The traitorous sky was just beginning to open up. It had been heavily overcast for the entirety of the day, yes, but its timing was ironically remarkable. Jean stared at it, his gaze listless, silently cursing it for deciding to bring forth rain after the funerals, yet thankful he could now cry freely without anyone noticing.

Like many unsavory things, funerals were constant in the life of an inhuman hunter. They served as a steadfast reminder of the ultimate inevitable: Death. In this case, a potentially nasty one.

He leveled his head, bringing the grim sight of people standing around or just beginning to leave the graveyard. Butch's funeral was last, and for that, Jean was thankful, and he clenched his teeth at the reminder. He couldn't imagine losing your other half, your twin. Two of his men were twins, and they both lost their other half. Both were on bereavement leave.

He turned back to stand near his men, all of which hadn't moved much from their initial spots nearer to the plot of land in which Butch's coffin laid. When he looked upon them, several of them met his gaze.

Even now, at a funeral, they all dressed in black hunting gear. It was hard not to stare at them with even a modicum of emotion he was certain was apparent on his face.

Their attention then went to something behind him, and he sensed the woman approaching swiftly.

He turned around, right into a hard smack that snapped his head to the side.

His eyes momentarily shut, both from the smack and from the rain that abruptly trickled onto his face. Slowly, he turned back to look at a shorter woman with red, teary eyes.

Yasmin, Butch's wife.

He ignored the sounds of gasps around them, steeling his expression as she began to cry. "You! You were supposed to protect him!"

He didn't respond, only continued to stare straight at her.

She hit his chest, but he didn't move. "He told me! He said...he said you had a-an inhuman in your group!" She held her hands out, looking around with venomous scorn. "Where the hell is this inhuman?! He was supposed to prevent this from happening!"

Once certain she was truly looking for a response, he slowly nodded. "Yes. I take full responsibility for Basil's death," he said with an even, almost monotone voice. "However. He didn't want that inhuman's help."

He shut his eyes when she smacked him again.

She covered her mouth and took several steps back, shaking her head with disbelief. But he could see it. She knew he was telling the truth.

Butch would rather die than work alongside an inhuman.

With a sob, Yasmin swiftly turned away and all but ran from him. He watched after her, watched her run into the arms of a family member who was also glaring at him.

The life of a hunter...

The rain was taking its sweet time to finally fall. Jean felt his eye stinging from the rapid formation of tears.

Looking away, he turned slightly towards his men. His gaze flickered from the grass to them. He took in their expressions of deep sadness. Hurt. Disbelief.

And there it was.

Regret.

The sky finally let loose its tears, but not in time.

They would know the moisture running from his eye were his own.

"Jean."

His heart jumped to his throat, and he nearly spun around to see a familiar figure in the distance near a tree. The moment he saw him, the hybrid's presence enveloped him, held him, and his tears fell harder.

Without hesitation, he walked towards him.

He didn't care that his men could see.

He didn't care that his men would ask questions.

His throat choked up, and he had to use every iota of restraint to prevent himself from running up to and embracing his mate.

"Get us out of here," he whispered.

He was heard. The moment he came within arm reach, their surroundings changed, and he made it into Celezar's open embrace just when they began to fall back.

The autumny smell and coolness told him they were back in Hallowed Ground. With his eyes shut, he did nothing more in those moments but hold his mate as they fell. A hand tangled itself in his hair, and he rested his head in the crook of Celezar's neck while entwining his legs around his mate's.

He didn't know how long they fell, how long he remained in this position, wrapped safely in his mate's warmth and presence, but their silence was needed. The hand gently caressed his hair and massaged his scalp, doing its job of easing his body from days of tension.

He felt them gradually shift until they were falling upright instead of upside-down, and their momentum slowed. Reaching up, he held Celezar's head and opened his eyes to look into sad, weary, and yet contented olive green eyes.

Wordlessly, through their link, he asked where, where had his mate been. Was he alright?

"Recovering, love," Celezar softly responded, rubbing their heads together. "I'm not healing."

The easy admittance sent a wave of fear through Jean's body, and he let his tears fall freely while tightening his hold on his mate. He brushed their lips against one another, his head shaking rapidly.

"Please...please don't go away again," he whispered. He didn't care if he sounded needy, desperate, pathetic. "You scared me, I thought..."

With his free hand, Celezar reached and took Jean's chin. He nodded, his eyes glistening with tears. "I'm sorry, Jean. I was...in such pain..."

"No." Jean nearly whimpered, taking his hand. His tears fell faster, and he shut his eyes. "No. I almost lost you."

"Yes." Celezar planted a kiss over his bad eye. "Yes, love..."

He opened his mouth, but nothing but soft sobs emitted from him. "Creation, Celezar, I love you so much."

There was a soft, amorous chuckle, and then soft lips trailed over his. Needily, he closed their distance, kissing him deeply, yet gently.

He heard a strange sound that made his eyes open, and he saw Celezar's wings envelop them, casting them in darkness.

The horribly dim glow of his mate's eyes was only another indicator that all was not well.

They moved, and he heard soft growls and other sounds around them. When Celezar's wings opened again, they were landing on the familiar mossy area that was Celezar's nest within his family's tree.

The moment they landed, Celezar's wings retracted, and he kept their entwined hands while leading him back into the tree to the area full of water and waterfalls.

In silence, they walked, but this time, Celezar didn't bring him over the roots to the cave like before. Instead, they rested in a small alcove made by the large roots, hidden from sight.

As soon as they sat, Celezar emitted a low groan and slumped against Jean's side with his eyes closed. Jean quickly wrapped his arms around him, lips tightening and tears falling harder. He moved one hand to caress the visible side of Celezar's sickly, pale face.

"Please don't die," he whispered, his voice choked.

His mate didn't respond, worsening his fears.

Kissing into the auburn hair, Jean asked, "What hurts?"

"Everything," came the soft, rigid response.

Just as Jean began to swear, he sensed several presences approaching. Looking up, he saw someone who looked exactly like Celezar step down from the root above them. He was also sickly, but not nearly as much as his brother.

"Gareth," Celezar murmured, reaching for his twin.

Gareth moved to sit in front of them, taking Celezar's hand. To Jean, he said, "I was there. He was badly injured by the Entity. I had to bring him here. I apologize for scaring you."

While he shook his head, Jean didn't say anything. He scanned the other hybrid, taking in the surprising realization that his mate indeed had a twin brother. However, unlike with Celezar, Jean felt absolutely no connection to him. It was strange, almost jarring.

"We will take care of him," said a feminine voice.

He looked up again to see three women at the entrance of the alcove. They were triplets, it seemed.

"Ba'arhuzra," said Gareth, "are you saying Jean isn't staying?"

Jean frowned, looking at the sisters.

"He shouldn't," said the sister in the middle, her face a stern scowl.

Jean turned a scowl back. "I'm not leavin—"

A hand went onto his cheek. "Jean."

He turned all attention to his mate. "Yes?"

The dim green eyes were trying to smile at him. "I'll...be alright. You should...go back to your men."

He began to speak, but Celezar placed a finger to his lips.

He tried to make a teasing smile. "My sisters...They're my eldest sisters..." His eyes slowly rolled closed and went limp.

Alarmed, Jean sensed his mate begin to change, the glowing patterns on his skin just as dim as his eyes. "What's—?"

Gareth urged Jean to stand, taking Celezar into his arms. "He's going into his true form. He can't hold this one anymore."

Groaning, Celezar began to toss in his brother's grasp.

Meeting his eyes, Gareth nodded. "We'll take care of him, Jean. The next time you see him, he will be conscious again. I swear it."

Jean's jaw tightened, but he made a reluctant nod. "Alright..."

Celezar slowly began to turn into his small Infernal form. Gareth moved out of the alcove, likewise beginning to transform as his own patterns, an orangy color, appeared on his skin.

"You should leave."

Jean glared hard at the middle sister as he came to stand near the triplets. Unfazed, she crossed her arms. "Not all of us like the idea our brother mated with his food," she snapped.

"Rhumael," the sister on the left sighed.

The other sister merely grunted, rolling her eyes away. "Whatever." She then shoved Jean back with her hands.

The world pulled back, and his eyes darted to where he saw Gareth and Celezar transform into their larger forms.

In the next second, he was thrown seemingly from out of the ground and onto his back with a crunch of leaves and branches. He moved into a crouch, looking around. He was in a dark forest.

Isle Veni?

He looked around, idly brushing himself off. Using his newly evolved senses, he noticed this place carried a familiar scent. He had to be on Isle Veni.

Turning, he jogged into the direction he was certain led him towards the Cellar. Once the darkness and thick verdant cleared, he was impressed to see he was indeed back on his home isle. In the distance, the Cellar stood quietly. It didn't seem anyone was home yet.

He wasn't in a rush, so he took his time walking towards it. With a sigh, he wiped his tears and looked at the dark grey sky. "Creation..."

He didn't finish, lips tightening. He never did ask Celezar what his relationship was with his deity now that he was inhuman. It didn't change, did it?

The thought, and the thought of his mate, lingered even once he passed the stables. The stablehand wasn't visible, but Jean could sense him near. Sighing to himself, he passed the outpost's threshold and was thankful for the quiet.

For several moments, he merely stood in the center of the antechamber. Idly, he found himself wringing his hands together, passively agitated and anxious. He sent out prayers for his mate and fallen men, then slowly took the right staircase down to the barracks.

To both his surprise and relief, Basker was still there...

His eyes narrowed as he paused.

No, that wasn't Celezar. It was Gareth in Celezar's place.

The reminder made his shoulders lower. "Fuck," he muttered, moving to sit on his bed with his head down. He grasped his locks, teeth clenched and jaw locked.

He could use a drink. Preferably a stiff one.

But he didn't dare, at least not while unsupervised.

He settled on taking a nap. It was best to get one before his men came back.

Expression darkening, he softly growled.

He had a bone to pick with them, anyway.

*    *    *

His eyes opened to the sound of heavy footsteps in the antechamber. Rising from the couch, he quickly went to his feet and opened his office door.

Raphael, who had moved to sit near the poker table at the left, startled. "Oh, Boss...!"

His words brought the attention of nearly every of the other men to Jean's presence. He eyed them, noting they had indeed just come in and hadn't dispersed around the outpost yet.

"Jean..." Friedrich began, looking over him. "When...How...?"

Crossing his arms, Jean leveled his gaze with his uncle. "Celezar brought me back," he said, purposely enunciating his mate's name.

Several pairs of eyes blinked.

Verne entered the antechamber. Upon seeing him, he made a soft sound of acknowledgement. It seemed he was about to go downstairs when he glanced around and settled to moved to stand near the left wall.

"Yes, I have to speak with you all," Jean said, moving from his office's doorway to stand closer to the center of the room.

Nicholae and Gulliver were just entering when he said this. Gulliver's mouth opened, whereas Nicholae almost seemed amused for a second.

Gulliver pointed towards him. "How did—?"

"Not now," Jean interrupted. He slowly turned a dark, serious look on them, silencing whatever words they had building in their throats.

Or it should have.

"Celezar brought you back," Friedrich repeated with a growing frown.

Once all his men were standing around in the antechamber, Jean made a single nod. "Yes, actually, I want to talk about that matter from two days ago..."

"Wait, wait." Friedrich took a step closer. "Where did you go?"

Meeting his uncle's gaze, Jean slightly tilted his head to the side. "If you think I need to be checked, Friedrich, whether you believe it or not, I do not." His uncle began to speak, but he held up a hand. "Not now."

Friedrich was clearly frustrated, but he let it go for the moment.

"Now, then. Regarding what happened yesterday..." He briefly looked away, gathering himself. "We...cannot wait as we did last time to look for new comrades."

"Why?" Raphael asked. "That thing's gone, right?"

Jean nodded his way. "We don't know that for certain. Just because an Elevate showed up—"

"If an Elevate showed up," Friedrich interrupted, "that should be enough."

Without looking at him, Jean asked, "What makes you so sure?"

"It wouldn't have left if that thing was still a threat."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

Friedrich went quiet for a moment, then explained, "That's just logic. It was an Elevate, Jean. If we cannot even put our faith in them, we aren't Lowells."

Slowly, Jean nodded. "Alright. Let's go with that." He looked at him. "The Entity is gone, then. The devil is gone with it. It's still too soon to know when things will return to normal around Clovuria, in our territory. Thus, we need to be at full power as soon as possible."

"Butch isn't even cold in the ground yet—"

"Friedrich..." Jean took some slow steps towards his uncle, keeping their gazes locked. "If you weren't family, I swear to Creation, I'd have kicked you out a while ago."

His uncle's mouth shut while his eyes went wide.

"Never have I experienced such insubordination from you." Jean pointedly turned his dark glare on many of them. "From most of you. Hugh."

His brother-in-law went stiff.

"I've been tired of it. This isn't some fucking gentleman's club. We're inhuman hunters. We make nasty decisions for those who cannot, when others cannot. One nasty decision is going against our own creed for the sake of...logic." He cut his gaze once more to Friedrich. "Logic dictates we were to go against said creed because last I checked, none of you want to be in an early grave."

"Wait..." Gulliver blinked incredulously at him. "Are you...blaming us for Butch and Lucas' deaths?"

Jean was nodding before the sentence was complete.

"Why?!"

"Because, Gulliver, we, the Crane Hunters, and the Hancock Hunters experienced severe casualties two days ago. The Wisk Hunters were present, but they didn't have a single casualty," his expression hardened, "because they had Celezar with them."

He swept his eyes over them, nodding at their expressions of shock, surprise, and outrage. Exhaling hard, he ran a hand down his face, letting his eyes shut.

"Now, there's no telling if that's coincidence or not. It may be. It may not be. I'm willing to bet the former, because Celezar is part-devil himself. That was more than enough power to protect a group of hunters against mere buzzards from Inferno."

"But," said Calvin, "if we had his help, who would have helped them?"

Jean pinched his nosebridge. "The Wisk Hunters aren't against working with inhumans. Getting allies would have been easy for them, unlike ourselves, who carry a horrific reputation in the eyes of any sane inhuman. For us, Celezar was the only option, the only chance we had." He lowered his hand and opened his eyes to look at them. "And you blew it."

"He won't ever work with us again?" Artie murmured.

"Why the fuck would he want to?" Jean snapped, remembering to keep the growl out of his voice. "No, Artie. He doesn't want to work with us anymore. Whatever he might do in the future would—would, mind you—be out of the kindness of his heart."

He saw the expression twist on his uncle's face, but he held up a finger in Friedrich's direction, silencing him.

Waving two fingers at them, he said, "Fact of the matter is, I'm to get two more members from the Memorraw as soon as possible. You think I want to replace Butch and Lucas like they didn't mean shit? We had the luxury of waiting an entire year six years ago, but not this time. Not this time. We're dealing with unprecedented times, and to keep us alive, our territories safe, and our friends safe, we're going to get new members now." He glared at them. "No fucking complaints, 'cause I won't hear it."

No one said anything.

"Nicholae. Get ready to leave for the Memorraw," he ordered, lowering his hands.

"Sent." His uncle immediately left down the stairs.

He once more fixed his eyes on them, lingering on Hugh, Artie, and Friedrich. When nothing else was said, he turned and entered his office, shutting the door behind him.