's always nice when hunter groups have animals." He lowered a hand as Basker approached for him to sniff. Once he was found agreeable, he gently pet him.

Jean watched this interaction with his head slightly cocked to the side. It was just too bizarre to see two inhumans interacting in such a manner.

As the jet began to turn to the airstrip, Sarkis decided to take the back space. Jean sat near his cousin, buckling his seatbelt.

"So, Jean."

"Hm."

Artie shifted, looking at him. "What should we do to combat the rise in Infernal activity? I've been thinking about it, about what was said yesterday." He shook his head dismissively. "There's no reason for anyone to take drastic actions such as working with inhumans."

Jean remained quiet, lacing his fingers together.

The silence told Artie just what he needed to know. Aghast, he leaned back. "Jean! Don't tell me you're seriously considering Holloway's words!"

Jean cast a glance at his cousin, then looked forward. "I have been giving some critical thought to Caden's words. I've come to a difficult answer, and yes, it involves an inhuman."

"There's no way the men are going to agree to working with one!"

"The men aren't going to have a choice, not anymore than I have one." At Artie's sudden silence, Jean let out a deep and patient exhale. "We currently have little other options. We need a solution that is quick, even if it isn't what we want."

"But remember what Frye and Reznick said? Human might, human power, is the answer."

"Artie, we don't have time to train and make our magic more powerful. Also, our human might dwindled long ago. There used to be many humans with latent abilities like Butch and Raphael, and we are blessed with two such people in our group. But that isn't the case with most other humans."

He saw the scowl out the corner of his eye. "You'd rather put your faith in inhumans than your own kind, Jean?"

Anger flushed through Jean at this remark, and he glared harshly into Artie's eyes. "Never say that again. Ever."

"But with the way you—"

"I am telling the brutal truths. Nothing more." He turned away to look out the window at his left side.

The jet was on the airstrip, seconds away from liftoff. As it began to rise into the air, he massaged his forehead. He was at a true loss of what to do next. If they didn't already know an inhuman—Celezar—what would his old self do in this situation? What would his old self do in this predicament in general? It was infuriating that he had no idea.

Lowering his hand, he sighed. "We'll go into the archives—again. Maybe we missed something."

Artie calmed. "Yes. We're the Lowells, Jean. We have to be powerful enough for something like this, even if we're unaware of it."

Privately, Jean doubted it. At least to some degree.

All his life, he went believing his family was of an echelon of humans unlike the overwhelmingly vast majority. Magic-users. Spellcasters. Descendants of the mighty Alan Lowell and hunters down to the blood in their veins. They had the supernatural skill and ability to combat inhumans, and this made them superior. A necessity to humankind. Proud and powerful.

But ever since Celezar revealed himself to them, Jean had come to steadily realize that his family was nowhere near as powerful as he was raised to believe. How was it that the descendants of Alan Lowell could go for so long, so many decades, not knowing of the other classes and kinds of inhumans, not knowing of the beings that they could not defeat with all their human might?

How did Alan possibly become the famed inhuman hunter of his time as a human being?

"You're on to something, love."

He glanced at Basker lying near his feet.

The dog remained still. "But your family has more secrets than you can imagine."

Somewhat concerned, somewhat glad to hear it, Jean asked, "What are they?"

"We'll talk about it when we have a private moment. Also, I may have to do something later."

Jean mentally acknowledged this, then reached down to gently stroke through the dog's black hair. "What if our magic isn't strong enough? What should we do, then, if we encounter the devil and the other creature again?" he asked. "Or what if another hunter group does and they call for help?"

"Tell me you're thinking aloud," Artie muttered.

"No. Artie, I'm a leader—we are leaders. We need to think of everything to protect our own. That includes the unpleasant things."

Artie didn't respond, but Jean knew he was thinking about it. That was a start.

Jean didn't fall asleep during the flight back to Isle Veni. There was too much on his mind and a lingering feeling Artie wasn't done with their conversation despite remaining quiet.

After the jet landed, Jean caught sight of his cousin's face, a disgruntled visage with furrowed brows. That wasn't counting Sarkis, whose expression he couldn't see yet. At the realization Sarkis was able to hear their conversation, Jean had to wonder what was going through the man's mind. As the co-pilot lowered the stairs, Basker was the first to move, followed by Jean and then Artie and Sarkis. Down the steps, Jean heard his cousin exhale behind him.

"How could we possibly come upon an inhuman strong enough to fight against a devil?" Artie asked, muttering.

Jean didn't answer.

The same black and brown cab was waiting to take them to the Cellar. They left their bags to the driver and entered with Basker sitting between Jean and Artie. Sarkis sat behind them. Seeming to be in deep thought, Artie idly petted the dog. The cab began to move, and Jean looked out the window. His cousin continued to mutter.

"What, is there some kind of 'good inhuman place' we can just take our picking of a possible inhuman ally?" Artie continued while staring forward.

Casually, Jean answered, "I'll ask Crowley."

With narrowing eyes, Artie went silent, just as Jean knew he would. Basker softly chuckled in Jean's mind. His lips spread into a complacent little smile, and he continued to watch the green land roll past from out the window.

The sun was just rising, spreading light over the isle's expansive fields and bringing along with it the beginnings of some spring warmth. Upon a hill in the near distance stood the massive Lowell Manor, its grey exterior slipping away as the sunlight revealed its true white color. Despite himself, Jean found it to be marveling, in a way. The manor was over two hundred years old, built by his ancestors when they decided to make the isle a haven for their bloodline, a place where no inhumans would dare tread.

The irony of that, of course, was how the Lowells had part-inhuman servants since far longer than that. He supposed they had to come along when the family relocated.

He softly scoffed to himself as they distanced themselves from the manor and neared the Cellar.

The car stopped a respectable distance from the outpost's entrance. Before the men were on their feet, the driver already had their bags out the trunk with inhuman speed. Jean gave them a subtle nod of thanks as he took his bag. Both Artie and Sarkis, on the other hand, completely ignored the driver. Artie then stormed into the outpost while Sarkis lingered, looking at the building's exterior.

"You might want to go after Artie," said Jean to him. "He can show you around downstairs and where to put your things."

Sarkis nodded and moved to do that. Jean watched after him, sighing to himself. From where he stood, he could see Raphael and Butch playing cards at the poker table. With Basker at his heels, he passed through the threshold and observed them for a moment. They didn't so much as acknowledge him, their eyes focused on their cards. Their poker faces were impressive.

Jean crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. "Gentlemen."

Their heads turned to him at the same time. "Hey, Boss," said Raphael. "Welcome back."

"How was the meeting?" Butch asked, lowering his cards face down.

"Oh, just peachy. Anger, blasphemy, and Holloway's a son of a bitch," Artie said, walking down the staircase with Sarkis behind him.

Both men raised amused eyebrows. "Couldn't have been that bad," said Butch.

"It was that bad," Jean confirmed. "How have things been since we left?"

Raphael let out a long exhale, also lowering his cards as he leaned back. "We've been on three hunts since you left. We returned from one before you arrived, and Nicholae and Friedrich are back on one now."

Slightly narrowing his eyes, Jean observed them. They seemed tired. He softly swore and brought his bag into his office with him. Dropping it on the floor beside his desk, he picked up the Manilla envelope with Friedrich's handwriting on it. He didn't sit his chair as he skimmed over the reports. Steadily, his eyes grew wide, horrified to read some of the men were partaking on hunts even after being badly injured.

Lowering the paper, he rushed through the anteroom and past the double-doors into the sickbay. Verne was within his office, and Jean moved to stand in the doorway. "Verne, how has moral been since I was gone?"

Blinking up at him from his desk, the doctor took a second to respond. "Not too well, in truth. It has overall steadily declined since the incident in Ridridge."

Without responding, Jean turned and left. Basker was interacting with Raphael and Butch near the table, and neither man seemed to notice their leader's distress.

Jean returned to his office. He immediately reached for and picked up his phone to dial a seldom-used number.

After a few rings, someone picked up. "Crowley Hunters. Clancy speaking."

Jean hoped to speak to Alister, but this would have to do. "Clancy, I know this is an unusual question, but is there a place where...allied or good inhumans reside?"

For a good second, there wasn't a response. Then, like a delayed reaction, Clancy sputtered a scoff. "Now, why in the name of the Goddess would I tell maniacs like you Lowells such a thing?"

While he expected such a response, Jean glanced towards the door. Basker was standing there. Without prompt, the door somehow and gently closed as the dog entered the room.

Moving to sit at his desk, Jean softly explained, "I've changed my stance on inhumans, Clancy. I'm looking for allies."

"Give me one reason I should believe you."

Jean once more glanced at Basker, this time for aid.

The dog tilted his head to the side. "Tell him you know Alister is inhuman and that I told you so."

Opening his mouth to say just that, Jean suddenly paused.

Alister was inhuman...?

Thinking back on the conversation he had with him, maybe that was what the man was trying to say. Alister even said he trusted him.

Astounded, Jean took a moment to answer Clancy. After another second, during which he realized this also meant the Crowley Hunters knew his mate, he said, "Celezar told me Alister is inhuman."

Once more, there was silence on the other end of the line.

"I also went to Hallowed Ground. Celezar is my mate."

The long silence dragged out. Jean glanced over to see Celezar himself standing near. He didn't look alarmed, so Jean remained calm, waiting patiently.

There was then a chuckle in his ear. "Welcome, Jean, to the life of a tosser," said Alister with humor evident in his voice.

Jean scoffed but smiled.

"Meet me at the Lander Airport in Kansas as soon as you can. I know exactly why you're calling. You might also want to bring along another witness; I imagine you've been through enough and I know your decision to ally with inhumans is a difficult one, possibly even endangering to your life," Alister continued.

Surprised by the man's consideration, Jean didn't quite know how to respond in any other way but the simplest one. "I'll do that. I'll call back and let you know a date and time. Thank you, Alister."

"My pleasure. Take care, Jean."

"You, too." Jean lowered and hung up the phone, exhaling softly. He sensed Celezar was closer to him and turned into a surprise kiss. Smiling into it, he parted his lips, eyelids fluttering when a slick tongue entered his mouth.

"I changed my mind," Celezar said as he gently broke away. "I'll wait until we leave to show you that thing I was going to bring you."

"I don't think I'd like it if you left my side, anyway." Jean nuzzled Celezar's cheek, earning himself a knowing little smirk. He was well-aware he normally didn't do that, but it felt so natural.

Things were about to become a bit ugly once he told his men his decision to have an inhuman ally, but he was planning on making things easy for them. He could only hope their stubborn asses would understand he was doing this for their sakes.

*    *    *

Not an hour later, the whirring of a helicopter came to Jean's attention. It was nearing the outpost. He stood from his chair and left his office to move to the main entrance. With him stood Raphael, Butch and Hugh. Their hair fluttered about their faces as they watched, only for each of their eyes to widen when the injured forms of Musa and Lucas were aided out of the helicopter. Trevor was bleeding from a head wound. All of the men were nearly covered in blood, but by the color, it wasn't theirs. At Musa's screams, Hugh immediately raced to the sickbay to alert Verne, and Jean, Raphael and Butch moved out of the way so the other men could enter.

Jean turned on his microphone. "What was it?" he immediately asked Friedrich, walking by his uncle's side as they neared to the sickbay.

Friedrich deeply scowled. "A demon duke in Iroquin. We were aided by the Burchard Hunters but had to fight against its fucking lackeys and just made it without having any worse injuries on both sides."

Terror spiking to his throat, Jean raced ahead to come nearer to his injured men. It was their first encounter with a demon duke, a sub-classification of "A-Class" Infernals that could summon lessers to them, since the increase began. If his men didn't have aid from another group, the chance of having dire casualties was high.

But at least it wasn't a devil lord. He lost his father to one.

Musa had the worst injuries, his left arm nigh shredded and showing bone clear as day. He was barely conscious at all but was enough so that he could cry out in pain. He was immediately brought into the operation room. Lucas was clutching his left side, breathing with difficulty from the pain he was in. Blood had completely soaked his shirt and upper pants, but Jean couldn't quite tell what sort of injury he had.

To Nicholae, who stood at the twin doors with a grimace, Jean ordered, "Get Artie, Sarkis and the others."

"Sarkis?" Nicholae asked in the motion to leave.

"He's the new member."

Nodding, the older man swiftly left. Standing in the aisle, Jean watched as Friedrich, Hugh, Verne, Robin, and Calvin immediately went to work as the medical members in the group. Verne, Friedrich and Calvin disappeared into the operation room to care for Musa, whose screams were still audible; there were places they could go to clean up before aiding in the operation. Hugh tended to Lucas while Robin tended to Trevor's wound. The other men were close at the lower portion of the sickbay. Artie and the others from different parts of the outpost also entered.

Jean looked back at them and approached, briefly looking at Lucas, before addressing them. "I need to talk to you all. It is of utmost importance..." He sounded distracted.

Artie's face slightly contorted in distaste before immediately smoothing out. Of course, he was still irritated over Jean's decision. Jean didn't acknowledge him.

Exhaling deeply, Jean ran a hand through his hair. This wasn't exactly the best time to converse with them. Slightly turning to Lucas' table, he asked, "Are you good for conversation, Lucas?"

Taking in sharp breaths, the brunet tilted his hand sideways. He was lying back on the bloody bed.

Lips tightening, Jean turned back to the uninjured men. "Very well. I hate to do this now, but it's important." He took in a sudden breath, swallowing his fears when Musa's cries slowed before ceasing. He wasn't the only one who held their breath, as some of the men's eyes darted to the operation room doors.

When nothing happened, when no one exited the room to deliver bad news, normal breathing resumed.

"Firstly." Jean motioned to the newest member of his group. "This is Sarkis Buscan."

The older man nodded at his fellow hunters, who gave him friendly nods in return.

Jean briefly closed his eyes. "Secondly, I've come to a decision, a tough one. If things go as they are, we may end up dead all too easily. Since this increase of Infernal activity began, we've dealt with a devil, an unidentifiable, ungodly powerful creature, and now a demon duke in less than a month. That is...unheard of. During the meeting, Holloway mentioned, recommended and demonstrated inhuman aid." Jean paused at the dark, aghast expressions that formed on the faces before him. "Therefore, I have decided to take up the offer. We have little other options."

Artie remained quiet, glancing off at nothing in particular. Jean briefly eyed him, then Sarkis. It was evident his new comrade was on edge, though all that gave it away were his tightly locked jaw and slightly narrow-eyed stare.

"You can't be serious, Jean!" Hugh shouted from behind them. Jean didn't turn but did glance back.

"Isn't that just as dangerous?" Butch asked with crossed arms. He looked about as eager as Sarkis did. "We aren't inhuman-loving hunters," he all but spat.

Nicholae frowned at his fellow veteran. "That's not what Jean is saying. We don't have to love them."

"Does it matter?"

"I can see how this sounds like a good idea," said Robin from behind Jean, "but there has to be another way. Can't you and Artie train to become more powerful magic-users?"

"Yeah, but how long would that take?" Trevor asked before hissing in pain.

"What if we or someone else comes upon such powerful creatures again? We wouldn't have time," said Nicholae, echoing words similar to what Jean said to Artie.

Gulliver softly scoffed. "If Darryl were here—"

"Don't even finish that sentence," Nicholae snapped.

Immediately, Gulliver backed off, but he seemed disheartened, at a loss of what to do or say.

Noticing this, Nicholae calmed and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We don't know what Darryl would do in this situation."

Nodding, Gulliver looked away. "What happened at the meeting about this?"

Jean closed his eyes, remaining silent.

After a moment, Artie spoke up. "Much was said. There was talk of using magic, of course, but...truthfully that would take time to work up to at the moment. Holloway gave his blessing to subjugate and control inhumans. He even had an inhuman he had subjugated, a man who was once human named Sylvestar." The scowl was evident in his voice.

Nicholae began, "That's..."

"Unlike him," Butch finished.

"But it is different from asking inhumans for help," said Robin, his voice tentative.

Hugh and Lucas made choking sounds of outrage.

"Listen," the younger hunter began defensively, "how is it different from what's going on with the Lowell servants?"

"That would also take too much time, right?" Raphael asked. "We'd have to find inhumans, subjugate them..."

"Find and use a binding spell," Nicholae continued in agreement.

Hugh heavily exhaled. "I suppose it is better than the other idea."

"Yeah, but much as I hate to admit it," Butch added, "there's one flaw. Are there spells powerful enough to bind an A-Class inhuman? Because that's what it's going to take against these creatures."

Exhaling, Artie begrudgingly admitted, "And we would...probably need more than one A-Class inhuman, at that."

Sounds of worry and even resignation floated about, causing Jean's eyebrow to twitch. He didn't like that sound. His men were disheartened, unsure of what to do.

"What say you about this, Sarkis?" Nicholae asked. "This must be different from what you imagined."

Jean kept his eyes closed, folding his arms, as Sarkis began to speak.

"I admit, it is." Sarkis' accented voice was even and contemplative. "However, I am also aware that we—that all hunters—are faced with something unprecedented. We are all trying to protect ourselves, protect humanity. Personally, I would never...ever...rather die than work with inhumans."

Jean slightly pursed his lips.

"However..." Sarkis made a relenting huff. "I will go with what my leader decides."

A shocked silence descended the group. The room was momentarily silent save for the sound of air from Lucas' oxygen mask and beeps. Jean opened his eyes, sweeping his gaze around his men before nodding at Sarkis. The man's expression had lightened considerably, but Jean had more than an inkling he was reluctant. Reluctant, but resigned.

"I've taken everything into account, including your words, concerns. If there was another way that gave us the results we need as soon as we need them now, I would do it. You know I mean that." Jean glanced down for a moment. He exhaled softly, then met their gazes again. "I've a responsibility to keep you all safe. To keep our territory safe. But I'll make it easier on us. I asked for Crowley's help, and he has agreed to show me a place a certain inhuman may be residing."

Some of his men's expressions became ones of understanding and realization. Other were still clueless.

"Who?" Lucas asked, his voice strained.

Jean finally turned around to look at him. His comrade was pale but otherwise alright, it seemed. Jean's expression remained firm. "Celezar."

Hugh and Lucas slightly scowled, but confusion was the most dominant expression on their faces.

Robin tilted his head to the side. "But we tried to kill him, Boss?"

"Yes. I believe in the possib—"

Jean's words were interrupted by the blaring of the office phone. He excused himself, moving past his men to return to his office. Basker was still inside, and his head raised when Jean entered.

Jean picked up the phone. "Jean-Luc speaking," he answered.

"Jean." It was Ulrich. His voice was somber. "I'm sorry, brother. It's the Richardson Hunters."

Blood drained from Jean's face and his throat clenched tightly. "What happened." It wasn't a question. He knew.

"The devil. It...They're dead, Jean. The Richardson Hunters are gone."