《The Faustian Bargain》


 Episode One - The Faustian Bargain

    Billy scraped again and again at the stone, trying to find the edge. His spade screeched ineffectual against the hard surface. The sound dulled and died before they made it to the top of the deep hole he stood in, moist earth pressing in on every side.


    "Fuck fuck fuck fuck." he chanted under his breath. He resisted the urge to check his watch yet again. He knew it was almost midnight.


    Finally finding an edge to the rock, he knelt down and pried it from the earth. He hefted the rock over the lip of his hole, setting it next to the mud caked boots of the pastor.


    "Toss me the measuring tape." he said without looking up. He immediately returned to his work, tossing shovel after shovel of soil out of the hole.


    A yellow tape measure, spotted and blackened with age hit the dirt in front of him with a soft ''wump''. Stabbing his shovel into the earth to hold it upright, he kneeled and shoved the end of the tape into the deepest part of his hole. He quickly pulled the tape out and measured to the lip of the hole.


    "Four feet, seven inches. What time is it?"


    "11:47." the pastor replied.


    "Fuck." Billy said, and he once again began furiously pitching dirt out of the hole.


    "I''m not sure I can do this, Billy." The pastor said in his low baritone. His aged, dark skin hung like a hound dog''s off his skull.


    "You''ll do it, because you''re the only one who knows."


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    The Pastor said nothing, staring hangdog at the growing grave. Ten more minutes of frantic scraping at the earth passed without another word said by either of the two men.


    "11:57." the pastor announced.


    "Fuck!" Billy panted, a distinct amount of terror in his voice. He hastily measured the hole once more.


    "6 foot 1! Fuck yes!" he tossed the shovel out of the grave and sat down, indian style in the center.


    "You want me to read you your last rights?" asked the pastor.


    "I think we are a bit fucking late for that don''t you think?" Billy shouted.


    The pastor shrugged. "Still." he replied.


    "No." Billy said quietly.


    "I don''t think I can do it." The pastor repeated.


    "FUCKING DO IT!" Billy screamed.


    The Pastor scurried away from the rim, and Billy heard an engine start dimly from the bottom of the hole. He lay flat on the earth, and a new fear took hold of him. He had been so scared of finishing the hole in time, that he hadn''t thought to be terrified for the actual dying part. He clinched his fists against the desire to climb out.


    He could here a heavy thump and scraping as the pastor''s snow plow pushed the earth back towards his hastily dug grave. He gasped in a quick lung full of fresh air just before the earth hit him. It hit hard, much harder than he had expected. His chest compressed so fast that the air was forced from his lungs. He was instantly smothered. Dirt, wet and thick was in his every crevice, filling his nose, eyes and ears. He tried to gasp for another breath, and dirt flew into his open mouth. Every cell in his being thrashed to make it to the oxygen above, but he couldn''t move for the weight upon him. As his consciousness fell to blackness about him, he noticed, for the briefest of moments, that there was no light at the end of the tunnel.


    The pastor drove furiously away from the crossroads Billy had chosen. He was terrified he''d get caught and questioned about his involvement, and not by the police. He prayed aloud as he drove, the speedometer topping over 60, despite the dark and the dirt road. He prayed for forgiveness, he prayed for protection. And, though he knew how little it would help, he prayed for the soul of the man he''d just buried alive.

 Episode Two - The Faustian Bargain

    William Randall, more often known as Billy, was born in the early 80''s in the tiny town of Camden, Alabama. His mother Helen was a secretary at the local sawmill, and his father Reuben was a long-haul trucker. The youngest of four children, Billy was often to be seen in the hand-me-downs from his three older brothers. Reuben''s work left him absent from the house all but a few weeks each year, and Helen had tendency to drown her loneliness in Schlitz. It was a home where the bills ran long and the money ran short.


    By Billy''s tenth birthday, the government had been forced to step in, and the four brothers were sent to separate foster homes. Adoption records show that his brothers were all adopted shortly thereafter, but poor Billy, ever the unlucky lot, was left to the mercy of the foster care system. By all accounts, it seemed Billy''s life was to be a benighted one.


    Billy occupied his small amounts of free time by learning magic tricks. He earned a small bit of recognition for his talents of prestidigitation, winning the high school talent show and performing street shows for what crowds he could attract. The shows ended poorly, however, when in his senior year, he was arrested for pick-pocketing one of the passers-by that stopped for his act.


    Nothing of public record exists for Billy until another arrest, five years later, this time in Las Vegas, under fraud charges. Though the official police report does not verify it, I believe Billy tried to turn his skill of quick fingers into some quick, easy cash by cheating the casinos. Fifty years ago, that would have probably meant the end of Billy Randall at the hands of some mafia fixer. But in the twenty-teens it meant several years probation and an insistence he leave Nevada.


    Billy returned to Camden in late 2015, immediately after his release from jail. Two months later he had a courthouse marriage to Mackenzie Daughtry, and seven months after that, their daughter Delilah Rose was born.


    Several more years pass with nothing of interest occurring on the public records. Tax records show that for several years he worked in the sawmill his mother had once been an employee of. But just like his mother before him, Billy found that the work was hard, the pay was lacking, and the alcohol took the edge off.


    In November of 2018, the week of Thanksgiving, Billy was in an accident at the sawmill. ER reports showed that his blood alcohol level at the time of the accident was .280. As you can probably guess, both insurance and the sawmill refused to pay the bills for his drunken accident. He was fired, and that same week, divorce was filed by Mackenzie at the Camden courthouse. Billy Randall was left with a mangled leg and an empty single wide.


    But sadly this is not the end of Billy''s cursed bad luck. Over the next few months, Billy was back in the ER several times with bodily injuries. I suspect (though I admit this may be artistic license on my part) that poor Billy had become addicted to pain killers to self-medicate the pain in his injured leg. Less than a year after the sawmill accident, Billy''s old single wide burned to the ground while Billy was at a local bar. Billy had insurance on the trailer, but the insurance adjustors withheld payment pending a legal investigation. Who can blame them? This man had no life, auto, or medical insurance, a previous arrest for fraud, and a burnt out trailer with maximum coverage.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    The Fire Marshall''s report cited the incident as ''suspicious'' and once again, fraud charges were brought against Billy. While he stewed in jail, awaiting his trial for insurance fraud, Billy received a visit from his ex-wife Mackenzie. During that visit, she delivered possibly the worst news any parent can hear. His now 5 year old daughter, Delilah had been diagnosed with leukemia. It was well advanced, and terminal.


    But all Billy''s bad luck was about to change.


    June 6th, 2020, one week after the visit from his ex-wife, Billy was released from jail. As it transpired, an intern at the local courthouse was purging records, and accidentally destroyed all of the evidence for Billy''s case. The judge was forced to dismiss the criminal case, and the insurance company was ordered to pay the full coverage amount for the trailer fire.


    Billy immediately went to see his daughter, and that same day, along with his ex-wife they took young Delilah to get a second opinion, at the larger, more advanced hospitals in nearby Montgomery. A specialist at the Grant Pediatric Hospital confirmed that the leukemia diagnosis was in error, Delilah was fit and healthy in every respect.


    Billy must have sensed he was on a lucky streak, because on the way out of Montgomery, while filling his ex-wife''s old beater at a gas station on the edge of the city, he bought a single lottery ticket.


    I''m sure you know what happened next, of course. Billy, the small time criminal with a lifetime of poor choices and circumstances won the lottery. 36 million dollars.


    Mackenzie and Billy were re-married later that month, at the same courthouse where they''d first tied the knot. Their ecstatic daughter acted as their witness. The next week, a specialist surgeon in Montgomery was able to fully repair the damage to Billy''s leg. All the bad luck was erased. Billy''s life had somehow pulled itself out of a nosedive and back on to the path of the American dream.


    Nothing lasts forever, though. For months the family lived in blissful happiness as the world turned about them. But then June 6th, 2021, One year to the day from Billy''s release from jail, the day his daughter was declared cancer free, the day he bought his winning lottery ticket; Billy disappeared.


    Not a living soul has seen or heard from William Reuben Randall since. His wife organized search parties to no avail. The police were brought in, but they could make no more sense of it than she. It appeared for all the world, that Billy had just walked away from the life he had longed for.


    Did someone from Billy''s past finally catch up with him? Or could something even more sinister be responsible?


    If you have any information about the disappearance of Billy Randall, contact his wife Mackenzie, or the Camden city police department.

 Episode Three - The Faustian Bargain

slowly became more aware. But it felt like waking up. It felt like he''d been wrapped in a thick, heavy blanket of unconsciousness and he was being forcefully hauled up out of it.


    Local Man Disappears After Winning Lottery</u>

 Episode Four - The Faustian Bargain

    Billy followed Sean out of the parish to a small gravel parking area. There was a gorgeous woman leaning against a black camper van. The van had seen a lot of younger years, the paint was peeling and rust was eating at the wheel wells.


    The woman was younger than the van. She was wearing an Atlanta Braves hoodie and grey yoga pants that might as well have been painted on. She had blonde hair tied back into a pony tail that hung past her shoulders, sharp eyebrows and full lips.


    Billy looked appreciatively, expecting the slight flush of testosterone and pleasure that come from viewing such a specimen. But as before, he felt nothing.


    "So, who''s the accomplice to murder?" Billy asked, trying to indicate the woman with a nod and realizing the pointlessness of the motion..


    "That is my wife, Lindsey." he replied. "I''d introduce you, but there''s really no point. She can''t hear you the way I can."


    Lindsey shrugged off the vehicle and made several deliberate motions with her hands, clearly sign language even to Billy, who knew nothing about it.


    Billy watched amazed as Sean signed back, just as fluidly as the girl had.


    "She''s deaf?" Billy asked.


    "No, I am."


    "What?" Billy asked, confused. "What do you mean your deaf? You''ve been talking to me this whole time."


    "Technically, we''re not talking." Sean said. And this time, Billy understood the strange lisp and the overly loud volume Sean had always used. He couldn''t hear himself talking, he was speaking from memory, and hoping the words came out intelligibly.


    Sean went on. "I''m deaf and you''re dead. I think that strains the definition of ''conversation''."


    "So how is it you can hear me?"


    "That is a long story which I will tell you once we get going."


    Sean loped down the parish stairs and into the shotgun seat of the van. Billy floated behind, and daring to try something of his ghostly abilities, moved right through the side paneling into the back of the van. Cool he thought.


    Lindsey climbed into the driver seat, signing something briefly at Sean before hitting the gas, spinning the tires on the gravel road.


    "So she doesn''t talk to you at all?" Billy asked, watching Lindsey with interest.


    "She doesn''t speak to anyone. She took a vow of silence the day I lost my hearing. She swore she''d never say another word unless I could hear it. That was nine years ago, and so far as I know, she''s kept that vow.


    <div>


    " Mark, 7:31" Sean quoted, "Taking the deaf man aside from the crowd privately, Jesus put his fingers into his ears, and after spitting touched his tongue. And looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, ''Be opened.'' And his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly."


    Lindsey reached over and squeezed Sean''s leg affectionately.


    Billy groaned inwardly. "A vow of silence? You two make one hell of a fucked up couple. Wow."


    Lindsey took one hand off the wheel to sign something. Sean signed back one quick motion with a smile.


    "What did she say?" Billy asked.


    "She said to stop talking about her. She doesn''t like when I talk with people she cant see about her. You can imagine how crazy this must all be from her perspective."


    Lindsey grinned, but flipped off Sean.


    "So what''s your story then?" Billy returned to his questions. "How did you lose your hearing? And when did you start hearing dead people?"


    The van turned off the dirt road onto an only slightly more defined asphalt road. There were big cracks running the crossways, with plenty of potholes to be dodged. They passed a road sign that had been riddled through with bullets like swiss cheese, Billy couldn''t make out the highway number.


    "I was one of the early victims of the Coronavirus pandemic." Sean started, reclining his seat and kicking off his shoes. He put his feet up on the dash and went on. "In March of 2020, I was admitted into a COVID ward at Emory University Healthcare. The hospital, hell the whole nation, was vastly underprepared for the epidemic, and so when I reached the point I need to be on a respirator, there simply weren''t any available. I stopped breathing for twelve minutes. For six of those minutes I was considered legally dead."


    Lindsey took a hand off the wheel and reached out to hold Sean''s tightly. Sean went on, "I''m pretty sure the being dead bit is responsible for my hearing you. As for my not hearing anything else, the doctors told me that was caused by the fever. I held at 108.2 degrees for three whole days. The fever cooked my brain and caused the permanent hearing loss."


    "I think it damaged more than your hearing, you batshit crazy bastard." Billy said.


    Sean surprised Billy by laughing. "Yeah, I thought I was crazy for a long time. But then I met Sam, and everything changed."


    "And who is he?"


    "Not so much a who, as a what. His name is Samhain. But since ancient Gaelic has fallen into disuse, he goes by Sam. He''s a fallen angel."


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "Of course he is." Billy said, losing confidence in his companions with every word spoken. "And you, of course have no problems taking advice from a fallen angel."


    "The afterworld is a lot less black and white, good and evil than you would think. There are lots of fallen angels that won''t have anything to do with Lucifer. There are even a few demons that aren''t all bad."


    "And what did this Samhain say that convinced you you''re not crazy?"


    "He didn''t say anything, I was already deaf by the time I met him. But, he wouldn''t have had to say a word. What he showed me was enough."


    "What did he show you?"


    "You wouldn''t believe me if I told you. But don''t worry, you''ll see for yourself. First thing we''re doing, is going to see Sam. I don''t care what any Santa Claus movie says, seeing is believing."


    He continued on into a horrible rendition of Elvis Presley''s ''Seeing is Believing''. Billy watched, feeling more pessimistic by the moment.


    Sean finished his tone-deaf song and pulled a pillow from the rear of the camper van.


    "Well this is goodnight. The last guy I tried saving wouldn''t let me sleep at all that first night. But since I''ve already had such a long day," he nodded down the road back the way they had come, "I hope you could be courteous enough to shut up for a few hours? Thanks."


    With that, he put the pillow over his face, and as far as Billy could tell, fell immediately asleep.


    Billy ''sat'' there, not sure at all what to think of these two people he was stuck with. They were an eccentric pair, at the very least, and quite possibly unhinged. He knew he needed Sean, there hadn''t been another person who could even feel his presence in the last 8 years, if Sean was telling the truth. He didn''t trust either of them, but anything had to better than that crushing nothingness he''d been pulled out of.


    He slipped in and out of awareness, each time he looked at the clock, chunks of time had dropped away.


    1:47


    2:42


    3:27


    When the clock read 4:20, Lindsey pulled of the road into a Texaco. She got the pump running then went inside. Billy looked around, trying to spy any landmark he might recognize that would give him a clue of where they were.


    The road was devoid of cars, still too early for any but the earliest of early birds. He could make out Lindsey through the big glass panes of the gas station, there was a bored looking man behind the counter, his attention on a soccer match playing on a small television. Looking down the road however, Billy noticed a figure walking their way.


    At first, Billy thought it was an emo teenager. The person had a small, thin frame, clad entirely in black, like they listened to a lot of Black Veil Brides. The stranger had a black hoodie pulled high, and walked with a morose shuffle, not looking at anything in particular.


    But as the figure closed in on the bright glare from the fluorescents of the gas station, more details came into view. Whatever this thing was, it had no face. The hood, which was directly facing into the lights now, was empty, or rather it was empty of a head. It seemed to be filled with smoke, black wisps trailed now and then from the edges.


    It''s movement wasn''t quite right for a human either. From the road it had looked unassuming enough, but close up, its motions were jerky and short. The joints seemed to be in the wrong places. A little too low at the knee, too high at the elbow.


    It was passing the bright gas station, gently jerking and twitching its way down the road. Billy, curious, was about to float through the side of the van and take a closer look, but the thing scared him.


    "Sean." he prompted, trying to wake him gently.


    Sean rolled over and pulled the pillow tighter to his head.


    "Sean, there''s something out there."


    Sean moved the pillow an inch to peer with one eye out the window. When he saw the figure, he bolted upright in his seat.


    "Fuck. Where are you?" he asked, whispering.


    "I''m right next to you, where I''ve always been."


    "You haven''t been outside? And I mean at all?"


    "No."


    Sean looked around and saw that his wife was missing. "Where''s Lindsey?"


    "She''s inside. What''s wrong? What is that thing?"


    "That is a reaper."


    "As in..." Billy couldn''t say the word.


    "Yes. As in grim reaper. Angel of death. La Muerta. Joe Black. Shinigami-sama. Get my drift?"


    "Is it dangerous?"


    Sean was peering into the store''s windows, looking anxious. Lindsey was at the checkout counter now, placing snacks and soda out to be rung up.


    "Not usually." Sean replied, "They have a job to do, you know, and they usually just go about doing it. If it smells you though, we''re all dead. I''m rather perplexed why I have to keep telling you this, but you aren''t supposed to be here."


    "It can smell me?" Billy asked, not sure what he could do to muffle his scent when he didn''t have a body.


    "Like a shark smells blood in the water."


    "Well what the fuck do we do?"


    "Just stay put. It''ll pass on soon enough."


    The two watched the reaper as it continued on its way. It passed beyond the light of the gas station and was indistinguishable from an average human once again. Just then, Lindsey, who had finished paying for her groceries, opened the door to the store. The reaper stiffened, straightening up and tilting the hood up, as if it were sniffing at the air.


    "Shit." Sean was suddenly scrambling into the back of the van. He tossed piles of dirty laundry this way and that, digging for something. "I think it can smell you on her."


    Billy, who had been watching Sean, turned back to look at the reaper. In the brief second he''d looked away, it had moved closer by a good hundred yards. It had been blocks down the road, now it was standing still, in the lot with them, just at the edge of the light. As Billy watched, the dark smoke that filled the hood parted, and an inhuman skull seemed to emerge from within the smoke. The parched white bone was from some animal he couldn''t identify, elongated and many teethed. Hands pulled from within the pockets, revealed vicious looking talons. Red embers seemed to burn within the smoke, deep in the empty eye sockets.


    "Lindsey!" Sean yelled, though the call did not carry outside the enclosed van. Billy was shocked to see that Sean had pulled out a large caliber hunting rifle.


    "Can you kill it?" he asked.


    "Not the reaper, I can''t."


    Lindsey, oblivious to any danger, sauntered slowly toward the parked van. With a blink, the reaper was beside her, breathing deep the scent. A shiver ran the length of its form, and the reaper seemed to melt into a choking fog. Black smoke spread and consumed Lindsey within.


    BLAM!


    Alaringly loud, Sean fired a single shot. The smoke instantly cleared, revealing Lindsey, startled and pale, but unharmed.


    "Run, Lindsey!" Sean shouted, throwing open the driver side door. The door''s window had a single bullet hole in it.


    Billy twisted this way and that, searching the shadows but seeing no sign of the reaper. He looked back to the clerk, to see what his reaction would be, and felt a fresh wave of horror.


    The front pane window of the store had a perfect round hole in the center, the same as the van window. Beyond it, the counter was empty, no sign of the store clerk remained, save for a spray of blood and brains. Whisps of black smoke stirred slightly in the gentle breeze of the air conditioning.


    Lindsey sprinted to the van and cranked the ignition, sobbing hysterically.


    "What the fuck did you just do?" Billy demanded.


    "It was a reaper, babe." Sean was saying to Lindsey, ignoring Billy. "It nearly had you. I had to. You know I didn''t want to. I had to.


    She took both hands off the wheel to sign something at Sean. The van rolled onto the curb, and she hastily corrected, swerving.


    "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DO?" Billy repeated, making himself as loud as he could.


    "It was us or him." he said to Billy, then to Lindsey, "Drive fast. We''ve got an hour, if we''re lucky, before there is an all-points-bulletin out for this van."


    The black panel van sped through the thinning dark, sunrise threatened with a faint glow far to the east.


    Billy watched the gas station lights disappear out the rear window, and he couldn''t help but run a tally in his mind.


    Body count in his thirty-nine years alive: 0


    Body count in one night dead: 2

 Episode Five- The Faustian Bargain

    The daylight hours were spent parked in the middle levels of a parking garage in a small city Billy didn''t recognize. Lindsey and Sean slept most of the day, leaving Billy alone with his thoughts.


    He had expected to be bored, but instead time seemed to slip by in large, unnoticed chunks to him. When he was lucid, he worried about his travelling companions. He had been pulled out of the depths, but he felt like he was stuck on the life raft with two cannibals.


    Billy had already seen Sean murder two people, and Lindsey, smoking hot as she inarguably was, was also clearly not firing on all cylinders. He had some serious concerns about if they could actually help him in any way, or if they really were just insane.


    The sun was slanting in sideways through the windows by the time Sean roused himself. He rolled out of the little bed situated at the rear of the van and, scratching at his pits, flopped bleary-eyed into the driver seat.


    "Good morning." Billy said.


    "Fuck." Sean yelped, jumping. "I forgot you were here. Not hard to do, you being invisible and all."


    "What are we doing today?"


    "Well thanks to the fuckery last night at the gas station, we need to wait for nightfall before we leave. In fact..."


    Sean pulled up his phone, and after a few typed words, he was watching a local news clip. A professional looking asian woman with chin length black hair was standing in front of a gas station that had been cordoned off with yellow tape. Blue and red lights flashed from the tops of several cars parked in the background.


    "Early this morning, local man Ram Sharma was killed while working his shift at the route 44 Texaco. Police do not say the motive was robbery related. He was shot one time, in the head, by a high caliber round that came from outside the shop. Police have stated that they do not think the death was accidental but have not ruled anything out at this point. They are in search of a suspect in a black camper van that was last seen heading west on route 44."


    An image of the van from a poor angle was briefly imposed on the screen, followed by a grainy security camera photo of Lindsey. She had a ball cap pulled down low on her head, there was no clear shot of her face. But those silver linings weren''t enough to stop Sean from muttering curses to himself.


    "If you have any information regarding the incident, you are urged to call 911 or your local crime stoppers." The reporter finished, flashing a smile that showed more teeth than a toothpaste commercial.


    "Well that''s that." Sean said, patting the dash sentimentally, "The van is finally blown."


    "You can always get another one." Billy said, trying to cheer him up.


    Sean let out a mirthless laugh. "There''s not a lot of money in what I do. Like Wesley Snipes once said, ''We''re not exactly the March of Dimes here.''"


    "What is it you do for money?" Billy asked.


    "I''ve got a few wealthy benefactors that see value in what I''ve been doing. Mostly Sam, but a few other people with too much time and too much money throw me a job now and then."


    "All murder?" Billy asked incredulously. He couldn''t think of a person less likely to be a hitman.


    "That''s the rare exception. Usually its to make use of my talents as a medium. Real mediums are rare, and I can usually stay afloat just by talking. Once in a while, the talk requires harsher vocabulary."


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Sean''s words brought back memories from early that morning.


    "That thing last night, the reaper?" Billy asked, "Are there many of those?"


    "No, in fact its kind of like running into a grizzly at Yellowstone. It doesn''t happen often, and if it does, you''ve got a real story to tell. Last night was just really bad fucking luck."


    Sean picked up a shoe off the floor next to him and tossed it at the back of the van. It hit near the bed with a loud thud and Lindsey popped her head briefly out from the covers. Sean signed a long message to her, and she responded but growling inarticulately and flipping him off.


    "What was that about" Billy demanded.


    "I was just telling her how she''s wanted for murder."


    "What are we going to do about that? What is the plan for this rolling piece of murder evidence?"


    "Once night falls, we will head over to Sam''s place. It''s only a few hours away, and he will probably have something we can replace it with."


    Lindsey got up then, and within minutes they were off, both chewing on toast they had made in the camper van''s small kitchen.


    "Where does this Sam live?" Billy asked as they turned and drove into the setting sun.


    "He''s got a place about 40 miles north of Baton Rouge." Sean replied. "You''ll like it, its got history."


    The place had history, and Billy definitely did not like it. It was a plantation. The beams from the van''s headlights revealed ornate iron wrought gates flanked on either side by tall ivy covered brick walls. Above the gate, in ornate, loopy writing was the name of the place.


    Enfer Sur Terre


    Even in the dim moonlight, Billy could tell the place was huge. Beyond the gates were perfectly manicured lawns that seemed to stretch on for miles. Far in the distance were the lights of an enormous mansion.


    Sean had pulled up level with a security camera. A blue light blinked on an attached speaker, but no one spoke to them. Sean just looked into the camera for several seconds, and the gates opened.


    "He lives on a plantation?" Billy asked, dumbfounded.


    "Yep." Billy replied, grinning.


    "Who the fuck is this guy?"


    Sean sighed. "He''s basically immortal. He''s been on earth for at least 2000 years, and who knows how long he existed before that. He knows more than any other person you''ll meet. He''s not particularly fond of lost souls, but he will do what he can to help you, its in his nature."


    Billy couldn''t think of anything to say. He was definitely starting to feel anxious about meeting this Sam guy.


    The driveway was ridiculously long, it was white gravel, and lined with lightly swaying willow trees. Lightning bugs weaved in and out of the leaves, and from one of the outbuildings, a banjo was playing in the night. It was like they''d turned off the highway into another century.


    The house had the style and build of an early 1800s mansion, but everything looked brand new, spotless. As they pulled up next to a front porch large enough to have a ball on, Billy could only gawk.


    Lindsey and Sean both hopped out comfortably, like they were back home. Billy floated through the side door.


    There was a sudden ferocious snarling and barking all around them. Two of the most ferocious looking animals Billy had ever seen came tearing around the side of the house, bearing down on him. They had black fur, streaked through with patches of crimson. Their muzzles were contorted with grotesquely mutated teeth, and their eyes burned like hot coals.


    "What the fuck are those?!" Billy yelled, trying to grab Sean and use him as a human shield.


    "What? Those are just Sam''s dogs."


    "What the fuck kind of dog is that?"


    "I think it''s a Pomeranian."


    "Cain, Abel, HEEL!" a voice commanded, and the two vicious looking dogs stopped, just feet from Billy. The voice continued, "Actually Sean, they''re hellhounds. And I imagine they look quite different to a lost soul.


    Billy pulled his attention away from the killer hounds to see who had spoken, and was stuck in a moment of disbelief. He couldn''t do anything but stare, feeling like his jaw should be hanging slack, if he''d had a mouth.


    "Sam, I''d like you to meet Billy. Billy, this is Sam."


    "Welcome to Enfer Sur Terre." Said the fallen angel.

 Episode Six- The Faustian Bargain

    Billy gaped. Or he would if he''d had the capacity. Sean had told him that this Sam was a fallen angel. He hadn''t known what to expect, but it wasn''t this. The few times he''d bothered to think of Samhain at all, he had pictured a dark character, someone slimy and dislikable. That was about as far from the mark as was possible. What Sam really looked like was...perfection. It was like someone had taken all the best features of every superstar on the planet and put them into one person. His jaw was the perfect ratio of round to square, his every muscle tightly defined, not a hair out of place. Man perfected.


    "You made the news." Sam said, giving Lindsey a warm hug as she reached the top of the wide ornate staircase to the porch.


    Lindsey returned the hug, then signed something to reply, her movements coming quick and agitated. Sean followed up the steps, grinning. Billy slid warily sideways toward the group, never taking his gaze off the hounds that eyed him like a tasty snack.


    "So what brings you two to my door?" Sam asked as he signed the same question to Sean. "Is it the high profile murder, or the idiot of the damned?"


    Sam ran his eyes over Billy as if he could see him whole. He had a distinctly unfriendly gleam to his eyes.


    "We were on our way here already when that shit fest at the gas station happened." Sean replied in his usual mumbling drawl. "Sam, meet Billy. Billy, Sam."


    "It''s incredible to meet you." Billy said, still gawking.


    Sam looked unimpressed. "I don''t usually open my home to the damned, but there''s just something about a lost cause that makes me want to try even harder."


    He cracked a grin. "Besides, its in my nature to be generous."


    Turning to Sean and Linsey he said, "As always, make yourselves at home. Later we''ll see what we can do about your ride, right now I will deal with Mr. William Reuben Randall."


    Billy tried to blink in surprise, but of course he had no eyes. The constant lack of the expected physical reactions had not gotten easier to bear as time passed. If anything it was getting worse.


    "How did you know my full name? No one said it." Billy asked.


    "Oh some things I just know." Sam waved aside the question as if the reason didn''t matter. Sean chuckled.


    "Come with me William." Sam said, heading toward the mansion''s massive double front doors.


    Billy floated along in the angel''s wake as he led him through a grand entrance hall. To the left and right of the hall were wide spiraling staircases. It was lined with portraits of Southern gentlemen, and a magnificent crystal chandelier illuminated the space. The red carpet that ran down the hall and up both staircases looked thick enough to sleep on. Two of the single-wide''s he''d grown up in would fit comfortably side by side in this room.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Sam walked the length of the hall, and gestured Billy into a room on the back left. Sam''s steps left no imprint on the thick carpet.


    The room Sam had ushered him into was a library. Billy looked around in wonder. He''d never been much of a reader, but then again, if he''d had a place like this to read, he might have spent more time doing it.


    The room was two stories high, another ornate spiral staircase sat against the far wall, granting access to the upper floor. Books were crammed tight into every shelf, their spines creating a multi-colored collage. The shelves were lined with rolling ladders to access the hard to reach spaces, and every few feet a thick and comfortable looking chair or sofa was placed so a reader wouldn''t have far to go before plopping down with their latest find.


    Sam walked to a mini bar next to the room''s grand fireplace. He poured himself a tall glass of milk and took it to the armchair in front of the fireplace.


    Gesturing to the adjacent armchair he said, "I''d offer you a seat, but you cant sit, can you?"


    Billy tried, futile as he knew it would be, but he could not feel the chair, the warmth of the fire, or even himself in anyway. He felt nothing, as had been since he awoke.


    "Eventually it will be too much for you." Sam said, as if he could tell exactly what Billy was thinking. "Any ghost, for lack of a better word, will eventually succumb to the hopelessness. You will lose yourself to that nothingness if Sean can''t help you, and you''ll end up haunting whatever crack den you died in."


    "I never did crack." Billy said, defensive, but he was still gawking around the room. He spied a display of a Gutenberg Bible under a glass display. "How do you afford all of this?"


    Sam gave a contemptuous chuckle. "Money is just something that accumulates over time when you can''t die. And if you always expect the worst of humans, you can make some easy investments. I hold major stakes in just about every weapons manufacturing company in this barbaric hole."


    "Why a plantation?" Billy asked next.


    Sam took a long drink of his milk, smacking his lips in appreciation before answering. "I suppose I enjoy a bit of irony. I bought a place where horrible things had been done by horrible people. From this place I use my millions of dollars, gained through the suffering of millions of innocents, to try to reduce the influence of evil on this world.


    "I''ve tried more direct approaches to battle against Lucifer and his ilk. But you humans are a stubborn breed. You cant be forced into an idea, no matter how plain the outcome, you would rather die, horribly I might add, than change a deeply held belief."


    "More direct approaches? You are financing a man who travels around murdering people." Billy accused. "That''s pretty direct."


    "Murdering the right people." Sam corrected. "A well placed execution here and there prevents more bloodshed in the long run. That poor man at the gas station the other night, well he was a casualty of the cause. It''s unfortunate, but there are a hell of a lot less casualties here than those in my past."


    "Shit, what have you done in the past?"


    "You''ve heard of the Spanish Inquisition?"


    "That was you?"


    "Me and a few others. We had the idea that humans could be forced into accepting heaven if they lived through hell. It was a lesson in the stubbornness of humans, and possibly the worst mistake of my very long existence." Sam explained, sounding truly regretful.


    "And you''re what helping me out of the goodness of your heart?" Billy asked. "Sounds like you''ve got a pretty fucked up idea of what help is."


    "I couldn''t care less what happens to you." Sam said bluntly, taking another sip of his milk. "One soul, one way or the other, isn''t even going to register in the infinite ocean of my sins. But it will make a hell of a lot of difference to you."


    Billy couldn''t think of anyway to respond to that. He just stared at Sam, trying to understand.


    "So, do you want my help or not?" Sam demanded.


    Billy tried to take a deep breath to calm himself, as he used to do before making a big decision. His inability to do so cut at him like it always did.


    "Okay." he said, " What can I do?"

 Episode Seven- The Faustian Bargain

    Sam led Billy through the plantation''s manor house. Everything about the place put Billy on edge. The place was modernly decorated and filled with all the latest in technology, but something about it still felt old and wicked. Every room and hall they passed was empty, but there always seemed to be something moving, always just beyond the edge of Billy''s peripheral.


    "This place gives me the creeps." Billy told Sam.


    Sam chuckled without real humor. "You''re a ghost now. Don''t tell me you still don''t believe in haunted houses?"


    "You mean you deliberately bought a haunted plantation? Why would you do that?"


    Samhain sighed sadly. "I had hoped that I could help some of the souls here. But the longer a soul lingers where it shouldn''t be, the longer it takes to return from the void. Sometimes all that comes back is the worst parts. The hunger, the ambition, the raw animal instinct to survive. The parts of you humans that fight. Those are the only things that survive in the void that long."


    "So they''re stuck here forever?" Billy asked, spinning in place, but still never getting a clear shot of whatever was house with them.


    "It may take a few decades, but eventually more of their old personality, their old memories will return to them. You''ve been dead for just over eight years, and you can''t remember half of your life. These people have been trapped here for two centuries."


    They entered a large white kitchen. Every surface was white, the countertops, the cabinets, the floors, the appliances; and everything was sterilely clean. Sean and Lindsey were there, staring into each others'' eyes. Plates that had been scraped clean were placed in front of them on the table. Billy could just make out the last remnants of some sort of thick gravy.


    Samhain pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and tossed them at Sean. Sean snagged them out of the air asking, "What''s this for?"


    Sam replied with a few short gestures. Billy had no idea what Sam had said, but whatever it was had both Sean and Lindsey gaping open mouthed at Sam like he was... well, an angel fallen from heaven.


    Sam signed something more that Billy caught none of, then went through a door and down a set of stairs off the kitchen.


    "What did he give you?" Billy asked, the second the door closed behind Samhain.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    "A new way to ride. One that distances us as far as possible from that fiasco with the van, and a very generous one."


    He jingled the keys in the air in front of him. "He gave me the keys to his yaaaaacht!" Sean sang in a high falsetto.


    "Okay, but we have to drive to get to his yacht right?" Billy asked.


    "Lifestyles of the rich and the famous, buddy. Out back there is a specially dug tributary that feeds into the Mississippi river. Twelve miles long, all so that the rich prick who used to live here could park his yacht at home."


    Sam returned just moments later with something wrapped in a black cloth. He set it on the counter between them, and Sean''s ecstatic mood faltered and cut off.


    "You need to take him to see Bune." Samhain signed to Sean while speaking aloud for Billy''s benefit.


    Sean and Lindsey both blanched.


    "You can''t do it yourself?" Sean pleaded.


    "With a few years of hunting I probably could. I don''t have that kind of time. Bune could do it overnight."


    "Bune would sell him over on sight." Sean replied, gesturing toward Billy.


    "That''s why I gave you this." Sam said.


    He opened the cloth to reveal a knife. It had a simple but ancient-looking wooden handle, and a long sinister curved blade. Billy felt a deep sense of unease as he looked at it. Sean gagged.


    "What is that?" Billy asked.


    "One of the flaying blades used by the inquisitors. Circa 1521, payment to Bune for your safety. This should match or best any payment that he might get for turning you over."


    "Is it valuable then?" Billy asked, to his lack of eyes it looked dull and brittle.


    "Maybe worth a few thousand dollars to an enthusiast. But to a demon, its damn near priceless. Years worth of innocent human suffering went into that blade. It took hundreds of lives in slow agonizing fashion, a sadist''s wet dream."


    "Wait." Billy said, catching up at last, "You are sending me to see a Demon, an honest to God demon? I thought the point of this whole fucking enterprise was to keep me out of the hands of the demons!"


    "I''m paying him not to." Sam said, wrapping the knife back up and placing it in Sean''s reluctant hand. "It''s the most help you will receive anywhere on this continent, I can promise you that."


    Sean stood and signed something to Lindsey. She stood too, and crossed the kitchen to give Sam a hug. The two had a short conversation in sign language followed by another long hug. When the hug broke apart, Sean took his turn giving Sam a hug.


    "Thank you for saving my ass. Again." Sean said.


    "Just bring back my boat. I''ll have replaced your van by then, and I''ll probably have a dozen jobs for you too."


    Sean nodded, and he and Lindsey left the kitchen. Samhain turned to Billy.


    "Either way it plays out, we won''t be seeing each other again."


    The fallen angel put out a hand, as if to rest it on Billy''s shoulder, and to Billy''s astonishment he actually felt it resting there, exactly as it should have felt were they both flesh and bone humans. It was the first thing he''d felt since awakening from the void.


    "Good luck." Sam said.


    He withdrew his hand and the feeling faded. It left an impression though, like the throb of a day old burn. Without another word, Samhain turned and left the room.

 Episode Eight- The Faustian Bargain

This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

 Episode Nine- The Faustian Bargain

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.