to pass. This next thirty days won't be easy. Hell is sending out its best fighters, and I'm sending out one of mine. I have faith that he will see you through.”
“Hey, what about me?” Jeremiah huffed, looking back and forth between Arch and Ian. “There's no doubt that I'm one of your most elite Endurers, possibly even the best.”
“Your balls are frozen, remember?” Arch bit out, rolling his eyes. “Besides, I've decided to transfer you. It won't be Fiji, but you should find Mexico warm enough.”
“Oh, I love Mexico,” Jeremiah replied, his expression lusty and smug. “The senoritas there are hot-blooded enough to warm even the iciest of men.”
“Just remember your duties, Don Juan,” Arch warned the Spaniard, his expression serious. “This is no time to play around.”
“Of course,” Jeremiah agreed, all business. “I made a vow the day I became Endurer, one I will fulfill until my dying day.”
“Good. Go home and pack. I'll call you tomorrow.”
He stood, eager to comply. With a nod, Jeremiah left, the door slamming behind him.
Arch watched him leave, turning back to Sara and Ian. “God help Mexico,” he said, chuckling. “Not to mention, the women.” He finished off the rest of his coffee before asking, “Do either of you have any questions?”
Ian did, but he held them back. He was furious at being assigned to Sara's protection, but after hundreds of years, he knew Arch wouldn't change his mind. “No, sir,” he replied, sarcastically.
“Alright,” Arch said, standing to his feet. “I'll leave you to it. You have my number. Call it if you need to.”
Sara looked at Ian, her face blanching at whatever she saw in his eyes. He knew he was being an ass, but he didn't care. Arch had forced this on him, and it wasn't his job to be pleasant. “Grab your things,” he ordered curtly. “It's time to see your new home.”
She quickly complied, avoiding another glance in his direction. Silently, she followed him out into the cold, dark night.
* * * * *
Arch opened the door to his home, and stepped into nothingness. His mortal form dissolved, leaving behind the clothing he'd been wearing. With just a thought, he found himself in the region of Jerusalem, high above the earth in a realm that mortals couldn't see.
“My Lord,” he acknowledged, entering into the solid gold temple. He was in the presence of the One unseen, his power so great that only the angels were strong enough to endure it. Partially solidifying, Arch knelt and lowered his face to the floor, tears flooding his eyes. It was a relief to his to be back home, the purity and goodness of the One that surrounded him a balm to his weary soul.
Although he'd never admit it to the Endurers, there were times he became so discouraged in the mortal world he wasn't sure he could go on. He'd wept bucketfuls of tears for humanity, spent centuries praying for them, just to be stunned by the sheer, depraved acts perpetuated by some. He couldn't understand how beings created from such good intentions could be so evil.
It was nearly unbearable for him to be in the mortal realm. He was tormented with the knowledge he had, and his ability to see and hear their thoughts and intentions. It was only the purity of the few good mortals that made his job, and his existence, worthwhile.
As evil as the world was, there was still goodness to be found. Hell would scourge the earth, though, until they found them. By the time demons were done with them, they'd make the mortals regret the goodness to be found within them. Only the strong would stand firm, and many didn't have the strength.
It had been the same since the beginning of time, but in the modern ages, it had grown worse. Much worse. Humanity was opening itself up to the persuasions of evil, in fact, they were reaching out for it with both hands. The list of their selfish wants was huge, and demons were standing