The conductor was a half-breed born of two bloods. Only one such as he, without favor for the over or under, could run the train. Crusail Sible, son of a fallen angel and a queen of the Underlands, had always been a subject of division. His existence alone infuriated many whom I once idolized. Seeing him mere steps from arm's reach slaughtered my former thoughts. 

Crusail was a sight, with pronounced horns white as his ivory doors. His halo, blacker than ash, was shrunken to the size of a third eye embedded into the flesh of his head.  Possessing both objects, horns and halo, was redundant in terms of power. The symbolic meaning of holding both was sacrilegious, however. And yet, he, with a skin of shadow and eyes of light, was beautiful. 

He was nude. 

I averted my eyes as most would out of respect, but Tristan absorbed the image well.

"You've searched for me," Crusail spoke and extended an arm. 

With a wave of his fingers, the train shifted to meet his will. Where once there was an open field, in an instant, we were taken to an office of sorts. A white space with chairs and a table made of substances that moved when untouched but solidified as we took our seats. Swarming the perimeter of the omnipresent room were orbs, spheres that offered a perfect sight of dimensions under Crusail's control. 

We were in a place most would never know. But why. 

"You knew we were here?" Tristan asked in my stead. 

"I see all who step aboard my train till the moment they leave," the conductor answered.

"Then you know why we're here?" I added.

"Are you a pair." the half-breed questioned. 

But why. I wondered, but my demon answered, "Yes" before I could think.

"I haven't seen an angel and demon close as you are, not since my mother and father," Crusail said before turning his gaze on me to ask directly, "How do you cope?"

My lack of a halo meant nothing to him. I was still an angel, just as Tristan was a demon. 

"You've been cast out, haven't you? How do you live? I'd like to know if it's possible. I'd like to know if the worlds have changed."

The price of information was a conversation, a short but cutting conversation because the conductor had unearthed my lie.  

"Yes, I remember the girl. She was here not long ago. Her face is one I won't forget. My train doesn't see humans, free that is, and children are less frequent by far," Crusail explained after I had answered his survey.

"Then you can tell us where she is," Tristan assumed.

"No, but I can tell you where she got off." 

When we left Sible's train, it was midnight—a week had passed in the Midlands. Our stop dropped us atop the roof of a cafe two blocks over from Tarlac's Tokens. 

"She's been on earth this entire time," Tristan said, aggravated, annoyed, and loud. 

I, however, was mute. 

"Why hasn't she gone home?" he said. 

Climbing down to the street might have taken a human longer since no apparent exits were available. 

We simply jumped. 

Had our bones broken, they would have healed, but a single-story drop was nothing to think over. 

"Aaron?"

"Yes," I said. 

"Aren't you happy? We found the girl. You get to keep your oath or whatever."

"Right."

He wouldn't move. Tristan stood before me, inspecting my unspoken language.

"What's the matter with you?"

Wasn't it clear?

"You know," I said.

"I know what?"

"I didn't leave. They threw me out." 

His mocking look remained as he told me, "It doesn't matter."

But his words could only be true if...

"You knew?"

"You lied to a demon. Of course, I knew. I thought you'd tell me the truth eventually."

"The guilt I held, I started until my demon interrupted, "For what?"

"I lied."

"With no intent of harm."

"So a lie is no offense to you?"

"Not this lie, not from you, Aaron."

After several days of walking, the last trudge home was the longest interval in spirit. Did Trisal care for me as a lover, as he said? Already I had proven to cause more trouble than good, and I lied. What mark could I make to upset him, if any, or was a demon immune to hurt?

In any case, Hamilton's sister was on Earth. Though we hadn't learned her exact location, what we had should have been enough. Surely, it was better than the thought of her trapped in another dimension. 

It brought me great joy to bring the news to Hamilton, or rather, it would have had he not remained unconscious. He hadn't changed during the entire week we had been gone. Though his body was fine, the blast that hit him in the library must have split mind from body. The effect would eventually end, but there was no way to know when. Until then, Tristan was kind enough to let the human rest in our apartment. 

Neither I nor Tristan could tell how aware Hamilton was in his disembodied state. Drooling, unresponsive, and sometimes wetting himself, we assumed his mind was in a distant space. He had become a sort of living ornament resting on Tristan's old blue leather couch. I watched my demon go from annoyed about having to clean pools of urine to amused by the sight of Hamilton wetting himself. That was until his marble finally broke, and we no longer could use magic to clean the mess.