The man reached into his motorcycle jacket and lifted out a gold medallion. Franks didn’t need to look at it for long to feel that it was real, and if this man wasn’t ordained to be wearing it then it would have turned molten and burned through his skin. Franks nodded for him to continue.

He put the medallion away. “I’m Michael Gutterres.” He talked like an American. He didn’t try to shake hands. That was good. Franks was tired of meaningless pleasantries. “You know who I’m with.”

“Yes.” The Secret Guard had a nominal relationship with the Vatican, mostly for finances and recruiting, but they didn’t really answer to anyone there unless they felt like it. They mostly did their own thing, kept to themselves, and stayed out of mortal affairs. They existed for one reason and one reason only: to stomp on anything off The Plan. If it had snuck in from another world, the Secret Guard had a problem with it. In that respect, Franks had been uneasy allies with them for a very long time.

“So you know why I’m here.”

“To try to kill me if I’d broken The Deal.”

“I like how you stuck the word try in there.” The Hunter had a confident smile. Franks wanted to wipe it off his face. “But yes, that’s fundamentally correct. From what I’ve gathered so far, there’s more going on than just what the MCB has let slip. A large number of the Fallen seem to be congregating here. From what I’ve seen, you still seem to be fighting against them. Is that correct?”

Franks nodded. “The Deal is still on.”

“Good. You’ll understand there’s no offense intended if I keep an eye on you long enough to make sure that’s true. When you struck your bargain, my order was the only organization around capable of dealing with you should you go back on your word. The head of our order made a solemn vow that we would deal with you, and though we’re a shadow of what we once were, we still honor our oaths. We’ve been monitoring you ever since.”

“I know,” Franks said. He’d dealt with these self-righteous types before.

“Mr. Harbinger was nice enough to let me in. Turns out he was tutored on how to master lycanthropy by one of our exiles in Cuba a long time ago.”

“Santiago. Met him once.”

“It’s easy to forget how long you’ve been around. Is there anybody you don’t know?” Gutterres asked, seeming genuinely curious. “Never mind, they warned me you weren’t big on talking. I believe you’re planning on destroying an infestation of greater demons. That’s sort of my thing, so I’d like to offer my help.”

Franks snorted. “You and what army?”

“No army. Just some highly trained professionals who are deniable and expendable, and who’ve taken an oath to sacrifice their lives in righteous battle against the forces of evil. I can have two combat exorcists and a platoon of Swiss Guard on the ground anywhere in the eastern US within the next few hours. Will that do?”