Sozahauni was nursing a hangover with a nice coffee when his phone beeped. It was from Carrington, and whenever his boss asked to see him, it was usually urgent. There really wasn’t any reason to complain, though. Being that Carrington was literally an angel, he never gave Sozo hell.

  Lamenting the fact that his coffee would surely be cold by the time his boss was finished, Sozo resigned himself to heading to the office. Swiping his key card, he stepped in and moved in front of his boss’s desk. “Hey Carrington? You, ah, needed to see me about something?”

  “Yes, yes, give me a moment.” Carrington continued his halfhearted attempt to organize the papers on his desk. Not that he needed the space—aside from Sozo and Carrington, only two other employees made up the Department of Occult Affairs—but he refused to give up the eternal struggle to keep things in order. Eventually, he had shoved all the papers into the neatest stack he could manage. “Yes, thank you for coming. I’ve forwarded you the details, but the short of it is that we’ve received some potentially distressing news regarding the cults of the Gardener and the Rag Weaver. They’ve decided to pool resources and work together to try and summon both their patron demons to this realm.”

  “Fantastic,” Sozo sighed.

  Before Carrington could open his mouth to reply, the door opened. “Let me guess, something terrible’s happened and the world’s about to end?” asked the newcomer.

  “You’ve got it!” Sozo called back. “The Gardener and Rag Weaver are teaming up to throw an apocalypse party, and the whole world is invited. Isn’t that nice of them?”

  “Hello Cassilda,” Carrington said, giving a tired smile. Cassilda and her cousin Archie made up the other half of the department’s staff. They were both relatively new and Archie was still undergoing training on how to combat the sanity-destroying horrors that cropped up in their line of work, but it was good to have some more agents on the team. Since Carrington’s injuries had reduced him to doing desk jobs, Sozo had been the main force behind stopping cult activity in western America, and he was grateful to finally have some assistance.

  Cassilda took a seat in the only remaining chair. “Well that’s great. Carrington, please tell me there’s been at least been some good news from the board meeting. Although I assume that’s too much to expect from this world?”

  “It is, I’m afraid. They told me that their statistics show that more Americans die each year due to washing machine fires than cult activity, so if they’re not going to fund a crusade against home appliances, then they’re really not going to fund a department that fights cults.”

  “Praise our competent government,” Cassilda scoffed.

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “I guess it makes enough sense from their point of view,” Sozo rolled his eyes. “If the cultists haven’t succeeded in all these centuries, then they aren’t likely to succeed before the next board meeting. Hence, there’s no reason to deal with it at the moment. And besides, even if something nasty gets summoned, the Imperatrix will take care of it.” The rest of his argument was left unsaid: a fight between two beings of that level of power would be like a fight between two humans as viewed from an anthill. Even if the Imperatrix won, the damage to the planet could still be catastrophic.

  Carrington folded his hands. “In any case, we’ve survived on less, so there’s no reason that this year should be the one to do us in.”

  “Yeah, long live the dream team,” Sozo elbowed him and Cassilda. “With our crippled angel, our insane alcoholic, our incurable nihilist, and our untrained newbie, we’re ready to save the multiverse!” That at least elicited some smiles from his coworkers.

  “Indeed, so we’d might as well start with breaking up this union between the Gardener and the Weaver.” Carrington nodded. “And speaking of teams, Cassilda, how has Archie been lately? I’ve been trying to get a hold of him for the past few days and I’m beginning to get worried.”

  Her smile faded. “Didn’t he tell you? He’s not coming back.”

  “What?” Carrington’s grin vanished.

  “He’s recovering now and the doctors say he should be fine in a few months, but it was a whole scene. Apparently he just snapped while shopping at the supermarket and ran outside, raving about eyes and tentacles and accusing random people of worshipping demons. He’s fine now, honestly, and no one was hurt, but he decided it’d be better if he took a break from this line of work…”

  She trailed off, because she was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. Carrington was fairly weak as angels went, but he was still a step above mere humans on the cosmic power scale. Even his current appearance was a courtesy, and just showing his true form would be like shoving a bucket’s worth of information into a thimble-sized mind. It took a conscious effort for Carrington to conceal this power and avoid affecting weaker beings, and right now he was so upset that the mask had slipped. Sozo had dealt with enough supernatural creatures to know how to protect himself from such an outburst, but Cassilda’s reflexes weren’t quite as good and she was unable to set up a mental block before she was overwhelmed.

  A brief second later, things were back to normal. Cassilda gasped and suddenly found that she could breathe normally again, and when she looked up, Carrington was the picture of calmness. “That’s terrible to hear,” Carrington said quietly, his shoulders raised slightly. “My condolences to the both of you, and I hope he has a swift recovery. This line of work demands too much.”

  Cassilda gave a curt nod, and Sozo glanced at her with sympathy. They both knew that if Carrington could have his way, the angel would be the only member of their department. Between getting sacrificed by a cult, getting committed to a psychiatric ward, and getting old and injured enough that you had to pass the fight on to the next batch of innocents, the last fate held a particular sadness.

  Nevertheless, they all had a mission on their hands, and Carrington composed himself quickly enough. As soon as he’d finished explaining the situation about the Gardener and Rag Weaver, Sozo rolled up his sleeves and got ready to break up the happy little demonic friendship. His only stipulation was that he expected his payment to come on time, because he estimated that he’d need a swimming pool’s worth of alcohol to forget what he was about to go through.