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MASSIVE SUMMER STORMS WERE VICIOUS .

I had never experienced such a thing in my twenty and nine years. Having lived inland, we had gotten heavy rains at times but nothing could compare to the devastation and peculiar ways of this kind of hurricane. The skies seemed to clear, the winds calmed, and many of the survivors began to filter out of the ruins of their homes to search for loved ones. I’d taken the silent woman to her destination and returned to find that the storm had returned with just as much violence and deadly intent.

Our work continued. Abyss was not happy. He fought me terribly each time I would ease him out of his hiding spot in the town stable. I spied the walkers moving through the wreckage, amber forms pushing against the wind to lead those judged worthy skyward. Did they walk into the eye of the storm or through it? My riders were few and far between, a true blessing for them, and so I spent a goodly amount of time watching the rain batter the poor walkers. I spied Hamiel a dozen times and left my dry carriage to call to him, but he never replied. Did the winds carry away my shouts, or maybe he was unsure of how fraternizing with a coachman would reflect on him with his peers? Understandable. Whatever the reasons, he only came to my coach when the storm had begun to lessen. By my guess, we had been here for close to two days. Given how dark the skies were, judging time was tricky. Someday I should invest in a pocket watch. Would it work in the nothingness of purgatory where time seemed endless? I had no clue, but the thought of having one made me feel less moribund in some small way.

The rain now was heavy, but the winds calmer. When only one walker remained, I saw his slim form darting my way, leaping over the remains of homes, boats, and in some cases people. I threw the door open for him. He climbed in, water running from his once pristine white suit. His curls were flat, plastered to his head, and his spectacles doused.

“You poor man,” I whispered as I handed him my damp handkerchief. He sniffled, sneezed, and then removed his spectacles to dry them. “I should have thought to bring towels.”

“Oh, that is kind, but I shall dry soon enough.” He looked exhausted. It was taxing work to take the spirits of the deceased to their end. Many were far too young. I’d seen a few children being led into the light before the eye of the storm had moved up the coast. Losing little ones bothered Hamiel the most as it did all of us. “There are a few left lingering. You feel them?” I nodded, the summons alight in my breast, but the pulses were dull. “We may have to wait awhile for them.”

“Then you should rest here with me.” I wished we had a blanket or some other means of warmth. I lifted my arm. He smiled despite his fatigue, placed his spectacles back on his nose, and curled into my side. The windows were steamy. I placed a kiss on his wet curls as he nodded off instantly. Outside, the night settled on what was a thriving fishing village. Come morning, the tempest would be gone, rolling over New Hampshire then Maine. I whispered a prayer that those in its path would fare better than this little town had. Also come morning, I suspected the survivors would find little left. As much as it pained me, there was nothing I could do for these people other than my job, and that was not much comfort at all.

My eyes grew heavy as Hamiel slept tight to my side. A gust of wind shook the carriage, pulling me from the beginnings of my usual fire-filled dreams. I blinked awake just as Hamiel did. The green lantern still burned, the eternal olive flame casting a bit of light in the darkness of night.

“The wind seeks to push things about yet,” he said, stretching his arms over his head. I patted his hair, glad to see a bit of bounce to the curls as they dried. “The rain seems to have stopped, though.” He leaned over to rub a circle in the condensation of the window, his face gleaming that unearthly green from my lantern. “Those who battle to live are still fighting.” He looked back at me. I nodded. “I wonder if there is any food nearby.”

“Isn’t it bizarre that we hunger, thirst, and lust like those who are alive and yet we are not truly living?” I said as the sound of the angry surf leaked around the seams of the door.

“Yes, it is a perplexing state. Not one that I am overly fond of, to be honest.” He rubbed his stomach as it rumbled. “Perhaps it would be best to simply be dead. Then we would move on to the glory of—” He bit down on his lower lip. “Livingstone, I am so sorry. I was speaking without thinking of your plight.” He grabbed my hands. “Forgive my inconsideration.”

“You have nothing to ask forgiveness for,” I assured him. “I am slowly trying to resign myself to my fate. Someday, I shall get the answers that I seek from Lucifer, but for now, railing against that which we cannot change seems fruitless. I will try to do what I can for those that I know need help. At least I have you.”

“Yes, you do have me!” He lifted my hand to his soft lips and kissed each scarred knuckle. “What say we find some food to ease our hunger? Abyss must hunger as well.”

I thought about that suggestion for a moment. “I think we can do that. Tell me, would you be willing, or able given how trying the past day or two has been, to visit Lillianne this evening? We have time.” I touched my chest to indicate the soft, hot pulse of the summons.

“Her fate worries you.” He didn’t pose it as a question but a statement.

“It does. I know there is not much we can do, but if we can influence her to reconsider or postpone, I will feel lighter.”

“Certainly, I shall try to reach out to her.” He gave my fingers a squeeze, let them fall, and settled back into the seat. I told him as much about the banker’s only child as I could, even detailing where she lived. I’d been tasked with taking a mare recently purchased from Norman to their estate in Hollyford a few years ago. Whether Hamiel required such knowledge, I had no idea, but I gave it to him just the same. “Thank you. That will surely help.”

I sat still at his side, unsure of what to do or if I should do anything at all. Hamiel closed his eyes, linked his fingers together, and began whispering prayers for divine guidance in his quest. Outside, in the gloom, a lone light could be seen, and if I listened closely enough, I could hear the call of a woman seeking someone named Gideon. Spouse, child, friend? There were many who had crossed over, many more still lying abed, waiting for judgment. Still, her voice in the dead of night was beyond mournful.

Hamiel prayed. I watched the lantern moving along the washed-out streets, then out to the splintered docks. There she stood, calling into the black velvet void as if she could summon her Gideon from the salty waters by sheer will. Her shouts went unanswered.

Hamiel continued his commune, his words falling into a steady tempo as his breath grew deeper. I pulled my sight from the woman on the docks to my companion. Was that a suitable term? I knew of no other word for two men who were intimate, so I settled on companion, for now. His lips moved but no sound came from him. He seemed to be in a trance of some sort. I recalled reading one of Aunt Hester’s books when I was young. It was by the Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius. He spoke of a sort of mental discipline and his thoughts on Stoic philosophy. As Hamiel was a heavenly being, albeit a novice one, he truly led a life of virtue, reason, and control, or he would not have been chosen as a rainbow walker. Did he, like the emperor, have knowledge of meditation, and was he now freeing his mind and his breath to carry him to a higher purpose?

On the outside, the night tumbled back into silence. I glanced out the window. The lantern was moving off now, slowly, until it faded from view. Several moments passed, the shifting of the carriage under us signaling to me that Abyss was growing restless and hungry. As was I.

Hamiel came back with a soft gasp followed by a long exhalation. His eyes were lit from within as he blinked and blinked, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“I found her,” he said, his voice as soft as dew. “It was difficult, but I was led to her goodness and virtue. She is a fine young lady, it seems. Her thoughts were filled with delicate pursuits. My visit was short, but I did place a thought into her dreams that she should postpone her wedding date, for her fiancé was not to be trusted.”

I hugged him to me, inhaling his summer meadow scent. “Perfect. You are a wondrous man, Hamiel Walker.” He pulled back, eyes round as wagon wheels. I kissed him with all the affection I had in my heart. “If I could take you as mine, I would, for your grace and love would surely make me a better man.”

“You are already a good man.” His warm hands cupped my face. The jolt of a judgment being decided hit us both at the same time. We both winced. “One of us is needed.”

We embraced once more and exited the carriage, the winds blowing softly now as if no monstrosity of a storm had ever existed. But it had. The death of yet another victim signaled it as so. The moon broke and peeked around a passing cloud. I saw the teen stepping from a makeshift tent of old tarps. He seemed confused, his ghostly form clad only in tattered trousers, drifting aimlessly toward us. Hamiel stepped forward, his hand out to the young man. The burn in my chest lessened. This one was not mine. My love gave me a short nod and stepped into the moonbeam with the lanky young male. I watched them turn into stardust before I climbed into the coachman’s seat.

“Let us return home to find food,” I called to Abyss, shaking him from his sleep. Four massive hooves hit the sodden ground, and with a sharp jolt, we were off. My mind was on many things, but as we careened through the countryside toward the in-between, all I could think about was how much I loved Hamiel and how I hoped that a nocturnal visit from an angel-in-training would plant a seed of doubt into the mind of Miss Lillianne Cabott. If I had time on the morrow, I would ride to her home to see what I could see. It had been a long, boring time at the shore, and Abyss would certainly like a hard ride to stretch his legs properly. No one could find fault with exercising that magnificent hell steed, could they?

My return to my home, laden with fresh apples that I had stopped to pick after passing an orchard, came to the anticipated screeching halt when Abyss and the carriage ran over Delmar at the gate. The small spade he had been digging with flew into the air, landing atop the brougham with a clatter as the imp rolled across the dusty ground. Knowing the foolish little demon could not be killed, I nonetheless brought the horse to a sudden stop. Dust and ash clouded up around us as we slid into a near-complete circle.

Leaping down to pick up my hat and the dozen apples that had tumbled out of it, I walked over to check on my manservant. His eyes were open, his tongue dangling out between his dry lips, and his shirt coated with dirt.

“Are you grievously injured?” I asked, dropping to one knee beside him. Abyss was not happy about being close to his stall and his food, yet unable to access them. I glanced back at the horse, who was trying to finagle himself and the carriage into the barn. “The brake is set, so calm yourself.” Abyss showed me his teeth but stilled. For the moment. I turned my attention back to the quiet imp. “Are you unharmed?”

He blinked. I took that as a good sign. Then the imp sighed. Another good sign. “Bad horse always bad,” Delmar mumbled, sitting up slowly, his scaly hand coming to rest on his head. “Seeing two coachman. Two for food?”

“No, there is only one of me. Come along, my friend.” I stood and pulled him to his cloven feet. “Why are you always at the portal? I feel as if I ask this of you every time I return and you are caught under the hooves of Abyss, yet you persist.”

“I go with you, away from here. It is bad sad here. Sad, sad spirits, me alone. So me go with you. Leave here.” He took hold of my duster as a child might. Then he wiped his nose on my coat. “Me only go with you. Love you. Keep you good company. Better than angel face!”

With a gentle tug, I removed my coat from his grip. The souls of those who lingered clustered about, bumping off my shoulders like dragonflies.

“I would gladly take you, but you are not allowed to cross the barrier.”

He swatted at the souls flitting about. “Stupid me not go. Me hate it here. Me want to see green. Green! Green! Green!” He raced off, climbed atop the carriage to fetch his spade, and vaulted back to the ground. He was quite the nimble thing. “I see green under feets. Be free! Free and green!”

And with a determination that I could only admire, he ran to the edge of our property, forlorn willow trees shadowing him, and began to dig yet again. I suspected he wanted free of purgatory more than he wished to be with me, but the sentiment was pleasant. Even if it was coming from a hell spawn. Abyss called to me, so I tended to him, leaving the carriage where it had stopped. It would return to the stable on its own accord. Once the horse was curried, fed, and watered, I carried my weary ass and my now bruised apples into the cabin. A kettle of water was steaming over the fire as was a cauldron of lamb stew. Delmar had come far in his cooking now that we had some spices and ingredients.

With a rumbling stomach, I removed my outer garments, rolled up my sleeves, and washed up in the newly purchased wash basin and pitcher atop an old stand in the corner. The fire was low. The flames tickled the bottom of the kettle and cauldron, but my sight drifted to it time and again. Using a small towel also purchased after removing it from a wash line, my thoughts moved to Theo as I patted my whiskery cheeks. A shave was in order, but that could wait. What was needed more was food, a bit of rest, and a ride to visit Lillianne.

Delmar entered, filthy and with a goodly-sized knot on his head, to fetch me a bowl of stew and fix some tea. After I reminded him to wash his hands. Muttering as he pushed a chair to the washstand, he splashed about in the tepid water, even though he insisted it was burning his skin.

“Sit, we should talk,” I said after he plunked the bowl of stew in front of me. He studied me closely, water dripping from his pointed nose, then went off to pour tea into two chipped mugs. The stew was quite hearty looking with large bits of lamb, chunks of carrot and potato, and hunks of celery. My nose picked up the aroma of fresh rosemary, sage, and thyme. The imp could not read, but he had a fine memory. I’d told him what herbs to use for the stew and he had followed my directions well. If only he would stitch up the tear in his trousers. Half his red buttock was now showing.

“I did not do bad,” he said after climbing up to sit on the table, bowl in both hands.

“No, I know you did nothing bad. I’m wondering how the seeds we planted are doing. Any signs of life?”

“They are still sleeping,” he said between loud slurps. Seemed spoons were meant only for sleeping with or brandishing about as a weapon. “Bad seeds.”

“Are you watering them as I asked?” I’d been busy of late and so had to leave the gardening to him to supervise.

“Yes, water, water, water.” He crowed around a mouthful of half-chewed lamb. We would have to begin working on his table manners.

“And you are using water from the pump and not urinating on them. Correct?”

I poked at a carrot as he shook his head vigorously. One had to clarify these things with imps, it seemed. They tended to take shortcuts when they could. “Very good. I’m not sure what more we can do. They need some sunlight.”

“No sun here. No green, no sun, just sad.” He licked his bowl.

Only sad lived here. That I could not argue with. I sipped at my tea. A standard black tea but tasty if one ignored the leaves floating about in one’s cup. Another lesson about straining the tea before serving it was in order, but that would have to wait. With a full stomach and my cup in hand, my fatigue set in quickly.

After finishing my drink, I requested a bath.

“Again? Why wash so much? You just wash cockery two days ago!” He held up five fingers.

“I can smell myself.”

“I can smell me self too, but I don’t make baths for smell.”

He did as bid, but it was with a great deal of complaining. The hip bath was just as small, but the hot water and soap lifted my sagging spirits. I missed Hamiel. Terribly. My existence was bleak here, to say the least. I could fully understand why my predecessor had tried to bring his lady wife here, although his methods were rather barbaric. Granted, my job kept me busy, but when I returned home, I felt the pang of loneliness greatly. An imp, entertaining as he was, was no replacement for a loved one.

“Delmar,” I called after stepping out of the bath to dry off. He peeked down at me from his perch atop the cupboard, the goose egg on his brow very noticeable in the candlelight. “How many coachmen are there? There must be more than just me, for I have never been called to leave Massachusetts.”

“Many coachmen, many imps working for them. Very bad imps not good like me. Some bite and pick at masters. I do good. Make good food. Spit boots. Not look at cockery.”

I hurried to step into clean drawers as he was indeed looking at my cockery. So there were many coachmen in Lucifer’s employ. I’d not seen them, but there could be a myriad of reasons for that. My entrance to the underworld was here in Massachusetts. Was it possible each region of the country, or the world for that matter, had their own portals for delivering the condemned? Still, just knowing that there were others like me made me feel less alone in this ghastly job.

“Thank you for the meal. It was quite good.” I grabbed a bruised apple from the table and tossed it to Delmar. He caught it with a quick flick of a hand. “Enjoy your dessert. Keep the fire going if you would.”

His reply was lost behind the crunching of his apple. I padded into the bedroom, leaving the door cracked so some heat could filter into the room. The temperature in this dimension was not unpleasant or actually cold, but the air tended to cling to the skin, leaving a body feeling clammy and chilled. Nothing about purgatory was pleasant but given the sights that I saw in Hell, it was a lovely stroll through Boston Common.

The soft burn of the summons still lingered in my chest, so I knew that I could be roused at any time to convey someone. The need was low though, so I climbed into bed, my head coming to rest on the feather pillow. Sleep came quickly as did the damnable dreams of my death, so I was awake with only a few hours of sleep to sustain me. I dressed and exited my bedroom. Delmar snored soundly on top of the cupboard. The fire was banked, so I crept closer, brow dotted with sweat, and tossed in a few round logs. The flames licked up over the dry ash, igniting quickly. With haste, I closed the unsettling screen and hurried back. There was no stew in the cauldron atop the table, so I grabbed two apples, cutting one into slices, my hat, and my dirty duster, and went out to greet the day. Night. Whatever time it was, I greeted it and the spirits who floated closer. As I walked, I ate my apple, spitting the brown bruised flesh onto the ashen soil.

I let one bounce along my arm like a dandelion blow as I made my way to the outhouse. The odor inside was unpleasant, to say the least, so I hurried to finish my business. Once outside, I washed up at the hand pump and entered the stable. The carriage was parked in its favorite spot. Abyss was awake. He smelled the apples in my coat pocket and threw a bit of a fit by throwing a blanket over his stall door to the floor as I climbed into the coachman’s seat to check on the damage done by an imp’s shovel. The roof of the carriage was unmarred, black and shiny like a raven’s feather. I ran my hand over the roof and felt the hum of pleasure from the brougham.

“Such a fine carriage,” I whispered to it. The paint seemed to glow a bit brighter in the green pallor of the eternal lantern. Abyss kicked at his stall. I threw a look at him. “And you are fine as well but throwing a tantrum will only sour your beauty.”

I climbed down with a smile for the horse who was not the least guilty about his childish fit. He pulled at my coat pocket after I drew close. “Impatient beast,” I teased and took one of the slices out to feed to him. His white eyes closed in ecstasy as he sloppily chewed his treat. After he was done, I ran my hand down his ebony nose. He huffed in my face, his breath sweet with fine hay and apple.

“The calling is dim yet. Shall we go for a ride?” I asked as if speaking to another human. The horse rubbed his nose into my cheek. I took that for a yes and opened the stall to enter. Within minutes, he was saddled. I removed my hat, placed it on the brougham’s seat, and climbed up and into the saddle. The old leather seemed less cracked this morning. The pommel shined slightly, and the seat felt softer. Was this saddle imbued with demonic magic much like the carriage? Now that it was in use, mayhap it would begin to care for itself, which would save me from rubbing fish oil into the leather to keep it supple.

Abyss was dancing about under me, his strong muscles tight in preparation for a gallop. His enthusiasm was contagious. I leaned forward slightly, my ass coming up from the saddle, and gave the horse his head. We hit the portal at a hard gallop, my coat flapping behind us as I kept my feet tightly in the stirrups. When we exited the spinning dervish, we hit the ground hard. My teeth clattered, but I did not slow the stallion. He pushed hard for miles, the towns and forests speeding past at a rate that would make most riders queasy. I was used to the sensation of this unearthly speed, so I let him run until we passed the steeple of the Baptist church in Avers Mill. Then I slowed Abyss down as we trotted along a country lane. Given the position of the sun in the sky, it was noontime. One never knew when exiting the in-between if one would ride into night or day, but I so preferred the sun on my face.

We left Avers Mill behind, crossed the bridge over the county line, and made our way to the Cabott homestead. The banker had a fine home, two stories, with a large stable filled with quality horses. I knew the location well as I had delivered several horses here that had been purchased at sales in Boston. The mare that Lillianne rode about, a fine dapple with high spirits, was one such horse. The whitewashed home came into view after a lengthy walk down a winding drive. Abyss paused at a small creek that babbled alongside the drive to drink his fill. I sat in the saddle, eyes darting about for any sign of Lillianne, but saw only two dark-skinned maids hanging out the daily wash.

Then I spied a flash of buttercup yellow in the side garden. Abyss stopped at the tug of the reins. I slid from the saddle, looped his reins around a small hitching post, and leaned on a thick maple tree to watch Lillianne Cabott in a soft yellow day gown meet her fiancé in the garden. Her maid stood nearby, wringing her hands. What they were saying was hard to hear from this distance, but Theo looked to be growing upset. Lillianne was pleading with him, her tiny hands clasped. He slapped her hard across the face. I went to dash over to intervene, then recalled that I could do nothing. Anger burned white hot inside me to see a lady treated so harshly. What had I ever seen in that man? Lillianne gathered herself, removed the diamond from her ring finger, and threw it at Theo.

She stormed into the house, her maid in tow, leaving Theo in the garden. He kicked a bench over in a pique before bending to pick up the engagement ring from the lush grass, then stormed off. Petty as it might be, I was thrilled to see it. I hoped Miss Lillianne and/or her parents made a better choice next time. I was pleased to see that Hamiel’s visit had helped or assumed it had. Mayhap the young lady had already come to her senses and that blow to her cheek had cemented her opinion. I would never know, but I could give my love the credit and would do just that when next I saw him.

“That will help me sleep better,” I said to Abyss, resting and swatting flies with his long, black tail. I drew in a deep breath of warm summer air, releasing it with a rush as the summons ignited in my breast. Abyss grew twitchy. “Yes, my boy, we are being summoned. Let’s fetch the carriage with haste.”

I threw a leg over the saddle, tipped up my face, and took a moment to relish the warmth of the sun on my face. Nothing could compare.

Knowing we were being called, Abyss and I hurried home to fetch the carriage. Hopefully, Hamiel would be the walker assigned to this passing, for I had much to tell him. Also, I yearned to simply gaze upon him again.