Reverberations echoed through the tunnels behind the pair, tickling at the Hellhound’s ears. Fenn paused, raising his head above his shoulders, ears twitching.

“Why did we stop?” asked the demoness who had followed him into the tunnels.

“Explosions. The humans found resistance.”

“Up ahead?” she asked with a mischievous smile. “We could help these hunters. Kill the demons trailing them. It would be interesting. Imagine their faces once they realize they owed their lives to the enemy.”

The dog shook his head. It was not that the irony was lost on him, but in following the tracks, a small suspicion had begun to form. These humans had an odd scent to them. Even when their scent became more distinctive, easier to separate from the trail of the woman in pink and their entourage, there was something else to it. He did not believe there were half-bloods among them, but the scent was strange enough to make him doubt himself. Once they were set in their proper place on the stage, these humans may prove to be interesting players. 

Fenn hesitated to interfere just yet. Not to mention there were more practical concerns as well. 

“Would you have us turn back?” Fenn grunted as he resumed his march. “They veered off the trail some time ago. If they are after your woman in pink, they should have brought better trackers.”

“I wish you’d told me that earlier. I admit part of me was looking forward to meeting them.”

“I suspect there is little that they could offer us, beyond a hail of bullets.”

Lily shrugged. “Perhaps, but it might be more interesting than meeting this demon ahead. We cross paths with enough power hungry Demon Lords in our trade, and they always sing the same tune.”

Fenn grunted. Wasn’t that telling, that the stronger players ever seemed to play the same role. A comment on the nature of power, perhaps. To flex one’s power was to enact tyranny, and tyranny ever invited conflict. Not because the use of power was inherently wrong, but because it acted as a presence. An occupation of space that demanded a response from other powers, and this was something he held to be true in every realm. The world turned to face you. Many desired such a thing.

He had never shared his companion’s interest in humanity, nor did he wish to. That they espoused virtues one would rarely if ever see in the underworld was not borne of any particular enlightenment of the spirit, but was a product of a short, fragile existence. Being so fragile, confrontation was undesirable for the damage it wrought, and safety was best ensured in groups. From groups, civilization. A survival trait at best, one so inextricably woven into their society that it was nigh impossible to separate from moral context. When conflict came, however – and oh did it come – it was not any less ugly or petty than had it been a demon or angel partaking in it. So what could a group of soldiers say to the two demons that they had not heard before?

“I suspect we have not seen the last of them,” he offered, nonetheless, “or others. We have yet to become aware of all the players.” He paused. “Behold. Shadows dance.”

As if burned by the demon’s regard, the darkness ahead shifted. A greenish tint moved in the corner of their eyes, and then the tunnel was still. 

“Neither demon nor human, or even angelic,” Lily commented, glancing behind them. “They’re gone.” 

“We must be close.”

“To demon hunters or to demon lady?” 

The Hellhound shrugged, a ponderous rolling of his shoulders. “I do not believe either came to these tunnels for the decor.”

Lily gave Fenn a look somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “Never would’ve expected the grouchiest pup to make a joke,” she said, absentmindedly wringing some water out of her hair. “I digress. Which way do you think we should go?” 

Pausing before a door, the demon said, “The trail leads in.”

Lily made the fit easily enough, even tall as she was. Turning around, she asked, “Will you find a different way in?”

Stone rumbled as as the large Hellhound pushed forward with little regard for the obstacle, knocking the door off its hinges along with part of the adjacent wall.

“Ah. Right.”

Fenn’s fire added to the illumination of old candles, glancing off the chalk markings lining the interior. The room was octogonal, something the demon suspected served some purpose on its own, and every etching faced the large altar settled in the middle of the room.