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THE CARRIAGE SLID ON THE SOFT DIRT road, whipping about to nearly slap into Abyss. It took all my skill and strength to not only right the panicked horse but not to have the damn brougham flip over and kill me, the horse, and the fucking fool who stood in the road.

Anger, white-hot and livid, engulfed me. I sprang from the carriage to run my hands over Abyss to ensure he was unharmed. I had no knowledge of if the stallion could be hurt at all, but that mattered not. I rubbed his sides, checked his rigging, and once I was assured there were no outward injuries to be seen, I ran my hands down his legs. He allowed it, but barely, given his mood felt to be as dark as mine.

When I finished checking my horse, I turned, with fists clenched, and stalked toward the crow-like ass who had not moved an inch. I would have admired his bravery for holding his ground as an otherworldly carriage rocketed at him at high velocity had I not been outraged over how close it had come to possibly injuring Abyss. The horse pawed at the ground, eyes flared, ears back, teeth bared. He did not like Malphus. I felt the same.

“You could have killed that horse!” I shouted, storming closer, my hat lying somewhere along the road, lost in the chaos.

“Do not be a fool. That hell spawn cannot be harmed. Just as the carriage heals, so does the horse. As for you, a man already dead cannot die twice.”

“I’m not dead, not truly. I am moribund,” I snarled, advancing on him, ready to punch his long, pointed nose. He sighed, flicked a finger, and I was flung into the side of the carriage like a pinecone tossed by a child. The impact cleared my lungs of air. The back of my head cracked into the carriage step, and the pain was sharp. I reached up and felt blood seeping from my skull.

“I would suggest you curb your temper, Coachman. You may be his chosen hackman for now, but you are not irreplaceable.” Malphus walked over to me, making a wide berth for Abyss, who stretched his neck as long as he could to try to nip at Malphus. I rubbed at the bloody spot as his long, bird-like legs grew closer. “Rise. I will not speak to an underling lying on the ground like a beaten dog.”

I pushed to my feet and wiped my bloody fingers on my duster. “You are a most unlikeable thing.”

He smiled a smile that sent a cold finger down my spine. “That is the kindest thing that you have said to me since we met. Tell me, Coachman.” He paraded about. The bird-like gait was smooth but still unsettling to my shaken brain. “What is it that draws you to Avers Mill so frequently? Spying on your ex-lover must be quite painful. Are you the sort of man who enjoys pain? If so, I am sure I can find a few helpers of Asmodeus who would enjoy putting a lash to your back as your cock spewed seed.”

His leer was disturbing. “Why I ride where I do is no concern of yours,” I fired back as the trickle of rich red blood down the fine hairs on the back of my neck gave me gooseflesh.

“Au contraire, my fine coachy, for where you ride is of the utmost import. Your mission is to ferry souls to hell. You are not given to larking about in the human realm, weeping copious tears over the loss of a few mangy horses, a rundown stable, and the man who let you bugger him while he planned a wedding with another.”

“You are a vile fiend,” I ground out. The fact that this rancid bastard knew my past indiscretions made me ill.

“You are headed there yet again. Tell me what it is you hope to see this trip? Do you wish to sneak to his home to see him feasting on his fiancée’s tender quim or watch him feed her his cock as he used to do to you in that flea-infested haymow where you and he spent your nights licking up each other’s spend from your flushed cheeks?” I snarled. He chuckled. “Mind your temper, Coachman. It would be a trivial thing for me to stomp your weak little skull into plum pudding.”

Inhaling deeply, I managed to push down my anger. I was treading on shaky ground here. If Malphus knew of my trip home, he also knew of other things. Things that may involve Hamiel, and I would not risk him. This demon had dispatched one coachman. I did not wish to join my predecessor in the pits or see any harm come to the rainbow walker with the golden curls.

“I was going to Avers Mill, yes, but not to see Theodore.” He rolled his eyes. “Believe me or not, I do not care.”

He stepped closer. That was when I noticed the songbirds, the insects, and the wind had all ceased. There was no sound other than the soft crunch of his clawed feet on the road. As he neared, the reek of burning flesh filled my nostrils.

“You should care, Coachman, for what I see, I report back to the dark lord. And what I have seen so far is that you are pushing against the rules of your employment.”

“I do not know the rules! How can I be held in contempt of them when you have never told me what the regulations are?!” My bellow seemed incredibly loud in the vacuum of time and sound that Malphus had created. Was this how it always was when demons walked the earth?

“You are given the knowledge you require for your tasks. The horse takes you to the dying, you wait, and when judgment is made in our favor, you bring them to the underworld and then return to your hovel until you are summoned once more. Why is it that you moribund are so decidedly, stupidly stubborn about visiting a world where you no longer belong? If you are not gazing with tears of love lost in your eyes you’re trying to bring a human into purgatory to keep her essence with you. Why can you not simply let go of what once was and accept that which you are now consigned to?”

His mention of the mistake the coachman before me committed I knew of thanks to Delmar. I would not betray his confidence so I did not ask for clarification.

“We moribund are not just half dead, we are half alive. And as such, we still experience loneliness and loss. You can’t hold that against us. I only wish to watch those who meant something to me when I was alive.”

“You humans are emotionally stunted slugs,” he spat as if the mention of humans left a sour taste on his tongue. “I shall have to speak to our Lord about simply having a demon as the next coachman.”

This made me smile. “I have seen how Abyss and the imp that shines my boots hate you. I do not think he would listen to anyone other than a moribund who has a rapport with horses. That, I suppose, is why Lucifer plucked me from the smoldering fire and revived me.”

“He chose you because you know horses, yes, but he also chose you because your sire promised you to our employ upon your death.” He patted my face, his expression smug. Where his long fingers touched my face, the skin began to singe. I did not jerk away, though. “I see how much that hurts you to think about. That your sire would do such a thing. Could it be he knew you were a dimwitted child? Animals are known to get rid of offspring that are not normal. Given that you rut with males, perhaps he sensed you were a deviate, so he simply got a boon in exchange for a future sodomite?”

“I would tell you to go to hell, but you would enjoy that too much, so I will say that I shall pray for you.”

His fingers bit into my face, the heat now making my flesh smolder. Tears sprang up. “You would do better to pray for your own rancid soul, Coachman. I have no need for those whispered pleas of the weak-minded. Now, I would have your attention.” He lifted my face to stare into my eyes. I could see the dancing flames of Tartarus in his lifeless eyes. “You are not to travel about the countryside with that carriage as if you were livery for a rich whoreson. You are to do what you were brought back to do. If you continue to take that carriage through the portal for excursions other than bringing the damned to us, you shall be terminated. Do you understand?” I ground out a low grunt of understanding. “I would hear you say it.”

“I will not…take the carriage…out for anything other…than what it was…intended.”

He searched my face for a long moment, his grip too tight, and my jaw creaked. Then he released me, his sneer a frightful thing to see. I did not reach for the burns on my cheek and jaw. I used the pain to stiffen my spine.

“I shall be watching you, Coachman.” He flung a handful of coins at me. “Your wages.”

My sight stayed on him as he transformed into a crow, black feathers exploding into a cloud of ebony that fell to the road. The wind then arrived as did the call of a black-capped chickadee. Only then did I reach up to touch the burns. I winced and spewed out a string of foul words that I was very glad Hamiel was not privy to hearing. After shouting a few more vulgarities, I picked up my pay and went to find my hat. It had been rolled over but popped back into shape. As I brushed at the brim to remove some dust, I began plotting how best to reach Lillianne.

Malphus may well cave my head in, but I would have that young woman warned one way or another.

Two days later, I was sitting inside my carriage in the town square of a small fishing community known as Perry’s Mill. It sat along a wild bit of shoreline, and while the weather was unpleasant, the view of the thundering surf was invigorating. And slightly terrifying. Waves the size of buildings crashed over rocks and docks, ripping boats from their moors and shattering them into bits on the jagged boulders.

The summons had woken me from my rest. The strongest I had felt since my tenure had begun. Upon arriving, I found Hamiel hiding inside a painfully quiet stable in the center of the small seaside village. I’d motioned for him to sit in the interior of the carriage then joined him. What reason could there be to sit out in the deluge when we could be inside while we waited? Abyss, slick with water and surf, was happy to stand just inside the horse barn and talk to the other horses. I did not imagine they could hear his whinnies, but if it made him happy, then what harm was there? Assuredly, a stallion grew lonesome just as I did.

Hamiel had hurried into the carriage, soaked but smiling, and stole a kiss before his speckled glasses were removed so he could dry them on a handkerchief he removed from his satchel. He squinted at me and placed a damp fingertip on the burns on my jaw.

“What has happened here?” he asked, and I lifted a shoulder. There was no need to relay the incident with Malphus. He pressed his soft lips to the blisters. A wash of relief from the pain coursed through me. “There, that may ease your suffering. You need to be more careful.”

“Thank you.” I plucked a wet curl from the mop of ringlets and rubbed it between my rough fingers. “Just seeing you was balm enough.”

A raucous wind rocked the carriage slightly. “These sea storms are most violent. What a horrid time this will be.”

“There is little to do in the face of nature when it roils so.” I let my hand dive into his hair and slip to the back of his neck. He sighed at my touch as he rubbed at his spectacles.

“Something has angered our Lord,” he whispered as if the sick and dying in this tiny fishing town would possibly hear us over the din of the wild weather rocking the shoreline. “We are in for a long and busy time if the surge comes over the docks.” I glanced through the glass in the carriage door. The skies were so dark it was like night, and the light cast from the carriage’s green lantern blowing madly to and fro made it look as if a sea demon’s long shadows danced along the docks. Should I move the carriage from the edge of the sea…

“But I have thought ahead.” He gave me a wink as he dug into his satchel to produce, with great flourish, a wooden checkerboard. “Do you enjoy this game?”

“Yes, a great deal.” I moved away from him so he could place the red-and-black square between us on the padded seat. “Do you recall how to play?”

“I did not, but I have read about it,” he said as he dug about in his large shoulder bag for the checkers. “It seems an easy enough game. You move only once on a diagonal during your turn. Then the players take turns. When a checker reaches the last row, it is kinged and then it can move up and down. Right?”

“That’s the basics, yes,” I replied as he handed me the black checkers. “I used to play this with Aunt Hester in the evenings.”

“I hope I provide a small challenge once I am familiar with the game.” We placed our checkers on the board as the wind howled around us.

“Where did you come by this board?” I asked, nodding for him to go first. He slid a checker out after a long moment of concentration. “Is there a game room in the afterlife?”

“No, no, nothing like that. The angels are encouraged to sing and play musical instruments, but games such as this are nowhere to be seen. No, I found this in the stable when I arrived. It looked to be mid-game.” He glanced out at the village, but the interior glass was already steaming from our slow but still warm breaths. “I pray there are no children suffering too great.”

“Let us hope not,” I whispered as I made my move. The first game was a bit rocky. I won with ease. Once Hamiel caught on, he became quite the checkers player. He pondered over every move like a chess master, whereas I was too enraptured with his lips and nose and long gold lashes to focus on the checkerboard. I could not look away from the tip of his pink tongue caught between his lips as he contemplated his strategy.

When he took my final checker, his explosion of joy was the kiss of the morning sun on one’s face.

“I won!” he yelled, his shout barely heard over the roaring winds and surf. I had to laugh at his exuberance. His arms went up in victory and he almost flew across the seat to hug me in sheer joy. The embrace was tight. His curls tickled my cheek then, slowly, they pulled free of my thick whiskers as he sat back, his knees atop the checkerboard. My gaze met his. Those golden eyes were mesmerizing. They seemed to hold the sun itself. I could not stop myself. I kissed him, hard, and he melted into me. With ease, I moved him to my lap, the soft sound of wooden checkers hitting the wet carriage floor lost amid the waves slamming over the docks and our heated pants. The taste of him was divine. I’d never had such a glorious flavor flow over my tongue. He was light and good and as sweet as apple bread. Warm as freshly baked bread as well. Gentle heat radiated from him, seeping through the cloth of our trousers and wet coats.

“I so love your kisses,” he whispered as he tugged at my ascot necktie, his slim fingers adept at untying it, then opened the collar of my shirt. My hands lighted on his slender hips, in an honest attempt to still his gyrations for the rub of his shaft over mine was maddening. I did not want to push him or entice him into something sexual. I had no idea if he should even be doing such things, and most especially with a minion of the underworld. But he was unable to stop moving.

“You are like an eel,” I panted between long, searching kisses. He rolled his hips, his cock tight to mine, and my breath hitched. “Hamiel, you are driving me over the edge of restraint.”

“Good, for I wish to feel what it is to love again. I need to experience passion once more.” His mouth sealed over mine as his sleek hands ran over my chest, the damp linen of my shirt no barrier to his curious fingers. He found a pebbled nipple. With a shaky sigh he pinched it. I groaned and licked inside his mouth. It was madness, and yet it felt right in so many ways. His lips left mine, and he licked a wet stripe along my jaw. “I love the rasp of your stubbly face. Oh yes, I do like it a lot. When I was alive, I must have had a fondness for men.”

“It would seem likely,” I panted while he tasted down my throat, yanking my shirt open to lick my clavicle. Yes, it would seem quite likely given how he enjoyed the feel of a male body.

“I am very close to spending,” he confessed as he nipped at my earlobe. “In my trousers…”

“Do you wish to not do so?” I asked, feeling like a total fool for asking such a question. He shook his head, curls whipping about as lightning lit up the dark skies outside the carriage. I hoped that was not a portent of warning from an angry God. With shaking hands, I wiggled my fingers between us, his teeth raking over my neck, and found the placard on his trousers. “Please stop me if I do anything that you do not wish to have me do.”

“You are doing what I crave for you to do.” He kissed the corner of my mouth as I opened a few buttons, just enough to give me some room to delve into his drawers to find his cock. It was wet, hard as a spike, and slim. I slid my fist around it. A shiver ran through him. “May I do you as well?”

I croaked out a feeble “yes” before his hand joined mine. My cock sprang from my trousers. Slippery and throbbing, I took us both in a firm grip that he aided by placing his hand around us as well.

“So thick,” he whispered beside my ear as we began stroking ourselves. His smooth shaft pulsed within seconds, his seed coating our cocks and easing the awkward jerks. He bit down on my shoulder, his tiny white teeth digging into the flesh, and I lost control. Spend spurted from me, his seed and mine mixing into a froth as we both pumped madly. I carded the fingers of my free hand into his hair to lead his mouth back to mine. Mouths sealed, we rode out the small storms taking place inside the carriage as the cacophony outside battered the shore.

“Merciful motes,” he huffed as his puffy lips broke from mine. His brow fell to my shoulder, where he licked and then gently kissed the tiny nip he had given me. “I am so sorry for marking you. I never thought…I was quite caught up in the moment.”

I smiled, eyes closed, chest heaving, warm spunk slathered over both of our pricks. Rain pounded the windows and roof. Abyss had been clever to pull us as close to the stable as he had. A clever horse. Much smarter than I, it seemed, for all I could think about was seeing the man now spent and glowing like a fine beeswax candle.

“As was I,” I admitted, releasing our still-stiff cocks and opening my eyes. He lay upon me, his legs on either side of mine, his cheek on my shoulder, his hands resting on my chest. We rested for a few moments, gusts of wind rocking the carriage. The green lantern never went out as the winds and rain continued to decimate the village. “I think I have never felt for anyone as I do for you, Hamiel Walker.”

He picked up his head. His spectacles were pushed to one side and horribly smeared. He righted them quickly with his clean hand before extracting his soiled fingers from between us to stare at the semen on his palm.

“I have no last name,” he reminded me as his gaze lifted from our mingled spend to me. “If you wish to give me one, I would be honored to use yours.”

“We cannot wed,” I softly reminded him as I dug out my handkerchief to begin cleaning his hand, then mine. “But if we could, I would gladly take you as my spouse, whichever it would be.” I wiped gently between his slim fingers. “Maybe someday a romance such as ours will be acceptable to the world.”

“I love you wholly and without shame. Why is that not enough?” he asked, and I could only shrug. I had no answer for him. “Do you have feelings for me?”

I glanced up from his hand. His eyes were dimmed slightly now with concern. “Hamiel, I have never felt for another as I do you. You captured my heart from that first time you fell into a muddy duck puddle and you have held it in your caring, tender hands from that moment on.”

“My internal doubter wishes to ask about Theo, but I shall not do so.” He placed his brow to mine, his eyes a beautiful amber light in the gloom. “For I have seen that your affections for him have withered. Rightfully so. Still, if I do seem to waver in my confidence, do not be too harsh in your reprimands. This is all new to me. New, wonderous! Yet so frightening.”

I cupped his face with my clean hand. “I will never reprimand you, Hamiel. I vow to never knowingly harm your genteel heart. Whether we shall be allowed to continue this idyll, I do not know. My employer’s overseer is a bastard with a cruel streak as wide as the hells themselves.”

He turned his head to kiss my rough palm. “His darkness shall never overpower the light of love. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” His sight caught mine, long thick lashes framing magnificent eyes. “Love never ends.”

I kissed him tenderly, happy to steal one final moment basking in this moment. When finally we had to part, it was with long looks, soft smiles, and blushes as we righted our clothing and picked up the scattered checkers.

“I do wish this storm would lessen. Do they blow like this for long?” he asked before pressing his nose to the window like a young lad might on a trip to Boston.

“They can yes. We may have a long wait,” I confided as I dropped a checker into his open bag. “I am glad we have this time together.” He turned his head to smile at me and returned to watching the breakers slam into the dock. Worry began to nibble at me about our safety. I would venture out to move us further from the raging tide soon. “I would speak with you about Lilliane for her safety concerns me.”

He moved from the window to sit facing me, his muddy boots tucked under his backside. Sister Evangelista would be very displeased.

“Yes, I am worried about her as well. The longer I ponder on it, the more I find myself swayed to the conclusion that Theo had a large hand in your passing. I know it is wrong to cast judgment on others, for to do so will bring judgment upon us as well. It is a perplexing situation to be in.”

“Agreed.” I pushed my fingers through my hair, shoving the overly long mess from my brow. “If we can find a time when we are together, could we ride out to her home?”

“We can, but I could simply try to visit her slumber from a distance? The winged ones do not fly down to Earth each time they wish to speak to humans?”

“But you are not winged,” I pointed out and got a flat look that I kissed away despite his little harrumph. “If you are willing to try, that would save us a journey.”

“I shall do my best.” He settled back, hands folded in prayer, eyes closed. As I waited while he whispered his devotions, the wind and rain seemed to lighten all of a sudden. I felt the tug in my breast immediately. Hamiel gasped, his eyes flying open, when the summons hit him as well. “We are needed to escort those who have passed.”

“Yes, I know.” I took his hand between mine. “When next we meet, we shall try again.”

“We shall.” He pressed his lips to mine all too briefly and threw open the door. Salty air entered the carriage. I followed Hamiel outside. The docks were torn asunder, the homes lashed into bits, yet somehow the sun shone down on the wreckage. A dozen or so walkers stepped from that large beam to move among the bits of fishing boats, their boots flecked with sea foam. Some glanced my way with a frown as the souls of those who had been drowned began to approach the heavenly ones. Spirits of all sizes and ages were visible. Most were taken by the hand of the other walkers, but a few felt the pull to my carriage. Hamiel, the bravest soul I had ever met, gave my hand a squeeze. “There are many dead or dying here. We shall speak again soon.”

I nodded, reached back inside for my hat, and fixed my gaze on the stern woman staring at me from several yards away. Her dress was plain brown, stained red from a jagged shard of what could have been a part of her home that had impaled her. She was shoeless.

“Your carriage awaits,” I told her.

She threw her sodden hair from her face to join me, never saying a word. I did not ask for any conversation from any of those I ferried but many sought to talk or bribe their way out of their last journey. Whatever her sins, she seemed resigned to her eternal fate. I offered her a hand into the brougham, and with a look filled with fear, she took it and stepped up as regally as a duchess off to a grand ball. I closed the door with a snap, glanced about at the wreckage, and climbed into my seat. The reins were wet. The smell of sea, sodden leather, and death sat on the still air. Several bodies were trounced about as the sea seemed to throw waves over the rocks and broken piers from all directions.

All of those who escorted the dead to their final destinations would be busy for quite some time…