You Can’t Stay Alive

Jax showed up for his shift the next afternoon like nothing had happened.

The Rusted Halo looked the same as it always did—dim lights, sticky floors, the low murmur of the early crowd. He tied on his apron, checked the bottles, and started wiping down the bar. Muscle memory took over. Pour. Wipe. Serve. Repeat.

For a while, it almost felt normal.

Then the back door slammed open.

Vexor stalked in looking worse than usual. His reddish skin still carried faint burn marks from the blue blade, and his temper was already on a hair trigger. The moment his eyes locked on Jax, the air in the bar seemed to thicken.

“Harlan. Office. Now.”

Jax set the glass down and followed without a word. He knew better than to argue.

The back office smelled of old smoke and something sharper—anger and residual sulfur. Vexor closed the door hard enough to rattle the frame, then turned on him.

“You saw him.”

It wasn’t a question.

Jax kept his voice steady. “I saw a guy walk in, order water, and leave. That’s all.”

Vexor’s lip curled. “Don’t play stupid with me. You watched him put that blue shit through my back. You looked right at him. So start talking. Who is he?”

“I don’t know him.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’ve never seen him before last night,” Jax said, more firmly this time. “I swear. He was just a customer. Tall, dark clothes, quiet. That’s everything I know.”

Vexor moved faster than Jax expected. A heavy fist slammed into his ribs, driving the air out of his lungs. Jax staggered back into the wall. Another blow caught him across the jaw. Stars exploded behind his eyes.

“You’re lying,” Vexor snarled. “Nobody just *walks* into my place and does what he did. You knew he was coming. You’re working with him.”

“I’m not—”

The next hit was harder. Jax hit the floor hard, tasting blood. Vexor hauled him up by the front of his shirt and drove a knee into his stomach. Jax folded, gasping.

“Last chance, Harlan. Who is he?”

“I don’t know!” Jax coughed. “I never saw him before. I don’t know who the hell he is!”

Vexor’s eyes burned with pure rage. He raised one massive fist, claws extending, ready to put Jax down for good. One clean strike to the throat or temple would end this lifetime.

The blow never landed.

A wet, sizzling sound cut through the room.

Vexor’s eyes went wide. His mouth opened in a silent snarl of pure agony. He staggered forward one step, then collapsed face-first onto the floor. A brilliant blue dagger was buried deep between his shoulder blades, the blade glowing and smoking as if it were burning the demon from the inside out.

Jax stared, chest heaving, blood running down his chin.

The tall stranger stood behind Vexor’s body, looking almost bored. Same leather coat. Same calm expression. Same impossible presence.

He reached down, gripped the hilt, and pulled the dagger free with a soft, wet sound. The blue light pulsed once, then vanished as the blade disappeared somewhere into his coat.

The stranger glanced at Jax, who was still half-curled against the wall, and gave a small, almost weary shake of his head.

“You just can’t seem to keep yourself alive, Jax.”

Jax pulled himself to his feet, ribs screaming, blood still dripping from the corner of his mouth. He staggered after the stranger, one hand braced against the wall for support.

“Wait… wait!” he called, voice rough. “Who… are you?”

The tall man stopped just inside the doorway and turned. His expression was unreadable, almost tired.

“It wouldn’t matter,” he said quietly. “I’ve told you who I am many times in the past. You always forget… after dying.”

Jax blinked. “What? Dying?”

Kaelor studied him for a long moment. “We’ve met many times before, Jax. Every time we meet, you end up dying. Spectacularly, in most cases. I’ve watched it happen so often that, quite frankly, I’d just about given up hope on you.” He tilted his head slightly. “But something seemed… different about you this time.”

Jax stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “You’re full of shit.”

Kaelor actually chuckled — a low, dry sound. “That’s not the first time you’ve said that either.”

He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, worn book. For a second he just looked at it, as if weighing something heavy. Then he stepped forward and held it out.

“I think you’re ready for this now.”

Jax took it automatically. The cover was plain and cracked with age. He flipped it open to the first page.

**Genesis.**

“Read it,” Kaelor said. “Read it again. Then read it again. And again. It’s not going to make sense at first… but keep reading it until it does.”

Jax looked up, completely lost. Kaelor had already turned away and was walking out of the office. He paused for just a moment in the doorway, then spoke over his shoulder without looking back.

“The name’s Kaelor.”

Then he was gone, leaving Jax alone with a dead demon, a bleeding body, and a book that shouldn’t exist.