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WHEN ONE WORKED FOR SATAN , one had no negotiated hours of employment.

I ferried fifteen souls to the depths before my horse and I began to falter. Exiting the Devil’s Den after dropping off a belligerent portly man of means to the winged demons, which I named harpies, the terror of riding into flames assaulted me. Thirty times I had ridden through it. Thirty times I reacted strongly. Heart thundering, eyes shut, a plea for help on my dry lips. I loathed that entrance. Suspicion that it had been set up just to torment me arose. Why I was being punished had yet to be fully explained. A deal with my father Malphus had said, but I stamped that out as a lie from a minion of the fallen angel. I knew not my father, only his reputation, and it was sterling. No, I would not believe such heresy until Lucifer himself spoke it, and then I would demand proof.

Still, until that confusion was clarified, I was locked into servitude. I’d not seen Hamiel after our time spent outside the apothecary shop in Belchertown. There was more than one rainbow walker I found out. Most were not as kind as Hamiel. Two of the four that I met were actually hostile, regarding me with distrust. Some even forbade me from going near or speaking with them. Agent of darkness that I was. As fatigue and hunger pulled at me, I found myself hoping that I would speak with him again soon. I refused to think about why I felt such a yearning to see the man again. That spoke poorly of me as I had been involved with Theo before I had become a moribund. I had a strong affection for Theo, and he for me. As the carriage sped onward through a dense woodland, the dirt road narrow and dark, I pulled up memories of the mayor’s son. Theo was a lanky young man, possessed of dark hair and pale blue eyes. Smaller than I, but then most were, and he fit into my arms well. When we embraced, I could rest my chin atop his head.

He was not the most fetching man I had ever seen. Hamiel outshone him greatly, but he was steadfast in his love for me. We would meet up in the stables late at night to kiss and touch each other, hiding in the hay mound away from the eyes of the townspeople and Pastor Colfax. However, we could not avoid the all-seeing eyes of the Lord, though. It was something the good pastor always reminded us sinners of every Sunday.

The last meeting we had was murky as it was tangled like a fishing line into the time of my passing. My final days on Earth and the time after my death were bound in gray fog. Much like the souls of purgatory who floated aimlessly about my home. A home I was now desperate to return to for some rest and food. Abyss had slowed slightly after our last ride. Now he sped up, the carriage jerking as he raced at a small clearing among a stand of dead oaks. I felt the whirlwind of a realm shift engulf me, scattering my reminiscences as we hurtled through the barrier between Earth and where I now hung my rumpled hat.

As we cleared the shifting maw of time, a squeal like that of a cat with its tail closed in a door assaulted my ears. A small red ball of imp rolled out from under those huge pounding hooves, wailing as it tumbled ass over long, pointed ears. I jerked on the reins to slow the horse who was intent on his stall. The carriage skidded over ashen dirt, sliding sideways to come to rest beside a weeping willow with a soft thud.

“Delmar, are you injured?” I shouted as I dropped to the ground and ran to where the tiny demon lay in a ball. His already foul clothing was even dirtier now. The striped trousers had a rend that exposed his bright red buttock. I placed a hand on his skinny shoulder. He began to wail. The pitch of his keen made my eyes water. Abyss whinnied loudly. “Are you in need of a healer?”

Where did one take an imp for healing? Would Malphus tend to the little demon, or would he laugh and then kick him in the side? I opted not to find out. I’d do what I could for my servant. I assumed doctoring an imp could not be too different from doctoring a horse.

“Bad horse! Oh bad horse kill me! Kill me dead. Dead! I am dead.”

Well, he was coherent at least. I rolled him onto his back. His red eyes were wide. A gash on his brow seeped dark brown goo.

“You are not dead, just stoved up.” Spirits began to congregate around us. “What were you doing at the edges of our boundary?”

“Nothing! Nothing! I was doing nothing! I was doing good things. Looking for stones for soup! Yes, stones for soup.”

Stone soup. That sounded delicious. I eyed the little bugger with suspicion. “Well, be advised that when we are gone dithering about by the borderline between the realms, it could be dangerous. Can you die?”

“Yes! No! I am not sure. But the horse is evil! Bad horse!” Abyss threw his head in vexation with me, I was sure. “Ahh! He wants to kill me.”

Delmar raced off, his backside showing. I blew out a loud breath. Several cloudy souls came closer as I shook off the exhaustion that was pulling me down. I could rest once Abyss was curried, fed, and watered. The carriage…well, that seemingly took care of itself. This was a welcomed respite, for the fifth person they summoned me to take to the pits had a gunshot to the head during a poker game gone badly. He’d bled profusely. However, after they carted him off to his eternal fate, I glanced inside the carriage and there were no signs of blood or brain matter to be seen. So, at least a small favor in that. I had no wish to have to scrub away such a mess.

A black snout pushed at the back of my head, nearly sending me face first into the dirt. I caught myself on splayed hands and gave Abyss a glower over my shoulder.

“You lack good manners,” I grunted as I pushed to my boots. “Come then, let’s get you settled.” I petted his jet-black nose. His white eyes closed, just for a moment, and then he began nudging me toward the stable. We had a moment of conflict when I unhitched him outside, leaving the carriage sitting beside the barn. A wisp touched my cheek as I worked to lift the heavy leather collar from the horse. A glistening spark of emotion seeped into me where the wandering spirit had brushed against my rough cheek, leaving a spark of recollection. There and then gone. I swatted at the spirit as if it were a pesky fly.

When I had Abyss settled, I left him to enjoy his food. I took note that the mangers were always filled with fine hay. His grain appeared when his nose entered the bucket and water flowed into his trough when he touched it. It seemed Satan cared a great deal for this stallion. It was good to know that the dark lord cared for something in some way. Pity he did not think to supply his coachman with decent food. I’d curse him to perdition, but he ruled it, so I cursed Malphus instead as I tossed a thick blanket over the horse’s back after brushing him down. With a weary sigh, I closed the stall and turned around to see that the carriage was sitting where I had first seen it back inside the barn.

I was too tired to argue. And what kind of discussion of reason could I have with the devil’s carriage? I washed up at a rusty hand pump located on the far side of the barn. The tepid water was cloudy at first, then cleared as it ran, the faded dirt soaking it up like a sponge. Parched beyond belief, I cupped my hands under the flow and took a taste. It had a soft metallic aftertaste, but otherwise, it seemed fine. The horse drank it with no ill effects, but then again, he was a creature of the depths. Thirsty beyond care, I drank my fill. If I died—again—my miserable supervisor would have to find a new man to press into servitude.

Coat, hat, and cravat in hand, I loped to the house, brushing away lost souls. Entering my home, I saw that Delmar had indeed made soup. The tiny cabin smelled of ginger. My stomach roared.

“I made good soup!” He scurried around the cabin, the cut on his head coated with what looked like black boot polish. “I cleaned the floors. See the floors?”

“They’re lovely,” I dully replied as I dropped down into a chair by the table.

“I did them good. Your boots are dirty. Dirty boots. I spit them clean!” He ran over from the fireplace, grabbed my foot, and then nearly yanked me from my seat. “Spit the boots! Spit the boots. Coachman has shiny spit boots. Yes, ma’am, good boots. Shiny boots.”

I braced for the second boot to be removed, then turned to stare down into the bowl sitting on the table. Thankfully, there were no stones in the soup. There were carrots, potatoes, and some sort of stringy meat floating alongside a chunk of ginger root.

“What manner of meat is this?” I asked, spooning some of the ginger carrot soup minus the meat to my lips. I was too hungry to be finicky.

“Not rabbit. No rabbits here. I like rabbits.” He sat at my feet, my boot resting in his arms, drool leaking from his cracked lips as he rubbed the spittle into my left boot with his shirt sleeve. “Only shades. No rabbits.”

I paused going for a second taste. “So what kind of meat is it?”

“Tree meat. Good for big cockery men,” he said between expectorating.

“Wonderful, well, at least you didn’t cut off your fingers for the soup.” I left the tree meat—I was not a beaver—but devoured the soup, going back for four bowls total before my stomach was full. “Can I bring food back from the human realm?”

He looked up from his boot duty, shifting red eyes round. “Yes, yes, rabbits! Rabbits. You should take Delmar with you to find rabbits. Look at your boots!” He held up a boot as long as he was tall. “I spit boots good. Very good! I can find rabbits too. Catch them. Cook them for you. I take good care of the coachman, yes?”

Fatigue began to settle on my weary shoulders. “Yes, you do a good job. I’ll be happy to take you with me on the next summons.”

He yelped in glee before running over to hug and then kiss my calf. “Such a good man. Great coachman. Best coachman ever. Hugest cockery! Delmar will add special polish to your boots. Shiny, shiny, shiny!”

“Okay, that’s fine. I’m going to bed. Thank you for the soup.”

I staggered to the bedroom. It looked much as it had when I’d last seen it. Someone, Delmar I was sure as he was the only other living being here, had stuffed some dead branches into a cracked glass bottle and placed it on the windowsill. As I undressed for sleep, I padded to the streaky window to watch the spirits who were stuck here swirling past. Lost souls serving time in a realm of dull grayness for who knew how long. Much like me. Perhaps I shouldn’t but I felt an affinity for them. Sleep called me from the window. Down to my drawers, I stretched out on the too soft bed, pulled the dusty coverlet up, and fell into a deep sleep, listening to Delmar sing a happy song about boot shine and rabbits.

A sharp pain in my chest pulled me from sleep, shattering the murky dream I had been locked in. The fire in the stable. The night of my death. I’d been at the door, the flames dancing up my legs, the pain immeasurable…

Gasping like a fish on the shore, I sat up, muscles stiff, back straight as a sawyer’s new board, soaked in sweat. Truly, if I had to wade through that horrible night every time my eyes closed, I should seek ways to remain awake. Shaking, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, my hands falling to my lap as I glanced at the window. Foolish of me. There was no moon nor sun to gauge the time of day. And did it matter? The summons was clutching at my breast, yanking me to my feet as the pain grew from a dull ache into a more commanding wrench. I stumbled about, trying to push away the nightmare, as the bedroom door opened. Delmar peeked around it, his ears perked like a curious dog.

“I hears big shouts. Soup left.” He bolted inside, his attire still a fright, but in his hands he carried a pile of clothing. “We ride soon? I wash clothes. Good job! I do good job. See, look. Look!”

He ran to me and held the somewhat neatly folded clothing skyward. Since I could not find my outerwear that I had tossed aside before my rest, I had to assume these were the same. Shaking them out, I saw that he had washed the tie cravat and seemingly brushed the trousers, waistcoat, and tailcoat.

“You did a fine job.” The compliment made him dance in place like a child on Christmas morn. “I’ll look most dapper.”

“Yes! Yes! Dapper. Most dapper. Hurry now! The dead wait for no man. I grab soup for you. Feed you good!” He bolted off, tiny cloven hooves click-clacking over the worn floorboards as I dressed with speed after making use of the old chamber pot in the corner. The call to duty grew stronger with each passing moment. From inside the house, I could hear Abyss outside voicing his displeasure. Delmar met me at the door, skipping about me in circles, a glass jar held in his two small hands, as we left our dismal home behind. “I bring soup! Good soup. When we have rabbits and potato, I make best soup ever. No more tree meat for the shiny coachman!”

The carriage awaited us, sitting outside the barn, as Abyss kicked at his stall over and over.

“Why did you not do this on our first calling?” I asked the fashionable gig, but obviously, it did not reply. I glanced down at Delmar at my side. “You may climb into the coachman’s seat to wait. This will take a few moments.”

“Yes, yes! I will wait in the seat. Hold the soup!” He scrambled up into the front seat, his grin wide, the cold soup in a jar spilling as he clambered into the seat. He’d not repaired the tear in his breeches, I noted. “Soup for the cockery coachman! Soup, soup, soup!”

Shaking my head, I entered the stable. Abyss was furious. His ears were flat, his nostrils flared, his white eyes wide with agitation. He bit down on his gate as he eyed me coming closer.

“If you think about nipping me, I shall leave you in that stall for the rest of the day,” I warned him as I reached for the gate latch. He threw his head but kept his teeth to himself. He came out of the stall like a musket ball from a rifle, nearly knocking me on my ass. “The previous coachman was lax in your training,” I muttered as I strode out into the barnyard. “We will work on common courtesy, my friend.”

The horse nickered at me. A hurry-up in horse speak if I ever heard it. Delmar sat in my seat, eyes wide, soup clutched to his scrawny chest, as I worked to hitch the horse. As soon as we were ready, I jumped up into my seat, the pale green lantern throwing an odd juniper toned coloration to the spirits moving about us.

“You should have sealed that soup. This carriage moves at great speeds. You may get doused,” I told the imp as I lifted the reins.

“Oh, I fix fast!” He passed the jar to me, pulled off his shirt, and tied it around the top of the jar. “Fix it! See how clever Delmar is! Soup for the coachman!”

I had my doubts but gave the odd little devil a smile. Funny how a man could strike up a companionship with a horrifying demon when he was alone save for a horse and an otherworldly carriage. He grinned up at me, pointed teeth on display. I clicked at Abyss, snapped the reins, and sat back. Delmar’s eyes popped when we exploded from the stable yard. His slim form slammed into the seat, but he held onto my cold soup for dear life.

“This is where we cross over,” I shouted to him as we streaked to the doorway from purgatory to Earth. He whooped in glee. Ten feet or so before we thundered through the portal, Delmar shrieked and disappeared in a puff of alabaster smoke. The jar of soup fell onto the seat. Stunned, I grabbed the jar, saving it from dumping all over the seat and me. We hit the other side in a jarring whoosh. I shoved the container between my thighs and yanked on the reins with all my might. Abyss was at full ungodly speed, and with his hooves flying, it took him some time to slow to a stop. The carriage hummed under me, clearly upset, as was the black horse who stamped his hooves while throwing me dark looks. “Where did he go?! Is he dead?”

Neither the horse nor the brougham had any reply for me.

“By the damned,” I grumbled, thinking of turning around to check but unable to do so as the pain in my chest was like a hot poker to my soul. Placing the jar between my feet, I gave the horse his head. I would find out later, I supposed. I prayed the imp would be fine. Even with his fixation on cocks, he was the only soul aside from a certain rainbow walker that I had to converse with in this new afterlife. This ride was not starting well at all.