It was easy to act as if what had happened in the woods was only a dream as Jean rode back to the wharf with a dog in his lap. As though he was in a stupor, he barely blinked behind his goggles, just enough of his brain functioning normally so as to not crash into something and maneuver correctly. The rest of his mind was in a sort of post-elation, pre-panic stasis that wasn't going to go away within the next few hours. The fully-functioning part of his mind knew exactly why he was feeling this way.

Despite everything, part of him was ecstatic. Celezar was going to be—and, by the hybrid's own words, would stay—in his life again. There was little he wanted more than that.

But then there was the budding internal terror. He was now involved with an inhuman, and not just any sort. Devils were fairytales. No one believed in them anymore and, at best, they were legends, creatures that once existed. Once. Long ago, too long for any human to remember. Worse yet, with the way things were prior to the discovery of Celezar's inhumanity and their own desires, there was the overwhelming possibility he and Celezar would be far more than "involved" again. Why else would he have asked the question of becoming the hybrid's mate? Mere curiosity...or secret desire?

Perhaps, even, the initial thought wouldn't bother him as much if it weren't for the catch. He was now one of the very things he had killed in the past: humans who associated with inhumans. What would happen if his involvement with Celezar was discovered? What would happen to him?

"Nothing."

He almost swerved, nearly hitting a rock off the side of the road but rightened quickly enough. He took a moment to glare down at the animal in his lap. "Don't do that, please."

The dog glanced up at him, green eyes twinkling with mischief. "How else can I talk to you in this form?"

He readjusted in the seat. "No...It's the reading my mind part. I would appreciate it if you didn't." He glanced down again in time to see the dog's long ears droop back.

"Ah...I see. Sorry..."

Somewhat frowning, he looked forward again and passed the tree and shrub line marking the entrance to the beach. As the boardwalk was almost entirely barren, save for a few handful of people here and there, he slowed considerably to ride onto the wood. Nearing the Astrolabe, he rode up to the gangplank before turning the bike off.

The moment he did, the dog moved off his lap and looked at the water, its back to him. Observing it by the light of the lamp posts, he went still in thought. The dog's breed was easy to figure at first glance. Its tail and ears were quite long and feathered, its black, tan, and white coat also feathered. To Jean, it would be an adolescent purebred Saluki, if not for how its coat was slightly longer at more than just its ears and tail.

After a few seconds, he realized he wasn't calling the dog by its name. Or sex. If it was either? He knew inhumans could be sexless. From what little he knew, devils were likely sexless. He glanced between the dog's legs to see a shaft and testicles. Regardless..."What are you?" he asked, guessing his questions would be answered.

"I am completely male in this current form. As for my breed, I'm a Saluki."

Nodding a bit, Jean stood from his bike and brought it onto the gangplank. His helmsman was already ready for him, standing on the deck of the yacht. He was given a bow, and he paused to look upon the man.

Only recently did he start to consider the family servants again after many years, what they thought, what their names were. Strange things to think, even stupid, to a degree. But now that he had overcome his thoughts about Celezar...

His jaw locked. He was going to get himself killed.

After a few seconds' consideration, he gave the man a curt nod before relinquishing his bike. Not a moment after, he felt awkward, as he never so much as casually acknowledged a servant before. It wasn't that he wanted to feel awkward; he simply did.

He retreated below the deck, deciding to ignore what he did and opened the door to one of two cabins at the left of a small hall and turned on the light. It was sparsely decorated and had only a single small bed and several empty shelves, save for what seemed to be amenities. He sat heavily on the bed, looking up to see the dark-colored dog standing in the threshold.

"I'm not coming with you."

He frowned. "I thought that was what you wanted?"

"Yes, but not this way. I have other plans." The dog began to turn away.

A sudden and unusual spike of fear rose within him at these words. He reached for it. "Wait!"

It stopped turning to glance back at him.

Lowering his hand, he fought for words, but they failed him. He quite frankly didn't know what to say. What should he say? While he internally debated, the dog stood patiently in the doorway.

After a minute, he sighed heavily. "Will I see you again?"

The dog's head turned to the side in that animal-like way. It then entered the room and looked up at him from between his legs. "I can stay until you arrive at the isle."

Not trusting himself to respond, Jean nodded with a small smile. He reached down to run his fingers through the black hair, trying to think of simpler things. "Are you sexless? In your true form, I mean."

"If by that you mean am I male or female, then I am a hermaphrodite." Seeming to enjoy the petting, the dog stayed close.

"Ah..." Jean looked forward. "Well...you need a name."

There was a strange sound that was awfully similar to amusement made in his mind.

His eye narrowed. "I can't just keep calling you 'the dog' in my thoughts, now, can I?"

"I was kind of hoping you were calling me by my human name in this form."

He looked forward again to prevent himself from rolling his eye. "Yes, but I can't do that around other—wait." He took the dog by its cheeks to look it in the eye. "You have another name?"

He could swear the dog was smiling. "That's not exactly uncommon. As a hunter, you should know that."

"I...Yes, but I didn't think..." He trailed off and leaned forward. "What is it?"

Silence stretched on between them after his question. Continuing to stare at the dog, he waited patiently for an answer. Thinking about it, he wondered.

Infernals and certain ethereal creatures in particular could be guarded about their true names. In Jean's mind, if Celezar was made of both an Infernal and a ghost-like creature, giving up his true name could be a sign of deep trust.

A part of Jean thought there was no reason not to know his true name, considering how close they were. At the very least, because of how close they used to be. The other part figured he was better off not knowing. He lowered his gaze after a moment, letting go of the dog to pet its head. "Never mind. I understand if you don't want to."

Silence prevailed, though the olive orbs stared back at him without a shred of expression in their depths.

He stirred, feeling awkward yet again, and looked away. Exhaling softly, he leaned back and laid upon the bed. He stared at the ceiling, retreating from wondering about the name to think about another one. "Basker. That's your name, in this form." When there wasn't an answer, he continued, "My family had a dog, once. I don't remember much about it, but I love dogs, in truth. Seeing you now makes me wonder why we never had a dog again. Having one could be beneficial."

No answer.

Closing his eye, he made a soft sound, as if to ignore what he said. He was prattling.

There was a shifting sound akin to material resistance, then a sigh. "You know my name."

He kept his eye shut. "Do I?"

"My real name is a sort of portmanteau of my human name."

Brows furrowing, he pondered. Celezar Yell. There weren't many if any names that could come from that, but considering Celezar wasn't human, he assumed the opposite. "Celezar Yell, hm..."

Another stretch of silence.

"Celezarell?"

"Close."

A strange feeling went through his body at the thought. It was something oddly akin to elation.

"That...sounds like a nice name, actually. I'll have to remember it."

He softly chuckled, then went back to thinking. "Celzarell?" When there was no response, he tried again. "Celez...aryel?"

"Very close. Say it quickly."

"Celezar Yell...Celezaryell?" His eye popped open and he quickly sat upright when the bed dipped at his feet. Celezar in his human form looked down at him with slightly glowing eyes, a look of adoration hidden between his long auburn locks. Jean clenched his jaw at the familiar expression. It was...arousing.

As if aware of this, Celezar leaned over him, placing his hands on the sides of his body. "You essentially said it." He leaned closer, so close their lips almost touched. "Zelezh'arryel."

The name flowed from Celezar's mouth as if it were a blessing, his eyes flashing and the lights slightly dimming for only a few seconds. Lips parting, Jean softly murmured, "Zelezh'arryel..."

With a sharp, stuttering inhale, Celezar's eyes rolled closed, and he slightly recoiled while he trembled. "Third time's a charm, love," he exhaled with a moan.

Eyeing him, Jean's lips spread into a captivated smile. Slanting his eye, he playfully hummed, not unaware of the slight tingles of energy that could be sensed in the air. He parted his lips again, but let the name hang off his tongue for a moment, watching Celezar sway from side to side as if in a trance.

Was this what it was like to know an inhuman's true name?

"Zelezh'arryel."

A mouth captured his, hot and demanding, the second the name left his mouth. Celezar's warm body pushed him down in the bed, and his hands immediately took hold of the hybrid's head, fingers digging into the dark locks. A long, worm-like tongue slipped past his lips, causing him to shiver at the unusual sensation, but he didn't immediately break the kiss. Only when a calloused hand crept underneath his shirt did he gasp and move away, exhaling deeply for air.

A mischievous smile beamed at him. "Not sorry, love," Celezar chuckled, his eyes full of life and excitement.

The smile was contagious, so Jean returned it, once more feeling utterly content as he had in the woods. "Didn't tell you to stop."

The long fingers caressed him, causing him to slightly arch. "I didn't."

Breathing deeply through his nose, his eye slanted with abated, growing desire. "I'm kissing a dog."

Celezar grinned. "Ouch." He lowered to kiss Jean again, humming with pleasure. He then moved away, scanning Jean's face. "Not yet, love."

Jean's face scrunched. "Ugh." He didn't even want to think about what that meant. His smile widened at the deep laughter that emitted from his partner, bringing back the feeling of elation tenfold. He missed moments like this. It was so right, so normal.

How was this so wrong...?

Steadily, Celezar's laughter broke off as he stared at the ceiling. "Ah...sorry."

Blinking, Jean didn't immediately understand. He then waved a hand. "Don't worry, the servants won't say anything." When Celezar looked back at him, he was surprised to see a touch of sadness in the hybrid's eyes. He took a moment to stare in awe. They were so expressive, those eyes. He remembered when he first fell in love with those eyes. "What's wrong?"

Some seconds passed before Celezar slightly shook his head. His smile became somber, but he kissed Jean once more. It was slow but passionate, igniting a flame within Jean that had been doused for days a second time. He pulled Celezar closer until he felt the near full weight of the hybrid on him.

He didn't think about what awaited him on the isle. He didn't think about his men or his mother. There was only Celezar. There was only ever Celezar. Zelezh'arryel.

"'Zarryel," he murmured as they gently parted, bringing a loving smile to Celezar's face. Words tumbled in Jean's mind, but he didn't know how to say them. Just when he began to attempt to speak them, his thoughts trailed off at his partner's sudden blank expression.

As they stared at one another in the silence of the small cabin, the world seemed to halt. Celezar placed one hand beside Jean's head and the other on his cheek. He caressed the scarred skin, somehow appearing older than the form he took.

Steadily, Celezar's expression changed into one of deep sorrow as his fingers trailed down the large scar. "Words will never be enough to...explain how sorry I am for attacking you, Jean," he whispered.

Jean remained still.

Exhaling softly, the hybrid continued, "I know you're scared. But you don't have to be, not anymore. I've your back, love. As I always have."

Swallowing, Jean continued to stare. At these words, he reached and gently let his fingers crawl up Celezar's back from underneath his shirt. He didn't break eye contact, even when he felt familiar, unusually smooth skin. Trailing his fingers up, he felt that the diagonal scars consisted of four jagged lines. Only then, once he reached where they ended nearer to Celezar's shoulder, did his eye begin to water.

He remembered the day too clearly, so painfully clear. Celezar almost died for him, protecting him as a human shield. Not just once, but several times over the course of their relationship as friends and lovers had Celezar protected him. He had his back.

There was nothing more to say, nothing else to do, but smile. He held all those six years of loving and trust in his eye, bringing a knowing grin to his partner's face. They then rested against one another, their eyes closing, as they waited to return to Isle Veni.

It was long past dusk by the time the boat stopped. Jean laid with his limbs entwined with Celezar's, who seemed to be asleep atop him. He inhaled the hybrid's hair, which smelled earthier than the rest of him, like the earth after a rainfall. It was a comforting smell. He didn't want to move. In spite of this, seconds after the thought entered his head, Celezar stirred.

"Gotta go, love..." he murmured sleepily.

Jean held him closer but didn't speak. His eye briefly closed, his body rising and falling from a deep breath.

Celezar also sighed. "I'm not going anywhere. I just won't be visible."

"For how long?"

"Until your next hunt." Celezar lifted his head from Jean's chest to look him in the eye. A small smile spread on his lips.

Jean knew what he was saying without even having to open his mouth: Trust me.

Slowly, he let Celezar go.

The hybrid sat upright, then stood. He looked towards the door as Jean sat up. "Like I said, I have plans. I think you're going to like it. I hope."

Grumbling softly, Jean remained silent, standing to walk to the door. A hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he turned around into a kiss. An arm snaked around his waist, bringing him close to a warm body, while Celezar parted his lips with his tongue.

He completely relaxed. "I hope so, too," he murmured against Celezar's lips.

Celezar chuckled softly, sending a shiver down Jean's neck. "I aim to please, Jeanie-boy."

Jean scanned him. "You're sinful, you know that?"

"Mm, that's my devil side." Slowly, the strong arm let him go.

He exhaled again, giving his partner one last look. A reassuring smile was given to him. He then turned back around, leaving the cabin to return to the deck.

He neared the helmsman, who stood again with his bike ready for departing. He took the handlebars but paused once again. The servant's eyes were lowered, something they were all "trained" but moreso ordered to do. Trained. That was a word his mother would use.

There was no point in acting otherwise as, being part-inhuman, the servant would know what happened in the cabin. He thought about it for a moment, then Jean deeply inhaled before speaking. "What is your name?"

"Halle, sir."

Jean glanced at the deck. It was a strange feeling to finally know the name of someone who had served him his whole life. He recognized Halle; he was one of the many servants who had tended to him when he was very young. What the man had done before becoming his helmsman, he could not remember. Or maybe he never knew. With Celezar in his life as it was now, he could change this. The truth was, he was always a bit curious about the mysterious beings that lived underneath his home.

He nodded. "Thank you, Halle."

It was brief, but he thought he saw a small, surprised smile form on the man's face. The glowing eyes slightly looked away in thought. Then, the man smiled fully before bowing.

That was the most expression Jean had ever seen on a servant's face. It made him feel unusual, but not in a particularly bad way. He glanced back to make sure he was completely alone before bringing his motorcycle off the boat and down the pier.

*    *    *

Several hours later in the midmorning, Jean stood at the outdoor shooting range with Nicholae. Some time had passed since the last time he practiced shooting. While he did do so when he had the chance to in the basement shooting range, he truthfully didn't do it as often as he should have. His eye wasn't getting any better, so there was no real excuse not to work on retraining his sight.

He lowered Ringe, glaring at the target several yards away. It took the form of a simple faux demon set up by servants at the ready. Jean could find the irony in that but decided not to think about it. Instead, he focused on the fact that while his aiming was admittedly better than when he first went blind, his aim was off by several inches.

Nicholae patted his shoulder. "You've improved."

"It's not good enough," Jean growled, reloading his gun.

His uncle sighed patiently. "Perhaps you've not thought about it, but Jean, you haven't been awake for long since the incident. Not even a week has passed yet, and you were attacked again just the day before yesterday."

Jean moved slower as he considered this.

"For the short time you've been conscious, as usual, you surpass expectations. You are much too hard on yourself," Nicholae continued.

His lips tightening, Jean didn't respond. He knew his uncle could have continued further, but the sound of his phone ringing in his office gave him good reason to depart from the conversation. Briskly, he left the range and entered his office, reaching for the phone.

"Jean-Luc," he said, holding the receiver to his ear as he sat down in his chair.

"Jean?"

He froze at the familiar voice but quickly recovered. So long as it was over the phone, he could at least act professional. "Caden. It's been a while."

There was a startled sound made on the other end. "I heard what happened. I barely recognize your voice."

It was only when Caden was involved that Jean almost wished it weren't mandatory for all inhuman hunters to know of another hunter leader's death or a hunter group's emergency. Undoubtedly, Artie, Friedrich or Nicholae contacted the Dox, which stood as the central hunter headquarters within Clovure, when he was attacked by Celezar. For certain, one of them likewise contacted the Dox after the encounter with Hobboilen and Domien.

"Trevor made a modified earpiece for me to use," he said casually. "My voice is too low otherwise, but it's fine. Doesn't hurt anymore."

"Good to hear." The sincerity in the other man's voice was apparent, but he went right to business. "Listen, Jean. I'm calling for a mandatory meeting throughout Clovure's Hunter Underground to talk about what's happening around the continent. It's in three days at the Memorraw, 0630 sharp. Leaders and their seconds only. That way, everyone gets a room to themselves."

A blond brow rose. "How generous," Jean dryly murmured.

Somehow, Caden heard him. "It wasn't my idea."

"Of course."

Deep but soft laughter crackled over the phone. "Remember, its mandatory."

"Understood."

"I've plenty of calls to make for the day, so you take care until I see you again, Jean."

"You, too, Caden."

An inaudible sigh escaped Jean as he tossed the receiver onto the phone base. It was almost uncanny how they managed to talk to each other so easily while keeping a nagging sort of tension between them. He could only hope seeing the man in person wouldn't make the strain even more apparent. He stood from his chair and left the office.

He returned to the range, where Nicholae stood fiddling with his own pistol. "Nicholae, I received word from Holloway," he said, coming to his uncle's side.

"Oh?" The older man lowered his gun into its holster. "What's going on?"

Jean exhaled, leaning against a range column. "There's a meeting at the Memorraw in three days. Mandatory. I was thinking of arriving sooner, but I'm not sure if that's the wisest choice to make."

"Why not?"

"With all that's been going on lately, I don't like the idea of leaving you all alone that long. That would end up being around five days, at least. Far too long."

Turning to face him, Nicholae gave a small, understanding smile. "As I said. You're too hard on yourself. Every hunter needs some vacation time, now and then. When was the last time you gave yourself time to rest after a long year's work?"

Avoiding eye contact, Jean made a scowl. "The idea of taking time off seems..."

"Normal?" Nicholae slightly frowned, but it was almost sorrowful.

Jean emitted an irritated huff. He knew where this was going unless he stopped it. "Nicholae—"

"You almost died. Twice. No one would fault you if you wanted some time off."

"Are you serious? I've already spent enough time on bedrest. Furthermore, there's a devil and Creator knows what on the loose and you're saying that?" Despite his words, Jean's demeanor was anything but scathing. It was almost weary.

"You told the men to 'take it easy', didn't you?" Nicholae countered.

Jean frowned. "Yes—"

"Whereas you went back onto your feet the second you were allowed to." Nicholae grasped Jean's shoulder. "Being a leader means nothing if you run yourself into the ground, you know this. Even your father took breaks when he felt it necessary."

All of Jean's will to further the conversation died at the mention of his father. There was no way to argue against those words; Jean had vivid memories of interactions with his father that would have been impossible if he hadn't taken the occasional time off. Wasn't that what second and third and fourth-in-commands were for? Jean knew his men could handle themselves.

If he left with one of them on the trip to the Memorraw, that meant a total of twelve men would stay to go on hunts. Dividing twelve into two groups, per the norm, meant at least six men would be on a hunt at all times, if including Verne, who normally stayed behind.

He wanted to say quite a bit more, but as he looked at his uncle, the cool brown eye didn't waver. Glancing away, he exhaled heavily. "It's risky. You know I don't like taking risks. I know you mean well, Nicholae, but I feel cannot, especially now of all times."

To his relief, Nicholae backed off easily. He nodded, patting his nephew's shoulder. "Perhaps after this Infernal problem, then?"

Jean made a face but relented. "Fine." He turned around to leave. "Maybe there'll be another hunt before then."

As he began to approach the staircase to downstairs, an abnormally loud ringing emerged from the direction of the outpost's main phone. Said phone was located near the bar and was colored red. Like most phones sharing its color, it only rang for emergency matters.

Jean spun on his heel to address it, smiling to himself. Hopefully, he was getting what he wanted, after all.