The Inkwell presents: Why Are We Here?

By The Inkwell

But let's be honest, who likes meetings? And when you find yourself facing one somewhere you don't expect, like a public bathroom, or regarding a situation too fantastical to contemplate, like how to banish a hellhound, the waste of time suddenly becomes a nightmare. As much as we hate them, sometimes a meeting can lead to a meet-cute or a comedy of errors that result in beauty.

Baptized by Fire - After preparing for the encounter with the Hellhound, Gene, Stevens, Dennis and the Father gear up for the fight of their lives. (Part 3/3)
Early, Yet Late - Tensions finally come to a head as Amy witnesses the implosion of Katie's decisions.
This Is What It Looks Like - After an eye-opening reveal and the fight after, Spencer looks to a new acquaintance for solace.
While Rome Burns - A nervous boy, a wary girl. A fateful meeting that changes everything.
Inconvenient Timing - One moment, he's stepping out of the shower, then he blinks and is somewhere else entirely. Pat finds out there's nothing quite like being summoned by the most inconvenient entity on the plane.
Parliament Pranks - If you poke the bear, you get the claws, as one Inkwellian finds out the hard way while celebrating the group's first birthday.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Inkwell
• Release date: Jan 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005613433

The Inkwell

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Book preview

Baptism by Fire

Dogged Detective Work, Pt 3

Written by LA Harper

I’ve collected you all here to ask a very important question. Some of you may not want to answer, and that’s okay, you can walk out right now. But know that, if you do, I can’t protect you, and that’s all I want.

You could hear a pin drop in the silence following my statement—until Stevens popped a bubble loud enough to echo in the rented boardroom of the cheapest hotel I could find. Scattered snorts and low laughter dominated the following moments, but Stevens only smiled and said, What?

I scoffed and tossed him a glare that made him wither a little, before turning my attention to the people gathered around the chipped laminate table. Tired faces stared back, a collection of individuals I'd spent the better part of a month tracking down and contacting; off the record, of course. 

What can we help you with, Detective Campbell? The voice was confident and relaxed, a far cry from the nervous expressions and restless fidgeting of most of my audience. My gaze found the pastor, hands folded calmly next to his styrofoam cup of vending machine coffee. I was surprised he had made the demon's list, but everyone had something they would pay a hefty price to attain. I couldn’t pretend I hadn't wondered about it myself.

I want to stop Jezebel, I said, ignoring how just the mention of her name made the lights dim. Or it could be that this hotel was as old as I was and definitely showing its age. Yeah, let's go with that. And I need one of you to help me do that.

You want bait, a woman said, lips thinning. You want to be there when it's….when it's time.

Yes, because that's the only time we’re sure that the Hellhound appears. The way I see it, that is likely the entity is killing people. Jezebel is just the broker. It's my job to catch the killer, and that's what I'm doing.

That's some hero complex bullshit, she said, adjusting her purse strap on her shoulder as she got up. Good luck with that, and thanks for the coffee, but I don't need two shadows.

Don't you want protection?

I've made peace with my decision. My conscious is as clear as it can be, and I can’t jeopardize that by leading you into harm’s way and potential death. She exited the boardroom, and silence reigned once again. I sighed. 

Anyone else want to join her? I offered to the crowd of nervous expressions.

Slowly, a handful of others got up and left, each murmuring a different reason but all the same on the surface: they felt like there was no point. 

And then there were four, I muttered, fingering the matchbook in my pocket and wishing I were outside. Stevens laughed softly but remained otherwise silent—after all, this was my show. I'd put together this insane plan to call the next victims, and it was a long shot from the start. The pastor, white collar stark against his pressed black button-up—was he even allowed to wear that if his eternal soul belonged to the wrong side—was sitting next to a younger man. Well dressed, perhaps the artsy type. 

Well, that’s depressing, the artist said softly. His name escaped me. After trawling through the list for so long, they all tended to blend together—at least, those still living. The ones that weren’t had their own tidy little case files to remember them by. It was a shame. 

Why did you stay, Father? I said, examining the older man across from me.

Because I know true evil and His love, and I feel like the two working together have brought us here tonight. I do not want to squander this gift, this chance at redemption. His hands remained folded, his gaze level with mine. Stevens exhaled audibly, the sound overlapping with the low scoff of the younger man.

I turned my attention to him. And you?

He held up his hands. I traded my soul to make beautiful things with these. I would like to continue doing so for more than five years. I’m Dennis Black, if you haven’t heard of me. 

I hadn’t, so I disregarded the comment and focused back on the pastor. Maybe he had the Christian ju-ju to get something done. So, I don’t have any real sort of plan of action, other than trying to destroy the Hellhound, and I was hoping, Father, that you could help us with some suggestions.

"Other than prayer, I’m afraid not, my boy. I was hoping you had a bit more to work