《Wayward Souls》


 One

    I pushed open the apartment door and frowned down at the empty bags of garbage against the wall. Carl was sprawled on the couch, his ratty green blanket halfheartedly lain across his body. His PS4 controller was discarded on the secondhand coffee table, Genshin Impact burning a hole in our utility budget. Next to the controller was a half-eaten meatball sub from Subway. My bottle of ranch dressing was next to it. Praying it hadn¡¯t been left out too long I took it to the fridge. The chart on the fridge said it was Carl¡¯s turn to do the dishes.  I looked sadly at the dishes slowly going rancid in the sink.


    "Yo, Carl. You said you''d take the trash out today.¡± I called over. Carl didn¡¯t stir. I sighed and shook my head. I walked over to the wall and picked up the trash bags and carried them back out, and down the stairs. The dumpster was around the side of the complex, and it had snowed last night. Not much, but enough to be unfun. I stopped along the way to grab the mail- something Carl had volunteered to make his daily job. I saw the FINAL NOTICE letter and sighed. I thought I was going to have enough to cover the utilities but maybe it hadn¡¯t covered the late fees.


    I trudged upstairs, feeling defeated. My job wasn¡¯t the worst, I knew people who killed themselves working in warehouses or construction, but the rigors and monotony of retail left me sore and weary. I opened the door and went inside again. Carl had rolled over a bit but nothing else. I walked down the hall to my room, depositing Carl¡¯s mail at his door. I went into my room, closing the door despondently. It was time to see if I had enough to pay the utilities again. I sat down at my laptop and dropped the mail on my desk, pointedly ignoring the other bills there.


    I pulled my weight as best I could. Money was tight and I had student loans to pay. My degree, a history degree, was useful for bar trivia and little more. With rent going up and utilities growing more exorbitant, money stopped being tight and was simply not enough. I finally waved the white flag on living on my own and found a roommate. I hoped that the split rent, utilities, etc would let me keep afloat, or maybe even work on my savings. Unfortunately, Carl was not the roommate for that aspiration. His half of the rent was paid by his family. Otherwise, his money came from inconsistent work doing drawings online. He wasn¡¯t bad at drawing anime girls with impossible figures and aroused expressions, but the market wasn¡¯t exactly empty of those sorts. He also wasn¡¯ the most fervent in searching for work. So I ended up not just covering my half, but constantly ¡°loaning¡± the other half by paying the entire bill. I knew I needed to get out, but the idea of paying for the security deposit, the first and last month rent, and the time and effort cost of moving out just seemed too daunting.


    Like I said, I just didn¡¯t have the energy.


    I logged into the utilities website, and sure enough, the notice there was apparently because I hadn¡¯t covered all the fees. It was some kind of awful racket where I could pay my entire utility bill but end up owing because I hadn¡¯t paid enough to cover all the fees for not paying on time. As I checked the amount I was paying (highway robbery), I noticed a checkbox for hardship. Why not? This seemed like hardship. I clicked the checkbox and then submitted.


    Immediately my browser began to redirect to something called Wayward Souls. Probably a fitting name. The site loaded with a strange red and black motif. I wasn¡¯t expecting that, I was thinking it¡¯d have some kind of holiday motif- Christmas was just around the corner. This looked sinister. Was that the best way to attract people in need? I had an adblocker so I wasn¡¯t overly concerned about what the website had to offer.


    It loaded a simple form. I put in basic contact information, and at the bottom was a disclosure checkbox for allowing me to be visited by an agent, to vet my living situation. I wasn¡¯t huge on people coming to visit- it meant I¡¯d have to clean up Carl¡¯s messes, but I checked it. It was offering up to $500 in money for covering utilities. That would be such a boon for me. Maybe Carl wouldn¡¯t have to know.


    I checked the box, clicked submit, and went about juggling my tiny bank account and the pile of letters on my desk.


    ¡°Yo, door,¡± Carl yelled, shaking me out of my gloom. I realized there was a knock at the door. Carl of course didn¡¯t answer it. I got to my feet and went to the front door of the apartment, opening it.


    The woman there was stunning. Her dark navy suit was pressed and creased immaculately, Her white blouse just showing below her neck. The suit, though dark, failed to disguise her feminine figure. Her waist, already slim, was emphasized by the roundness of the woman¡¯s hips, hugged tightly by her dark skirt. Her hair was short, about ear-length and very dark brown, framing a face with Asian features. Those were further accentuated with light makeup, deftly placed. Slightly tilted eyes regarded me initially without feeling but her lips split in a warm smile.


    ¡°Hello, I¡¯m here representing Wayward Souls. My name is Danielle.  Are you Jeremy Owens?¡± Her smile was almost too inviting as she shook my hand. I nodded assent to her question. ¡°Good, I¡¯m just here for a little paperwork. Do you mind if I come in? It won¡¯t take much of your time.¡±


    ¡°Uh yeah, sure.¡± I gestured at the small table with an embarrassing number of discarded items. Old mail, fast food bags, one of Carl¡¯s bath towels (how?), and a pack of lightbulbs made me regret the gesture.


    Seemingly unbothered, Danielle sat at the table. She crossed her legs and set a folder down on the table, deftly avoiding touching any of the miscellaneous items on the table. She placidly folded her hands in her lap, looking at me expectantly. I sat down, trying not to look wholly abashed about the table.


    "Firstly, Mr. Owens, I must apologize for slightly misleading you." Danielle''s smile didn''t waver. I frowned at that. She continued. "You will receive the five hundred as indicated, but that¡¯s not the real reason for my visit. Wayward Souls is not only about helping those in need, but also about finding those with the potential to do and be more. Hold on, your friend keeps staring at my tits.¡±


    My mouth opened in slight horror. Carl was, in fact, watching in slight fascination, but his gaze snapped to mine as soon as Danielle stood up. She slowly approached him, her hips swaying. Even my gaze was drawn. She reached up, her fingers delicately undoing the buttons on her jacket. The suit slid from her shoulders, showing the white sleeveless blouse beneath. As the suit jacket puddled at the floor, she leaned down toward Carl. His eyes were bright, expectant. She parted her lips slightly, leaning in, and kissed my gross ass roommate on the mouth. She withdrew, and Carl was sound asleep.


    Danielle turned and strode back. She picked up her suit jacket, hit it a few times to smooth it out, and then threw it back on. She sat back in her seat, smoothed her skirt once, and said, ¡°Now, where were we?¡±


    ¡°What the fuck was that?¡± I asked, in disbelief. ¡°You can just kiss people to sleep? Are you some kind of succubus or something?¡±


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°No, merely an emissary,¡± Danielle responded nonchalantly. ¡°But it is a good guess. Wayward Souls is all about finding those who would make the best lieutenants for Hell, in its constant war against Heaven. You were identified as a person of interest, so we made it possible to reach you through your utility company. I must apologize again, you were technically current on your utility bill until we added the additional fees. "


    I knew I wasn''t processing this properly when the first question out of my mouth was ¡°Couldn¡¯t you have just called?¡± What was she talking about? Heaven and Hell? Was she insane? But I looked over at Carl¡¯s dozing figure. People also can¡¯t just normally knock someone out with a kiss. I started to go from confused to worried. What if she was telling the truth?


    ¡°Wayward Souls is not allowed to directly reach out. There are certain rules that we must abide by. You must elect to invite us in of your own volition, we cannot impose ourselves upon you at all. It had to be you who clicked on the checkbox and entered your information on the website. It had to be you who invited me in. All your choices. Does that help?¡± Danielle continued to smile, as if nothing she had said was out of place.


    I felt confused and very, very small. ¡°But you charged me extra! You drove me to do it!¡±


    Danielle smirked ¡°The Devil made you do it?¡± She held up a placating hand. ¡°But not to dally in humor, it is through our mortals that we can create situations that might¡­ facilitate our meetings. Besides, you haven¡¯t agreed to do anything, nor have we forced you to. You could ask me to leave right now and I would comply.¡± Danielle waited. The moment stretched, her deep brown eyes uncomfortably locked on my own.


    ¡°Well I should,¡± I managed. ¡°I mean, Hell is¡­ well it¡¯s the bad place you know? I¡¯m not a bad person.¡±


    Danielle nodded as soon as I started talking. ¡°Of course you¡¯re not a bad person. There are two kinds of people who go to Hell, and neither are bad. There are those too weak to not give in to their desires, and there are those who know where true power can be had. Wayward Souls is simply identifying you as one of the latter. If you are afraid of being the former, then let me know, and our business here can be concluded.¡±


    ¡°What IS our business? You¡¯re giving me money for my utility bill,¡± I said, almost hysterically. ¡°Can¡¯t you just give me the $500 and do a walkaround of my apartment? Check off a few boxes, and be done?¡±


    ¡°Yes we could,¡± Danielle said, her lips slightly pursed in disappointment. ¡°But is that all you want? Don¡¯t you want more than this life where a small fee upends you so dramatically? Wouldn¡¯t you like to do more than live with-¡± she gestured at Carl ¡°this kind of company? You should be keeping company with kings, not Carls.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t told her Carl¡¯s name. She seemed to know everything about me. It seemed completely impossible that she was telling the truth. But everything, from the website, to Carl¡¯s sleeping, to the woman in front of me, seemed to lend credence to her motive. And maybe, just maybe, I actually did want out. By any means possible. I swallowed nervously. ¡°Let¡¯s say I¡¯m okay with this.¡± Danielle nodded. ¡°What am I doing?¡±


    Danielle¡¯s face bloomed into a radiant grin. ¡°Excellent! As an aspiring lieutenant of Hell, your tasks will be manyfold. You will be required to claim souls for our cause. You will use these souls here on the mortal plane to wage a proxy war against Heaven. Similarly, some of those souls will be able to be put to more direct work- warring against the angels on the plains of Gehenna. You of course will supervise both. You will start to create a foothold here in the mortal world, to better work from. It should be exhilarating, enriching work. And with it will come power and control beyond your wildest imaginings. It will at least beat retail work, for certain.¡±


    I licked my lips nervously. ¡°You think I can? I¡¯m just a normal guy. Angels and demons and fighting in Hell? I¡¯d die in a second.¡±


    ¡°Not to worry! As you progress as a lieutenant, Hell will bestow boons upon you to make your job easier and protect you from the forces arrayed against you.  You will have to earn them, but that''s how power works." She smoothed out her folder. "Now I must ask if you wish to continue." Danielle withdrew a single sheet of paper. She slid it over.


    I was expecting some byzantine tome of legalese. Instead it was simply a rather straightforward request that I would render aid as requested to Hell. I looked up a bit questioningly. "Isn''t Hell known for its contracts? This seems incredibly vague."


    The emissary nodded along. "It is. Wayward Souls identified that long specific contracts often created an antagonistic rapport with our prospective lieutenants. Instead, a simple contract with flexible boundaries leads to a more robust relationship. As you grow, you can define what that relationship looks like. With time, Hell can establish its wants and needs without contract clauses. It''s nebulous, but has been wildly successful in the field. I just need your signature and blood for my Implement."


    ¡°Implement? My blood?¡± I knew it was a contract with Hell, but that sort of talk still made me nervous.


    Danielle withdrew a jet black knife from the folder- it definitely could not have comfortably fit there, especially with how flat the folder looked. ¡°This is my Implement, a knife given to me by Hell in order to bind souls through blood. When someone freely parts with control of their soul, they must transfer it. This transfer is most easily done by vocalized intent and bleeding upon an Implement. There are other ways, like contracts sealed in blood, but this blade works just fine. Please sign here.'''' Danielle pointed at the signature line on the contract.


    I took a deep breath. ¡°So sign here and prick my thumb or something?¡± I looked up at Danielle, unsure.


    Danielle nodded. ¡°That would suffice, yes.¡± She proffered a pen.


    I took it. My hand shook. Danielle pretended not to notice. I took a deep breath, blew it out. I could ask questions forever, but I was only delaying things. I signed the sheet with a hasty scribble, trying not to linger. I then looked up at Danielle. ¡°The¡­ blood? The Implement?¡± I reached for the Implement. Danielle watched placidly. I grabbed the knife, steeling myself, and placed it against the pad of my thumb. The point drew blood easily and I sucked a little air through my teeth. I watched as the blood ran down the edge. Suddenly I felt a strange tugging at the wound, and the wound flowed, blood pouring out along the blade. None of it dripped free though, all soaked into the black.


    ¡°The contract is sealed,¡± Danielle said, almost chipper. She withdrew a second blade from her folder. ¡°This is your Implement, Lieutenant. Keep it near you and safe- it is the source of all your ability to come. Your first task as a Lieutenant is to procure that dreg¡¯s soul.¡± She gestured at Carl, still snoozing. ¡°Remember, a soul must be freely given. A soul given in torture is¡­ tainted. Unusable for most things. Even a lowly one such as Carl is more useful willingly given. The truly talented lieutenant is not one who coerces a lot of souls, but one who retrieves a few, willingly given. Of course the exceptionally gifted can get quantity and quality, but let us start by aiming low. Carl.¡± Danielle stood up, brushing her skirt.


    ¡°Wait, do you have any advice? How to do it?¡± I asked.


    Danielle tilted her head to one side. ¡°You must figure that out on your own. If you can¡¯t influence someone you know as well as your own roommate, then perhaps Wayward Souls was wrong about you. You do not want to disappoint us. I''ll be in touch." She dropped a little bundle of twenties on the table, gave a little wave, and was out the door. I was all alone at the table.


    Carl awoke with a snort. "Dude, how long have I been out?"


    "Not long enough," I muttered. I turned to Carl. ¡°Hey Carl, can I have your soul?¡±


    ¡°What the fuck? Dude, no, stop being weird,¡± Carl said. ¡°Who was at the door?¡± He picked up his PS4 controller and started playing Genshin again.


    ¡°Just someone here about the utilities.¡± I left the living room and went back to my bedroom, holding my Implement at my side so Carl didn¡¯t see the thing.


    After a long night ruminating over my Implement, I thought I had a plan.

 Two

    It was all hands on deck at the registers and it was bedlam.  Fortunately, Matt and Leon were both working nearby registers and I could chat with them briefly.  I''d only known them for a few months but it made the job far more bearable.  I didn''t tell them what had occurred the day before, but did ask if either had heard of Wayward Souls.  Neither had.


    ¡°Is Tracy working today?¡±  I asked between customers.


    ¡°Dude, everyone is working today,¡± Leon replied.


    "When does she go on her next smokebreak?"


    Matt laughed.   "Trying to go for a ride on the Trace-cycle?¡±


    ¡°Anyone?"


    Leon turned partway to face me.  ¡°She¡¯s leaving right now.¡±  He pointed with his head.  I just managed to catch a sight of nicely filled khakis fading into the holiday crowd.  I immediately set my lane to closed, helped who was left, and bolted.


    "If Sherrie asks, I got sick," I called back.  It wouldn''t work as an excuse, but getting written up was fine.  Until now I had been a model,  if unenthusiastic employee.  I wasn''t sure why I was so willing to upend everything, but I think subconsciously I yearned to get away from this.  Hopefully I wasn''t throwing everything away with no landing.


    Tracy was lounging at the smoking table outside.  Her black and white Gothic phone covered iPhone had her entire attention.  In her right hand she occasionally took an idle drag off her cigarette.  Her hair was dark, artificially so, at odds with her pale skin.  A few streaks of blonde-dyed bangs framed her decadently made-up face.  Her blue eyes (framed with an illicit amount of eyeshadow) flicked to me as I said "Hey."  They then flicked back to her phone.  ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± she asked, with all the interest afforded to a retail person who wasn¡¯t obliged to listen to someone for the first time in their day.


    I gathered my courage for what was likely to be my most awkward ask ever.  ¡°Are you interested in making some money?¡±


    Tracy took a drag off the cigarette before rolling her gaze back over to me, phone briefly forgotten.  She looked me up and down thoroughly once before she said ¡°Depends.¡±


    No stopping now.  ¡°My roommate is one of those shy guys- shy but sweet.¡± I added.  ¡°I was thinking of uh¡­ getting him a date for the holiday.  You know, feel a little wanted and stuff.¡±


    ¡°Like an escort?¡±  Tracy asked flatly.


    ¡°Uh yeah sorta like that?¡±  I managed.


    She rolled her eyes with the gravity of a dying star.  ¡°What makes you think I¡¯m interested?¡±  She went back to her phone, pointedly ignoring me.


    ¡°Matt said you offered to blow him for fifty.¡±  I shrugged, hoping I wasn¡¯t about to be hit with HR.  Tracy didn¡¯t seem the type but I was putting myself at some risk here.


    ¡°Well Matt¡¯s not your gross nerd friend,¡± Tracy¡¯s eyes didn¡¯t move from the phone as she took a pull on the cig.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t even seen him!  Also I can offer more.¡±  I thought of the $500 from Danielle.  "How does four hundred sound?"  That would be most of the money but I wanted this to work.  More than most things in my life, it felt less like something I was obligated to do and more like something I wanted to do.


    Tracy barely considered and didn''t look up from her phone.  "Double it.  My asshole landlord got a property manager so I can''t fuck him for rent anymore."


    "I can''t afford that!"  I considered it briefly.  ¡°What about six?¡±  I¡¯d pretty much be tapped dry.  I didn¡¯t know how I¡¯d pay for things, but maybe Carl had some money I could get once he consigned his soul to me.  Phrasing it so bluntly made my stomach churn slightly.


    ¡°Ugh, fine.  Do you have it?¡±  She looked up at me.


    ¡°Half now, half after?¡±


    ¡°Asshole.  Fine.¡±  She looked expectantly at me.


    I peeled off fifteen twenties and put the rest back.  She snatched the bills from my hand.  ¡°I¡¯ll be over tonight.  You¡¯re paying for drinks.¡±


    ***


    I came home, leaving the thirty rack on the table.  Hopefully Tracy wasn¡¯t looking for anything more substantive because that was all I could do.


    Carl looked up at the box.  ¡°Bad day at work bro?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the holiday season, every day sucks.¡±


    ¡°Special occasion?¡±


    ¡°Something like that,¡± I said.


    ¡°Hook a bud up?¡±  Carl didn¡¯t get up from Genshin.


    ¡°Not now, Carl.  Maybe later.¡±


    ¡°Dude, it¡¯s five o¡¯clock somewhere.¡±


    ¡°Later.  I have an early Christmas present for you.¡±


    Carl turned to look at me. ¡°Dude.  Gay.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you Carl.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you Jeremy.¡±


    I tiredly flipped him the bird and went to my room.  I needed to do laundry but the laundromat had just upped their rate by fifty cents.  Not much, but it just added more to the ever consuming fire of debt.  It was insanity that I was getting ready to throw away six hundred but was blanching at a little extra to do laundry.  But laundry had no promise of more.  Surely there''d be some kind of financial incentive to pursue this.  You didn¡¯t serve Hell as a charity.  I should have asked Danielle if there was some kind of wage.


    Not wanting to follow those thoughts to a dark conclusion, I hopped on Facebook to do some idle browsing.  Unfortunately, I was immediately greeted by the sight of my mother posing with her husband in front of some bed and breakfast.  They were tagged as being someplace in Vermont.  It looked exactly as expensive as I would expect a New England B&B to look.  My mom¡¯s husband, Daryl, smiled emptily into the camera, the same infuriatingly placid mask he had when he told me I needed to be on my own and work for a living.  This wasn¡¯t in response to kicking me out or anything drastic like that.  I had (after much deliberation and consternation) called to ask for money for groceries to tide me over until my next paycheck.  My mom had been all but ready to send a little money over so I could eat but Daryl butted in on the Facetime (They were vacationing in the Smoky Mountains at the time) to tell me that they had discussed it and that I could not expect to have parents bail me out whenever I have trouble.  It was the first time I had asked for money since being on my own.


    Daryl owned some granite countertop company and believed that made him an authority on everything.  My financial struggles were clearly due to ¡°lack of budgeting¡± and inability to ¡°tighten up my finances¡±.  I still loved my mom, but Daryl had swept in and browbeat her into marrying him, despite my mother¡¯s claims earlier that she wouldn¡¯t remarry to honor my dad.  I just wanted her to be happy, but hadn¡¯t realized how that could coincide with my mother marrying an absolute prick.  Since remarrying, my mom had barely been home.  She had just retired (and used her refunded PTO to get new countertops- how she met Daryl.)  He convinced her to spend her time living the life she couldn¡¯t when she was forced to take care of me on her own after dad passed.


    If I wasn¡¯t still concerned for my mom and what she was up to, I would have blocked her a long time ago- seeing Daryl was that infuriating.  My older sister left some gushing message about how gorgeous it was and how jealous she was.  Lizzie wasn¡¯t at odds with Daryl the way I was.  She thought they were a great match and that my mom deserved time for herself.  Lizzie could afford to say that- she spent her time at home working on ¡°content creation¡± all day.  Her husband owned some startup flush with venture capital.  It had been ages since she worked a job.  I didn¡¯t reply with anything.  I hope mom had a good vacation.  Whenever it ended.


    Scrolling through the petty dramas and shitty positive facades of my peers gave some little relief.  Social media didn¡¯t have much use, but distracting me from my own shitty life almost made it worth it.  I was busy scrolling through an especially heated exchange between a former coworker and her ex-husband when I got a text.


    ¡°I¡¯m outside,¡± read the text, from the number Tracy had given me earlier.


    I got up and left my room.  Carl was idly doodling on his tablet, staring intently at one of the girls on the screen.


    ¡°Commission?¡± I asked, hopefully.


    ¡°Yeah, but this guy is really, and I mean really into feet.  I almost turned him down, but I also need to get that wall scroll before it runs out.¡±  Carl didn¡¯t look up from his work.


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°And pay your half of the utilities.  They¡¯re going to shut off the power again,¡± I said.


    ¡°Fuck dude, I can¡¯t finish this that fast.  Can you spot me?¡±  Carl asked, completely sincerely.


    ¡°You mean like the last two months?¡± I said, with more than a little venom.


    ¡°Dude, uncool.  I¡¯m trying.¡±


    ¡°Well we have company, so hopefully the power doesn¡¯t go out.¡±  I walked to the door.


    ¡°Company?  Matt and Leon?¡±  Carl looked up from his tablet.


    ¡°Nah, I got you a present.¡±  I walked out, leaving Carl utterly confused.


    At the downstairs of the complex, standing at the base was an unhappy looking Tracy. Her coat looked warm enough but her head was uncovered and her leggings looked barely there.  She looked up at me through irritated eyes that swam in a sea of eyeshadow.  She was hugging her torso crossly.  ¡°It¡¯s fucking frigid out here,¡± Tracy spat.


    ¡°Hey uh, before we go inside, I have to ask one teensy little favor.¡±  I shifted back and forth on my feet nervously even though I was trying to be casual about it.


    Somehow Tracy¡¯s eyes narrowed more.  ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Well at some point when you¡¯re¡­ ¡®with¡¯ Carl¡­¡±


    ¡°When I¡¯m fucking your friend, you mean,¡± Tracy interrupted tersely.


    ¡°Yeah, when you¡¯re doing that, if I say ¡®Oh God stop,¡¯ or something like that, just uh¡­ pull him out.  Stop fucking.¡±


    ¡°What, are you going to be watching or some shit?¡±  Tracy asked.  ¡°It¡¯s gonna be extra for freaky shit.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t!  Please believe me, I won¡¯t want to watch.  But I do need to um.  Need to give him a baaad case of blue balls.¡±


    ¡°I thought you were doing this for him.¡±  Tracy beat her hands against her coat a few times in a futile effort to remain warm.


    ¡°It¡¯s the only thing I¡¯m getting out of this and I need you to do it.  Please?¡±


    Tracy¡¯s gaze flicked to the side as she considered this.  ¡°You brought booze right?¡±


    ¡°Thirty rack of Key,¡± I offered.


    ¡°You really know how to charm a lady,¡± Tracy groaned.  ¡°Fine, deal.  Now can we go upstairs so I can fuck your friend?  I can¡¯t feel my fingers.¡±


    She bounded upstairs and I let her inside.  Carl looked up boredly, and then his eyes grew wide.


    ¡°Welcome to my shitty apartment,¡± I said with a flourish.  ¡°Carl, this is Tracy, a friend from work.  Tracy, this is Carl.  I have to live with him.¡±


    Tracy raised a hand half-heartedly in a wave as Carl quickly spoke up, ¡°More like I have to live with him.  Fuck dude, why didn¡¯t you tell me you were gonna have a chick hang out?  I would have changed my pants.¡±  Carl pulled himself to his feet and ambled over to her, sticking out his hand.  She shook it with a slight tilt of disgust to her features.


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s get this party started,¡± I said not without some measure of resignation.  I tore open the pack and divvied the cans.  We all popped them open at more or less the same time, but before anyone could bring it to their lips, Carl held his can aloft and solemnly said ¡°To crushing your enemies, seeing them driven before you, and hearing the lamentations of their women.¡±  I cringed inwardly while Tracy muttered ¡°Intense¡± before slamming her drink.


    Tracy immediately grabbed another one, paused, and grabbed a third.  I didn¡¯t completely demolish mine and instead took healthy drinks every so often.  Carl finished his, grabbed another, and plopped back on the couch.


    ¡°So where do you work, Carl?¡±  Tracy asked, boredly.


    ¡°Oh I¡¯m a freelance artist.  I couldn¡¯t handle the shackles of corporate servitude.¡±  Carl gave an airy wave.  ¡°It pays the bills.¡±


    ¡°His parents pay his rent,¡± I responded testily.  Probably not a great move to paint Carl with a negative brush, given I wanted Tracy and him to be boinking before the night was over.


    ¡°Dude.  Uncool.  My parents appreciate my art and want me to have the chance to be an artist.  Just because yours don¡¯t love you doesn¡¯t mean you should take it out on me.¡±  Carl drained his second can and stared at me coldly.  ¡°Beer me, bro.¡±


    ¡°Awkwaaard,¡± Tracy murmured.


    ¡°Sorry, dude,¡± I muttered, halfway sincerely.  I pulled out another can and gave it to him.


    ¡°So,¡± Tracy said with some measure of strain, ¡°You¡¯re an artist?¡±  She was a trooper, bringing it back to the present


    ¡°Come and pop a squat.  Let me show you an artist at work,¡± Carl said, positively purring.  He hunched over his tablet, eager to show off his drawings.  It was almost endearing how animated Carl could get about his work.  Like an overeager child looking to a parent for praise.  But Carl was usually more intent on showing old completed works.  He didn¡¯t have much in the way of new work, the kind that paid for utility bills.  That undid any potential endearing qualities about his presentation.


    Also, the art itself.  It was drawn well but was rather¡­ bawdy.  The proportions were grotesque mockeries of the female form.  Each woman was depicted in helpless poses with painfully aroused gazes lingering on the viewer.  Most were covered in fluids of unknown provenance, adding a further debaucherous gleam to the already ribald imagery.  Carl was good at what he did.  He was also disgusting at what he did.  Why he would settle on showing her this at all was beyond my comprehension.


    ¡°Holy fuck, the size of her tits,¡± Tracy remarked, actually sitting down on the couch and giving a focused eye to the pornography in front of her.


    ¡°Yeah, Rosaria is stacked.  I¡¯ve got some drawings of her that are pretty well-regarded in The Scene.¡±  Carl puffed self-importantly..  ¡°Wanna see some of them?¡±


    ¡°That outfit is bitchin¡¯,¡± Tracy remarked.  ¡°Yeah, show me what you got.¡±


    I tried not to let my surprise show.  I actually didn¡¯t imagine this being a possibility.  I watched in morbid fascination as Carl dramatically showed off each character, both in game and in his drawings.  Tracy oohed and aahed at the proper times and seemed to really appreciate the ¡°aesthetics¡± of the Genshin ladies.  It probably goes without saying, but Carl didn¡¯t spend time drawing the male characters, and hardly lingered on them in the game either.


    I attempted to play hype man a bit (not that Carl needed any help with his ego.)  I would point to nice details in the drawings, like the cute expressions on Hu Tao¡¯s ghosts or a detail in Nilou¡¯s garb.  Tracy ate it up.  In fact, I started to suspect that she actually was quite enamored with the characters and maybe even Carl¡¯s depraved little doodles.  Maybe she was genuinely interested.  Maybe she just wanted to get paid.  Or maybe, it was the power of getting drunk on shitty lite beer.  I played the gracious host and made sure to get them another drink when they finished.  Both parties were well and truly sloshed when I decided it was time to withdraw.


    I didn''t go terribly far.  I went into my room and retrieved my Implement.  It was dark and heavy, and cold when I picked it up.  Even after sitting in my hand, it never seemed to warm up.  Shivering slightly, I went back into the hallway and I leaned against the wall next to my room.  If the lovebirds came this way I could duck into my room.  If they stayed in the living room, I could listen from here.  With the way the drinks flowed and Carl''s penchant for rarely leaving the couch I assumed the latter.


    It didn''t take long for my suspicions to pay off. The conversation started getting quieter, punctuated by light laughter or throaty noises.  I didn''t listen too closely, but it was impossible to mistake the rhythmic creaking of the couch for anything but what it was. There was occasionally a panting moan from Tracy.


    Carl, instead, had instead decided that he was the master of dirty talk.  It started with the typical trash from pornography: "Oh fuck yeah baby, you''re so tight.  He continued trotting out his lecherous lines.  In fact he did so for quite awhile.


    I had placed a lot of faith in two things- firstly that Carl likely consumed an excessive amount of pornography.  I''ve been around enough to know that doing so deadens the traditional sexual response.  Secondly, I was hoping Carl was so piss-drunk that he could barely get it up, let alone finish in any reasonable time.  If Carl could cum quickly, it would undo my plan as it were.


    "Yea you''re a dirty little slut, all for Carl."  Was he really referring to himself in the third person?  ¡°I¡¯m gonna make you mine,¡± he growled loudly.


    I started re-evaluating my plan, because for some reason I had glossed over the fact that I¡¯d be listening to Carl having sex.  And even if I had thought about it, I probably wouldn¡¯t have thought his repellant personality would carry over.  But also it was his first time and all he had for guidance was internet porn.  Not the best teacher.  But no porn ever taught him what next came from his mouth: ¡°I¡¯m an artist, and I¡¯m about to paint your insides, girl.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know whether to laugh or gag, but neither was the right answer.  He was apparently ready to cum and here I was deciphering his awful dirty talk.  I launched myself into the living room.


    Tracy was lying spreadeagle on the couch, looking rumpled but unbothered.  Carl was a red-faced, panting mess.  He was halfway on the sofa to get his ideal angle and leaned slightly to compensate for it.  Tracy made eye contact with me and huffed a sigh.  Carl immediately yelled ¡°Dude what the fuck!¡±


    ¡°Tracy, it¡¯s time,¡± I said, my face heated in embarrassment.


    ¡°Oh right,¡± she drawled.  She pulled Carl out with a wet sound and scooted away from him.


    ¡°Congratulations Carl!¡± I said, injecting as much false enthusiasm as I could.  ¡°You¡¯re not a virgin anymore!¡±


    ¡°What?  Dude, no, I¡¯m not some virgin.  I just had a long dry spell going.¡±  Carl said.


    Well crap.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m still doing you a huge solid," I said.  ¡°Can¡¯t you just do one little thing for me?¡±


    "I have the biggest case of blue balls.  Merry Christmas?  Asshole."


    "I just want a thank you," I pleaded.


    Carl¡¯s eyes narrowed.  ¡°Dude she¡¯s mine.¡±  Tracy quirked an eyebrow elaborately at that proclamation.


    ¡°Nothing like that!  Just let me know how much you appreciate this¡­ and let me have your soul?¡±


    ¡°Oh what the fuck dude, that shit again?  Did you join a cult?  Did you ruin my boner for a cult?¡±  Carl sounded very accusatory.


    ¡°Umm, what if we call that your Christmas present to me?  You can get off scot free.  As it were,¡±  I sideyed a very bored looking Tracy, who had not covered herself up at all.  She looked pretty nice there actually.  I shook my thoughts away and hoped any alcohol haze went with them.


    ¡°Oh hell yeah dude, I can take your present back.  Done!  Anything else?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±  I darted forward and pricked Carl with my Implement.  Carl¡¯s eyes widened but then he seemed to go slack.  Blood welled at the wound, just a slight cut on his chest.  The blood did not dribble down and instead seemed to collect, bubbling around the wound.  The mass practically reached out toward me.  My eyes opened in shock, until I realized that if it was like when Danielle had done it to me, the blade needed to collect.  I held the Implement up to the blood and it flowed over the blade, seeping into it before it reached the handle.  I stared at it in morbid fascination.


    ¡°Fuck dude,¡± Carl said.  ¡°Sweet knife, where¡¯d you get it?¡±  He didn¡¯t seem out of sorts at all.  Maybe the Implement sort of blacks out its victim?


    I looked up at him.  ¡°You can finish rocking Tracy¡¯s world, artist,¡± I said.  Was Carl now under my power?  How would I know?  I didn¡¯t want to try anything too weird.  Tracy was wide-eyed but also her eyes had the glassiness of intoxication.  I was hoping she wouldn¡¯t remember much.  No one should recall a night with Carl.  Praying that they wouldn¡¯t remember too much of a jet black dagger that sucked Carl¡¯s blood seemed a flimsy hope, but it was all I had.  I grabbed a beer (the last one, holy fuck they drank a lot) and headed to my bedroom with all the composure I could muster.

 Three

    Danielle was sitting on my bed, looking quite comfy.  She was reading one of my books, the first in The Wheel of Time series.  Her coral sleeveless turtleneck both hid and accentuated.  At her waist, a cream skirt puddled on my bed.  She looked over at me as I entered and immediately she had the same placid smile pasted on her face.  ¡°I¡¯m here to congratulate you on taking your first step as a Lieutenant!¡±  She closed the book but didn¡¯t make a move to leave my bed.


    My brain sort of worked.  I looked at the beer in my hand and looked back at Danielle.  ¡°I¡¯m not sober enough for this tonight.  Can¡¯t make it any worse though.¡±  I downed the beer and then asked ¡°How are you in my room?¡±


    Danielle waved airily.  ¡°You invited me in once already.  I don¡¯t need to knock anymore.  I¡¯m just here to congratulate you on procuring your first soul.  As long as you are in near proximity to your Implement, Carl should do as you ask.   He''s yours entirely.  Isn''t that exciting?"


    "It''s just Carl, so not really," I replied with the candor of intoxication.  "I spent all my money so I''m probably going to get my power turned off and evicted just so my roommate can take out the trash when I ask.  Fuck, I''m an idiot.¡±


    ¡°For someone who got so ¡®inventive¡¯ with your first gambit, you¡¯re showing remarkably little imagination.  You can just ask anything of Carl.  You could ask him to dance for you, to accost people on the street, to bake you bread all day.  You could ask him to fall on a knife, although I wouldn¡¯t recommend doing that.  The souls you¡¯ve obtained are valuable resources.  Learn to exploit each of them to get ahead.  Also I¡¯m pretty sure Carl would have given it up just for forgiveness of a few utility bills.  But props for creativity- the height of sexual passion, marred with the stain of intoxication, utterly malicious how you duped him like that.  A man does little thinking when women and wine are on his mind.¡±  Danielle¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly.  ¡°But your tasks are not done, oh no.  Your next goal should be profaning this site.  It should be as a haven to those of our cause, Lieutenant.¡±


    I was partway still reeling from the drinks, and partway still reeling that I could have kept my $500.  ¡°I don¡¯t have enough money for anything next, I¡¯m flat broke.¡±


    Danielle rolled her eyes.  ¡°Ask Carl how much he has in his savings account tomorrow.  He¡¯s a bit¡­¡± here Danielle made a face, ¡°indisposed at the moment.  Assuming you¡¯re up to continuing, the profaning process is quite simple.  You simply need to make a sacrifice.¡±  She held up a finger as my mouth opened to ask what that meant.  ¡°For a place as minor as your little apartment, it can simply be an innocent creature, a rabbit or somesuch.  Do not use a domesticated animal, they are no longer innocent.¡±


    ¡°Umm¡­¡±  I thought this over.  ¡°Is there any other way?  I don¡¯t want to kill some poor rabbit.  To be honest, I¡¯m not sure I can catch one.¡±


    ¡°Well there are other kinds of innocence.  A child is innocent.  A virgin is innocent.  Other sorts of sacrifices are potent.  A martyr.  An angel.  A congregation of faithful.  You get the idea."  Danielle''s smile didn''t not waver.  ¡°Given the question however, I think an animal is best-suited for you.  It¡¯s fast and doesn¡¯t have any messy hangups.  There are protracted sacrifices of innocence, but those are gambits that take awhile to pay off.  Things like betraying a lover or a dear friend.  Oh, and those you¡¯ve ensnared make very poor sacrifices.  Carl is worth less than a mouse.¡±


    Well I didn¡¯t want to do that either.  ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll work on it.  How do I do it?¡±


    Danielle nodded.  ¡°It¡¯s like everything else- just accomplish the task with your Implement, if some sort of blood sacrifice.  If you do opt for one of the sacrifices of innocence like a betrayal of a friend, the point of betrayal would need to occur here, with your Implement at hand.  All you need to do is express the intent- something like ¡®I commit this act in the name of Hell¡¯ or the like.  Like I said, Wayward Souls operates much more on leeway with its Lieutenants rather than strangling them with minutiae.  It leads to better performance metrics.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I think I¡¯ve got it.¡±  I figured now was as good a time as any.  ¡°Do I get any sort of payment for doing this stuff?  LIke Carl might have some money, but if I get evicted it doesn¡¯t make much difference in this market."


    ¡°Mr. Owens, Wayward Souls always looks after its own.  You are still in a probationary period however.  Once you have an ensorceled soul, a Haven erected for other members of Wayward Souls, and your own congregation, we shall get to what you are given.  For now, follow my orders and all will be well.  No harm shall come to you or your way of life.  Until the probationary period ends, then it¡¯s gloves off.  For the other side too.¡±


    ¡°Wait what, the other side?  Like uhh¡­ people following Heaven?¡±


    ¡°That or other faiths.  You''ll be acquainted soon enough.  Worry about that later," Danielle reassured me.  ¡°You know what you need to do next.  How about you get some sleep?  You don¡¯t have a reason to be awake, unlike Carl.¡±  She smirked.  And was suddenly gone.


    I stared at my bed, where Danielle just was.  The bed showed no sign of being previously occupied, and when I felt it, it was cold, as if no one had just been sitting on it.


    ***


    I was greeted by a shrill alarm.  Far too shrill.  Far too loud.  The light glimmering in my fluttering eyelids was much too bright.  The air tasted foul.  It could have been Hell.  But it was probably just a hangover.  I sat up, every limb feeling like thick clinging mud.


    Right, Carl. I rolled out of bed and cut myself some slack on my morning pushups and situps.  One nice thing about having an unemployed roommate who plays Genshin Impact until late hours is that the shower is always open when I wake up for work.  Only realizing that Tracy could still be here after I opened the door, I was relieved to see that it was indeed empty.  Tracy had probably slipped out last night anyhow.  I took a short vigorous shower, the pound of water against my head resonating with the headache inside.  Thoroughly clean and feeling no less hungover, I toweled off and got ready for work.


    I emerged from my room again, about as refreshed as I was gonna be- I¡¯d need to pick up a monster or something at 7/11 before clocking in.  I slung my backpack over my shoulder and closed the door to my room.  The backpack just held a couple of books and my water bottle so it was a bit deflated looking, but it worked for me.  I walked out into the living room and noticed that the couch had an occupant.


    Tracy was sprawled across it, Carl¡¯s ratty green blanket thrown across her like a forgotten corpse.  I tried to lighten my footfalls through the living room but she immediately started awake.


    ¡°Mrh.¡±  She made a noise that was half startlement, half waking up hungover.  Her makeup was a mess and her hair rumpled.  She gazed at me with sleep-addled eyes, still smoky in their eyeshadow.  ¡°Oh Jeremy.  Fuck, that was a night.  What did you do to him?¡±


    Uh oh.


    ¡°What did I do to who?¡±  I asked, although I dreaded the answer.


    ¡°Carl!  You turned him into a fuck machine!  How the fuck did you do that?¡±


    "Err what?"  I expected questions about Carl, but not like this.


    ¡°Okay, you fucking stabbed the guy, told him to go back to fucking me, and he totally changed.  He wore me the eff out,¡± Tracy said, almost luxuriating in the notion.  Is it some master/slave thing?  You made him?  I¡¯ve never seen shit like that.¡±


    ¡°Whoa whoa whoa. Slow down.  You were pretty wasted last night-¡±  I started


    ¡°Not that wasted.  I can drink a few beers and hold my shit.  You asked Carl for his fucking soul and then stabbed him?  But not a lot, just a little.  He bled a lot, the knife was covered in blood.  Then it wasn¡¯t.  And then you told him to ¡®rock my world¡¯ which I remembered because it was so fucking corny, and then left.  And then he did.¡±


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°He did what?¡± I asked in confusion.  Tracy¡¯s eyes were alight with passion, she looked eager and invested, an ardor entirely absent from her last night.  A night with Carl should not have had this sort of effect on a woman.  Or at least I thought so.


    ¡°You told him to rock my world, and he did.  He fucking did.  Your gross nerd friend who draws the huge tits might have been the best lay of my life."  Tracy stretched luxuriously, and my eyes couldn''t help but notice how the ratty little green blanket failed to hide much.  "I want in," she stated suddenly.


    "Wh-what? In on what?  Fucking Carl?"  I looked at the literal pile of cans.  How in the Hell did she remember so much?


    "No you moron, I want in on the knife side."


    "If you''re offering your soul, sure."  Why would she want this?


    ¡°What the fuck!  No!  You made Carl do what you want.  I want to do that.¡±  Tracy grinned fiercely.  ¡°Just tell me your secrets.¡±


    ¡°Tracy, I¡¯m just learning myself how to do all this shit.  Some woman just gives me orders and I follow them.¡±  I considered it.  ¡°You can uh¡­ tag along I guess?  But outside of nabbing your soul there¡¯s not much I can do.¡±


    Tracy frowned.  ¡°Well, can I meet this woman next time?  Did she give you the knife?¡±


    ¡°Uh sure, yeah.  She gave me my Implement.  Now I have to get to work and I wanted to grab an energy drink at the gas station before I head to work.  Don¡¯t you work today?¡±


    ¡°Sherrie can eat my entire ass,¡± Tracy said.  ¡°Bitch has it out for me.  I¡¯m not going in today.  You shouldn¡¯t either.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t just spend six hundred bucks to get told that your suckass roommate is actually a don juan in the sack.  I have to work to get by.¡±


    ¡°You know what?  Keep the other three hundred.  I want a knife that makes people obey me too.  Do that for me, Jeremy.¡±  Tracy¡¯s eyes glittered.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do,¡± I groused.  ¡°The next time I get orders will probably be after I make an animal sacrifice or some shit.  Can you catch a rabbit?¡±


    ¡°Fuck no.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think so.  See ya."  I went out the door, pondering how to profane my apartment.


    ***


    "Mr.  Owens, just because this is your first violation does not mean I''m obligated to forgive it."  Sherrie didn''t look up at me.   She stared down through the bottom of her glasses at her planner.  Sherrie was a woman headed into her twilight years and she was bound and determined to make everyone as upset about it as she was.   Her greying hair was disguised with a vaguely red dye job.  Her glasses, heavy things with thick frames, had a strap festooned with amber beads- even though she never took the glasses off.  Her aged face somehow managed to wrinkle up even more whenever she looked over her planner.  Everytime she worked in her planner, she kept a #2 wooden pencil at hand, and would tap it against her chin as she read to the unfortunate employee who had to be moralized at.  Sherrie wore heavy floral shawls even though it violated the dress code.  She had threatened an ADA lawsuit as it discriminated against her thermal dysregulation disorder.  Instead of fighting it, management just accepted it


    She was nowhere near as lenient on staff.  She kept a laundry list of slights and violations, and made sure to document each thoroughly.  No one liked her one bit, except the other older ladies who she often turned a blind eye to.  While she was horrible for most staff, Sherrie definitely despised the younger women employees.  She was especially quick to find dress code violations or time theft.  She was a draconian elder, and her purview was 9 hours of my life.


    ¡°Just let me sign the thing and I won¡¯t do it again.  It was a one time thing.  Didn¡¯t Leon tell you that I needed to take a crap?¡±  I just wanted out of the small office, fetid with Sherrie¡¯s archaic perfume.


    ¡°Language, Mr. Owens.  Regardless of circumstance, you should have come to me and received permission to take your break at a time not appointed to you.  Am I being clear with how you should proceed going forth?¡±  Her eyes finally glanced up at me, before she began jotting some notes in her planner.


    ¡°Yes you¡¯re being clear, Sherrie.¡±  It was an exercise in all my restraint to not sigh while saying it.  I stood up.  Halfway up, Sherrie stopped me.


    ¡°I¡¯m not done, Mr. Owens.  Please remain seated.¡±  Sherrie said.


    Of course she wasn¡¯t.  ¡°Oh, sorry Sherrie.¡±  I sat myself down again.


    ¡°I know the real reason you left your register.  I can tell you, Mr. Owens, Ms. Leone is not a reason to lose your job.  She may look hot.¡±  I felt the air quotes here.  ¡°But under all that makeup and hair dye is a young woman looking to do harm to a shy young man such as yourself.¡±  Excuse me?  ¡°The same thing happened to my son, and I don¡¯t want to see it happen to anyone else.¡±  Her tone didn¡¯t change as she gave this news to me.  Revelatory personal details sounded as coldly perfunctory as the reminder about how to take an unscheduled break.


    ¡°Um.  Thanks,¡± I managed.  I started to stand up.  ¡°May I leave now?¡±


    ¡°You may go, Mr. Owens.¡±  Sherrie said in curt dismissal.


    I left the office as quickly as possible, shaking my head as soon as I got outside.  I suppose in a way Sherrie was right- Tracy had taken my money.  But she gave some back, so I don¡¯t know how that measured out.  I didn¡¯t intend to break any more rules, that was just a one time thing, I hoped.


    Then my brain followed that with another thought I had never even dared hope- that I might be able to leave this soon.  That I wasn¡¯t doomed forever to life of retail drudgery.  This whole thing might be a gateway out.  Carl somehow followed my orders to a T.  The soul capturing really worked.  My mind began to buzz with the possibilities of grabbing souls from someone wealthy.  I dreamt of somehow pricking Elon Musk with my Implement and gaining access to untold hoards of wealth.  Of course, I had no way to get close to someone like that.  Maybe I could chain up to the wealthy.


    But this could actually be my path to freedom.  From this life.  From all the morasses that clung to me as I pulled.  I had a bit more spring in my step as I went back to my register.  Matt wasn¡¯t in today but Leon was.


    ¡°Wow, I¡¯ve never seen someone come back from Sherrie looking like that. Was she not not being her usual happy self?¡±  Leon smirked.  Leon was a slight guy, of small frame and not very tall and just a smidge paler than Tracy.  He had thick square glasses, and dark hair that had a tendency to get out of control if he didn¡¯t keep it short.  He had a quick, nervous energy to him, which he usually tried to dispel with a joke.  His light blue eyes often sparkled as he made these jokes, but then would return to the pained solemnity that seemed to haunt him when he wasn¡¯t forcing his humor.  He had taken me under his wing when I first got hired on.  He was already friends with Matt and introduced us.  They were the closest things I had to friends in this town, and we often would hang out to play boardgames or play games online together.


    ¡°Nope, just got better things to think about.¡±  I said, genuinely feeling lighter than I had in a long time.


    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s why you were talking with Tracy.  Get your dink sucked?¡±


    ¡°Oh fuck off dude.  No, I just have a¡­ business partnership.  It¡¯s making me think I might be able to get out of this job.¡±  I started setting up my register for the day.  Sherrie pulled me in right at the start, so I still had a full shift to work through.


    "Well, if you hit it big, don''t forget your old friend Leon over here."


    We quickly had to stop as the registers got busy.  The nice thing was it went quickly, and my shift concluded with little issue.  After Leon learned Tracy never came in for the day, he gave me more grief.  Overall though, the day felt completely typical, at odds with the buzzing excitement in my head.  I didn''t quite beeline for my car, but my walking may have been more rushed than usual.


    "Hey, QB, can I bend your ear for a sec?"  A voice, deep but friendly, halted me.


    Smith Burrows was a very large man, and not in a soft rotund way.  He was broad in the shoulders and chest, with wide arms and large hands.  He was easily over six feet tall, closer to six and a half.   His face was a blocky affair, sun darkened to a tan.  He hid the harsher lines of his face with a close-cropped beard.  His hair was full and dark, short but not clipped.  Deep green eyes usually sparkled in a friendly way, and his lips always naturally curled into a smile.  He worked in the outdoor department, and helped customers with heavy items.


    He had learned at some point that I had played football, and that was how he thought of me.  Even though I was a third string quarterback on a bad high school team, he called me QB.  Matt would sometimes do it too, more just to get my goat than anything.  Smith was so earnest that I knew he wasn¡¯t doing it to mock me.


    ¡°Yeah, what¡¯s up?¡± I asked.


    Smith immediately broke a radiant grin.  ¡°So you know the holiday¡¯s comin¡¯ up and everything?  My church is putting on a Christmas Eve Pageant.  Was hoping you might attend.  Could be good for you to get out of your apartment, eh?¡±  He gave me a convivial slap to the shoulder.  With his other hand he slipped me a flier on red cardstock.  It was the address to his church.  It was also not the first time he¡¯d given me one.


    ¡°Um, thanks man, I¡¯ll think about it.¡±  I had a pile of the things, but I didn¡¯t want to hurt him.  He was always so nice.


    Smith¡¯s hand remained on my shoulder.  ¡°Hey, I know you¡¯re thinking that this is the same as all those other times.¡±  His grip tightened slightly.  ¡°This Christmas Eve might not be safe, out here.  You should be fine in Central United.  You seem like a good guy, so I''m giving you this heads up."  His smile dimmed slightly.  "The world ain''t what it used to be, Jeremy.  Don''t let it sink its claws in you."


    He left me there a little dumbfounded.  Did he know about Wayward Souls?  Surely it was just religious paranoia about the secular and spiritual world being so much more at odds.  Smith gave me a wave as he drove off.  I gave him a halfhearted wave, troubled.

 Four

    "Oh my fucking God, you asshole.  You shitheel."  I pressed my knuckles to my eyes in total exasperation.  Tracy was full-on laughing- she hadn''t left after I went to work.  Carl actually had the shame to look embarrassed.


    I had come home from work and immediately tried out Danielle''s suggestion.  I first asked Carl if he had any money.   Received a dismissive response.  Touched my Implement and queried again.  He admitted he had almost three grand saved up.  When I asked why he groaned a bit and confessed that it was for a sex doll.  Custom-made, of one of the Genshin girls he was so fond of doodling. I was incredibly incensed.


    "I''ve covered how many fucking bills so you can save up for this shit?¡±  I clenched my fists.  Unclenched them.  I felt so much fire at my collar, nervous electricity in my hands.  Rage reddened my entire being.  My breathing was short and ragged, clipped with the fury I felt.  Tracy halted her laughter down to fitful giggles, eying me with almost the same amount of mirth.  I probably looked almost comical with how I was feeling.  ¡°I have sacrificed so fucking much.  So much so I could cover all these bills.  That¡¯s it, we¡¯re going to get some karmic retribution, starting now.¡±


    I gripped my Implement in a white knuckle grip, staring into Carl¡¯s eyes.  ¡°You are going to get a job.  You are going to make so much money.  When you aren¡¯t working a job, you¡¯re going to be drawing.  You will draw until your hands hurt.  You are going to sell these.  There will be no passion or joy in this- it¡¯s a business transaction, not a hobby.  You are going to pull your weight here, at long last.¡±


    Carl quailed.  But he nodded.  ¡°I can try, Jeremy.  I don¡¯t have a resume.¡±


    ¡°Trust me, retail doesn¡¯t care,¡± I said, with a satisfied relish.


    Tracy guffawed again.  ¡°Oh God, this is gonna be hilarious.¡±


    ¡°Oh and Carl, put that sex doll back in the cart, that money is going to the apartment fund.¡±  I still wanted to strangle him, but that wouldn¡¯t be productive.  ¡°As for you, Tracy, why the Hell are you still here?¡±  Why would she be hanging around?  Surely Carl wasn¡¯t that good of company.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to risk it,¡± Tracy said, simply.


    ¡°Risk what?¡±


    ¡°You summoning the woman and me missing it!  Not gonna let you slip one past me.¡±  Tracy leaned back in satisfaction.


    ¡°And if I spoke to her at work?¡±


    ¡°Nuh uh, you gotta kill a bunny.¡±  Her smug face did not alter an iota.


    ¡°Or any other animal,¡± I said.  ¡°I don¡¯t know where I¡¯m going to find a critter, and I really don¡¯t know if I can do it.¡±


    ¡°Pet shop?¡± Carl suggested.


    ¡°Nope, gotta be a wild animal.  Or a long protracted hurtful betrayal of some kind.¡±


    ¡°Like forcing me to get a job and give you all my savings?¡±  Carl asked with some bitterness.


    ¡°You fuck, do you want me to command you to not whine?¡±  I ground my teeth.


    ¡°Whoa man, no no.  I¡¯ll do whatever, this already sucks enough.¡±  Carl waved his hands in fending gestures.  I felt some small measure of satisfaction seeing him so flustered.


    "I think Carl''s on the right track," Tracy ventured.  "You don¡¯t seem into killing a squirrel or whatever.  Do you have any close relationships you don¡¯t mind cutting ties with?¡±


    ¡°Most of my friends stopped keeping in touch after I left.  All I have are Matt and Leon at work, and my family.¡±  Wow, I felt sad and pathetic saying that.


    ¡°Ouch,¡± Tracy said.  ¡°Well, how are things with your family?¡±


    ¡°Well my dad¡¯s dead for starters.  Cancer from his job.  My mom used to be super involved in the class action suit for it, and making sure the company suffered, but she kinda stopped after she met Daryl.  Guess she moved on from doing that.  My sister spends all day on TikTok or something.  I barely know her husband- he spends most of his time networking, so someone who rings up groceries for a living isn¡¯t really in his ¡®social sphere.¡¯  I¡¯ve got aunts and uncles but I was never very close with them, and my dad¡¯s side of the family has been cold since Daryl came into my mom¡¯s life.¡±


    ¡°Yikes dude, no wonder you go around stabbing people,¡± Carl added, thoroughly unhelpful.


    ¡°So it sounds like you aren¡¯t close with any of them,¡± Tracy said, disappointed.


    ¡°Well my family kees in contact all the time.  They send me updates on where they are and what they¡¯re doing.  Sister talks to me sometimes.  It¡¯s not nothing.¡±  It sounded pathetic on the way out.


    ¡°Well maybe it would still work,¡± Tracy suggested.  ¡°Who¡¯s closer, your mom or your sister?¡±


    ¡°Mom, for sure.  She still checks in almost daily.  Lizzie, my sister, is good about calling me a few times a year or just chatting on messenger but she¡¯s too busy creating usually.¡±


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°So just, I dunno, break it off with her.  I don¡¯t know if it would bother you that much.¡±  Tracy shrugged.


    ¡°For real dude,¡± Carl added.  ¡°All she does is post her little Victorian bed and breakfasts at you.  She just brags at you, dude.  Just break it off.  Does that do it?¡±


    ¡°It had to be a painful betrayal, not a facebook beef.  It¡¯d need to be something substantial.¡±  I shrugged.  ¡°I¡¯m not sure if it would even feel that way.  It¡¯d have to hurt her.¡±


    ¡°Beat her up then or something dude, I don¡¯t know.¡±  Carl went back to playing Genshin.


    I rolled my eyes.  ¡°Real useful, Carl.  Listen, Tracy, go home.  Eat something.  Change your clothes.  I''ll make sure Danielle meets you."


    Tracy scowled.  "Promise?"


    ¡°Yeah, hold on.¡±  I pulled out the Implement.  ¡°I swear on this dumb Hell dagger that when I next talk to Danielle, you''ll be there."


    The Implement immediately began to grow hot.  The black metal took on a reddish tinge, brighter along the edge.  I tried to fling it away but my hand would not open.  I was worried it would burn my hand but it finally ceased heating and slowly began to cool.  It hadn''t taken that long but it felt like hours had passed, draining me.  I dropped the Implement from nerveless fingers.


    "Holy fuck bro," Tracy breathed in awe.


    "Shit dude, are you a wizard?"  Carl gawked from the couch.


    ¡°I uhh¡­ wasn¡¯t expecting that.¡±  Or maybe I was.  It was hard to say, I certainly had no reason to use the Implement like that.  ¡°In uhh¡­ any case, does that assure you that I mean it?¡±


    Tracy nodded, a bit pale.  In short order she had gathered her things and departed, and the apartment felt a little more normal, back to status quo.


    ¡°Dude, you suck,¡± Carl griped from the couch.


    ¡°Ugh, what?¡±


    ¡°Cute girl wants to do anything for a knife like that, and you don¡¯t get some kind of blowie or something out of it.  Dude, she let me fuck her, you think she wouldn¡¯t give it up for you?¡±  Carl gave the greasiest smirk as he turned back to his gaming.  ¡°The blanket still smells like her,¡± he added.


    ¡°Dude, what the fuck.  You could not sound sleazier right now. .  You shouldn''t be gaming anyhow.   You''re supposed to get started on drawing.¡±  I waved in a dismissive gesture at Carl and stomped off to my room.  ¡°Have fun at work!¡± I called with faux cheer as I went into my room.


    I looked at my Facebook.  My mom was still staying in the same B&B, showing some large wet flakes falling in a video as well as pictures of the hearty stew she was eating with Daryl.


    Just below that was a video from the Justice for Rhea page my mom invited me to.  It was a group for those who lost friends or family from the same exposures that gave my dad cancer.  Rhea was the first person to have her cancer linked to that plant, but she wasn''t the last.   The video was of someone lambasting city council over continued regulatory failures, the same ones that allowed for unsafe working conditions that killed my dad.


    I was briefly saddened when I remembered my mom''s zeal initially on the page.  She spent a lot of time there and tried her best to spread the word.  I wasn''t ever as invested in it but I was glad to see her doing something.  The loss of my dad had at first left her rudderless.  That page and the causes it had led her to champion had invigorated her.  Now she just posted banal pictures of stew.


    Hmm.


    ***


    Dear Mom,


    You were constantly at Dad''s side as the cancer consumed him.  You took "in sickness and in health" to be your sworn duty.  You did as much as you could with two kids needing attention as well.  You still managed to keep Pasta Night going even when you took Dad to chemo appointments and hospital visits.  I remember you recording Lizzie''s recitals, the JV games I played, just to show him on that ancient television in the corner of his hospital room.  The only thing we held against you was not that you were gone, but that we couldn¡¯t also be there with Dad like you were.


    We were left to raise ourselves but it made us stronger and better for it.  When I got the call in class, there was no doubt in my mind what had happened.  At that point, everyone else knew too.  Knowing it was coming made it no easier.  I don¡¯t actually remember much of that day after I walked out of the school doors.  It was all a numb vacancy.


    What I did remember was your grief, the sorrow that wracked and consumed you.  You had been so strong, and for so long, seeing you like that is what truly made it real.  Everything else felt stiff and distant- a perfunctory set of tasks to perform.  It was all just a set of instructions we followed.  Except for you breaking down over him.  That was the only thing that comes through, clarion mourning emblazoned in my mind¡¯s eye.


    The next few months were painful for all of us.  But Lizzie and I had school and friends to distract us.  Your job wasn¡¯t enough- you simply sleepwalked through it.  You drifted away from friends and barely went out. In some ways it felt like you died with Dad.  Until you found Justice for Rhea.


    It rejuvenated you.  It lent a vitality to you that had been absent.  You pursued things with such ardor it was like a switch had been flipped.  I know I joked about you becoming a lawyer, but I was seriously impressed with the effort you put into dissecting dockets and regulatory reports.  You and your unpaid posse of seekers of justice put in an unfathomable amount of labor to try to save others from the fate that befell those you loved.  That carried you through to retirement and beyond.


    And to those goddamned countertops.  When you were shopping at Luxury Stone, I didn¡¯t think it was going to be as life-altering as it turned out to be.  When you first met Daryl, I thought it was just some older employee set on helping you.  I never dreamed he''d end up marrying you.


    At first I was happy you''d found someone.  But then he slowly began to pull you away.  First it wasn¡¯t participating as much in Justice for Rhea.  Then you decided (after stating otherwise) that it¡¯d be okay to marry Daryl.  Then you decided to sell everything, including the house Dad bought for us.  You left us to travel and never looked back.


    I never wanted you hung up on Dad forever.  But it feels like you ran away from him.  You ran away from us.  If you didn''t want to keep this family, keep Dad''s legacy, you should have at least had the courage to say so.  Fleeing to each little rustic bed and breakfast, so you never have to visit the grave of the man who gave his life for his family.


    He gave us his all.


    You gave it all away.


    I sighed, staring at the screen.  "God, I hope this works.  I do this in the name of Hell.¡± I held the Implement firmly with one hand, and pressed Post.  If it worked, it was done.

 Five

    I loaded up Steam to find something to play and get away from any immediate fallout.  My phone was already on Do Not Disturb.  Matt and Leon weren¡¯t on but I decided to kill some hours on Apex to clear my mind.  Digital bloodshed was remarkably cathartic, and it actually kept me from gnawing on the bone that was my profaning sacrifice in the guise of a Facebook post. I''d eventually need to pull that bandaid off, but for now, I was content to ignore it.


    I jumped nearly a foot when I felt a tap on my shoulder.  My headset fell akilter and I immediately died in the game.  ¡°What the shit!¡±  I spun my chair around, looking straight into Danielle¡¯s doe brown eyes.  My bedroom door was closed.  It had never opened.


    ¡°I hope I¡¯m not interrupting anything important.  I usually give a nice buffer to Profanation in Deed just to make sure it¡¯s well and truly unmendable.  You made quite the stir- your mom wasn¡¯t expecting that at all.  I can¡¯t help but feel that some of that wasn¡¯t merely a ¡®betrayal¡¯ but an affirmation of how you actually feel.  Am I wrong?¡±  Danielle¡¯s eyes sparkled with mirth, as if she weren¡¯t inquiring into the very depths of my personality.  If she asked if I was having a nice day or something equally banal, I did not think her face would change an iota from that gaze.


    It was uhh, I tried to say, but halted.  Nothing came out.  I kept trying to force an utterance but it was as if my throat refused to obey.


    ¡°Is everything okay, Mr. Owens?¡±  Danielle leaned down in concern.  She was back to wearing more formal attire, a dark double breasted blazer.  The blouse beneath was beige.  A small gold necklace dangled, with a small pentagram the centerpiece.  She finally wasn¡¯t smiling, which almost felt like a relief, strangely.


    I was feeling a sense of rising panic, but I could breathe fine.  Every time I tried to say something to Danielle, it stopped short.  My body simply refused to acquiesce.  I gestured futilely at my mouth with a lot of head shaking.  Danielle merely stared in confusion.  I gave up with a defeated shrug.


    Danielle puzzled for a moment before giving a shout.  ¡°Oh Carl, could you attend to me for one moment?¡±


    In a short moment, my door opened and Carl plodded in.  He looked at both of us.  "Sorry," Danielle offered.  "It''s poor form to use an underling''s souls but you can''t seem to gainsay me at the moment."  She gave a sort of wince in apology.  "Has anything strange happened recently to Jeremy?"


    "Oh yeah, he had a hot girl come over and stay over."


    I wanted to throttle Carl.


    ¡°Anything¡­ with his Implement?¡± Danielle prodded.


    ¡°Oh the knife thingy?  Yeah he said something all holier-than-thou and then the knife got all hot.¡±


    ¡°Okay Carl, I know remembering things isn¡¯t your forte, but what did he say, exactly?¡±  Danielle¡¯s voice actually had a bit of irritation to it, the first time I had heard it.  Even after the time when she put Carl to sleep.


    Carl shrugged.  ¡°Told Tracy that he would only¡­ OH.  He was going to tell her when you showed up.   Wouldn''t talk to you until then.  Dude you fucked up bad."  Carl directed the last bit to me.


    "Shut up, Carl."  My eyes widened in surprise.   Had I fixed it somehow?  I turned to Danielle, opened my mouth, and nothing but full awkward silence spilled out.  It seemed to be keeping me from talking with her specifically.


    ¡°Pretty sure you can¡¯t talk to her, dude,¡± Carl repeated my conclusion out loud.


    ¡°I get that now, Carl.  I¡¯m assuming I can¡¯t tell you to tell her anything either.¡±  I tried anyways, and was met with straining vocal cords, and empty silence.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t catch that dude, can you speak up?¡±  Carl leaned in, hand cupped over his ear.  Ignoring him, I turned to Danielle with visible pleading.


    ¡°Mr. Owens, I didn¡¯t think¡­¡±  She paused, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.  ¡°The Implement is used for binding.  It can bind you to your words just as easily as it chains a loathsome slug like Carl to you.  It is incredibly dangerous to do so, because it will hold you the same, Mr. Owens.  Carl, leave.¡±  Carl ambled out of the room.  ¡°The only method by which the Implement¡¯s bindings can be undone is to break it.  This breaks all bindings.  Such an Implement can only be destroyed by the one that conceived it.  In this case, from mine to yours.  Fortunately, you managed to bind yourself in a way that I believe can be achieved and ended- you merely must invite Tracy here.


    ¡°On that note, I must inform you that Wayward Souls does not take referrals.  Our vetting process is internal and does not require assistance even from our Lieutenants.  I understand the zeal to employ your friends and family.  After all, Wayward Souls is an exciting opportunity to work for a world-renowned brand.  That said, I must reiterate that although Tracy may come and inquire, it will be a futile gesture.  For the sake of completing your geas, she should come however.  Go, contact her.¡±  Danielle gave a brusque wave.


    Feeling well and truly diminished, I slumped as I spun my chair around and picked up my phone.


    Oh holy shit, that¡¯s a lot of missed calls.  And texts.  And messages on my Facebook.  And emails.  And Twitter DMs- Jesus, I hadn¡¯t used that one in ages.  Immediately my phone lit up from Lizzie calling.  For the 27th time.


    I rejected the call and got a text sent off to Tracy.  After that, it was a lot of impatient waiting for her to arrive.


    Fortunately Tracy was just as excited to talk to Danielle as I was for my promise to be fulfilled.  She arrived quickly and was let in.  "You fucker, why did I even go home?" she said sourly.  Tracy had, however, changed and looked like she had freshened up.  As soon as she got into my room she looked Danielle over and immediately I could see the disappointment.


    Tracy pursed her lips.  ¡°This is her?  She looks pretty ordinary.¡±


    ¡°My attire and presentation are entirely professional, Miss Leone.  Wayward Souls expects a certain level of presentation for its liaisons to mortal prospects.  I apologize if it does not meet your expectations, however this assemblage has been documented to lend itself to the best rapport with prospective recruits.  As a recruiter, I must advise you that as a recruit, you too are ''pretty ordinary.''"


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Tracy huffed petulantly.  "Well, what do I need to do to qualify?"


    Danielle''s perfect smile leapt up to full radiance.  "Oh, that¡¯s easy.  Keep doing what you¡¯re doing.  If it interests Wayward Souls¡­ I believe the saying is ¡®Don¡¯t call us, we¡¯ll call you.¡¯¡±  Her response dripped smugness.


    Tracy frowned even harder, if that were possible.  ¡°Fuck you.  What the fuck does Jeremy have going for him?  He¡¯s blander than oatmeal.¡±


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m right here,¡± I said, a bit testily.


    ¡°Pliability.  He still can conceive of what he may be.  You, unfortunately, are set.  Your clay has been in the kiln.  However, there is another role that may suit you."


    Tracy rolled her eyes.


    Danielle''s smile took on a near mocking gleam.  "Are you interested?  I must hear affirmation to continue."


    Tracy chuffed out a sigh.  "May as well give me the sales pitch."


    "Mr. Owens is in service to Hell and has the power to bring mortals under his control via his Implement.  However, his work requires different tools for different jobs.  Think of Carl.  If he were asked to provide a nice dinner, he would likely order in from Olive Garden.  If he were told to cook a nice dinner, he would make ramen noodles and add an egg to ''make it fancy''.  However if told to draw, he would create smut to his demanding standards.  Mr. Owens doesn''t have time to direct Carl everyday.  He requires independent thinkers who will do as he asks without fine-tuned guidance.  Those mortals who side with Mr. Owens of their own choosing are part of his diabolic congregation.  You retain your free will, do as you are told, and receive boons in return- none so potent as the Implement, mind.  But you would still be rewarded.  I was going to explain this to Mr. Owens alone, but he managed quite the error in judgment, so here we are.


    "The other reason I wished to speak with him was to inform him what to expect with this newly-profaned site. The sorts of travelers he might encounter, what benefits it proffers, and the like.  Since I have spoken with you, Miss Leone, Mr. Owens'' promise should be fulfilled and he can speak to me again."  Danielle looked at me expectantly while Tracy continued to pout.


    "Uh yeah I think so," I tentatively affirmed.  Inwardly, I was relieved.   Even though it was only one specific thing, barring myself from being able to do it was frightening.  That gave me a horrifying thought- ¡°Wait, what if I swore to do something really dumb like ¡®never be afraid again¡¯?¡±


    Danielle frowned.  ¡°Please refrain from using it for any binding in general.  Such oaths should not be sworn lightly.  Should you be incapable of upholding your end, the Implement reaps your soul, and you cease for most purposes to exist.  Your soul can still be put to work in certain ways- none pleasant for you.  May I continue?"


    I nodded, chagrined.


    "Your humble little apartment is now a haven.  Denizens of Hell, other Lieutenants, even unaligned malcontents may seek refuge here.  The minimums of hospitality should be shown to them, if able.  Food, drink, a place to rest.  Anyone here, including yourselves, are not able to be magically observed- you may not be scryed upon.  You will rest more fully and deeply here.  Innocents tend to feel an aversion to this place.  That includes deterring observation.  A scream might sound more like an angry yell, or the scent of blood may smell like burnt food.  Feel free to work your dark deeds here, you should be safe from most mortal observers.¡±


    "Wayward Souls would like to congratulate you as well for your actions thus far.  Your first boon will simply be one of vitality.  You will heal faster, recover from illness quickly.  You''ll find yourself stronger, faster, more vigorous.  It''s Wayward Souls'' way of rewarding you, while also ensuring your survivability.  In fact, it''s been found to increase time of service almost twofold."  Danielle was beaming again by this point.


    ¡°Umm¡­ Time of service?¡±


    ¡°Well of course.  There is a war going on, constantly.  Did you think there were no risks to yourself in this line of work?  You are still a neophyte with little to worry about.  As you become a more valued resource to Wayward Souls, you will become a more appetizing target.  When a Lieutenant has accrued a sizable retinue of souls and a large congregation, they become the obvious weak point- eliminate the Lieutenant and you eliminate the entire threat.  Do not presume that the use of assassins is beneath Heaven."


    "Shit," Tracy murmured.


    ¡°Uh.  Yeah.¡±  Of course there¡¯d be risks.  And not just the spiritual kind.  I was getting ready to work myself up into a lather about it, I considered.  There was the possibility this would be the winning side.  After all, things hadn¡¯t felt very heavenly lately.  Maybe Hell was already winning.  That was probably just me reaching, but I let it reassure me as Danielle continued.


    Danielle leaned forward.  I felt a sense of trepidation.  How would this bestowal happen.  Would it be something like Carl?  A vixen dispensing the barest of intimate gestures?  Would it be even warmer and more inviting?  Or perhaps it¡¯d be some crucible, pain indescribable.  Perhaps all these inviting overtures were to tempt me into the tortures of hellfire and eternal torment.  Danielle''s eyes met mine as she raised a hand.   I blanched slightly as the hand approached my face.


    "Boop," Danielle said gleefully as her pointer finger pressed my nose. Her smile, a grin of mischief, reverted back to her placid salesperson smile.  "Sorry Mr. Owens, just a spot of fun."


    As soon a she touched my nose, I felt an electric thrill of energy course through me, and my digits trembled in nervous agitation.  I felt as if I had just awoken from the best sleep of my life- no, that I was awake for the first time.  I could see more crisply, even feel more.  The slight chill in my room, from keeping the thermostat low, danced across my skin. It was amazing and exciting and fucking frightening.


    "Holy shit, everything was so dull before," I said in awe.


    "Yes.  Such are the perks offered by Wayward Souls. You are not only improved for the work ahead, but you can also indulge in your life as well.  Wayward Souls cares about your work and your leisure.


    ¡°The last thing to work on before you are truly left on your own- gather a congregation.  Three members to start is sufficient.  After that, I''ll only be checking in sporadically.  Unlike the other tasks, there is no definitive way to seal it with your Implement, it''s all about having a group of willing servants.  Give this group a sermon of your own words, and it should be sufficient.  To be regarded as a member of your congregation, a simple oath must be sworn.  To retain free will, the oath must be made in free will- the Implement may not be used.  Your congregation will be autonomous, but with the right enticements, should be bound to you.  Until the congregation is assembled, you will not be able to grant them any boons.  Once you have gathered them together, we can begin to discuss how to reward your followers."  Danielle folded her hands and regarded me with placid inquiry.


    "Just get three people together and spout some shit?  That sounds pretty easy," I said.


    Danielle frowned.  "Reverence for the divine is not requisite to the sermon or for a congregation, but Wayward Souls encourages the use of sermons to build team morale and give a sense of direction to your congregation.  Fifty percent planning, fifty percent pep talk- one hundred percent effective.  While ¡®spouting some shit¡¯ would fulfill the goal, it¡¯s not really what one should strive for as a Lieutenant.¡±


    ¡°Uh yeah, understood.  Sorry.¡±


    "That''s it, I''ll keep in touch.  Ciao.  Miss Leone, please consider joining his congregation.  Oh- you might be getting your first visitor.  Very exciting!"


    "What?" I asked.  As soon as the query came, a rapping drummed on the front door.

 Six

    Carl, ever predictable, punted it to me.   "Yo, door."


    "Sorry, let me go get this."  I maneuvered past Danielle.  I opened the door a bit, wary since it was dark and I wasn''t expecting anyone.


    The door immediately flew open, knocking me back a step.  A small man, just a shade over five feet tall, darted in.  He had a scraggle of dirty red hair and patches of facial hair to match.  Deep set blue eyes, bright and furtive, darted over the entire room, taking in everything at once.  He wore multiple layers of filthy jackets, already filling the room with the smell of very lived-in clothing.  I tried to grab for him, out of some shocked reflex, but he batted away my hand, hard.


    "Oh Jesus Christ, it''s a serial killer," Carl squawked in fear.  "I don''t have any money and his skin is much nicer to wear," Carl babbled as he pointed at me.


    "Nice little hole you got here.   I¡¯ve been in worse.  Slept in worse.¡±  The man remarked suddenly and then turned to me.  His voice had a slight lilting accent to it.   ¡°Name¡¯s Craig.  Craig Baird.¡±  He extended a grubby hand  ¡°Assuming you¡¯re the Havenkeeper.  Fat guy doesn¡¯t look the type.  Not that there can¡¯t be a fat Havenkeeper, but they have a specific clientele.  Don¡¯t let my kind in.  Keep Haven for the biddies.  Real corruptible, those sorts.  Guess that makes sense though, wouldn¡¯t be here if we weren¡¯t, eh?¡±


    I stared at his hand, flummoxed by the outpouring.


    ¡°It¡¯s a handshake, you grab the hand and pump it.  Up and down.  Easy.¡±  Craig grabbed my hand.  ¡°Wait probably doesn¡¯t count if I make you.  Gotta both agree I can get some shuteye here.  Laws of hospitality and all that.  Yeah, yeah?¡±  He stared at me intensely, which was a bit disconcerting given he had to look up at me to do so.  A moment passed, a beat.  ¡°Well?  Can I?  I can sleep on the floor, I don''t care.  Just give me a blanket and something to eat.  Starving.  I would not fault you for a bed though.  Wouldn¡¯t hurt my feelings.  Definitely not my back.¡±  He knuckled said back in an exaggerated display.


    ¡°Uh yeah, the couch should be fine.  Are you uhh¡­ with Wayward Souls?¡±


    ¡°Older.  Pre-corporate days.  But yeah, I¡¯m tight with them.  Too tight really.  Can¡¯t shake it at all.  Kept me going since the forties really.¡±  He grimaced.


    ¡°Oh!  You look pretty good for being in your¡­ nineties?¡±


    ¡°Blew past them a while ago.  Not the forties forties, the seventeen forties.¡±


    ¡°Uh what.¡±


    ¡°Older than dirt.  Not older than sin though.  Sin runs deep.  You¡¯re clearly new to this.  I¡¯m a lemure.  If you know anything about those, you¡¯re wrong.  We¡¯re souls put to work for Hell.  You get ensorcelled by someone with a knife, they get a little stab happy and start knifing your cohorts and suddenly-¡±


    ¡°But Danielle said,¡± I started, confused.


    ¡°Probably told you that it¡¯s worthless, yeah.  Don¡¯t stab your goons, not worth it.  Completely agree by the by.  Danielle¡¯s probably a smart lass.  That pricked soul still goes to work for the big boys.  Not much left of it though.  Little tattered soul.  A lemure.  That¡¯s me.  Craig the lemure.  Had a master who draped skin over me.  Could pretend to be a person again.  Got all the bits, but I ain''t got no heart."  Craig gave a thump to his chest.  "Gotta act like a people again.  Supposed to spy.  No one notices the lemure.  Little tattered soul in a skin suit, Craig Baird is.  Oh, don''t look so skittish- I spy on churches and their ilk.  Blessed are the meek for a soup kitchen will never turn you away.  Free grub.  Free information.  Spying on you ain¡¯t worth it.  Haven¡¯t had a job in years anyhow.  Boss who gave me this guise croaked.  Smote by an angel.  Was riding a unicorn.  Right in the guts."  He mimed his innards spilling out, complete with a despairing fall to his knees.  "Right, you''re new, you could be a new boss for me.  I''m not particular.  Really enjoy the people watching, does Craig Baird.   A warm bed.  Nice food.  A lass in the sheets."  The man gestured as he rose.  He was pointing at a mystified Tracy, who had apparently come to listen to this one man act.


    "I really don''t think I need a spy, no one knows about me except Carl and Tracy.  I don''t have anyone after me, and Danielle said I couldn''t be spied on here."  I felt like getting a few sentences in was an exhausting endeavor in the face of the man''s ramblings.


    "If you don''t know who your enemies are¨C You.  Need.  A.  Spy.  To.  Find.  Them.  You got a brain rattling between those ears?  I''m older than your country, man. Let''s pretend I know what I''m saying.  A dangerous notion to be sure.  Roll with it.   It''s been quiet here for decades.  Hell got the Hell out.  Peckers all droopy.  Cheeks all wet.  Gave up the ground.  Craig Baird?  Laying real low like.  Didn''t run away I didn''t.  Still hear things.  This ain''t a new battleground.  It''s old.  Not Craig Baird old but old enough.  Plenty of veterans, not many lost steps.  Real dangerous game your Danielle is playing.  Put the rabbit in the wolf den. Dead!"  Craig then snapped his jaws with an almost inhuman growling sound.  His teeth clicked as he lunged and bit.  He didn''t get close, but had moved so swiftly that I withdrew in alarm.  "Every man might have a sword.  Every woman too.  Kids¡­ screw them, will have swords someday.  Crosses and holy water.  Bibles and ties.  Bicycles with the tinkly bells.  Angels protecting them.  Horrible.  Just horrible.  Eat all right sometimes.  They feed a man okay."


    "Wait, what do you mean old battleground.  How is this a wolf den?"  I felt a sense of panic, already none too relaxed after the man pretended to bite me.


    "Would have been oh about fifty years ago or so-"


    "Dude, you''ve just been bumming around for half a century?" Carl cut in.


    ¡°Spying!  I have been spying for half a century.  Inconsiderate lout.¡±  Craig tsked loudly.  ¡°As I was saying.  Fifty years ago, lots of movement by the guys upstairs.  Started beefing up churches.  Had a little inquisition going on.  Hell didn¡¯t much like that.  Both sides pour in numbers.  Conflict breaks out, you get more coming in.  Eventually it¡¯s a bloodbath, nearly comes out in the open.  Hell cuts its losses and beats feet.  Haven¡¯t thought about trying again since¡­ well now, I suppose.  Lost my last boss to that.  Been keeping quiet, just watching.  That¡¯s the tale, here we are.¡±


    ¡°God, I need to ask Danielle about this,¡± I turned.


    ¡°Might wanna ease off of that,¡± Craig cautioned.


    ¡°Asking Danielle, why?¡±


    ¡°No, appealing to the guy upstairs.  You¡¯re kind of on different sides now.  You aren¡¯t gonna get struck by lightning or anything, but well.  Lots of people listening.  They''re still vigilant.  Don¡¯t want to make him know you.  Make them know you.  Make yourself known.¡±  Craig brushed at his arms aggressively, as if brushing something off.  Plenty of particles of unknown provenance obliged.


    ¡°I¡¯ll uh, keep that in mind.¡±  I walked past Tracy and looked into my room.  Of course she was gone.  ¡°Fuck her,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°What say you?¡± Craig asked, companionably, from right next to me.


    ¡°Jesus Christ!¡± I yelped, jumping away from him.


    ¡°Tsk!  Not his name!  I just told you!¡±


    ¡°Dude, I didn¡¯t fucking see you move there.  I should have seen you."  Tracy''s voice had a horrified tremor of disbelief.


    Craig snorted. "Easy to not see me.  I''m good at this!  Bring me into your congregation.  It might save your life."


    I nodded, slowly.  "I think you''ve made your point.  But you want¡­?"


    "A sense of direction and a place to sleep.   More than enough.  More than enough.  Some victuals wouldn''t bother me none.  Wine.  Would love some good wine."


    "Bed, food, and a mission, got it. You wanna join my congregation?"  I managed to cut off Craig before the list grew more.


    ¡°Aye, I suppose.  I swear to aid you in your endeavors as a loyal congregant.  Eternally yours, Craig Baird, the lemure.¡±


    ¡°Okay, now Carl, wash his fucking clothes and give him something to wear after he showers.  Please.¡±  I was already pondering if it was worth it to go over to CVS and get some kind of air freshener.  Tracy looked a little green, and Carl looked utterly defeated as he took in Craig¡¯s attire.  Which the lemure swiftly began to doff.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°Oh God,¡± Tracy groaned, sickly.  She averted her head.


    "Do you uhh¡­know how the shower works?"  I inquired.


    "Lad, I''m gonna ignore such an insulting question.  Pull it out.  Twist it ''til it''s hot.  Like when I get fresh with myself."  Craig winked and gave his dick a shake at me.


    "Oh God," Tracy said, in even more revulsion.


    Carl chortled, while collecting the rancid garments.  "I like this guy."


    ***


    Seventy-three.


    Seventy-three missed calls.


    Most of them were from Lizzie, some few were from Mom.  I snorted when I saw the call from Daryl.  Lizzie started by leaving voicemails, but abandoned that tack.  Daryl left a long one.  Mom left short ones each time.  There was no way I was listening to any of them.


    Of the choices presented, Daryl and Mom were both the worst options, so I decided to reach out to Lizzie.  First the probing text:   "You still around?"  Then the waiting game.  Not ninety seconds went by before my phone lit up.  I picked up.


    "Jeremy, what the Hell.   Why would you do that?  Why would you do that to Mom?  She''s been crying nonstop, Daryl is pissed.  It''s almost Christmas, why are you doing this now?  Why are you doing it at all?  What the Hell do you think Mom did?  Jeremy, why?"


    I let Lizzie''s tirade wash over me.  "I''m done-  that''s it.   I don''t want Mom pretending like it''s okay that she went back on her word.  I don''t want her giving up on Justice for Rhea.  I don''t want her running away.  Dad died for us too.  If she can run away, why can''t I?"


    "Mom''s enjoying her retirement, you idiot!"


    "Then I''m just enjoying retail hell."  This wasn''t getting anywhere, I shouldn''t have called Lizzie, but I didn''t want to leave any ambiguity.   More the fool me.


    "You can''t just disown your family because Mom goes to a few bed and breakfasts, that''s insane.  You seriously hurt Mom.  I haven''t seen her crying like that since Dad."


    "Where does Mom live?"


    Lizzie stopped, sputtering.  "Erm, with Daryl I guess? Why are you changing the subject?"


    "Because the house is gone, Lizzie.  Do you think Daryl will be happy to keep Dad¡¯s stuff?  What if Mom sold it all?  We don¡¯t even know.  When do you think we¡¯re next having Christmas with Mom?  Or is she just going to celebrate them in little B&Bs forever?¡±  I took a breath.  ¡°You know, where she doesn¡¯t have to remember Dad?  Or us?¡±


    ¡°Oh my God, Jeremy.  Heaven forbid she takes a little time for herself.  So what if the house is gone, this isn¡¯t about money!  Or is it?  Oh my God, if this is because you think you¡¯re owed some money-¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t we owed at least one parent?  Aren¡¯t we owed at least one home?¡±


    ¡°Are we?  She¡¯s given so much, Jeremy.¡±  Lizzie sounded flat, defeated.


    ¡°Dad gave way more.¡±


    ¡°You want Mom to die, Jeremy?  Is that it?¡±


    ¡°What would the difference be?  She¡¯s already fucking gone, Lizzie.¡±  She was gone.  We were kept at arm''s length.  Whether that was Daryl''s doing or Mom''s, she was gone all the same. Mom might have actually felt somewhat badly, but it wasn¡¯t because I¡¯d be more distant.  That¡¯s what she wanted.  She just wanted to still pretend that she was my mother without the emotional responsibility.  If she didn''t want me in her life, I didn¡¯t want to be in hers.  My thoughts were churning, but I wasn¡¯t saying anything.  But neither was Lizzie.


    ¡°Liz, you there?¡±


    ¡°Jeremy, if Mom didn''t want us to be in her life, wouldn''t she say so?  Or Daryl would, at least."


    "Daryl, that''d be rich.  Is that what you''re waiting on?  You want Daryl to do it so you can get more hits on your TikTok?  Are you recording this right now to share?"


    Lizzie gasped in indignation.  Then hung up.  Yup, nailed it.  Of course she needed this drama faucet to flow.  If I cut things off now, she wouldn¡¯t be able to milk it.  She¡¯ll just have to milk it from Mom, and if I didn¡¯t miss my mark, that well would dry up soon enough.  Mom could pin it all on me, and break ties cleanly, guilt-free.  Was this even a sacrifice?  It almost felt liberating.


    ¡°Dude, you¡¯re nuts,¡± Carl said from the doorway.


    For once I wasn¡¯t startled. ¡°How long were you listening, asshole?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Long enough, dude.  Your mom is just doing the things moms do.  They like to go to New England and look at leaves and shit.  She¡¯s not abandoning you, dude.  She¡¯s just a boring Mom doing boring Mom things.  Oh I¡¯m leaving tomorrow, spending Christmas with my pops.¡±


    ¡°Only if you make lots of money drawing, Carl.¡±  I bit my words off, tersely.  ¡°And you don¡¯t know my mom, so fuck off with that.¡±


    ¡°Whatever makes you feel better dude.  And yeah, I have hella commissions lined up.  Lots of people want Christmas shit, so I¡¯m gonna have to work overtime.¡±  There was actually a bit of an avaricious gleam in his eyes.  Maybe Carl would end up being worth it.  ¡°Oh, who gets the couch?  Tracy and Craig both want it.¡±


    ¡°Tracy has a home, she should go back to it,¡± I said sourly.


    "I don''t think she''s leaving, dude.  Maybe she wants my dick still.¡±  Carl''s grin was equal parts greasy and lecherous.


    ¡°Fuck, fine.  I''ll talk with her."


    Tracy was sitting awkwardly on the couch, in front of an idle Genshin Impact screen.  Carl was probably doing research for those commissions.  Tracy¡¯s thumbs flew over her iPhone.  Her eyes flicked up and she said ¡°Oh thank fuck, you¡¯re not Carl.¡±


    ¡°That bad huh?¡±  I sat down on the couch.


    ¡°He thinks that I¡¯m actually into him.  He¡¯s good at drawing but that¡¯s about the only good thing I¡¯d say about his hands.  And the fucker doesn¡¯t take no for an answer.¡±  Her gaze was flat and accusatory.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell him to leave you alone.  Sorry about that.  It¡¯s hard to think of all the things to tell him not to do.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t just fucking say that.  ¡®Oh it¡¯s so hard having the power to make people follow my every whim, woe is me.¡¯  Fuck that.  Fuck you.  And then that Asian bitch!  There¡¯s no reason I can''t be doing what you''re doing.   You have one person, I''d have so many already."  Tracy sounded completely self-pitying, at odds with the uncannily collected woman I had seen the last few days.


    I took a breath.  ¡°You think about what she said though?  Maybe joining my congregation would get you closer to that.¡±


    "Nah, not a chance.  I¡¯m not playing second fiddle to you.¡±


    ¡°Danielle did all but come out and say you wouldn''t get an Implement.  This might be your only in, the closest you get on your own.  Besides, it¡¯s been kind of nice having you around.  You¡¯d be the first, the founding member of my congregation.  Isn¡¯t that something?  Better than retail.¡±


    ¡°Piss off,¡± Tracy scoffed, churlishly.


    I sighed in frustration.  ¡°What about if we try something?  Might convince you to stay and even help out a little."


    "Like what."  Tracy''s tone did not soften.


    "Carl, stop lurking in the hallway."


    Carl stepped out.


    "Carl, do whatever Tracy says, as long as it doesn''t harm me."  I grasped the Implement as I uttered the words.  I looked over to Tracy.


    ¡°Duuuuude,¡± Carl said warily, as Tracy¡¯s smile incandesced.  He took a step backward.


    "Oh Carl, please pluck a hair.  Head hair," she added.


    Carl winced as he pulled a hair from his scalp.


    "Okay now roll it up and eat it," Tracy ordered in malicious glee.


    "What the fuck, you''re fucked."  Carl griped as his hand mechanically balled up the hair.  He opened his mouth.


    "Carl stop," I said.  Tracy shot me an upset glance.  "Needed to see what he does with conflicting orders.   Looks like I supersede any order you give."


    Tracy rolled her eyes as Carl dropped the hair gratefully.  "What''s the point of you are just going to undo anything I do?  You suck."  Tracy crossed her arms, frowning.


    "I needed to see what happened, I don''t give a fuck how much hair you make Carl eat.  Go ahead, torment away."  Carl''s expression of relief melted into one of horror.  "But only if you join my congregation now.  One time chance, Tracy."


    She hesitated.  At least a moment.   "All of the people you get?  They will do what I say?¡±  I opened my mouth ¡°As long as it doesn¡¯t countermand you, yeah yeah, I get it.¡±  Her countenance wrinkled as conflict was waged across her synapses.  ¡°God.  Fine.  Fine.  I¡¯ll do it.¡±  The words came out almost unwillingly, a concession made to herself.


    ¡°Oh thank God, I didn¡¯t want to ask Craig.¡±  Relief was a flood.  "Just need one more for my congregation then."


    "About that, I might have a candidate in mind," Tracy suggested.  "She''d probably let you use the knife on her if you wanted but you need her to be¡­ not stabbed."


    "Yes, unstabbed.  They can probably be moved over later if necessary.  I wonder if I can relinquish a soul, give it back."  I looked at Carl''s hopeful face.  "Not gonna test it on you."


    "Dick," Carl muttered.


    I shrugged back.  "Your job is to make me money now.  You owe me, sex doll boy."


    ¡°That means I get the couch,¡± Tracy said.  ¡°I¡¯m sure Craig¡¯s slept on worse than a floor.¡±


    "Sleep away," I granted.  "You do have a place of your own but if you like the couch that much¡­"


    "Fuck no, that place sucks ass."  Tracy sprawled out a little, taking up all the couch I wasn''t sitting on.   "If something happens, I''m gonna be here.  No getting anything past me.  And I swear to God if someone else gets a knife before I do, there will be Hell to pay."

 Seven

    "Where''s the victuals?"


    Craig had yet again managed to get right next to me without my noticing.  As I nearly jumped out of my desk chair, he leaned in to look at my laptop.  He was somehow still naked.


    "You can order food from this, yeah?  You might want to hurry up.  Fast like.  Stomach is emptier than a spinster¡¯s womb.¡±  Craig rubbed his hands together in anticipation.


    ¡°There¡¯s food in the fridge,¡± I said, irritatedly.


    ¡°There was food in the fridge,¡± Craig corrected.  ¡°Had a fierce hunger. Your soul slave eats too.  Lots.  Perhaps make him lose the fat.  The lady threw out everything spoilt.  Complain I did. Now the icebox lies empty."


    "So your stomach isn''t actually empty."


    Craig groaned.  Loudly. "I am famished.  Skin and bones.  You cannot deny me bread.  It is the law of hospitality.  Gotta feed even a lemure. "


    "Well the laws of economics state that I can¡¯t get any more food.  You do realize I''m not made of money, right?"  I gave Craig my sternest glare I could muster.


    He shrugged it off in its entirety and continued on.  "You think it''s hard for Craig Baird to come across some lucre?¡±


    ¡°Yes, you were homeless and hadn¡¯t had a bath in God knows how long.  I assumed money was a little bit of a scarce commodity with you.¡±


    Craig rolled his eyes and left the room.  He returned, holding a disgusting wad of dollar bills.  He plopped the odious currency in my lap.  "Fruits of my labor.  Now make with obtaining."


    I stared at the cash.  "You can buy your own with this!"  I goggled at the bills.  At first I assumed it was predominantly singles with a few fives thrown in.  As I unwound the notes however, it was apparent that there was some serious cash here.  A lot of twenties, a few fifties, and even a couple of hundreds.  This would feed someone for a very long time, even overpriced fast food and gas station fare.


    "Don''t like talking to them much."  That I struggled to believe.  "They start asking old Craig Baird questions. ''From whence came that lucre?''  Hurtful aspersions." Language aside, that sounded more believable.  I''m sure a pungent homeless guy with wads of cash likely could make a stir.


    "Well it''s cheaper to actually go and get the food.  I could drive you to a place or we could go get groceries.  You cook at all?"


    "I''m as much a chef as I am a fair lass.  No cooking.  Takes time to cook.  Takes time to season.  Takes time to clean.  Eat dirty, mostly.   Eat lots.  Eat fast.  Not particular, Craig Baird isn''t."


    "Fuck, fine, I''ll just order some pizza."  Resigned, I went to Domino''s website to see if I could rustle up something edible.


    While doing so, Craig continued to mumble and gripe.  Suddenly interrupting his own diatribe about Carl eating all the pizza, he queried "What is my first target?"


    I paused.  "What?"


    "Point and shoot, lad.  I need a job."


    "I thought you were just going to keep me from getting spied on by angels or something."  I frowned slightly.


    "Gotta get told where they are.  Can''t just know where they are.  I listen.  Don''t know things.  Let others know.  Knowledge to keep them antsy.  My ears await."  Craig stared at me pointedly.


    "Uh, so a person or place?"


    Craig guffawed.  "A place is better.  Even old Craig Baird gets noticed talking long enough.  Distinctive flair.  Draws eyes.  Need to be where I''m expected to be.  People are not."


    I shrugged.  "Coworker of mine was acting a little weirder than usual and asked me to go to this church."  I handed Craig the flier from Central United Methodist.  "Go see if it''s a normal church?  Or whatever it is you do."


    "No normal churches.  But that''s my bailiwick.  I''ll put on the act first thing tomorrow.  Now finish with the food procurement.  Make haste."  As if on cue, Craig''s stomach growled loudly.


    ***


    Jesus, yesterday had been too full.  Fortunately, today was my day off, and I reveled in the extra time to sleep.  I realized quite quickly that I didn¡¯t actually feel the normal lethargy.  The fog that would permeate even my most rested mornings was absent.  I felt clear-headed, light on my feet, and ready to go.  It was disorienting to feel like this.  Fuck, Wayward Souls had just suddenly shifted my insecurities about backing it.  I hopped out of bed and absolutely crushed my morning situps and pushups, hitting my numbers easily and more quickly than before.  I did half as many again and felt a good burn.  I was pumped.


    I was pulled out of my thoughts by a knocking on my bedroom door.  "Yeah?"  I called.


    "Dude, I need to leave."  Carl''s voice held a sense of urgency on the other side of the door.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Dude, my pops is here.  Can you come out here?¡±  Carl¡¯s voice sounded strained.


    I emerged from my bedroom, almost feeling more rejuvenated than I had before the workout.  Carl was holding his tablet, drawing while looking at me with pleading eyes.  ¡°Dude.  Dude.  Dude.  I can¡¯t stop.¡±  Carl¡¯s tone was fearful.  ¡°The drawing, dude.  I did it until I slept.  I passed the fuck out.  Woke up and started again.  I gotta go home with my folks, man.  Tell me I can leave.  Please, dude.¡±


    I tried to not take this in with smug satisfaction.  I actually, really tried.  I failed completely.  ¡°Oh my God, you¡¯re doing it?  You¡¯re actually working for me?¡±  Fuck, today was phenomenal!  ¡°Keep it up Carl, you¡¯re doing great.¡±


    ¡°Dude, I need to go.  Please?  I¡¯ll uhh¡­ keep drawing.¡±  Carl¡¯s tone was pleading.


    ¡°Okay, I shall graciously allow you to depart.  But.¡±  I held up a forestalling finger.  ¡°You will still be drawing.  Four hours at least.  This is a livelihood.¡±


    Carl¡¯s tablet fell from nerveless fingers.  ¡°Holy shit dude.  You¡¯re the fucking best.¡±


    ¡°Wait, why were you drawing?  Didn¡¯t I tell you to do it immediately yesterday?  Why didn¡¯t you start until last night?¡±


    ¡°Well, you got the pizza ordered and I had some and then you went to bed, and I stayed up and felt this urge to work.  And then it all started.  I couldn¡¯t stop until I felt tired and went to sleep.  It was like¡­ you know a real bad itch?  Dude, I had to keep scratching.¡±


    I considered.  Why did it take until then for my words to work?  Danielle had talked about the interpretation of orders.  How Carl would think brick ramen with an egg would be a suitably nice meal if asked to cook for people.  Perhaps in the same way, it was slightly up to the personal interpretation.  Carl did plenty yesterday for me, taking care of Craig¡¯s clothing and getting people situated.  It was only after my day was done that the only way he could earn his keep was to continue drawing.  If intention played that big a role, I¡¯d need to be careful.  Carl wouldn¡¯t be too hard to manipulate, but I thought about if Tracy were ensorcelled.  She¡¯d be a handful to keep on task, probably with a creative interpretation of my requests.  Of course, that was the point of having a congregation, for people who functioned better without strict guidance.


    ¡°Okay, I gotta pack up dude.  You¡¯re the shit.¡±  Carl ambled forward, his arms wide as if to embrace me.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°C¡¯mon dude.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Carl shrugged.  "Fine, be that way."


    He shuffled off to his room while I went to shower.   It was the most refreshing shower I¡¯d had in years.  Afterwards, I checked myself in the mirror.  I didn¡¯t see much that was different.  Maybe my face looked a little more robust.  No dark circles under the eyes.  Clear-eyed, just generally more alive looking.  I shaved, noting how my skin didn¡¯t seem as irritated.  What a boon.


    Smiling as I exited the bathroom, I came out to the living room.  Tracy was sleeping on the couch.  There was no sign of Craig, but there was a pile of blankets in the corner.  They somehow looked more disheveled than any pile of blankets had any right to be.  I would have to make sure Craig''s disorganization didn''t propagate further- dealing with Carl had been bad enough.


    ¡°Rise and shine, it¡¯s a glorious day in service of Hell,¡± I chirped brightly.


    ¡°Piss.  Off,¡± Tracy muttered darkly, pulling her blanket over her face and flopping over.


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Nope, we¡¯ve got a congregation to congregate.¡±  I was chipper and I was feeling it.  ¡°You said you had a person in mind for the congregation anyhow.  Let¡¯s get them here so I can get this over with.¡±


    ¡°Bro, what is it, seven?  Eight?  She¡¯s probably asleep.  Total night owl.  You want to talk to her, it¡¯s gonna have to be tonight.¡±


    ¡°Crap.  Tonight is game night with Leon and Matt.¡±


    ¡°Well boohoo.  Now let me go the fuck to sleep.¡±


    ¡°Carl¡¯s going to be moving his shit out, so the front door¡¯s going to slam a lot.¡±


    No response.


    I went back to my room, mostly to be out of Carl¡¯s way for his ritual packing up.  See, Carl wasn¡¯t in the habit of going without when he left.  He stripped his room down, packing everything up.  Bedclothes, his clothes, the PS4, all his toiletries, everything.  Except his mattress and drawing desk, and I believe that was more out of laziness as opposed to the sheer insanity of packing a mattress up for a brief visit to his parents.  His dad owned a gargantuan GMC and it could haul all my worldly belongings twice over.  I soon heard the familiar tromping of heavy footfalls, then the door slamming just a hair too loudly.


    ¡°Yo Jeremy, my pops wants to see you.¡±  For some reason, Carl''s dad was fascinated with me, since I was ¡°Carl''s best friend who he didn''t know just from the internet.¡±  What a prestigious distinction.


    I walked past a morose Tracy who stared baleful daggers at Carl as he merrily plodded through the room.  Outside stood Terry Smock.  In all the ways Carl was, Terry was not.  Terry was thin and short, a nervous tic of a man who perpetually had clammy hands.  The wisps of hair still tethered to his scalp were pulled across his bald pate, a futile gesture to spite the ravage of aging.  He had never been unkind or rude, but seemed fond of using me as an intermediary to speaking with Carl.  This was mostly because I had never once heard Carl turned down or denied by his father.  I wasn''t sure the word ¡°No¡± was in his vocabulary, at least where his son was concerned.


    But that didn''t stop him from making pushy asks of me, in pursuit of Carl''s self-improvement.  ¡°Hey Jer,¡± he began, his slightly nasal tone lingering.  No one else ever used that name with me.  I had never given anyone that name to use, and even Carl called me Jeremy.  It baffled me as to why Terry would insist on using it.  ¡°Did you get a chance to look into Carl¡¯s work situation?¡±  His tone was hushed, conspiratorial.  He had pleaded with me before about getting Carl some kind of job.  I had explained to him that Carl bristled at the notion of working retail and he didn''t seem much enamored with other occupational pursuits either.  Which made it slightly more enjoyable to do this:


    ¡°Yes, he¡¯s going to get a job as soon as he gets back, isn¡¯t that right Carl?¡±  I asked loudly, to Terry¡¯s slightly frantic panic.


    ¡°Yeah dude.  Made up a resume and everything,¡± Carl offered as he carried a few figurines downstairs.


    Terry gawked.  ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°I got a promotion, new job opportunities.  Carl gets to share in the wealth.  It''ll be good for him.¡±  My tone was obnoxiously cheerful, almost saccharine in its sanguinity.


    ¡°You did?  You did?  Oh my Lord.  Carl my boy!¡±  Terry was jubilant.


    I wondered idly if Carl could tell Terry about the Implement, but discarded the fear almost immediately.   There was no way that such an obvious vulnerability would be there.  Surely they weren¡¯t permitted to.  Oh God.  Carl had already had plenty of free rein, he would have told Terry already.  I couldn¡¯t ask Carl in front of Terry, Craig wasn¡¯t here, and Danielle definitely wasn¡¯t here.  Funny that I¡¯d just have to take this on faith.


    ¡°Jer, I don¡¯t know how I can repay you.  Moving out has been such a good thing for Carl.¡±  It definitely had not been for me.  ¡°Anything you want, just name it.¡±


    My mouth moved before my brain.  ¡°Your soul?¡±  I added a light quality to it, jocular.


    ¡°Jer, if I had a soul on me, I¡¯d give it to you.¡±  Was Terry crying?  God, I felt bad for doing it but this was how it worked, right?


    Carl watched passively as I drew the Implement from beneath my shirt.  The prick I intended to give Terry ended up being more of a light stabbing.  Blood immediately welled around the wound, the knife buried a little less than an inch deep.  ¡°Oh God, I didn¡¯t mean to do that.¡±  I hastily drew it out, the blood reaching.  Right, the blood.  I moved the Implement closer again, and it drew blood from the wound, soaking into the blade.


    ¡°Wow, I really got hurt there, Jer,¡± Terry said, staring at the wound.  It wasn¡¯t flowing the way it probably should have been, and only lightly stained his woollen sweater.  ¡°Must have been something clumsy I did, heh.  Hey, I didn¡¯t know you were into knives.  I¡¯m not much of a knife guy myself, too accident prone.¡±


    I continued to hold the Implement and said ¡°Terry please, for the Love of God, stop calling me ¡®Jer¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Can do, Jeremy,¡± Terry said affably.


    ¡°Dude c¡¯mon, my dad?  Did you have to?¡±  Carl¡¯s features, neutral before, slowly melted into grief.  ¡°I know I haven¡¯t been the best roommate but you didn¡¯t have to do that to me.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t do it to hurt you Carl, stop being a drama queen.  I just capitalized on a situation.¡±  That felt a little unfeeling, but then again, Carl hadn¡¯t displayed a breadth of understanding by leaving me in the lurch with the utilities and maintaining the apartment and keeping fed and¡­ Yeah, in short, fuck Carl.  ¡°You can bond with Terry over how unfair I¡¯m being.¡±


    ¡°Nah, you¡¯re not being unfair Jer.  You caught me with my pants down, heh.  Took advantage of old Terry here.¡±  Terry gave another nervous ¡°heh¡±.  I hadn¡¯t had to explain anything to Carl either, it seemed like the same effect that seemed to fuzz their memory also made clear what had occurred.  At least, I never had explained to Carl that he obeyed me now, and Terry seemed to be acting the same way.


    Still holding the Implement I asked ¡°Did you tell anyone about this, Carl?¡±


    Carl shook his head, ponytail bouncing.  ¡°Nope.  Can¡¯t do it.  Tried to tell my mom but my voice froze up.  Dude, that knife is fucking unreal.  But now I can tell my pops.¡±  Carl turned to face Terry.  ¡°Pop, Jeremy has me soul enslaved to do art for him for money.  And he also wants me to get a job at the shithole he works at.¡±


    Jerry nodded along.  ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to help you live up to your expectations, son.  I wouldn¡¯t want you getting in trouble with Jer¡­ emy.  Heh.¡±  They both nodded in rhythm as if they had reached some magnificent understanding.


    ¡°Okay, now finish getting packed up and go home.¡±  I had briefly considered commanding Carl to stay and focus on helping me out, but even with Terry covering, I figured Eleanor (Carl¡¯s mom) would suss out that something was wrong.  Carl never stayed up here when he had the chance to go home.  I didn¡¯t want to blow my operation because of dumbass Carl and his tendency to run back to his folks at the drop of a hat.  But that did lead me to another question.


    ¡°Is there some way I could get Eleanor?  With the Implement, I mean?¡±


    Terry¡¯s face screwed up in grief-shaded consternation.  ¡°Oh Lord, Jer-emy, I really don¡¯t want you doing that to my Eleanor.  But she¡¯s also a little more spiritual than I am, she probably wouldn¡¯t just give up her soul anyhow.¡±


    ¡°She would probably do it if you offered to release my soul,¡± Carl spoke up.  It was maybe the most helpful thing he¡¯d done besides laundering Craig¡¯s accoutrements.


    ¡°Okay, Bring Eleanor back when you get back from Christmas, Terry,¡± I said.


    ¡°Can do, Jer-emy.¡±  Terry said.


    ¡°Dude come on, not my mom too.¡±  Carl pleaded.  It was a bit jarring to see answers and offers pulled out from Carl without any sense of begrudgingness, while still maintaining his hold on his own thoughts.  With one hand he sold his mom out, with the other he pleaded for me to leave her out of it.  No wonder Wayward Souls wanted other people wrangling this, it was confusing.


    ¡°Your mom too, Carl.  And don¡¯t tell her, but I¡¯m going to keep your soul too.¡±  Okay, that was probably unnecessary cruelty.  Carl¡¯s eyes were wet with tears.  ¡°Go finish packing.¡±  I walked back into the apartment.


    ¡°What the fuck, bro.  That was cold,¡± Tracy said from the couch.  She had the ratty green blanket thrown around her shoulders.


    ¡°I¡¯m taking this job very seriously,¡± I replied.  ¡°Craig¡¯s talking has me spooked about what¡¯s going on.  I hope he has good news, but if I¡¯m getting thrown to the wolves, I want to do my best to protect myself.  Along those lines, I¡¯d really like to meet this candidate of yours.  The more troops I have, the better.¡±


    Tracy gave an exaggeratedly disgusted sigh.  ¡°I already told you, she¡¯s asleep.  She gets up at like¡­ two.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re clearly not getting back to sleep, and you should have been at your shift already, so what were you planning on doing for the next five hours?¡±


    Tracy gave me a flat stare.  She rolled her eyes.  ¡°I¡¯ll call her.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I like to hear.¡±


    *****


    ¡°Jeremy, this is Chevy.  Her real name is Abigail, but don¡¯t call her that.  She hates it.¡±


    Chevy was a shorter girl, round and bouncy.  She wore multiple dark hoodies, somehow dressing even darker than Tracy.  Where Tracy was a deathly pale, Chevy had a skin tone that was browner, but avoided the sun almost as much.  Her brown eyes studied me curiously, brown and querrellous.  They were a bit bloodshot, dark bags underneath.  Chevy¡¯s makeup was more understated than Tracy¡¯s, but equally dark.


    ¡°Chevy, this is Jeremy.¡±  Tracy gestured at Chevy, ¡°Okay, give her your best pitch.¡±


    ¡°Wait,I thought you would tell her what¡¯s going on.¡±


    ¡°Learn on the job, be a big boy,¡± Tracy said snidely.


    ¡°Okay, Chevy.  Nice to meet you.  My name is Jeremy, and I am a Lieutenant of Hell.¡±  I waited.


    We were standing outside my apartment, Carl and Terry gone.  Tracy had left after a lot of incredibly vocal whining, but she finally did leave.  It took her almost an hour to convince Chevy to come.  Apparently Tracy had not exaggerated about the hours that Chevy kept.


    Chevy¡¯s eyes stayed level.  ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I have been appointed by Hell to serve in its capacity of human recruitment for the war with Heaven.  In that role, I bring unwilling souls to heel and assemble a willing congregation to assist in that endeavor.  Tracy, the leader of my congregation, recommended you as a primary choice for the congregation.¡±  I tried to inject more confidence in my voice.  The whole line was true, but it felt incredibly outlandish.  Probably the same kind of reaction Craig would get if he told his story to anyone passing him by on the sidewalk.


    ¡°Okay, now that¡¯s it?¡±  Chevy asked again.


    ¡°That¡¯s uh¡­ the long and short of it, yeah.¡±


    Tracy nodded to Chevy..


    ¡°Sure, I¡¯m in.¡±


    Really?  That blase?  ¡°Oh uh, yeah, you just need to swear a simple oath to join my congregation, and you¡¯re in.¡±


    ¡°No blood or knives or altars or dead animals?  Lame.¡±  Chevy said.  She shrugged.  ¡°I swear to join your congregation.  So do we have a temple somewhere?¡±


    ¡°Just my apartment.. For now.¡±  The little apartment would probably be quickly outgrown, if this trajectory was any indication.


    ¡°If you¡¯re lying to me about this guy, Tracy¡­¡±


    ¡°Relax, it¡¯s legit.¡±


    ¡°Okay last step requires me to give a sermon to my assembled congregation¡­ and Craig¡¯s not here.¡±


    ¡°Been here,¡± Craig muttered behind me.


    ¡°Dude what the hell, how do you do that?¡±  I almost jumped out of my skin.  Again.


    ¡°Only need to be seen when I want.  Everyone ignores Craig Baird.  Got some rich gossip.  Came on back.  Wonderful congregant, I am.  Bringing on more lasses for the cause, eh?¡±


    Chevy and Tracy both frowned at Craig.


    ¡°Okay, I need to give a sermon, let¡¯s do it inside.¡±

 Eight

    Standing in front of the television (it was mine) for once not running Genshin Impact (the PS4 was Carl¡¯s, and he had packed it up when he left), I faced my congregation.  Craig leaned against the wall of the corner he slept in.  He had to be told to leave the couch as neither Tracy nor Chevy wanted him there.  I wasn¡¯t a public speaker, and I hadn¡¯t bothered to come up with any prepared words, just vague plans for the sermon.  My family had never been particularly religious.  I sometimes went to holiday services with my grandparents, but after Dad passed, that didn¡¯t happen as much.  So I wasn¡¯t completely unused to what a sermon should sound like, but coming off the cuff seemed quite daunting.


    ¡°In for a penny¡­¡± I muttered.  I cleared my throat and began: ¡°My faithful congregation, I have assembled you here for my first sermon.  Despite how new this all is to me, and to all of you¡± (Craig harrumphed at this) ¡°I will do my best as Lieutenant of Hell to lead you all to glory.  I have been told that this place hasn¡¯t seen war in a long time, that this is foolhardy and perilous.  But I believe that under my guidance, we can make Wayward Souls a contender in this sphere.


    ¡°I want to use the very same structure that brought Wayward Souls to me, to those outside.  Wayward Souls didn¡¯t lure me in with a promise of power or other dark enticements.  Hell found a willing employee by offering a respite from the trials of living.  It offered a small boon in light of my financial peril.  The world is a cruel and unforgiving place.  Communities are fragmented and hostile.  I don¡¯t think it¡¯s any coincidence that Hell is making a move now.  Humanity has never been more open to what Wayward Souls provides.


    ¡°I want to use that, the desire for safety and stability.  With your help, I¡¯d like to start a society of people to help each other and establish its own form of community.  We can figure out who is good material for elevation into Wayward Souls, without letting on what our main goal is.  It will be difficult at first, but I¡¯m hoping to tap into any monetary means that Carl¡¯s family has at their disposal.  We will need to find a good place downtown to rent for meeting in- my apartment can¡¯t be that.  This new site will also need to be profaned, I assume?¡±  I looked to Craig for an answer but was interrupted.


    ¡°Whoa whoa whoa,¡± Tracy cut me off.  ¡°You want to recruit people for this with charity?  Isn¡¯t that a thing that the¡­ the other side would do?¡±


    ¡°How many evil rich fuckwads are known for their philanthropy and charity?¡± I countered.


    ¡°Hm, point taken.¡±


    After Tracy was satisfied, Craig spoke up.  ¡°Aye lad, you can profane it.  Might need something bigger than a rabbit.   All those people down there.  Hard to make them not see.  Thinking a ram might do it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to have to kill shit.¡±  The same hand that could stab Terry Smock would tremble at an innocent animal.  It was a lot easier to pretend that Terry deserved it for enabling Carl or for calling me Jer, or for constantly begging me to get Carl a job when he was too cowardly to ask it himself.  I couldn¡¯t dredge up much to hate about an animal.  I guess it added to global warming, but it was just a dumb critter, it didn¡¯t know any better.


    ¡°You think a war can be won without killing?¡±  Craig picked at his teeth with a fingernail.


    ¡°I think a war is won before the killing starts.  This has been Heaven¡¯s territory for how long?  And it¡¯s because of the communities established.  It wasn¡¯t because blood was shed, but because they had a foundation to build from.  I simply want to make a foundation of my own, gathering in its own wayward souls.  I don¡¯t think Hell will mind if I coopt things a bit and use that name for this society.  That''s my guiding vision going forward, what do you guys think?


    ¡°Actually hold that thought, I¡¯m thirsty.¡±


    I went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water.  I felt a little electric, bordering on giddy.  I hadn¡¯t really considered doing it before, the idea just came to me in the moment.  Obviously it''d have to wait until after the holidays.  But it was a good goal, in my estimation.  Just like all those strip mall churches I saw everywhere, or even what Smith would offer during breaks.  Maybe doing it for Hell sounded more insidious, but that was just because of the same reluctance I had- that Hell was only for the bad people.


    I wasn¡¯t a bad person.


    I walked back out.  No one had moved appreciably.  ¡°What do you guys think?¡±


    A tick of silence and then Chevy piped up.  ¡°We¡¯re starting a cult?  I¡¯m cool with it.¡±


    ¡°Not a good idea, lad,¡± Craig cautioned.  ¡°Declaring way too early.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I queried.


    ¡°Heaven will sniff that out.  Can¡¯t keep it hidden very long.  Too much light.  Gets in everywhere.¡±  Craig shook his head.  ¡°Do this, and we¡¯re dead.¡±


    ¡°Oh, how did it work before?¡±  I couldn¡¯t help but have a little smarm in my tone.  ¡°What led to success here?¡±


    ¡°You think a cult is new?  You think they don¡¯t suss that out?  It¡¯s not a new tactic.¡±  Craig scratched at his arms irritatedly.  ¡°They got me at a revival.  It''s always the same.¡±


    I shrugged.  ¡°Do you have a better idea?  If this is a wolf¡¯s den, I better try to become a wolf too.  Sheep ain¡¯t gonna cut it here.¡±


    Tracy interrupted with ¡°Why did those others fail?  What happened?¡±


    ¡°They got found out.  Everytime.  Crying to their priests.  Can''t stay hidden long.  ¡®Oh woe, please forgive me mine sins.¡¯  The padre reports it straight away.  Guilt always gets them.  Only thing more powerful than greed.¡±


    ¡°So we don¡¯t make them guilty,¡± Tracy said.  ¡°It¡¯s not that hard.  Just keep them in the dark. ¡°


    ¡°They never stay in the dark.  They always get skittish.  Soon as you let them in on it someone breaks.  Always do.  Can''t keep a tongue.  Waggling.  Blurting. Confessing.  Don¡¯t do it.¡±


    I pondered.  ¡°What about using that guilt against them?¡±


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Craig said nothing but quirked a bushy pessimistic eyebrow.


    ¡°They''re struggling, why should they feel guilty if we offer aid?  Make them feel guilty about their guilt.  Weaponize it for us.  ¡®Why are you upset about receiving help?  Don''t you deserve a little relief from the rigors of this life?¡¯  Something like that.  People are predisposed to feel good about themselves.  Them being browbeaten into feeling otherwise can only be to our gain.  There¡¯s no welcoming home to go to at the end- it¡¯s all a lie.¡±


    Craig sighed and threw up his hands.  ¡°Survived a lot, Craig Baird has.  At least my time will be short with you.¡±


    ¡°Get ready to be surprised then,¡± I said, with bravado that I¡¯m not sure I felt deep down.  ¡°I¡¯m going to make this happen.  We have a holiday to survive first, then we can start figuring out how to make enough money to finance this.  I know Carl''s parents own their home, so that''s a possible one time source of cash, but I''d rather only go that route if necessary.  Until then we can look for other ways to finance it.  Any ideas?¡±  I knew I''d come up with something, but any other opinions couldn''t hurt.


    ¡°Place you had me look into.  The church.  Loaded.  Plenty of lucre.¡±  Craig stated bluntly.


    ¡°Huh, really?¡±  I considered.  ¡°But Smith works for peanuts, are you sure?  I make jack shit at the job and he¡¯s only been there a little longer than I have.¡±


    Craig nodded boisterously.  ¡°Absolutely.  Surname Burrows.  Name¡¯s all over the place.  Plaques, pews, gravestones.  Big family.  Lots of money.  He¡¯s rich.¡±


    ¡°So that asshole is just working for fun?¡± Tracy piped up.


    Craig shrugged.  ¡°Sounds like it.¡±


    ¡°Oh fuck him,¡± she hissed.


    ¡°He''s just doing it to give out pamphlets.   Or something.¡±  It didn¡¯t sound right even as I said it.  Even working for the fun of it wouldn¡¯t let Smith bombard customers with pamphlets.  At least not for very long.


    ¡°A customer would complain, he¡¯d be gone,¡± Tracy said, confirming my thoughts.


    ¡°What about us?¡±  This idea felt right.


    ¡°Makes sense,¡± Craig murmured.  ¡°Could be getting some reinforcements.  Up their numbers.  Bolster the ranks.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re doing the same thing I¡¯m doing?  Smith is me?  But why is he asking me if I¡¯m a good fit for Hell?¡±


    ¡°Same qualities.  Same drive.  Different expression.¡±  Craig offered.  ¡°Plenty of angels were good for both.  Humans even more tricky.¡±


    ¡°He has spent a lot more time bothering you on breaks,¡± Tracy stated.  ¡°Not like just a little, he¡¯s into you, Jeremy.  Do you think he has a knife?  Nah, probably not.¡±


    ¡°Less blood, more bibles,¡± Craig added.


    ¡°Oh no.  Oh no no no.¡±  I realized where this was going.  ¡°I have to pretend to be recruited.  I have to get into his circle.  And then what?  Sneak his credit card?  Steal his family¡¯s silverware?  Too risky, we¡¯re not doing it.¡±  My congregation looked up at me.  I sighed.  ¡°Fine, fuck it, I¡¯ll talk with Smith.  But not until work tomorrow, today is my goddamn day off and I¡¯m going to enjoy it.¡±


    ¡°Cool,¡± Chevy said.  ¡°Do I stay here or do we break the huddle or what?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we can find a place for you,¡± Tracy cut in.


    ¡°No, no we cannot.  This is a two bedroom apartment with four people in it.  It does not have the room for another person.  I don¡¯t have enough blankets or beds or couches.¡±  Craig¡¯s bed pile and Tracy¡¯s stake on the couch were already hectic enough.


    ¡°I¡¯ll figure it out,¡± Tracy said.  ¡°I¡¯m the congregation leader after all.  I¡¯ll go get my shit from my apartment.  While I do that you should take out the trash, it¡¯s gross, Jeremy.¡±


    I looked, and sure enough there was another bag of garbage.  Carl could have taken it out but instead had carried every single thing he owned outside for going home with him, excluding only carrying the trash.  It was insane.  I needed to figure out a way to not have to police Carl all the time.  The Implement seemed to only be as effective as I let it be.  ¡°I command souls, and I somehow have to take out the trash,¡± I groused theatrically.  I briefly considered asking Craig but I didn¡¯t want him finding the cornucopia that was the communal dumpster.  After the way Craig complained about the past date food, I didn¡¯t want him anywhere near that.


    I grabbed the garbage and tried to soothe my anger at somehow still having to do this shit.  It was only ¡°gross¡± because after throwing out all the expired food,  Tracy just left the bag tied against the wall.  At least it didn¡¯t feel as heavy, thanks to my newly won vitality.


    At the dumpster, I found Danielle, because of course I would.  She was in a dark parka, with an extremely fuzzy hood.  At this point outside most of the snow was gone except in the northern shadows.  She was completely overdressed for this level of cold.  She was also smoking a cigarette, looking out down the hill from my apartment complex.  ¡°Ah, Mr. Owens,¡± She said, without turning to me.  ¡°You have a congregation.¡±


    ¡°That I do.  Sermonized and everything.¡±  I hefted the garbage bag into the dumpster, gagging slightly on the combined reeks of everyone¡¯s detritus.  ¡°What¡¯s up?  Boss?¡±  I hadn¡¯t actually thought about it before, but in some ways Danielle was my supervisor, right?


    ¡°Danielle is fine.  We¡¯re friends after all.¡±  (Then why did she keep calling me Mr. Owens?) Danielle¡¯s expression was far away, very at odds with her intensity from our prior conversations.  ¡°I do commend you for assembling a congregation in such short order.  You are achieving everything we hoped for and more.  Wayward Souls applauds your ambition and temerity.  It should serve you well in the coming days.¡±


    ¡°Coming days?¡±  I didn¡¯t like the sound of that.


    ¡°There¡¯s quite a large holiday coming up, if you didn¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Christmas, but what does that have to do with any of this?¡±  I recalled Smith¡¯s warning about things not being safe on Christmas Eve.


    ¡°It¡¯s a time for new beginnings.  End of the year, end of the shopping season, end of everything.¡±  Danielle took a pensive drag.  ¡°But to have a beginning, you have to have an ending.¡±  There was a long pause as I waited for her to continue.  She did not.


    ¡°What does any of that mean?  What should I be ready for?  The end end?  Like an apocalypse?  What am I supposed to do against that?¡±  I couldn¡¯t even get Carl to take out the trash, how was I going to handle anything more difficult than that?


    ¡°I don¡¯t expect you to survive, but Wayward Souls does heavily encourage it.  Current forecast metrics are appalling, to put it mildly.  However, the strongest steel requires tempering, does it not?  Prove me wrong, Mr. Owens- survive to see the new year.  In the meantime, enjoy one last boon from Wayward Souls.  You will know wherever your congregants are, as well as their status, generally.  Your first congregants shall know the boon of fluency.  Their words shall be taken with slightly more grace and earnestness, while disregarding any inadvertent slips.  It¡¯s subtle, but very potent.  Addition of this boon to starting congregations has provided almost a threefold increase in the time it takes Heaven to identify a congregation.  Loose lips may sink ships, Mr. Owens, so we went for the ears instead.¡±


    ¡°Okay, but how do I keep from dying?  What is going to happen?¡±  She was babbling about talking better, when it sounded like I wasn¡¯t going to live to see the new year.  I remembered Craig talking about his former employer, dying to an angel on a unicorn.  ¡°How am I supposed to fight against angels?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t tell you to fight, Mr. Owens.  I told you to survive.  Do that however you can.  Remember that you are more important than your congregants or those whose souls you possess.  Use them.¡±  She exhaled a plume of smoke to punctuate this dire sentence.


    The lid on the dumpster slammed shut and jolted me, just for a moment.  But in that speck of surprise, Danielle was gone.

 Nine

    Leon got here first.  He always did.  Matt and I started giving Leon late times for our gatherings, because he showed up so early.  ¡°Dad always told me it was better to be early than late,¡± he¡¯d say.  Given what I knew about Leon¡¯s father, there was probably a hand or belt backing it up.


    So Leon got to be the first one to get my hastily conjured explanation.  ¡°You know Tracy already, this is her roommate Chevy.  Their apartment is getting fumigated.  I offered them a place to stay so they can pocket the hotel accommodation.¡±


    ¡°Nice to meet you, Chevy.¡±  Leon extended a hand for a shake.  Chevy simply shook her head, so Leon withdrew it.  He turned back to me.  ¡°Is it colder in here?  I feel cold.¡±


    The thermostat hadn¡¯t been adjusted in a while.  With all the people providing their body heat, the unconventional sleeping situations, and Carl¡¯s dogged determination to always run the thermostat hot, the last thing it should be in here was cold.


    ¡°Haven¡¯t touched it,¡± I said.


    ¡°Must just be bringing the cold in from outside.¡±  Leon opened his backpack and started taking out Sleeping Gods.  Leon owned most of the board games we played.  It fit him anyhow.  He was fastidious about keeping them organized.  Crisp bags for everything, well sorted and organized, including sticky notes to note what each set was for in the larger games.  It was an insane level of dedication, and Matt and I both appreciated it.  Mostly because we both sucked at putting things away.


    ¡°Jesus, that is so much shit,¡± Tracy remarked, almost wonderingly.  Chevy looked uninterested.


    ¡°It is a lot, but I enjoy setting it up,¡± Leon said.  And he genuinely meant it.  He liked making everything look photogenic, matching the pristine positioning of the instruction manuals.  It was all so Matt could sweep in and slowly undo all of it.  I tried to be conscientious of what Leon did, but I was nowhere near as perfect as he was.


    ¡°So if you¡¯re so invested in this, are you gonna be the one to teach us to play?¡±  Tracy asked, goggling at the rulebooks.


    ¡°Uh what?¡±  Leon looked up from his sorting, staring at me over his glasses.  ¡°You told them they were playing?  We¡¯re balls-deep in this campaign.  No newbs.¡±


    ¡°I did not tell them they were playing,¡± I said, a bit strained.


    ¡°So we¡¯re just third wheeling it?¡±  Tracy huffed.


    ¡°You could always have gone to that hotel¡­¡± I responded.


    ¡°Fucking bullshit.¡±  Tracy crossed her arms.


    ¡°Besides,¡± Leon said absently ¡°It¡¯s probably too complicated for you.¡±


    I watched Tracy¡¯s complexion drain of what little color it had.  ¡°Oh fuck no you didn¡¯t.  I¡¯m not going to get told I¡¯m too dumb to play some boardgame.  Give me some dice.  I wanna roll.¡±


    ¡°There aren¡¯t any dice,¡± Leon sighed.  ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s not cold in here?¡±  He rubbed at his arms, slapping them the way people do to show they¡¯re cold.  ¡°I feel like I should see my breath.¡±


    Tracy was glaring at him frostily enough, but I had a suspicion that this was more about the profaned apartment than the thermostat or her demeanor.  I flicked the thermostat up just a bit.  ¡°I turned it up.¡±  I started helping Leon unpack and set up the game.


    ¡°I¡¯m cool just watching,¡± Chevy offered.  ¡°Family would kick my ass at monopoly.¡±


    ¡°This is much better than monopoly,¡± Leon said.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to go get some beer so they can relax a little.¡±  Hoping Tracy wouldn¡¯t antagonize Leon too much, I left the apartment.  Unfortunately for me, the easiest place to get booze was the liquor store next to where I worked.  It was a bit inconvenient running into co-workers, mostly because they all wanted to talk about work.  Fortunately I didn¡¯t see any as I ducked in to get a case of beers.


    What I wasn¡¯t expecting was the bloom of awareness, in the back of my head.  I could feel Tracy and Craig and Chevy back at my apartment.  I felt Tracy¡¯s cold anger, probably directed at Leon.  Chevy¡¯s firmly cultivated disinterest dispassionately made me aware of its monotone ¡°present¡± and little else.  Craig¡¯s thoughts felt like feral kittens, all paranoia and pain.  Each one could spring to mind as I thought about them.  And while they were all the same direction from me, I could absolutely have pointed directly to where they were from me.  If Craig left my apartment, I could knock which direction he was from me.  It wasn¡¯t perfect, I didn¡¯t know how far it went, and streets are not the same as the crow flies.  But it would be incredibly useful.


    I spent too much time mentally flipping through my congregation, feeling Tracy¡¯s ire rise and fall.  Craig and Chevy were almost complete opposites, the river rapids and the lazy river.  I was too busy patting myself on the back to notice who was outside until it was too late.


    I was met with a booming baritone, ¡°Hey QB, what are the odds?¡±


    Fuck.


    ¡°Hi Smith,¡± I offered reluctantly, pasting an amiable demeanor on as I turned to face him.


    ¡°Getting some brewskis for the evening?  Got big plans, eh?¡±  Smith had a bag filled with craft goods from the nearby arts and crafts shop.  He loaded them into the back of his Suburban.  Closing the trunk he turned his full beaming smile upon me.  ¡°You walking?  I could give you a lift.¡±


    It was cold.  I could deal with 2 minutes of Smith.  And Craig wanted me to get in good with his family anyhow.  ¡°Yeah, I could use a ride.  Wasn¡¯t looking forward to carrying this back all the way to my apartment.¡±


    ¡°Awesome, brother.  Just hop in.¡±


    I loaded my backpack, bulging with the beer in the seat behind me.  I then sat in the passenger seat, uncomfortably aware of the crucifix hanging from the rear-view, the fish logo on the back, the gentle Christian music drifting from the bluetooth.


    Smith sat himself in the driver seat, looking much more proportional to the massive Suburban than I did.  ¡°Hey, you give any thoughts to what I talked to you about before?¡±  He looked at  me intently, his emerald eyes boring down through my avoidant aura.  ¡°I¡¯m serious, brother.  It¡¯s dangerous out there these days.  Can¡¯t hurt to be in a safe place for the night, yeah?¡±


    ¡°I have thought about it,¡± I admitted.  ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do or how to be at these things.  I went to church a few times with my grandparents but I wasn¡¯t really participating, ya know?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not too hard.  I can help you through it.  We¡¯ll just be happy to have you.¡±


    I felt the words tumble from my mouth before I could appraise them- ¡°Maybe I could grab a bite to eat with you before I go to church?  Get some tips and stuff?¡±  How weird did I sound?  There was no way that was natural.  But I wanted to see if there was some way to access that money for Wayward Souls.


    Smith¡¯s smile dialed it up from sun bright to a supernova.  ¡°I could have you over for dinner.  Chrissy could make dinner.  She would love to meet you.¡±  Smith¡¯s tone showed no sign of discomfort.  It was all easy confidence, the razor-sharp certainty that he was making the best choice, always.  I envied him.  ¡°Heck of a cook, Chrissy.  She makes a mean shepherd¡¯s pie.  You like shepherd¡¯s pie?¡±


    ¡°I uh, yeah.¡±


    ¡°My man.  Tomorrow evening good?  Christmas is just around the corner you know.¡±  Smith finally pulled the SUV out of the parking spot.


    ¡°Yeah, just up the street this way.  Vista View Arms.  And uhh¡­ I suppose tomorrow works..  I don¡¯t have a car at the moment¡­¡±


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°Oh you¡¯re right next to work, huh.  Neighborhood¡¯s all right,¡± Smith said.  The neighborhood kind of sucked, to be frank.  ¡°I¡¯m the other way, a couple of miles, up in the hills,¡± he mentioned idly.  That neighborhood was more than all right.  I was actually a little miffed at Smith still, working retail with the rest of us while his family gave him a dream home and a comfortable life.


    I thought of my mom at another B&B, the family home sold to finance her escapades with Daryl.  I hope she and Daryl got food poisoning from the next artisanal bread bowl stew they ate.  Daryl hadn¡¯t tried to contact me but my mom still was reaching out every so often.  After my call with LIzzie, I didn¡¯t feel much like discussing things with any of them.  Maybe I¡¯d talk to Mom after Christmas.


    Maybe.


    ¡°I can come pick you up.  You work until 4, right?¡±  Smith asked, drumming his fingers on the wheel to the inoffensive music.


    ¡°Yeah, thereabouts.  Depends on how long Sherrie keeps me over.  This is my stop¡±


    ¡°Which number?  So I know where to park tomorrow,¡± Smith asked.


    ¡°Building C over there.¡±  I pointed vaguely in the direction of my apartment.  ¡°Just give me your number.  I can text you when I¡¯m cleaned up from work.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like a plan, QB.¡±  Smith pulled the SUV in front of the building.


    I retrieved my backpack and gave Smith a tentative wave.  ¡°Thanks for the lift, man.¡±


    ¡°No problem, brother,¡± Smith replied.  ¡°Always gotta help each other out in this world these days.  Catch you tomorrow.¡±


    And he pulled away.


    *****


    Matt had arrived while I was gone.  Tracy knew Matt better than she did Leon and me, so he more easily passed muster.  Chevy, unsurprisingly, had an apathetic response to him.  Matt was sprawled on the couch next to Tracy.


    ¡°Hey, Jeremy, you brought some refreshments.¡±  Matt was gregarious and affable, always able to make friends, and diverse enough in his interests to have a rapport with most of our coworkers.  He and Leon played Apex and got me into it.  Leon got me involved in board games and managed to get Matt interested too.  He did weekend watch parties for football games.  He went out on the town with other buddies.  In short, he was outgoing in ways I never would be.  But for all his friendships and interests, he never seemed to be with anyone, not closely at least.  He never seemed to date anyone for more than a few weeks.  He had had multiple messy relationships with coworkers.  I envied him his companionable demeanor, but I had gotten to know him well enough that in some ways the sociable soul was only skin deep.  He wasn¡¯t melancholic the way Leon could be, but some days his smile looked more painted on than others.


    ¡°Yeah, I figured Tracy and Chevy could enjoy themselves.¡±


    ¡°Oh I don¡¯t drink,¡± Chevy offered.  ¡°I¡¯m cool just watching.¡±


    ¡°Okay, Tracy then?¡±  I gave her a beer and offered one to Matt as well.  Leon wouldn¡¯t.  Drinking reminded him too much of his dad.  I really wanted to drink too, but was worried I¡¯d let something slip if I indulged too deeply.  Sipping a beer or two would probably be okay.  Probably.


    Just one.


    Sleeping Gods was an awkward chore.  Leon and Matt were both on uneven footing, out of sorts.  Tracy would opine, sallying forth with suggestions and questions,  then retreating with acrimonious mumbling.  Chevy mostly just drank in the ambience, laughing and being not awkward.  I tried to keep attention on the game.  I almost succeeded.


    Because he was who he was, I had confined Craig to Carl''s room.  It didn''t take.  As we were hitting a good winding down point, the beers all drank, Tracy being almost agreeable, and Leon giving his telltale yawns, Carl''s door opened.  Opened violently.  Leon jumped.


    Out strode Craig, disheveled and livid.  He muttered darkly as he walked past all of us and into the kitchen, where he vociferously began browsing the fridge.  I assumed it was still empty since the pizza had been devoured.  I barely had enough to scrape together a lunch.  Yet he still browsed it, his rambly monologue never quite coming to an end.  ¡°Damn it all, the larders are bare,¡± he proclaimed loudly without looking over at everyone, and then walked back into Carl¡¯s room.  The youtube playlist I had showing some guy making swords to keep Craig occupied gently drifted in the utter silence before Craig slammed the door again.


    ¡°Who the fuck was that?¡±  Matt asked.


    Silence greeted him.


    I pinched the bridge of my nose.  ¡°Well you wouldn¡¯t believe he¡¯s another roommate of Tracy¡¯s.  That¡¯s uhh¡­ that¡¯s Craig.¡±


    ¡°Okay, who the fuck is Craig?¡± Matt asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s uhhh¡­ hmm.  He''s homeless.  I kinda took him in.¡±  Why the everloving fuck did he have to come out right then?  Staring with all the violence I could muster with a glance at the door, I prayed that Craig would feel my vitriol and quaver.  I did not hear any wailing unfortunately, and turned back to Matt and Leon¡¯s questioning looks.


    ¡°So I uh, started a program.¡±  I cleared my throat nervously but tried to look them in the eye as I continued.  ¡°I had trouble with my utilities bill this month because of Carl.¡±  (¡°Of course,¡± Matt added.)  ¡°When I went onto the website to pay the bill, I saw an offer for those with financial hardship.  I took it, and was directed to a site called Wayward Souls.  They gave me some money for the utility bill.  I just wanted to pay it forward a little.¡±


    ¡°You asked about them,¡± Leon piped up.  ¡°The other day.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah, I did.  Same guys yeah.¡±


    ¡°This a cult or something?  They just gave you money, no questions asked?¡±  Matt looked dubious.


    ¡°Someone had to come out to audit my living situation, but that was it.  Got five hundred bucks.  I don¡¯t have the money to help out someone else, but I could offer a warm bed and a shower and a hot meal to someone on the streets.  But I would like to do more, maybe after Christmas.¡±  Tracy¡¯s eyebrows climbed as I explained.  ¡°That¡¯s also why Tracy and Chevy are here, just trying to help out those who need it.  I want to help people and then together we can help those who also need it.  It¡¯s supposed to be a season of love and giving, but it¡¯s just fear and sadness instead.  Wayward Souls helped me, and I want to give anyone else who needs it a boost too.  In any way I can.¡±


    ¡°Definitely a cult for sure,¡± Matt said.


    Leon looked more thoughtful.  ¡°So what, you just become a member and then do what?  Pay dues?  They can¡¯t just be handing out money willy-nilly.   They gotta have some kind of funding model.¡±


    ¡°Just had to sign my name, and that was it.  Became a member of Wayward Souls, no dues, no fees, nothing like that.  I know you guys are hard pressed, but if you¡¯re ever interested, just hit me up.  Would love to see what we can do together.¡±  I felt a tightness in my gut, a twisting of my throat.  I didn¡¯t want to ensorcel either of Matt or Leon, but I also didn¡¯t know if it was too early to go public with my little venture.  I thought of Matt talking in the break room, Smith overhearing it, and then bye-bye me.


    ¡°Bro, totally a cult.¡±  Matt nodded sagely.


    ¡°I¡¯ll uh, think on it, Jeremy.¡±  Leon didn¡¯t dismiss it out of hand, but that was kind of what I thought would happen between the two.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to look at it seriously until after the new year anyhow.  Too busy at work.¡±  I gave a forced chuckle.


    ¡°Amen,¡± Matt said.  ¡°I can¡¯t wait for them to stop playing that fucking Christmas album.¡±


    ¡°Right there with you,¡± I said.  ¡°I don¡¯t know how you guys have put up with it for years.¡±


    ¡°I just have a trauma response to Mariah Carey now.¡±  Leon gave a halfhearted smile.


    Somehow, blissfully, we descended back into normal rote conversation.  As the night wound down, and everything got packed, Matt left.  He usually was the first to dip.  Tracy and Chevy were in muted conversation as Leon meticulously put Sleeping Gods away.  As he threw his backpack on he said ¡°Hey, thanks for everything Jeremy.  I think¡­ I think I¡¯d like to help you out with this ¡®not cult¡¯ thing.  I get so tired of waking up to the fear, the anxiety, that I¡¯m not doing anything for myself.  Just uh¡­ let me know?¡±


    ¡°Of course man, anytime.¡±


    Leon departed and I turned back to Tracy and Chevy.  ¡°Hey sorry for spilling the beans early.  I couldn¡¯t think of any other way to explain Craig.¡±


    ¡°I know about Craig and have no way to explain him,¡± Tracy muttered.


    I opened the door to Carl¡¯s room.  Craig was sleeping soundly, sprawled on the bare mattress, completely naked.  My laptop was no longer showing the same videos as before, instead showing someone speed assembling jigsaw puzzles.  ¡°Hey, they¡¯re gone, you can come back out,¡± I said, sharply.


    Craig¡¯s eyes snapped open, bloodshot but alert.  ¡°More comfortable here.  Can sleep without a bother.  Make the lasses sleep out there.  I do more for you, does Craig Baird.  Can¡¯t get a wink with the thin girl¡¯s breathing.  Have to sleep on the ground.¡±


    ¡°Well Tracy is getting this bed, Chevy is getting the couch, and you have your corner.  That¡¯s how it¡¯s going to be.¡±  I firmed my voice as much as I could.  If my congregation wouldn¡¯t listen to me for something as routine as where to sleep, I feared for how I¡¯d hold them together in a more volatile moment.  I kept my gaze steadily on Craig as his eyes darted around the room.


    ¡°All right all right, lay off.  The corner is for me, and I shall be in the corner.  Damn ungrateful you are.  They all are.  Someday I¡¯ll find another congregation and then I¡¯ll leave you in the lurch.  You¡¯ll be wishing that you had Craig Baird then, wailing ¡®Why didn¡¯t I give him more food, why didn¡¯t I give him more drink?¡¯  Will be living high and large and you¡¯ll be sucking teeth.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I cut him off before he could really build into his complaining.  ¡°We can talk tomorrow.  I gotta go visit Smith after work.  We¡¯ll need to figure out what I should be looking for and you can help me with a plan of attack after.¡±


    ¡°Ah but you need to finish the deal,¡± Craig returned.  ¡°You must order more Dominos.  I am famished.¡±


    ¡°Of course you are.¡±

 Ten

    I awoke again, sprightly and brightly.  The morning sun drifted in through the shades, giving a sleepy warm glow to my room as I did my morning pushups and situps.  I felt a wonderful burn as I embraced all that the boon of vitality gave me, exulting in my morning routine in a way that I never had prior.  I showered and was preparing to leave for work when my phone rang.  It was LIzzie.


    Fuck.


    Stepping out onto the landing (it was cold as balls out this morning,) I answered.  ¡°What¡¯s up LIzzie?  It¡¯s really fucking cold out here so this better be really fucking important.¡±


    ¡°Hello to you too, asshole.¡±  my sister replied.  ¡°LIsten, can you p l e a s e give mom a call?  She¡¯s been a mess.  She and Daryl were thinking of ending their stay early and coming back to talk with you.  Well mom was, Daryl is just along for the ride I think.  Jeremy, just apologize to her.  If you¡¯re going to have a shitty Christmas already, that¡¯s no reason to take it out on mom.¡±


    ¡°Oh she might have to end her vacation early with her asshole of a husband who made her sell the house, the horror,¡± I oozed as much sarcasm as I could into the tiny phone mic.


    ¡°Jeremy you aren¡¯t actually mad about the house are you?¡±


    ¡°Mad about the-  Lizzie, she has gotten rid of everything that reminds her of dad.  She has cut every memory of him out of her life.  She used to care, she used to have a dream and a goal, working with Justice for Rhea.  Now she¡¯s¡­ not.  Dad didn¡¯t just die for mom.  He died for us too Lizzie.  He was putting food on the table, a roof over our heads.  And mom is using it to give Daryl the time of his life.  They¡¯ll use it all up and there¡¯ll be nothing left from Dad.  Is it about the house?  Of fucking course it is.  But it¡¯s also about mom running away from what dad sacrificed for us, just so she can watch it snow in the Adirondacks.¡±


    ¡°Oh my god, Jeremy.  LIsten to yourself, you sound insane!  Mom deserves time for herself more than anyone.  She spent so much time mourning, and working with Justice for Rhea, of course she¡¯d want some vacation, peace and quiet.  Just because you can¡¯t work a job that-¡±


    ¡°Oh fuck off,¡±  I cut her off.  ¡°You don¡¯t do shit all day.  If you had to do more than post on Instagram and Tik Tok, you¡¯d feel differently too.  And this isn¡¯t just about her vacationing.  She is erasing dad.  She¡¯s finishing what the cancer started.  Fuck you for not seeing it.¡±


    ¡°Jeremy you can-¡±  I hung up.


    I sent her a text ¡°I¡¯m going to work, don¡¯t bother calling again.¡±


    Well and truly riled, I definitely did not need to stop to get an energy drink the way I usually did.  Between the vitality and the angry energy that LIzzie decided to share with me, I couldn¡¯t have been wound down even if I tried.  But it would feel weird to not stop at the 7/11 on the way to work so I did.  I looked over some of the fancy small snacks, protein bars and such.  I grabbed a couple and headed to the clerk.  Paid for, I grabbed the bars and walked out.  I almost hit a woman with the door as I opened it (with perhaps a bit more force than would be necessary) and she had to leap out of the way.  Fortunately, the ice that had been around had a few warm days to melt away, so she didn¡¯t wipe out.


    ¡°I am so sorry,¡± I gushed, apologetically.  ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to-¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all right, no harm done,¡±  she smiled.  ¡°Sometimes the only thing you can take it out on is the door.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, poor door doesn¡¯t deserve it.  It¡¯s just doing its job.¡±  I held open the offending door so she could go inside.


    ¡°Oh I¡¯m not going in there.  I was looking for you.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Jeremy, yes?¡±  Her head was tilted just slightly, quizzically.


    My features must have shown the concern, or perhaps anxiety that knotted my stomach immediately.  ¡°Oh, I¡¯m a coworker.¡±  She paused slightly before saying coworker, invested it with gravity.


    ¡°But you don¡¯t work at-¡±  OH.  ¡°Wayward Souls?¡±


    She gave a short nod.  ¡°The same.¡±


    ¡°How did you know?¡±  Was I giving myself away somehow?


    ¡°I am able to perceive those who owe allegiance to Hell.  You practically glow when I look at you.  I''ve been trying to get you alone, but kept missing when you left work.  I finally caught you here.¡±


    For some reason, having the same employer didn''t make me feel any better.  Hackles a bit raised I queried: ¡°Caught me for what?¡±


    ¡°A common goal.  I have found a couple other Lieutenants.  We are all working together, sharing resources and information.  It''s dangerous here for us- especially separate.¡±


    ¡°Listen, I don''t even know your name.¡±  I moved away from the doors, opposite the side the Redbox kiosk was on.  ¡°You expect me to just trust that you aren¡¯t some agent of Heaven?¡±  My hand had found the handle of my Implement, gripping it tightly.  I didn¡¯t remember even reaching for it.


    ¡°Easy, easy.  I get it,¡± the woman said.  She stepped back from me and pulled out a sleek ebon knife, unmistakably an Implement.  It juxtaposed sinisterly with her floral print dress and cream jacket.  Her face was round and earnest as she appraised me with deep brown eyes, behind small square lenses.  Her brown hair was in a short bob, framing a face a little red with the cold.  The dress didn¡¯t look all that warm either.  ¡°I swear on my Implement that the following is true-I¡¯m Sandra.  I¡¯m a Lieutenant of Hell, same as you.  I have been looking for other Lieutenants to combine forces with and ensure we¡¯re ready to face whatever is thrown at us.¡±  The knife glowed red-hot, as Sandra gripped it, teeth clenching.  As soon as it began to subside, she slammed it back home in its sheath, hidden neatly beneath her jacket.


    So she was telling the truth.  At least for that little bit.  ¡°Okay.  Say I believe you.¡±  Sandra gave a quick nod.  ¡°What benefits do I get joining your little confederation?¡±


    ¡°Mutual aid, strength in numbers, intelligence on the enemy.¡±  She answered almost automatically, clearly borne of fielding the same questions from other suspicious Lieutenants.  ¡°It¡¯s difficult at first.  Everyone in this job immediately assumes it needs to be secretive and selfish.  But we can work together and share in the spoils and power.¡±


    It didn¡¯t sit right.  It felt too auspicious.  ¡°Yeah¡­ I¡¯m not interested.  Thanks for the offer though, and good luck.¡±  I turned and began to walk toward work.


    Sandra headed me off and stood in front of me.  ¡°Why don¡¯t you take some time to consider it?  Meet me at the Chick Fil A just outside of your fake job after your shift? That gives you some time to think.¡±  Her features were painted with concern¡­ maybe desperation?


    I looked into her eyes, which were wide and pleading.  ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I look forward to talking with you, Jeremy.  See you this afternoon.¡±


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Yeah.  Seeya.¡±  I walked around Sandra, tearing open a protein bar and mechanically biting from it.  For some reason, I barely tasted it.


    ******


    ¡°Mr. Owens, I¡¯m asking you because Mr. Trent said you knew best where Ms. Leone is.¡±  Sherrie looked slightly disapprovingly at me through lowered spectacles. ¡°If you are in contact with her, could you please let her know that was her last absence and she will be receiving a verbal warning when she comes back.¡±


    ¡°Sherrie, I don¡¯t know why Tracy isn¡¯t here.  I¡¯m not in charge of her.  I¡¯m going to go start my shift.¡±  I stood up from the desk to head back out onto the floor.


    ¡°Mr. Owens, did I say I was done?¡±  I gave her the most baleful glare I could muster, reseating myself across from her.


    Sherrie shrugged her shawl back up onto her shoulders before continuing.  ¡°I can¡¯t see this going well for you.  Falling in with someone like Ms. Leone is a bad move for a young man such as yourself.  You should keep her as an acquaintance.  You are much better off associating with workers like Mr. Burrows.  I don¡¯t want to see you throw away your future for some floozie.¡±


    ¡°Are you seriously calling one of your employees a floozie?¡±  I stared at her incredulously.  Beyond that, her suggestion of associating with Smith made me even more guarded.  What if they were in it together?  What if she was also working for Heaven?  Sherrie didn¡¯t seem the type, but maybe Heaven had ways of ensorcelling people too.  The idea of Smith commanding Sherrie to lean on me to get me to befriend him seemed ludicrous on its face, but then again, so was a magic knife that made people do what I said.


    ¡°Just a piece of advice, Mr. Owens,¡± Sherrie said blithely.


    ¡°Yeah, thanks.¡±


    ¡°You may go now.¡±  Sherrie went back to looking at her notepad, probably noting my glare down for future grudges.  Or to report to Smith.


    I went back out onto the floor and found Matt ringing folks up.  I opened my register and began to work mechanically (if a bit agitated).  When we had a moment, I accosted him.  ¡°Why the everliving fuck did you tell Sherrie to ask ME about Tracy?¡±


    ¡°Thought it¡¯d be funny.  It is,¡± Matt said, his grin glinting with mischief.  ¡°She used to ask me about Tracy like I knew what the fuck she was up to.  Figured I¡¯d put the target on your back instead.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, friend,¡± I muttered, injecting anything but friendliness into it.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡±


    As the day progressed I kept seeing Sandra out of the corner of my eye, but when I looked, it was just someone else who looked like her.  But I still couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of being observed.  It was beyond relieving when it came time to clock out.  I didn¡¯t intend to wait to talk with Sandra.  I didn¡¯t know what I¡¯d do tomorrow, but it did not involve waiting around to find out.  I had to focus on spying on Smith tonight.  Into the belly of the beast.


    As I hurriedly walked home, a white Escalade pulled up next to me, and the window rolled down.  Unsurprisingly, it was Sandra.


    ¡°Hey, did you forget that we were gonna talk?¡±  Her tone showed she knew I had done anything but forget, she was merely giving me a social out.


    ¡°I decided no deal,¡± I said.  ¡°I¡¯ll fly solo, you have fun.¡±  I didn¡¯t stop walking, forcing Sandra to creep along next to me.


    ¡°Jeremy, please.  Christmas Eve is going to be a bloodbath for all the small-timers like you.  We have to band together or we¡¯ll all get run out.¡±


    ¡°All you¡¯re doing is making your group easier to notice, more likely to give something away,¡± I countered surlily.  ¡°I intend to lie low, get through it, and pick things up again after the new year.  I suggest you do the same before you get smote or unicorned or whatever Heaven does to our people.¡±


    Sandra pursed her lips and pulled slightly ahead.  ¡°Jeremy.  Wait.  I¡¯ll give you an offer none of the others got.  I¡­ I intended to slowly take over the other Lieutenants¡¯ cells- make them beholden to me.  But I don¡¯t need to do that with you.  We could both be in charge.¡±


    Like giving up her plan would somehow make me trust her more?  ¡°Listen, I¡¯m proud of you for screwing over people I don¡¯t know.  You can get into insurance adjusting, you¡¯ve got the heart for it.  I don¡¯t want any part of your group disaster¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not enemies,¡± Sandra said, a bit quietly.  ¡°But I can be one.  Sharing power is difficult, but it¡¯s a lot easier than facing down Heaven by yourself.  If you change your mind, I¡¯ll be at the table outside after your shift for the rest of this week.  We can talk then.  I hope you see reason.¡±


    Her scattergun approach, pleading, threatening, worrying, none convinced me.  ¡°Yeah, you do that.¡±  Something didn¡¯t feel right about it.  She had done little to convince me that I would be anything more than a sacrificial token to throw to Heaven when things got rough.  It was even weirder that she wanted me so badly.  What did I have to offer that any other Lieutenant did not?


    I walked past my apartment and kept going.  Even though the Escalade had sped off almost immediately, I didn¡¯t trust Sandra not to try and figure out where I lived.  I ducked into the nearby subdivision and made a circuitous route back to the apartment complex, using the trail behind the subdivision to get back.  Hopefully she didn¡¯t follow.


    Now I just had to worry about a dinner date with the enemy.


    *****


    ¡°You look weird,¡± Tracy stated bluntly.


    ¡°Thanks.¡±  I tugged a bit at the collar, which felt absurdly tight.


    ¡°You really think you have to wear slacks and a nice shirt for this?  You look ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°And you look like someone who hasn¡¯t worked in three days and is going to get fired,¡± I returned.


    ¡°Yeah, because I¡¯m not a fucking idiot.  Why do you keep going to work?  I did something useful today and identified some people I think I can bring in.  Unlike you being a corporate shill.¡±


    ¡°Really?  You found some people?  Why are they good fits?  How are you bringing them in?¡±


    Tracy rolled her eyes.  ¡°Yeah, my real job, you dumbfuck.  There are a few people that Chevy and I have hung out with before.  Wouldn¡¯t take much.  Get them drunk, a little high, a little stoned, they¡¯d come around easy.  Like letting you stab them easy.¡±


    ¡°Okay, but what do they bring to us?¡±


    ¡°Uh, more people?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but what do I do with them?  My apartment is full, it¡¯s expensive to feed Craig, let alone the rest of us. Until we can get our footing, I don¡¯t want to keep adding more people who will just end up costing me time and money.¡±


    ¡°Jeremy are you saying that Carl doesn¡¯t cost you time and money?¡±  Tracy asked incredulously.


    ¡°Carl was my first task.  Since then I¡¯ve only stabbed his dad, who¡¯s pretty goddamn loaded.  We can assemble an army once we have a place to put them.  If you find anyone who could be useful, good job, nice place, something like that, let me know.  If it¡¯s just going to be someone else who sits in my apartment and complains at me, don¡¯t bother.¡±


    Tracy ground her teeth.  Chevy piped up ¡°I haven¡¯t complained once.¡±


    ¡°Yes, and I appreciate that,¡± I said.  ¡°How do I look?¡±


    ¡°Like you¡¯re a sixteen year-old interviewing for that sweet gig at Baskin-Robbins.¡±  Chevy considered.  ¡°I might know someone, but it would take some work.  He¡¯s got some land up in the foothills, a little off the highway.  I¡±ll talk with him.  I was out with Trace all day, so I¡¯m gonna head home now.  Your couch isn¡¯t very comfortable.¡±


    ¡°Thanks Chevy.¡±


    ¡°Hey Trace, you¡¯re my ride,¡± Chevy said as Tracy hadn¡¯t moved and continued to glare at me.


    Tracy finally spoke without breaking eye contact.  ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll take you home.¡±  Standing up she walked to the door, a bit stiff with anger.


    I finally hit send on the text I had typed up for Smith.  It wasn¡¯t much, just letting him know I¡¯d be ready, but I had lingered on pressing it for a good half hour now.  In some ways I did feel that sort of anxious nervous energy from interviewing for a first job.  I had no idea what Smith wanted, why he cared so much.  And not only that, I needed to figure out how best to make an in with him.


    ¡°As I said lad, just note things.  Can break them down once you return.  No saying things, no doing things that¡¯ll get his back up.  Might make him see you.  Might show Heaven right to you.  None of that.¡±  Craig hadn¡¯t spoken since I came out in my outfit.  We had discussed earlier a little bit of what to do, mostly to just note anything that looked like a possible in with Smith.  And his sweet, sweet lucre.


    ¡°That¡¯s the plan.  You can find me?¡±  Craig had agreed to tag along, swearing that he could go unnoticed.  If I needed a swift rescue, I could at least count on one lemure to have my back.  A deranged and dirty lemure, but I¡¯d take any help I could for this.


    ¡°Easy enough.¡±  Craig gave me a slap on the back.  ¡°Luck.¡±


    ¡°Luck,¡± I said in reply, feeling anything but fortunate.

 Eleven

    ¡°Hey QB, you clean up nice.¡±  Smith¡¯s grin was dialed to its usual eleven out of ten.  ¡°Appreciate it, brother.¡±


    ¡°Yeah uh, no problem,¡± I offered.  I clambered into the gigantic Suburban for the second time in as many days.


    ¡°Glad the weather held off for today.  Wonder if we¡¯ll get a white Christmas this year.  Seems like it could be the year for it.¡±


    ¡°Could be.¡±


    ¡°I like the dry air most of the time, but if it could snow on Thanksgiving and Christmas, I¡¯d be a happy man.  Well, happier.  I¡¯ve found plenty of joy in this life already.  And when I am a little down, Chrissy perks me right back up.  You got anyone like that?¡±  Smith¡¯s green eyes flitted over to me.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to introduce you to some of the ladies.  If you come to the Christmas Eve Pageant, might be able to introduce you.  Eh?¡±  Smith¡¯s smile didn¡¯t waver.


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯d be nice.¡±


    Something in my face must have said otherwise. ¡°We don¡¯t have to.  Just would be happy to have you along even.  Slow as you please.¡±


    The drive to Smith¡¯s place was short, but it was galling how much nicer his neighborhood was.  Townhouses, apartments, and small standalone houses gave way to much more modern homes.  The sidewalks went from cracked and pitched affairs to something much more walkable.  Trees shaded everything and it was verdant in a way that my area would never be.  The vehicles parked in driveways or along the curbs were all much nicer and newer than most of the cars at my complex. I could almost feel the relative opulence in the air.


    ¡°Here we are,¡± Smith said, pulling up into the driveway.  His cream colored house was all suburban grandeur- two large floors perched over a basement.    Gaudy windows leered down at me, envisaged by wild and variegated eaves.  The maw of his garage yawned wide, swallowing the seemingly dwarfed Suburban.  The only less than gargantuan part about the property was the maple tree out front, of a decent size, but no money would make it grow any faster.


    As Smith killed the engine, the garage door began its descent- sealing me in for good.  No turning back now.  I opened the door, tamping down my fears and trepidation as best I could.  We had parked next to an immaculately white Lexus.  It had a few bumper stickers, mostly revolving around Harry Potter.  The garage however, was otherwise a shrine to rugged masculinity.  A pristine tool chest, taller than the Suburban, loomed amidst all manner of table tools.  Shelves and racks occupied much of the wall space, festooned with various tools, nails, screws, nuts, bolts, socket sets, and myriad other items.  Trying not to gawk too much, I followed Smith to the door into the house proper.


    ¡°Chrissy runs a tight ship, so don''t let her see you tracking in any mud.¡±  Smith pointed at a boot brush next to the door.  He kicked his boots through the brush a few times, despite a lack of any actual filth on them that I could tell.  After I gave a cursory kick through the brushes, Smith nodded, satisfied.


    As he opened the door, I was immediately struck by two things- the first was the overwhelming aroma of home cooking.  After a diet mostly consisting of pizza delivery and gas station food, it was almost heavenly (yes, yes I know) to take in.  My mouth immediately watered.  The second was the sheer number of kitschy home decor items.  The place looked like a showroom for the entirety of Etsy.  Wholesome and rustic wall pieces shared real estate with landscape paintings and Harry Potter paraphernalia.  The variations alone of ¡°God bless this house¡± I saw were more than staggering.  If the garage was an overindulgent shrine to suburban individualism, then this was a garish monument to domestic consumerism.


    This all only served to increasingly worry me.  It was hard to believe that people who lived like this wanted anything to do with me.  Trying to keep my guard up was difficult though, with the smell of delicious cooking.  At least they weren¡¯t trying to poison me.  Or so I hoped.  It was hard not to feel a sense of discomfort, an alien sense of unbelonging.


    ¡°This is the living room.  Pretty obvious with the TV.¡±  Smith gestured at the television (far nicer than mine) which was showing some remodeling program on HGTV.  ¡°You ever wanna catch a hockey game, just hit me up.  Got Center Ice, so we can watch just about any game.  Chrissy makes some mean wings.  Got a lot of zip to them.¡±  In the corner was a grandiose Christmas tree.  It was hung with sparkling glass ornaments, all arranged to have a picturesquely pleasing number.  Lustrous silver and gold garlands criss-crossed in their trek up the boughs of the spruce. Silvery white light glinted in myriad on the sparkling surface of the ornaments.  Atop it, an angel perched in silent contemplation, eyes closed in reverence.  Meticulously wrapped presents resided beneath the tree, the wrapping crisp and perfect, with ribbon wrapping on each, complete with a hand-tied bow.  It was even complete with a faux fireplace and a sedate Irish setter curled beneath it.  The dog looked up at me curiously before deciding its comfort was more important than my novelty.


    In the hallway just off the living room he pointed up a flight of stairs.  ¡°Not too much up there right now.  Chrissy does get to do her painting up there where it¡¯s quiet.  One day though, our kids are going to be running up and down those stairs.  I dream of that day, brother.¡±  He shot me a picture perfect smile, all teeth and warmth.  ¡°You ever think about that?  Kids?¡±


    I bit off the snap answer about how I dream about having my bills all paid for.  ¡°I dunno man, I haven''t really had the chance to think about it.¡±


    ¡°Hey, no sweat QB.  You''re still young.  Plenty of time to get settled down still.  You got anybody you''re seeing?¡±  The smile hadn''t altered, but his eyes hardened in slight concern.


    ¡°No time,¡± I offered.  ¡°All work you know.¡±


    ¡°Huh, heard you and Tracy might have been-¡±


    ¡°Nah man, nothing like that.  Matt''s just been stirring the sh- the pot.¡±  I actually bit off the profanity, feeling a bit like how I would around my grandparents, a skein of dishonest grease easing the facade of wholesome speech.


    If Smith noticed the discomfort, he gave no sign.  ¡°I think you could be good for her, brother.  She¡¯s had a rough go of things.  Maybe once you get comfortable with going to church again, you could invite her along.¡±  The idea of getting Tracy to go in a church was completely ludicrous (except maybe in the pursuit of petty vandalism).  He actually meant it though.  There was no guile in those green eyes, merely the self-assuredness of total earnesty.


    ¡°Yeah, maybe I''ll give it a shot.  She''s not really the type though.¡±  I shrugged.


    ¡°The Lord will give you the strength you need.¡±  Smith gave me a slap on the shoulder.  ¡°And for her, you might need a whole heck of a lot, eh?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, she''s spirited,¡± I agreed weakly.  ¡°I hope you get to have a lovely family.  Lots of babies.¡±


    ¡°Lots of babies, brother, that¡¯s the goal.¡±  Smith gestured at the end of the hallway.  ¡°Master bed that way.  Can¡¯t let you in there Jeremy.  That¡¯s just for Chrissy and me.¡±  He led me back through the living room and into the adjoining dining room.  ¡°Here¡¯s where we¡¯re eating.  This table is old, Jeremy.  Solid oak, came from back east before my ancestors moved out here.  Can¡¯t wait to have kids around it, but I¡¯m very pleased to have you at my table today.¡±


    The dining room was a bit more grandparent chic.  The decor was clearly passed down to Smith.  There was fine dishware in an old glass paned cabinet and shelves laden with porcelain figurines, of all sorts of colors and styles.  There were actual tinstyle photos in frames.  The gruff men in the photos bore more than a passing resemblance to Smith- same square jaw with the broad ruddy cheeks.  If stuffy looking old white men with muttonchops signified generational wealth, then Smith was indeed loaded.  Even the tablecloth was some overwrought affair, with more lace than tablecloth.  It all had the feeling of slight must and decay.  It made me itch inside.


    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡°And beyond this is the wife''s domain.  She lets me cook sometimes.¡±  Smith gave a good-natured wink.  ¡°Smells good doesn''t it?  Chrissy really wanted to impress you.  I gotta thank you, brother, we''ll get to eat good tonight.¡±  He then called into the kitchen: ¡°Chrissy!  Jeremy is here!¡±


    ¡°One second!¡± a feminine voice replied from the kitchen.  And then, Chrissy stepped out.  She was an absolute angel, a balm for the eyes.  I tried not to goggle.  I most definitely failed. Her face was creased with a warm smile that made her brown eyes sparkle.  Luscious wavy auburn hair tumbled down to brush her shoulders and the gorgeous aquamarine dress nestled beneath a ¡°kiss the chef¡± apron. Her cheeks were speckled with freckles, lending her an earthy air.  And while the dress was loose, it failed to hide her figure completely.  And what I could see was wonderful.  The apron ties only gave proof to her narrow waist and wide hips.


    ¡°I uh¡­¡± I fumbled for a moment before recovering ¡°Hi, I''m Jeremy.¡±  She already knew that, of course, stupid.  My brain felt like it was running about three steps behind, trying to swim through thick and cottony mental fog.  I held out a hand for a handshake.  I don¡¯t know why.


    ¡°Oh okay,¡± she giggled.  It sounded melodic, ringing.  She took my hand in a surprisingly firm grip.  It felt warm and right, reassuring.


    I wanted her soul.


    The desire had leapt into my head, an incessant craving.  It was like it had been thought for me, injected into my conscious, rather than me thinking it.  The goal of money trickled away, sand down a grate, replaced by this white-hot need.  My mind raced, trying to think of some conceivable universe where she would yield to my Implement.  But the expansive gulf between what was and what I wanted was insurmountable, beyond the faintest shred of possibility.


    My entire ego collapsed in dilapidated misery.  In just a few short moments, my soul had raced the boundaries of highest hope and deepest despair.  And I was still holding her hand in what must have been the most awkward and embarrassingly long handshake of either of our lives.  Giving it a cursory shake I managed to say ¡°A pleasure to meet you.  Smith didn''t tell me how lovely you are.¡±  Lovely?  In front of her husband?


    Smith just gave his easygoing grin.  ¡°Yep, my Chrissy is the best little lady I could ever ask for.  He gave her a gigantic hug, pecking a kiss on her perfect cheek.


    ¡°Smith, not in front of the company,¡± Chrissy laughed, giggling as he retaliated with another smooch.  ¡°My name¡¯s Christina,¡± she offered to me, still under assault from Smith¡¯s lips.  ¡°But only my mother calls me that, everyone else calls me Chrissy.  It¡¯s wonderful to have you over.  Smith has told me so much about you.¡±


    Why?  What was Smith so excited about?  I was a glum retail slave, same as anyone else there (except Smith).  Singling me out was making me feel cagier and cagier.  But the way he talked about me, the way Chrissy just gushed about it, it didn¡¯t feel like something recent, like something occurring since joining Wayward Souls.  That made it feel even more suspicious.  Not just of Smith, but also of Wayward Souls itself.  I was beginning to feel like the proverbial pawn in a chess match, and I couldn¡¯t really say I appreciated the feeling.


    ¡°Hopefully nothing bad,¡± I said with a nervous laugh.


    ¡°Nothing bad about ya, QB,¡± Smith said, finally letting his wife go.  ¡°We¡¯re gonna treat you to some of the best home cooking you¡¯ll ever have.¡±


    ¡°Oh stop,¡± Chrissy admonished.  ¡°He¡¯s overselling it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just being modest,¡± Smith countered.


    I felt ill listening to their marital bliss.


    ¡°Well let¡¯s let the lady work.¡±  Smith gave her another exaggerated smooch.  He clapped a hand to my shoulder and led me back out to the living room.  ¡°Anything you wanna watch?¡±  He brought up the guide, and I was treated to the ennui of browsing a television with nothing good on.  Smith continue to rambled small talk at me, about interesting customers at work, updates on coworkers¡¯ lives, and his holiday plans.


    The Irish setter finally worked his way to standing, giving a dramatic stretch before padding over to me.  He looked up at me with deep brown eyes.  I looked up to Smith.  ¡°That¡¯s Russ, he doesn¡¯t bite or nothing.  He runs the place when I¡¯m gone.¡±  Smith finally settled on the same remodeling show as before.  Some newlyweds were still struggling to find their dream beach bungalow in the Outer Banks.  As a vacation home of course.  I gave Russ a good scratching behind the ears, offering answers as amiably as I could when Smith asked, and halfheartedly agreeing as he nattered tales of the place we somehow both worked at.


    I was wondering how many other ¡°interesting stories¡± Smith had to tell (which tended to involve some kind of charming bigotry from an elderly woman) when Chrissy¡¯s voice chimed from the kitchen ¡°It¡¯s ready!¡±


    ¡°All right bud, let''s dig in!¡±  Smith practically bounded to his feet, the travails of the elderly couple searching for the perfect retirement in the Florida Keys quickly forgotten. I rose a bit less enthusiastically.  It was with trepidation for the dinner yet longing to hear Chrissy again that left me disjointed as I approached the dining room.


    The spread was immaculate.  It was immediately clear it was too much.  The shepherd¡¯s pie was picturesque on each plate, the potatoes just a little golden brown.  The vegetables peeked out in vibrant color. Asparagus spears were positioned next to it, damming the gravy slightly.  A large slice of homemade bread softened a large part of butter atop it.  Next to each dish was a bowl of tomato soup, garnished with basil.  My mouth flooded in anticipation.  ¡°Wow, it looks amazing,¡± I breathed.  ¡°All this for me?¡±


    ¡°Well, we get to enjoy it too,¡± Smith chuckled.  ¡°But we like to treat company when they''re over.  Hope you brought an appetite- a little bird told me Chrissy might have pulled out her mom''s blueberry crumble recipe.  Closest thing to heaven that you can eat, I can tell you that.¡±


    We seated ourselves, Smith and Chrissy on one side, me facing them on the other.  I lifted a spoon to indulge in the soup first, but Smith gently chided me.  ¡°Under this roof, we give thanks for our wonderful food.¡±


    So I found myself holding Smith''s hand in my right, and Chrissy''s in my left.  I was awkwardly leaning across the table. Smith rumbled out a prayer.  It didn''t have the trite mechanical tone of ritualism- if nothing else, his words were earnest. ¡°Dear Heavenly Father, we thank you for providing this meal for us.  For bringing Jeremy into our lives, to allow us the chance to show him your love and the love of Jesus Christ.  May you plant the seed of love in his heart, that he may come to know you fully and completely.  In Christ''s name we pray.  Amen.¡±


    ¡°Amen,¡± Chrissy echoed solemnly.


    ¡°Amen,¡± I repeated uncertainly.


    ¡°Prepare to be amazed. Chrissy is the best cook I know.  Don''t tell my mom i said that,¡± Smith said with a conspiratorial wink.


    My dreams of savoring the meal were quickly dashed as the couple kept the patter of small talk going.  ¡°It won¡¯t be too stressful.  Central United is very welcoming to all newcomers,¡± Smith informed me, after swallowing some of the asparagus.  The food itself was really, really good.  It hit the spot even more than I dared hope, something delicious and homecooked.  I resolved that if I couldn¡¯t ensnare Chrissy, then at least my next soul would be one that could cook.


    ¡°Well if they¡¯re as welcoming as you guys, I¡¯m in for  treat,¡± I said with a bit of a laugh.


    ¡°It¡¯s always a treat to see someone new welcomed into Christ¡¯s loving arms,¡± Chrissy said happily.  ¡°When Smith first invited me, I was worried I¡¯d stick out, but the ladies there made me into one of them almost immediately.  There¡¯s so many social functions you can be invited to.  The guys go on fishing trips in the summer.  I think they do paintball¡­ or laser tag?¡±  She looked to Smith.


    ¡°We even do softball in the spring.  You still got an arm, QB?¡±


    I¡¯d never had an ¡°arm¡± in any regard.  ¡°It¡¯s been a few years.  Mostly get my exercise ringing up groceries nowadays.¡±


    ¡°Lot of bowling too,¡± Smith added.  ¡°We¡¯re a community there.  When someone¡¯s sick, we bring them food.  When someone has a medical emergency, we pitch in as best we can.  We look out for each other.¡±


    There was not going to be a more golden opportunity than this.  I squashed my awkward nervousness down, as far as I possibly could.  ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for ways to pay it forward.  I had an organization help me with my utilities this month.  Free of charge.  I¡¯ve been trying to think of ways to make things better since then.  I thought maybe of doing my own community outreach.  Offer the same kinds of things.  You know, the whole ¡®from each according to his ability¡¯ thing?  Is that a religious thing?¡±


    Smith¡¯s features were a bit flat.  ¡°That is not Scripture, no.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it sounds like something that would be.  But you know what I mean, helping the poor?¡±


    ¡°Oh definitely, that sounds like such an admirable goal!¡±  Chrissy effused.  ¡°What was the name of this organization?  Maybe we¡¯ve worked with them before.¡±


    Oh crap. What if they were familiar with Wayward Souls?


    ¡°Uh¡­ Let¡¯s see, their name was¡­¡±  I floundered hard.  I didn¡¯t have anything convincing.  And any lie would be easily seen through.  Damn Google.  ¡°Uh¡­ Wayward Souls.¡±

 Twelve

    Did Smith react to the name?  Was that a response to it?  Chrissy simply looked intrigued.  Thoughtful.  ¡°Never heard of it,¡± he said gruffly.  ¡°Chrissy usually works with those sorts of groups.  You ever heard of them, hon?¡±  Chrissy shook her head no.  ¡°Well I''m glad they got you the help you needed, brother!¡± if there was any other sign than affability, Smith did not display it.  But my stomach didn¡¯t unclench.


    ¡°Yeah.  I think Carl''s getting a real job too, so that ought to help.¡±  I tried to direct the conversation elsewhere.  ¡°I think things are desperate enough at work that even he could get hired.¡±


    ¡°You truly have the patience of a saint, Jeremy.  That young man¡± (Smith was maaaybe older than Carl, but if so, it wasn''t by much) ¡°needs to get a reality check.  What would he do if he didn¡¯t have you?¡±


    Now?  He¡¯d tell everyone about how I enslaved him.  ¡°I don¡¯t know, he relies on his parents for most things, so probably just go back to them until he can dupe another roommate.¡±


    ¡°Some honest work would be good for him I think.  You said he draws for a living?¡±  Smith looked over to his wife.  ¡°Maybe he could work with Chrissy.  She loves to paint.¡±


    ¡°I don''t think that-¡± I started.


    ¡°It''s just a hobby,¡± Chrissy cut in.  ¡°I''m sure a professional like him doesn''t need me.¡±


    ¡°Don''t be that way!  Showing Carl a little friendship might just be what he needs.  Spend some time, show him God¡¯s love.  You never know.  Maybe you can teach him a thing or two,¡± Smith offered.


    ¡°I uh, I don¡¯t think Carl really draws what you guys would be into.¡±  That was as charitably as I could put it.


    ¡°Chrissy¡¯s always looking to learn,¡± Smith replied.  ¡°I¡¯m sure they could help each other.¡±


    I sighed.  ¡°He draws smut.  Porn.  Naked ladies.¡±  I quirked an eyebrow.  ¡°Does Chrissy?¡±


    ¡°Heavens, no!¡±  Smith said, embarrassedly.


    ¡°Of course not,¡± Chrissy assured.


    The awkward silence gave me some blessed time to enjoy the food.  They still would talk a little, but it was less invested, not as heartfelt.  It made me feel a little better, knowing Carl put a damper on other people¡¯s spirits, too.  They mostly talked about their church, the things they did, how excited they were for me to attend.


    ¡°Well,¡± Smith leaned back, patting at his stomach.  ¡°That was delicious.  Hope you saved room for the blueberry crumble.  I have to hit the head anyhow, I¡¯ll bring it in when I get back.¡±


    ¡°Just wash your hands, dear,¡± Chrissy chided.


    ¡°Of course, my love,¡± Smith called back as he went into the kitchen.


    We sat in silence.  Chrissy swallowed and said ¡°Could I meet Carl?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±  I couldn''t have heard her right.


    Chrissy blushed, reddening her freckles.  ¡°I want to learn to draw¡­ that.¡±  She waved a hand.


    ¡°Like¡­ what he draws?  The porn?¡±


    She blanched as I said it, her eyes downcast.  Her hands clenched that pretty dress, fists bunching the fabric just above her knees.  I had never seen someone look so textbook perfectly abashed.  Even like that, my heart yearned.  Even asking to meet Carl.  Wasn''t that just the exception that proved her perfection?


    No, I needed to slow down these thoughts.  She was an enemy.  She and Smith were arrayed against me in my job.  They were¡­ business rivals?  This could be an in, but I had to not let dreams of lying in bed cuddling with Chrissy distract me.  ¡°Carl isn''t here, he''s staying with his parents for Christmas.  But I can put you in touch.  What''s your number?¡±


    Chrissy gave me her digits in a tumble and I barely caught them in the rush.  She composed herself, brushed out her dress and lost the embarrassed demeanor quickly.   She was again the picture-perfect housewife by the time Smith came in, bearing the wonderfully aromatic dessert.  The couple exchanged happy smiles as soon as Smith''s eyes found hers.


    ¡°I gotta warn ya, brother, after you have this crumble, it''s going to ruin every other dessert for you.  Did for me, at least.¡±  Smith informed me as he served a helping to each of us.  That accomplished, he left and returned with a bowl of whipped cream, hand-made by the look of it.  ¡°Absolutely heavenly, my Chrissy''s crumble.  Nothing like it.¡±  Finally, everything served, he sat next to Chrissy.  ¡°Dig in,¡± he proclaimed with a smile.


    He didn''t need to tell me twice.


    *****


    At last, mercifully, dinner was in the rear-view.  Smith planned me into getting picked up for Christmas Eve service.  We talked a little bit more, but nothing of import.  Until I was headed out the door.  ¡°Thanks for having me,¡± I said, juggling Tupperware.  I had helpings of shepherd''s pie and blueberry crumble, only reluctantly parted with by Smith.


    ¡°You wanna come over Saturday?  Watch the hockey game?  Have a couple other fellas over.  Good bonding experience.   You definitely don''t want to miss Chrissy''s dry rub wings.  They¡¯re wonderful.¡±  Smith said this while donning his Carhartt lined jacket.  ¡°You don¡¯t mind another guest over, do you Chrissy?¡±


    ¡°Not at all, we¡¯d love to have you over again, Jeremy.  No crumble next time though, just some appetizers.¡±  She gave a pleasant smile.


    The things I did for Hell.  ¡°Sure, I¡¯d love to catch a hockey game.¡±  I put on my best smile, hoping we could be out the door.  Even with Chrissy right there, this house made my skin crawl slightly.  Regardless of Wayward Souls, this place would be discomfiting to me.  Maybe because it was so much more full of life than my dreary little apartment.  Maybe it was because they had more room on the one floor than my entire living space.  Or maybe their personality felt fake, forced, some kind of front.  Whatever it was, I didn¡¯t feel comfortable there.


    ¡°My man,¡± Smith slapped my back.  ¡°Let''s get you home.¡±


    The early evening light of winter had faded long before, night holding sway as Smith drove me home.  We pulled into Vista View Arms.  It was as disappointing as I remembered it.  The familiar sense of self-loathing began its slow drip through my person.  This was a profaned haven for anyone except me.  It was just another chain tethering me to this unhappiness.  I would just have to move up, and hopefully Smith Burrows¡¯ money could get me there.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°See you Saturday, QB,¡± Smith said as I got out of the Suburban.  He didn''t work tomorrow so I wouldn''t see him until then.  And the day after¡­ Christmas Eve.


    ¡°Thanks for the ride and the food, man.¡±  My breath frosted on the air.  It was incredibly cold, a cutting pain on the inhale.  ¡°I gotta get inside and warm up already.¡±


    ¡°Don''t mention it, brother.  Get that Tupperware back to me on Saturday.  Chrissy is real particular about her dishes.¡±  Smith paused a moment, his eyes no longer twinkling.  ¡°And I don''t think that Wayward Souls thing is good for you Jeremy.  Central United has all the help and fellowship and love that you need.  Assistance comes in more ways than money.  Just think about it.  Judas betrayed Christ for thirty pieces of silver.  Love is worth so much more than that.  Christmas Eve service, I''ll see you there.¡±  His last intonation was somber, almost bordering on severe.  His window rolled up and Smith drove off, leaving me in the cold.


    And freaking the fuck out.


    *****


    ¡°You told him about it?  You went out and said it?  You gave away the game?  Gonna get speared.  Get smote.   Get shackled.  Get stymied.  Get-¡±


    I cut Craig off.  ¡°What the fuck do I do? I can''t see him again, he has to fucking know what it is.¡±


    ¡°Of course he knows.  They always know, they already know.  Someone gets a feel bad and runs away.  Tells a padre about it.  Boo hoo, the story ends.  And Craig Baird goes back to being alone.  Thanks for the Domino''s.¡±  Craig was somehow talking in his ramble around a grotesque portion of pizza.


    ¡°What happens if I go on Christmas Eve?  Do I get exorcised? Burnt at the stake¡±


    ¡°Probably baptized¡±.  Or worse.¡±  Craig shuddered.  ¡°Get wet?  No thanks.  Need dry.  Stay dry.¡±


    Craig had returned from his supposed escorting of my person.  I never saw him at Smith¡¯s, so I had no clue as to his veracity, but Craig came back to the apartment shortly after I did. Tracy hadn¡¯t come back.  Chevy was doing whatever it was that she did.  Carl was still mercifully absent.  It was just Craig and I.  Which felt strange after the bustle of the last few days.  I fended off Craig from the leftover food by getting him a couple of pizzas.  I knew they¡¯d be gone within the day, but it was Craig¡¯s money we were burning through.  Although that did remind me of a nagging concern:


    ¡°Do you need to go to any of the shelters or kitchens?  Will they notice you stopped going?¡±  I honestly had no clue how it worked or how observant any given volunteer would be there.  But Craig was also a lively personality, despite his ability to go unnoticed.  He might be someone they¡¯d miss.


    ¡°Nope.  Warm and dry here.  And pizza.  Go lots of places, keep them guessing.¡±  Craig crammed another greasy slice down his gullet.  ¡°Craig Baird in lots of places.  Lots of foods, lots of rumors.¡±


    ¡°You want to see if you can figure anything else out?  LIke why this Christmas Eve is so important?  Or why Smith is so invested in me going to church with him?¡±


    ¡°Same reason people defect.  Save their souls.  You know that whole chicanery.  Say you¡¯re sorry, get the bread, problem solved.  You think you¡¯re the first Lieutenant to be approached?  ¡®Oh no you have second thoughts, let¡¯s make your third thoughts be fluttery and beautiful¡¯ and then you¡¯re in a pew and kneeling.  Bad for the knees, being in church.  But everyone gets scared.  They get an out with the big guy, and take it.  Hell¡¯s not a fan of apostasy though.  Bad for the business pitches.  Bad for the morale.  Bad for the how it is seen.¡±


    ¡°Yes, scary bad things happen if I stop working for Hell.  Am I in danger if I go to this church on Christmas Eve?¡±  I wanted to shake Craig.


    ¡°Always in danger.  Always gonna be.  Get used to it.  But they wanna save you first. Always try to save you.  Gotta do a lot more bad before they don¡¯t.  Hell, I still get asked at the shelters sometimes.¡±  Craig idly scratched at his scraggly facial hair.


    ¡°Wait, people there know you work for Hell?¡±


    ¡°Hm?  No, but they ask.¡±


    I wanted to beat my head against the wall.


    ¡°I say no,¡± Craig continued.  ¡°Not my gig.  They still wanna try.  Always wanna try.  Give me little cards, little pamphlets, little books.  ¡®Come sit on a cloud and think the good thinks¡¯ they tell me.  I don¡¯t get a good think anymore, just a tattered soul in a skin suit, is Craig Baird.¡±


    ¡°Okay, you go spy or whatever it is you do.  I¡¯m going to go and try to think of some way out of this.¡±  I stomped off to my room.


    But when I sat down and thought about it, I wasn¡¯t sure if that was the route I should take.  Smith clearly wanted me on his side.  Badly.  Could I use that?  Being dishonest in the service of Hell seemed more like a job duty than anything.  It was dangerous to do that, of course, but I wanted to progress.  I didn¡¯t want to sit in my apartment all day fretting over micromanaging Carl.  I wanted to be able to use the recruits that Tracy could call up.  I wanted to stop going to work, listening to Sherrie, ringing up groceries.  This was my pathway out of it, and it would require risks.  Risks like going into the stronghold of my enemy.  Even if they knew about Wayward Souls.


    I warred for a time, between fear and ambition.  Resting on my bed, even though I didn''t feel particularly tired, let me destress.  I could feel Tracy and Chevy faintly.  Tracy felt agitated, Chevy calm.  Both were pretty distant.  My little empire.  If it was to be any larger, I needed this.  Ambition won out over fear.  Come Christmas eve, I was going to go into Central United.


    *****


    The house was completely empty.  Craig had left.  He went off to find some homeless shelter or soup kitchen or wherever there were innocent souls to be tormented.  It was just me, and no one else.  It was absolute stillness.  It was sort of late at this point, but I didn¡¯t feel all that tired.  So it was with a little surprise that I found myself going on a walk.


    It was almost midnight, and bitter cold out.  My cheeks and ears burned with the cold.  I tugged my beanie lower but it failed to provide much warmth.  Maybe before anything grandiose, I¡¯d use the money I got for some real warm winter wear.  The air was such a crisp cold that snow trickled down in flurries, drawn out of the little moisture in the air.  It wasn¡¯t enough to accumulate or anywhere near that, even.  The pavement was still bare.  It didn¡¯t feel much like Christmas, just a cold emptiness.  Maybe it was from having snowier winters in years past, or maybe it was from all the stress, but walking out here it all felt inconsequential.  Meaningless.


    The idea of going into that church didn''t feel as daunting.  It felt small, surmountable.  Just another menial task as I moved up in Wayward Souls.  At first, the idea of holding Carl''s soul felt powerful.  But already it felt normal.  How much farther could I go?  In a week would Smith''s church give me the same sense of routine?  I didn''t have anyone else to compare to, but I felt pretty proud of myself.  I was crushing it.  I wondered if I could ask Danielle.  Participate in the corporate farce and ask how my performance metrics compared with that of my peers.  Or something else in the obtuse farce that Hell seemed to be governing itself by.  Contacting her seemed like it''d be difficult- I had no way to reach her.


    But then I realized I could see how others compared.  I had someone practically begging me to participate.  Sure, Sandra was shady as Hell, but that was the price of admission into Wayward Souls. I had enslaved my roommate, broke up my already precarious family, roped some people into my little cult, lied to my friends about it, and was pretending to find God in order to pilfer a rich family.  Put that way, Sandra seemed entirely on the level.  And hey, if she was already cool with betraying those other Lieutenants, perhaps I could just jump the gun and do the same to her.   Let the best Lieutenant win.


    Maybe I was feeling a bit giddy after surviving Smith''s place.  Maybe it was trying to combat the malaise that coming back to my apartment gave me.  Maybe it was a counterbalance to the anxiety of earlier.  Or maybe, just maybe, it was the realization that for once I was in control.  I could make things better for myself.  My success or failure didn''t depend on Carl paying his half of the bills.  It didn''t depend on Daryl feeling magnanimous with my family''s hard-won money.  It didn''t depend on Sherrie giving me enough hours.  All I needed was my Implement- the tool that would let me accomplish whatever I needed.


    As self interested as it was, I hadn''t really considered Wayward Souls as more than a vehicle to stop working retail.  The idea that my ability would allow me to set my own path was daunting but exciting.  I could think so much more ambitious than simply not going to work.  There was more to this than money.  I didn''t need to do this for money.  I could do it for power- my own independence.  Smith talked about thirty pieces of silver.  With Wayward Souls, I could eventually control the silver mint and mine.  I''d be the one in charge.


    I had actually walked far from Vista View Arms.   The air was no less frigid than it was hours ago.  Just because I had the vitality didn''t mean I was immune to the cold.  And it had finally started to cut into my near manic cheer.  Realizing I probably looked a little unhinged with the wide smile I had, I tried to still my features.  The smile still peeked through, curling at the edges, pulling at my cheeks.  My steps felt lighter, my chest felt free.


    It was jarring to realize.  I was happy?

 Thirteen

    I awoke early, once again feeling vibrant and alive. I still was unused to the feeling, and relished the newness. I figure at some point I would acclimate, but until then, I wanted to remind myself how amazing this felt, that the boons Wayward Souls offered were potent and worthwhile. Maybe a good night''s sleep was not enticement enough to venture into the lair of the enemy on Christmas Eve, but it did tip the scales slightly. I knocked out my morning pushups and situps easily. I need to start thinking about getting a pullup bar or something, add more to my regimen.


    I showered and mentally checked in. Craig, distant and unruly. Tracy, even farther away and vaguely quiet. Chevy was¡­ near? I toweled my hair off. How did she get here if Tracy was her means of transport?


    I dressed quickly, somewhere between curious and concerned. I threw on an insufficiently warm coat and stepped out into the same harsh chill as last night. People at work yesterday had said this was maybe going to be the coldest Christmas in years. The relative warmth that had melted off the snow and ice earlier in the week was now firmly replaced with this freeze. No snow was forecast, just austere, grey, and cold.


    I didn''t see any sign of Chevy. So I had the experience of trying to locate someone entirely through the use of this sense. It was actually incredibly difficult to pinpoint where she was. It was no easy feat to move and determine if she was closer or farther. If anything, it was good I had a chance to practice it now. I finally had it narrowed down to a black, somewhat crinkled pickup, an older model. Chevy was nestled in the passenger seat, soundly asleep. No one else was in the truck. I looked to see if I saw anyone around, did not and rapped sharply on the window.


    ¡°Son bitch!¡± Chevy slurred groggy, muffled through the window. She turned bleary eyes to me. ¡°Oh,¡± was all she said.


    ¡°Can we talk?¡± I tried not to yell, but I also wanted her to understand me.


    Chevy opened the door, and sideyed me, content to stay in the seat. ¡°Sup.¡±


    ¡°What are you doing here? Whose truck is this? Did something happen?¡± I felt in that moment like a hassled parent, toeing the line between concerned and frustrated. If Chevy was bringing strangers here, how long until I was made?


    ¡°I''ve got a recruit,¡± Chevy said. ¡°It''s his truck.¡± She considered. ¡°Nothing happened.¡±


    I waited. Chevy didn''t offer anything else. ¡°There''s no one else here, Chevy. Who''s the recruit?¡±


    ¡°Damian. Dame. Big D. He''s cool.¡±


    ¡°I don''t need other congregants. I need to get more resources first. I''m working on getting an in with Smith. I don''t have time to manage another person. I appreciate you trying to be proactive, but save it until after Christmas.¡±


    ¡°Not for the congregation.¡± Chevy smiled. ¡°He wants to be a full member.¡±


    ¡°He wants to be knifed?¡± I was a little floored. ¡°Like¡­ you told him what goes into it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, give up his immortal soul. He was down.¡±


    ¡°You told him he would do whatever I say? That he''s losing his free will?¡±


    ¡°No. Dumbass. He just wants to be part. Join up. Fight heaven. I didn''t tell him the rest.¡±


    Shit. Chevy was ice cold. ¡° Okay. Where is he?¡±


    ¡°Dunno. Around?¡± Chevy shrugged. ¡°Probably went to buy cigarettes. Should take up vaping. Easier.¡± She pulled a vape out of her outermost hoodie. With a sage nod, she took a hit.


    ¡°Well you should have at least let me know. Any reason you didn''t text?¡± I continued to ask, even though Chevy seemed content to let it be done.


    ¡°Don''t have your number. You figured out I was here. Oh, there''s D.¡± Chevy nodded her head presumably in his direction.


    I turned around and came face to face with a giant. Well, more like face to chest. I wasn''t short, but this man made me feel that way. Six foot and plenty of change to spare, he was a gargantuan black man. His head was shaven with a thin chinstrap beard. He wore a pretty thin jacket, but didn''t appear cold. The cold was probably afraid to piss him off. Chevy wanted me to pull my Implement on this guy?


    ¡°Uh hey,¡± I said weakly.


    ¡°Sup¡± he said. His voice wasn''t as deep and bassy as I had expected. It also was friendly and warm, with a smile that made even Smith''s grin look dour and forced. He immediately took me from ¡°how is Chevy friends with this guy?¡± to ¡°who wouldn''t want to be friends with this guy?¡±. ¡°You Jeremy?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Yep. Chevy told you about me?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I like selling my soul. Pisses off my parents,¡± Damian said, matter-of-factly.¡±


    ¡°But like, this is really selling it,¡± I said. I don¡¯t know why I did. It felt different. Weird. I could easily justify pricking Carl. I felt sorta bad about Terry, but I also didn¡¯t feel that sense of reluctance I did here. Dude just thought he was sticking it to his parents. He had no way of knowing how different this one would be. That I did nothing for it- that it had just been presented to me, felt like cheating somehow. The difference between hunting for your own meat or buying it at the grocery. Except it was even more than that. I was hunting for souls, and this felt fundamentally wrong. I should be the one deciding who, not Chevy.


    ¡°Okay, then sell me,¡± Damian said, still smiling. ¡°What do I get in return?¡±


    ¡°You lose your free will and do what I say,¡± spewing the truth, horror in my mind. There¡¯ d be no way he¡¯d acquiesce to that.


    ¡°Hah, Chevy, you listening to this guy?¡±


    ¡°Yup,¡± Chevy said, not looking at us. She was studying her phone screen with blase passivity, completely at odds with the emotional gravitas of selling me her friend¡¯s soul. That just made this feel worse, that she could just fork him over and be calmer about it than me. That I didn¡¯t know the guy and I cared more about doing this than she did.


    But then I realized. She hadn¡¯t actually seen or experienced much of the Implement. Carl and Terry had left already. All the stuff I had been doing with her¡­ well it was weird, but it wasn¡¯t supernaturally weird. I just came off as some guy with a knife, with a homeless guy and Tracy in tow for my funny cult. Shit. How would I even relay this to her?


    ¡°I mean it¡¯s kinda serious man, it¡¯s your soul. Is this the guy with the land, Chevy?¡±


    ¡°Huh? No, that¡¯s Robbie. Dame just likes doing this thing. I figured you didn¡¯t want anyone else in your congregation yet, the way you yelled at Tracy.¡± (I hadn¡¯t yelled at her, had I? I had groused a little, maybe.) ¡°But he could do the other thing, with the knife.¡±


    Okay. Going through with this seemed like a really bad idea. She had no idea what was about to happen. Damian had no idea what was about to hapen. I did know what was about to happen but I had no idea how Chevy would react. But also, there was no way in Hell I was doing it out here. I could at least stall for a moment. ¡°Let¡¯s go back to the Haven, so I can avoid any uh, intruding eyes.¡±


    ¡°Have to clean up after the knife, I¡¯d guess,¡± Chevy added. Oh she definitely had no idea what she was putting Damian into. There was no conceivable way she¡¯d be okay with this. There¡¯d be no way she¡¯d want him to go through with this. But I could see if I could reverse it. If Chevy reacted poorly, maybe I could just release Damian. I had no idea about how I¡¯d go about that. Maybe just hold the Implement and loose the oath? Not the best thing to hinge my hopes on, especially if Chevy reacted poorly. Either way, she¡¯d get to see it in action.


    We walked up the stairs to my apartment, opening the door. ¡°Little cold in here,¡± Damian remarked as we walked in.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°So uh, the way this goes, you say something like ¡®You can have my soul,¡¯ and then I prick you with the knife and collect your blood.¡± I drew my Implement, letting the matte black blade tug at the light in the room. ¡°You still want to do this?¡±


    ¡°Yeah man, no big.¡± Damian held out a palm. ¡°I ain¡¯t using my soul, you can have it.¡±


    I clenched my jaw slightly, and pricked him in the palm. Immediately, blood began to seep out of the wound, puddling in his extended hand. I stared at it with a measure of¡­ despair? How could I be so excited in the abstract, to make a living for myself, and then in practice, just feel terrible about it? It was irritating how difficult it was to do this kind of thing, how often would I have to do it before I could feel okay about it? Maybe I¡¯d been a dick to Carl, but I wasn¡¯t going to be an asshole to anyone else, I just wanted to live up to my job. I wanted to succeed. Settling my thoughts, I resolved to not be awful to Damian. I could control him, but I¡¯d only do so if necessary.


    Easy.


    I held the Implement over the wound, and the blood slowly blobbed up toward the blade, like beads of wax in a lava lamp. Chevy had been looking on boredly until this moment, and her eyes gradually widened as the blood rose and soaked into my knife. It sucked in the blood, vanishing it into the black, leaving no sign on the blade. After sealing the bond, Damian¡¯s palm fell to his side. I returned the Implement to its sheath, carefully monitoring Chevy.


    ¡°Shit man, that should have hurt more,¡± Damian said, looking at his hand. I looked at the palm. I had never really payed attention before, seeing as how I hadn¡¯t wanted to keep looking at Carl, and I didn¡¯t look under Terry¡¯s shirt, but apparently even the wound from the Implement would go away. His hand was unmarred except for a slight smear of blood across it. He shook his hand as if trying to dislodge something.


    ¡°What. The. Fuck,¡± Chevy breathed. Her voice had a tremble to it, laced with awe and fear in equal measure. ¡°Tracy wasn¡¯t lying. Thought she was just having fun, telling a weird story, or a dream or something. Shit. That¡¯s real.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s really real,¡± I said. ¡°Uh, Damian.¡± I grasped the Implement. ¡°Go make breakfast for Chevy and me.¡± That didn¡¯t seem so bad, right?


    ¡°Sure thing, boss man.¡± Damian was smiling still. ¡°Man you weren¡¯t kidding about that, I really am just gonna do what you ask. Shit, man.¡± Damian shook his head as he went to the kitchen. He looked into the fridge. The fridge that was practically empty save for the leftovers from visiting Smith. ¡°Not much to cook with here,¡± the man stated solemnly. ¡°I¡¯m gonna have to go get some ingredients, see you in a bit.¡± He then walked out the door, leaving Chevy open-mouthed.


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t get knifed. Shit.¡± Chevy still seemed in disbelief. After Tracy¡¯s relatively stoic acceptance of things, I had forgotten how actually insane the Implement really was. I had been a little lulled by that, and Chevy brought me back to the reality of realizing how utterly ludicrous it was. It was sheer fantasy, implausable, a dream, a nightmare, something that couldn¡¯t be really explained. Unless everything about me and Wayward Souls was true. And I watched Chevy¡¯s brain rattle down that path, headed toward the only actual conclusion. This was all real.


    ¡°Shit. That¡¯s tight,¡± Chevy said. Huh?


    ¡°You just sold me your friend¡¯s soul, Chevy.¡± I said it with some small measure of piping disbelief. ¡°You didn¡¯t know this was going to happen. How are you okay with it?¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m getting a free breakfast out of it,¡± Chevy said. ¡°And D¡¯s a really good cook. Win-win.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but I could ask him to do something harmful or awful. I control his soul.¡± Maybe she was in denial.


    ¡°Yeah but you didn¡¯t. Trace told me you made your roommate apply to get a job. That¡¯s kinda shit, but like, I get it. Rent is shit. If that¡¯s the worst thing you do, not much worse than any other roommate. D¡¯s good people, you seem like good people. It¡¯ll be fine.¡± She considered. ¡°Trace said she could also boss your stabbed people around. I thought she was just on one. Can I do that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d have to tell them to listen to you. Since Tracy¡¯s in charge, I think it¡¯s probably best just to leave that power with her. Maybe after I can expand, I can get you some authority over them. But right now, I don¡¯t think there¡¯s enough people for that. I¡¯ve only got Carl, his dad, and now Damian.¡±


    ¡°Could I get you another person, if I can also tell them what to do?¡± Chevy asked, her voice almost back to her normal bored tone. She was either incredibly callous, or very mentally flexible, to have taken this in so readily.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, I don¡¯t want people figuring out something¡¯s up-¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s my sister. She sucks. She outed me to my mama. She always is borrowing money from her. Goes out to the clubs and just wastes all of mama¡¯s hard earned paychecks. Mama just lets her do it. It¡¯s pretty fucked.¡±


    ¡°Okay but how would you get her to release her soul?¡± I didn¡¯t really want to ensorcel someone else before Christmas at least, but Chevy seemed a little dogged about this. I thought about how unhappy my family made me feel. If I could control Daryl just long enough to make him fuck off from my mom¡¯s life, I would try pretty damn hard to make that happen. Chevy probably felt the same way about her sister. ¡°I assume she isn¡¯t just going to do like Damian did.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s real easy, Jeremy. Like, just offer her some cash or something. Or some pills.¡± Chevy stated bluntly.


    ¡°Okay, but I don¡¯t have pills, and the cash I do have is going to go toward feeding Craig for the next twenty minutes, and then I¡¯m tapped out.¡±


    ¡°I can get you something she¡¯d like. If you do this. Do we have a deal? I¡¯ll do whatever you ask. Best cult member ever. Promise.¡± Chevy looked at me beseechingly. Her tone was maybe only a little more clipped and bitter, but it still came through. She really wanted this. I could get another person and Chevy¡¯s loyalty all in one sweoop. It didn¡¯t seem that implausible.


    ¡°Yeah. Deal.¡± I held out my hand, then jerked it back with a ¡°Fuck!¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to be late for work. Shit, I got wrapped up in what you were doing here. Fuck, Sherrie is going to bitch me out. Damnit. I¡¯ll be back this afternoon. Fuck. Shit. Say hi to Tracy if you see her. If you leave, just lock up before you leave. Do not let Craig have my shepherds pie.¡±


    I rushed out the door, only catching a belated ¡°Uh huh,¡± from Chevy. Then I rushed back in. ¡°Forgot my backpack,¡± I said sheepishly. I could fill my water bottle at the fountain in the store, as tepid and gross as its water was. I practically sprinted to work, and for the first time, I think really understood what my boon of vitality entailed. I hadn¡¯t really pushed myself, my pushups and situps coming easily to me. It had been some time since I really ran. I used to do sprints in high school and hated them. But I ran in a way that would have left my high school ass in the dust. I don¡¯t think I had ever run that quickly. I had definitely never run that quickly over that long of a distance. I felt the burning in my lungs, sweat dripping from my brow and running down my neck. I was definitely exerted. But I also had made it to work on time.


    ¡°Holy shit, I¡¯m awesome.¡±


    Sherrie would have to find some other tardy employee to berate.


    *****


    I approached the table out front. My shift had ended, mercifully. It was a complete madhouse, the last Friday before Christmas. Unfortunately, I worked Christmas Eve. So I¡¯d probably see even worse on Sunday. At least I had Saturday off, although that meant seeing Smith both tomorrow and the day after. And I actually had Christmas itself off I intended to fully enjoy it by not dying at Central United the night before. Realistic goal, I hoped.


    Sandra was sitting at the table, wearing a different floral dress but a much heavier coat over it. It really seemed like pants weather to me, at a minimum. Although the sun had had all day to bring some warmth, it had not. The table was cold, the wind was light, but still cut to the soul in the frozen air, and my breath frosted heavily on the air, as I blew out a sigh before sitting in front of Sandra.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t think you were going to,¡± she said, a tinge of curiosity infecting her tone.


    ¡°Maybe I thought about it.¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯d you decide?¡± She asked, a little bit of bated enthusiasm. Her eyes glittered just a touch avariciously.


    ¡°Well, I thought I might join up. With you.¡± I tried to keep my tone as plain as I could. Boredly dickering.


    ¡°Just like that?¡± Sandra slowly drew her Implement.


    ¡°Nah, there are strings attached.¡± I fixed her gaze with my own. I could not break eye contact. I had to pull off this cavalier attitude. She had to want me, not the other way around.


    ¡°Such as¡­?¡± Sandra asked.


    ¡°Woo me.¡± I kept my eyes on hers. I didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°Wine me and dine me. Dinner tonight. Your treat.¡±


    ¡°My treat?¡± she repeated incredulously.


    ¡°Yeah. Take me on a date. Really show me you care.¡±


    Sandra sputtered. ¡°I¡­ you¡­ you want to go on a date?¡±


    ¡°You want me to join up or not?¡± I kept my gaze level. At ease. Relaxed.


    Sandra paused. ¡°I mean, yes, I want you to join. But a date, really?¡± Okay, that actually stung a little.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, are you not single?¡±


    ¡°No I am but-¡±


    ¡°So then it¡¯s not an issue. I¡¯m single, you¡¯re single, we work for the same company, so that¡¯s a little awkward, but I don¡¯t see you at the office much. You know the little bistro about a mile down the road? Let¡¯s go there.¡± My grin was probably a little predatory. ¡°Give me your best sales pitch over dinner.¡±


    Sandra actually groaned. ¡°Okay, but just this one date. Then you join up.¡±


    ¡°If you wine me and dine me properly yes.¡±


    ¡°If I wine you and dine you at all,¡± Sandra retorted.


    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s not me trying to recruit you. If you don¡¯t want me, I can keep to myself, and you can deal with Christmas Eve all on your own.¡± I stood up.


    ¡°No no, hold on. Wait. Don¡¯t walk away yet. We can go to the bistro. I¡¯ll pay. We can talk then. What time?¡±


    ¡°Seven works for me. Here¡¯s my number.¡± She sent me a text so I had hers. ¡°See you tonight.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. See you,¡± Sandra replied. It had all the enthusiasm of a eulogy.