Aaron’s phone rang and rang until it drove him from his comfortable bed. Dylan’s ringtone was a happy, poppy tune that Aaron was absolutely certain would not fit this conversation. With a sigh, he flipped the phone open. “So, you’ve heard.” Dylan’s usually debonair demeanor had been flipped on its head. “Yes, I heard! What ever were you thinking, taking on a cult? Have you no sense of self-preservation, you buffoon?!” Aaron frowned. “So, I take it you haven’t heard the more… serious news?” “I most certainly have,” Dylan snapped, “And I demand you make a clean break from the Pinellas area at once, before this… this… THING comes to your door seeking revenge! I will even pay for your airfare!” “No can do, Dylan.” Aaron hated to let down his childhood friend, but his conscience kept him planted. “This is my mess, and I’ll figure out how to clean it up. If I hadn’t called a raid on those cultists, that cop wouldn’t have had an encounter with a demon, and we wouldn’t be in this mess.” Aaron’s heart broke as heavy sobs punctuated Dylan’s next words. “How… How do you plan to do that?!”, Dylan demanded, “That thing is far beyond your pay grade, Aaron! You’ll be slaughtered! I’m begging you, dear friend, back down from this suicide mission!” A long, solemn silence came next. Finally, Aaron spoke up. “If I can’t fix this, then we have a deal. I’ll get out of dodge. But I’m not going to run away with my tail between my legs without even fighting first.” “I cannot believe what I am hearing!”, Dylan howled, “My best friend is going to die because he thinks that his job is that of God! Imagine, a demon slayer!” “Dylan, calm down. I’m going to need your support.” Another long silence came as Dylan contemplated Aaron’s words and regained his composure. “I understand, dear boy. What would you ask of me?” “Meet me at Park Street Terminal in an hour.” Aaron hung up the phone, then threw on some clothes and gathered up his car keys, wallet, knife, and pistol. It was going to be a long day.
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