Jules stared at the will-o’-wisp as its flames paled and swayed; it was shrinking at a speed visible to the naked eye. Before long, it had vanished into thin air, leaving nothing behind, not even sparks.

Finally, it had left to find Annabelle. It didn’t make the hunter feel any less worried, however.

A few minutes had already passed since that thing snatched away his sister, and only God knew how long it had been for her. What if they were too late…?

Dark thoughts started to consume his mind, his face growing somber. But before Jules could drown in fear any further, Bastien pulled him into his arms to kiss his forehead. In a soothing voice, he said, “Don’t worry, your sister will come back safe and sound. You know she won’t give up without putting up a fight.”

“Whatever you say, she’s only a teen.”

“Teen or not, she’s strong-willed.”

“That’s—” Jules was interrupted mid-sentence, blue flames in the form of a human silhouette appearing before his eyes. The will-o’-wisp had returned, already.

Then, time seemed to halt. Everything was put in slow motion, and every detail of what followed was crystal clear in Jules’s eyes.

The human shape was vague at first, but it quickly consolidated. In the place of the blue flames soon stood a woman in her late twenties, or maybe in her early thirties—it was hard to say. Her makeshift clothing resembled a loose gown; it was so short it barely reached mid-thigh, and the sides were laced with thin roots. At first glance, it seemed to be made of battered fur and leather, same for the pouch that hung on her hip and the belt tied around her waist. Her toned arms and legs were covered in bruises and scars; some healed, some not. When she took a small step forward, her bare feet soundlessly slid on the wooden floor, her long, messy hair moving along on her back. 

But ultimately, what caught the eye were her sharp pale-gray eyes. They were puffy and red, as if she had been crying for days, yet they were also piercing, shining like a blade. They gave off the feeling that they could stare at the deepest part of one’s soul and see everything.

And yet, that same fierce gaze turned soft and misty when it landed on the group.

Before anyone could recover from the shock, the woman threw herself at Jules, worming her way in his arms as Bastien took a step aside. She tightly hugged the hunter, burying her head in the crook of his neck.

“Anna…?”

“Hm,” came the muffled answer.

Jules felt as if someone had punched him in the gut, the air knocked out of his lungs. With shaky hands, he hugged back his little sister. At first, the hug was gentle, but it soon became tighter as reality crashed in. Annabelle had been gone for only a few minutes, just a few minutes, but it was long enough.

Now, the teenager he was so familiar with had grown into a woman he knew nothing of. Years had gone by on her side, years that could never be reclaimed.

“I missed you, I missed you so much,” his sister whispered, her shoulders trembling.

“I’m here,” Jules murmured, kissing the side of her head. “I’m here now. Everything is going to be ok, I promise.”

Never again would he let go of her hand. Even if he had to follow her down to the deepest part of hell, he’d gladly stay by her side. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. 

.

.

In what seemed to be designed as a lavish living room, Jules was fending off against a swarm of ghouls. After cutting them down, he swung his spiritual sword to get rid of the blood staining the blade and casually glanced over his shoulder. His eyes widened slightly, and he stopped dead in his tracks, frozen by the sight.

What the…?

Turning around, he had been just in time to catch a glimpse of his sister ripping off a ghoul’s head with her bare hands. Without so much as a glance at the grotesque thing, she tossed it aside, then spun on her heels to crack open another ghoul’s skull with a roundhouse kick. The sequence of movements flowed smoothly, as if she had been doing this for years.

Which, to be fair, was probably the case.

Whether Jules liked it or not, his baby sister wasn’t that much of a baby anymore. Instead, she had grown into a ruthless beast, one to be feared and worshiped. It was… disconcerting, to say the least.

“The area is clear,” Bastien told them, snapping Jules out of his daze. “Let’s take a break.”

“Sure,” Annabelle agreed with a nod, glancing to where Melody and Iris were hiding.

Soon, two heads peeked from behind a washed-out sofa. The two teenagers turned a blind eye to the carnage before them and quietly walked to Annabelle, sidestepping to avoid the puddles of rotten blood. They had grown numb to the gruesome sight—though it was still putting them ill at ease. Iris was resilient, but Melody, not so much.

“Are you ok?” Iris asked with concern. “You’re not hurt or anything?”

“Hurt…? How could these weaklings ever dream of hurting me?” Annabelle snickered, a wicked light glinting in the depths of her eyes. However, she did not want to frighten her friends, so he quickly hid her murderous intent and changed the topic. She tilted her head toward an area that had more or less been spared from the blood bath, suggesting, “Let’s sit there and rest for a while, hm?”

“Sure.” 

Standing a few feet away, Jules watched as his sister and the teenagers chattered, the look in his eyes unfathomable. Annabelle had grown taller by a fair amount, and her friends were almost two heads shorter. Earlier, Iris had given her her jacket after taking a look at her makeshift clothing, but it was a little too small for Annabelle, whose shoulders had become broader. She still wore it, though.

“Your face looks so gloomy it could scare kids into crying,” Bastien commented, drawing Jules’s attention back to him. “What are you thinking about?”

“Why are you bothering to ask? Just look into my mind like you’ve been doing since earlier, and you will know.”

The harsh tone took Bastien aback, making him look like a naughty child who had been caught red-handed. He coughed and scratched his cheek, averting his eyes.

“Angry?”

“Not really,” Jules shrugged. “Invading people’s privacy is the kind of crude thing demons do, after all.”

“In other words, you’re angry.”

Jules glanced at the incubus, not denying it. But instead of scolding him as the demon was expecting, the hunter let out a tired sigh.

“Thank you for your help earlier. If you hadn’t stopped me, things would have turned ugly.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Bastien waved, his soft gaze landing on the hunter’s pale face. “By the way, your body.…”

“....is not in a great shape, to be honest,” Jules admitted with a self-mocking laugh. “If I lose control, I’m counting on you to stop me.” 

The demon clenched his fists, a bitter taste spreading in his mouth. A fissured seal could not repair itself on its own, and Jules’s spiritual energy was now leaking. If not taken care of, it could go on a rampage and wreak havoc in his body, tearing his limbs apart. It could also very well drive him mad. A berserk Jules wouldn’t be anything fun to handle, and stopping his rampage without hurting him would be near impossible. 

If anything, Bastien probably would need to kill him—an idea he wasn’t very fond of, not too surprisingly.

“Can I count on you?” Jules insisted when the incubus didn’t answer. His voice was even, not betraying the slightest bit of nervousness or guilt at asking the demon to end him. 

“…You’re a cruel man, you know?” Bastien laughed wryly. “But fine, if your spiritual energy gets out of control, I’ll handle it.”

“Thank—”

Bastien bent over to press his lips against the hunter’s, cutting short his thank you. He kissed him roughly, holding the back of his head so that he wouldn’t try to escape. However, Jules had no intention of running away. Although he gripped his arms, he didn’t push him aside, allowing the demon to have his way—not without fighting back to dominate the kiss, however.

They let go of each other’s lips once breathing became too difficult. Pressing his forehead against the hunter’s, Bastien then growled in a low voice, “But know that being asked to kill the man I’ve taken a liking to does not please me. Even I have a temper.”

Jules paused slightly at these words, but not for long. He quickly taunted back, “I tend to forget incubi fall in love easily. These feelings are fleeting, and they will pass you, so don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”

There was a short moment of silence before the demon smiled, startling the hunter. The emotion storming in his eyes was like nothing he had seen before; it was mesmerizing enough to make him forget these eyes belonged to an incubus, a species known for their wilfulness in love matters. For a second, he thought that maybe it would be alright to believe his words.     

“Dear,” Bastien leaned closer to whisper in his ear, “I haven’t fallen in love for over two thousand years. You’re the first to make my heart beat faster since my wife’s death.” 

The confession took Jules by surprise, and the dumb look on his face made Bastien laugh softly. He pecked at his lips one more time, then turned around and walked toward the girls.

“Let’s join them and rest a bit, shall we?”

“…Yeah, sure.”