Hawk's sword-like brows lifted.
Mephisto, who had just revealed his crimson demonic true form to "prove" his point, shifted back into the look of a smarmy, middle-aged man and faced Hawk.
"Turning Earth 'dark' wasn't my doing."
"Jehovah did that."
"Don't forget, I only took over Earth after defeating Jehovah."
Shoulders rising in a shrug, Mephisto eyed Hawk. "Besides—he's dark himself."
As he spoke, Mephisto's right arm morphed into a devil's claw. Hellfire surged, and within the flame an elderly man's visage coalesced in midair.
Hawk glanced at the fiery projection of Jehovah and couldn't help the twitch at the corner of his mouth.
"That's Jehovah?"
"Genuine."
Mephisto opened his mouth; the fiery likeness collapsed and streamed into him, as if he'd swallowed Jehovah whole.
Hawk replayed the image in his head and shook his own.
"If people on Earth knew, millions of believers would see their dreams crushed."
"Including you?" Mephisto asked with a smile. "Were you one of them?"
Hawk let out a dry chuckle. "If I were, I wouldn't be here planning how to raze his dimension with you, would I?"
"Fair point," Mephisto said, pressing his lips together.
"I am curious, though—if he was as you say, why didn't his myth take root in Africa?"
"Simple."
Mephisto smiled as he answered. "Think about what it takes to incubate a newborn Celestial, and you'll understand why he 'cultivated' that population."
Hawk saw the curve forming at Mephisto's lips and pieced it together. "A new Celestial needs a living world's population to hit a critical mass—the more life, the faster the Celestial emerges, the more—"
He stopped mid-sentence, realization dawning. "So that population is basically… battery hens for soul-energy?"
It was common knowledge:
Whatever the average intelligence debate, one trait wasn't in dispute—certain human groups can boom in number with stability and space, and spread quickly.
Look at Paris today.
Look at London.
Those communities were expanding across districts at the pace of a plague, rapidly replacing what came before.
No matter the arguments about ability, the calculus was cold: the more bodies, the more "life," the faster a newborn Celestial is born.
Which meant—
That population = fuel to accelerate a Celestial's emergence.
As for other peoples…
"They're Heaven's fighting force," Mephisto said. "Jehovah invests in high-growth populations to speed up new Celestials, while other believers become his heavenly soldiers—marching to conquer the next world."
Hawk's expression cleared—and then another thought struck. He looked back at Mephisto.
"But after you took Earth, you didn't try to curb that population into nothing."
"Why would I?"
Mephisto spread his hands.
"I won."
"Winner takes all. Sure, ten of Jehovah's 'farmed' souls might not weigh as much as a single soul from other peoples—"
"But they're still souls. All I needed to do was take over Heaven's 'operation' and keep life under the threshold that would trigger a Celestial's birth—maintain a healthy cycle, harvest souls, and never let the meter hit critical."
"And if it gets out of control?" Hawk asked.
"I intervene."
"The Plague of Athens."
"The Antonine Plague."
"And… right," Mephisto added, eyes brightening as if reciting from a ledger. He glanced at Hawk. "Who do you think whispered to that first Portuguese merchant to treat people as chattel?"
Hawk blinked—and then his eyes lit with grim understanding.
"You kicked off the Atlantic slave trade?"
"Now—who's friend and who's foe?" Mephisto asked lightly.
"You're the friend. No question."
Hawk flashed a dazzling grin, raised his champagne flute, and clinked it against Mephisto's. "Praise you, my dear friend."
He downed the drink.
Mephisto finished his as well, watching Hawk's suddenly congenial mood—as if they'd found common ground in an ugly corner of history.
"So, we have a deal?"
"Not so fast."
Hawk smiled. "Earth's souls remain yours. But any soul from anyone I kill—acquaintance or not—belongs to me."
Mephisto rolled the bottle in his hand and shrugged.
"As long as you don't 'cleverly' exploit a loophole and reap all life on Earth."
"I won't."
"Then I've no objection. I can agree."
"Wow."
Hawk arched a brow at how readily Mephisto nodded. "My dear friend, Jehovah must have you by the throat. If I hadn't come today, were you planning to knock on my door in a few days and beg me to partner up?"
In a word, this wasn't Mephisto's usual style.
He prized souls above all. Think back to what happened when they fought over Alexander Pierce's soul—Mephisto had been a raging bull.
But now—
Facing Hawk's steep terms, Mephisto had agreed almost without thinking.
Either he planned to break the deal later…
Or Jehovah had already sharpened the knife at Mephisto's back.
Hawk leaned toward the latter.
And there was a simple way to verify it.
"Swear it in Death's name."
"What?"
"Swear, in Death's name, that in the war between Heaven and Hell, so long as I stand with you and help thwart Heaven's scheme, from that moment on, any being I kill—its soul belongs to my underworld."
Hawk smiled as he said it.
Yes, Mephisto's historical "steering" earned him some points.
But that was personal.
Hawk separated personal from business.
Mephisto stared at him. "You don't trust me?"
"Once more—old Mo, you're already on my 'broke faith' list. Honestly, partnering with you makes me nervous. Even my fiancée thinks it's a bad idea. But I'm willing to give you one more chance. You should be thanking me."
Hawk spread his hands, eyes dead serious.
Mephisto's eyelid twitched. "Thank you?"
"You're welcome," Hawk replied, perfectly straight-faced.
The twitch worsened.
"That wasn't an affirmation."
"I know."
Hawk lifted his flute, stood from the stool, and gestured. "Hurry up and swear. Once you do, the deal's done."
Mephisto opened his mouth, closed it, then, thinking of Heaven's current offensive, drew a long breath and swore in Death's name.
A moment later—
Expression blank, Mephisto looked at Hawk. "Satisfied?"
"Yes."
Hawk offered his glass for another clink and smiled. "Honestly, oath or not, I'd have helped you just for cleaning up that problem population. I'm happy to help tidy up evils."
Mephisto gave a thin laugh, tapped the flute against Hawk's, and let the comment pass.
He was Hell's sovereign, not a toddler.
Their eyes met.
A crisp chime rang as crystal touched crystal.
Both drained their glasses.
"Pleasant cooperation," Mephisto said, setting his flute down.
"Pleasant cooperation," Hawk echoed, then eyed him. "Looks like Heaven really nailed your weak spot, old Mo. Otherwise you wouldn't pay this much."
"You can't imagine," Mephisto said with a rueful shake of the head. Since the pact was struck, he no longer bothered to hide it. "Jehovah has already bred a lifeform that can contend with me for Hell's authority."
Hawk's brows lifted. He glanced at Mephisto. "You told me last time they'd sown the seeds…"
"No. Last time I only sensed that the seed had been planted. After you left, I probed carefully… and found the Angel of Death has already been born."
Hawk drew a sharp breath. "And you only noticed now?"
Mephisto shook his head. "That's how insidious Heaven's infiltration is. If you hadn't shown up, I might still be in the dark."
Hawk's mouth twisted.
Suddenly, his asking price felt low. No wonder Mephisto had agreed so fast.
This wasn't Heaven knocking on the door—it was Heaven already halfway through stealing the house.
Hawk sighed inwardly and looked at Mephisto. "Fine. Do you have a plan? At least a lead on this Angel of Death?"
"I don't."
"Do you know where Heaven's hiding on Earth?"
"I don't."
"…"
Hawk stared at him—two questions, two head shakes—and went flat-faced. "So what do you know?"
Mephisto beamed. "I know that when we take Heaven and devour it, the Celestials won't hassle us."
Hawk cocked a brow. "The Celestials won't intervene?"
"If you and I are aligned, this is a dimension war Heaven provoked. They want to eat me; I eat them. Fair play. If the Celestials step in, the boss behind me isn't exactly a vegetarian."
"You mean Death."
"Yes."
"I thought you were just one of Death's many small fry."
"I'm still a Death-lord. You, on the other hand—without me, if you storm the gates, the Celestials might 'personally attend' to you."
"I don't mind," Hawk said lightly.
In truth, he'd already crossed the Celestials—draining Tiamut's life-force to delay its awakening had done that.
So being their enemy was already priced in. Otherwise, he wouldn't have accepted Mephisto's terms.
Once you've offended them, a second time doesn't change your status.
Even so…
Delay the clash if possible—that would be ideal.
He hadn't even mastered the Seventh Sense yet. Right now, facing the Celestials would be a one-sided beatdown.
By them.
So—
"How long do you think we have?" Hawk asked.
Mephisto thought. "A year—two, at most. The Angel of Death matures very fast."
"…All right."
Hawk had expected a five-alarm fire; the timeline felt surprisingly roomy. He nodded. "Fine. You search your way, I'll search mine. Two prongs."
Heaven wasn't just aiming at Mephisto.
They were aiming at him.
The shadow behind the cloning project brushing up against him looked suspiciously like Heaven's, too.
Who knew whether their tinkering had produced anything yet?
Honestly, Hawk almost hoped it had.
Because—
If Heaven produced something "worthy," his response would be even easier to justify—and seizing Heaven would be all the more righteous.
They struck first. That's the answer.
With that thought, Hawk said his goodbyes, pushed through the tavern door, and with a step returned to the Fox Manor conservatory.
Night had fallen; snow was coming down outside, and judging by the glass, it had been falling for a while.
Gwen was asleep with her cheek on the potting bench.
The hothouse heating kept the chill at bay.
Hawk smiled at the sight—like a wife dozing as she waited for her husband to come home—then walked over.
Sensing him, Gwen's lashes fluttered. She opened her eyes as he lifted her into a bridal carry and smiled. "You're back?"
"Mm."
"How'd it go?"
"He's desperate—desperate to partner with me."
With a step, Hawk carried her to the manor's main lounge. He summarized his trip to Hell, then glanced at the stairs. "Grandpa turned in?"
Gwen slipped from his arms with a laugh. "A while ago."
"And…"
"Relax. I told him you ran to the next town to see a friend."
"All right."
Hawk smiled and tilted his head. "So—what's my friend's name? What does he do in the next town? What does he look like?"
Gwen shrugged. "Describe Peter's face and you'll be close enough."
"That works."
Hawk nodded after a beat, sat beside her, and drew her close. "Sorry. We came to keep your grandpa company and take a proper vacation."
Leaning on his shoulder, Gwen glanced up at his chin and smiled. "As long as you're safe."
"I am."
Hawk met her eyes. "It's mostly wrapped. From now on, we rest. The rest can wait till we're back in New York."
And truly—there wasn't much to do.
If even Mephisto didn't know where Heaven's ultra-hidden choirboys were roosting—
Hawk wouldn't either.
Not unless—
His Sixth Sense advanced to the Seventh—and his Small Cosmos hit its golden peak.
Then his "Sixth Sense—Imaging" could blanket the entire planet.
One thought—and he could view any corner of Earth in real time.
Live feed. 18K. Zero latency.
Unfortunately—
Right now his Imaging barely covered Mystic Falls.
Not that he liked using it.
He wasn't a voyeur—just as he rarely used "Sixth Sense—X-Ray."
As he mulled it over, Gwen smiled. "You still have one thing unfinished."
"What's that?" he asked, looking down.
"Klaus. Caroline came by again this afternoon. When she heard you were out, she left."
Hawk chuckled. "Relax. Klaus will give me face."
"And if he doesn't?"
"He will," Hawk said, eyes smiling into his fiancée's. "If he wants to live."
Gwen blinked, pulled off his shoulder, sat cross-legged, and grinned. "So you were lying earlier—about Caroline dying if Klaus dies?"
Hawk shook his head. "No. That part's true."
"Then why say if Klaus won't give you face, he'll die?"
"If he refuses me, he dies. As for Caroline—"
Hawk eased her back onto his shoulder again. "My sister's been lonely in the underworld. If it came to that, Caroline could keep Anna company. I've already made a new pact with Mephisto."
He explained the fresh soul-accord.
"If I kill Klaus, his soul is mine—and the vampires who die because he does—those souls are mine as well."
"So don't worry about Caroline suffering in Hell."
"I promise—she'd live on the Pure Land of the underworld. I told you about it; my sister's there."
He glanced at her. "Besides—you don't like that Caroline became a vampire in the first place, remember?"
Gwen lifted a shoulder against him. "I still have something to say."
"What?"
"Better a hard life than no life. Try to make Klaus agree first, Hawk. If Caroline dies, Auntie will be heartbroken."
"…All right."
"…"
(End of Chapter)
[Check Out My P@treon For +20 Extra Chapters On All My Fanfics!!][[email protected]/euridome]
[Thank You For Your Support!]