Making Deals



The Saint Mary of the Lake Sanitarium advertised itself as a proper institution, devoted entirely to the reverence of the Father and the care and wellbeing of His touched children. The trustees applied their ministrations by order of prominence: God, the body and the mind. The patients at St. Mary's were ardently coached in the lessons of the Lord and the benefits of keeping to the faithful and avoiding heresy. As a proper Christian outfit, the medical staff dutifully gave the best physical care possible. Since a patient's mental health coincides directly with the care and cultivation of his or her faith, it needed not be addressed in any other fashion. The establishment ran in sound and orderly fashion.

Never predisposed to vanity, the Saint Mary of the Lake Sanitarium was built in a sound and orderly manner. A sturdy white sandstone exterior with practical whitewashed walls and white tiled floors. The sheets, blankets and dressing gowns radiated with alabaster purity. Porcelain sinks and tubs disappeared in plain sight. Everything, white and besides succumbed to scrubbing, bleaching and polishing in hourly rotations. Nothing tainted could subsist in such an achromatic, sterile environment. That the patients themselves survived bordered on miraculous.

Something quite unseemly waited to transpire in this place where unseemly events were simply not tolerated. The architect of this scandalous endeavor stood at five feet and three inches, when she could stand at all. Two full stones shy of a hundred pounds, her skin did not so much cling to her flesh as hang from her bones. Limp walnut hair framed her thin face. A dress of lace and pink organdy, kid gloves and old satin slippers draped off her emaciated form. Illuminated under harsh electric lights and the pervading whiteness, the color seemed almost garish. The girl hardly cared. Considering the circumstances, she found a hospital dressing gown vastly inappropriate.

The bed, table and chair huddled to one side of the room. She kneeled hunched over in the center. With her right hand she dragged a bloodied finger against the cool tiles. Her movements were very cautious and deliberate, lest shaking limbs betray her. In her left hand she grasped an old, worn book. Her eyes swung fluidly from floor to page, floor to page. This sing-song of activity started several hours previous and continued for several more. When the moon drooped lazily in the west, she straightened with a groan. The crack and snap of brittle bones accompanied a cacophony of coughing, whistling and sanguinary wheezing. Crawling weakly to the bed, she leaned against it, counting the seconds to the spasms end. Unnoticed tears coursed banal paths down sunken cheeks, leaving dark splotches on the delicate fold of her dress.

When, at last, she perceived her voice sufficiently recovered, the girl folded her hands together with loving tenderness. Voice quivering nervously, she spoke with apologetic and reverent severity, 'Heavenly Father, it is I, Tabitha O'Mally.'� She paused and added guilelessly, 'I suppose the formality is unnecessary, but dear Aunt Priss always said that final farewells should be done proper and I dearly hope to end our acquaintance on proper terms. First, Lord, I would like to thank you for always listening to my prayers; I'm sure you've very good reasons for answering so few. Tonight will likely be the last time you hear from me. It's not that I won't pray anymore, mind you, but I doubt you will care to notice me after I'm done.'�

'Please take care of my family. I know they are good and devout people. At least I feel that they must be, because Mother gave me new socks last Christmas and Father sent me a letter of correspondence on my birthday. I heard from Mother Superior that I have a new brother now, so take special notice of him please! With that, I must be going. I am dreadfully sorry for what I'm going to do, but I expect no forgiveness. Some understanding, however, would be a great consolation. You will forever be in my heart of hearts. Amen.'�

Tabitha remained very still for a moment, letting her words float through the sterile walls, up-up-and-away toward heaven. Satisfied her message was received, she inched her way back into the middle of the room. A circle of a hundred intricate swirls, whorls, lines and dashes stood out boldly against the alabaster tiles. Crimson smears dried to rusty smudges. Holding her book close, she soundlessly recited the words over again and again. Hands trembling from a touch more than illness, she straightened her skirts and replaced her right glove. A bright red spot shown through the index finger almost instantly, but nothing could be done about it. Careful not to mar the design, Tabitha moved into the center of the circle. She hoped she needn't stand. That was beyond her at the moment.

Hands in lap she took a deep breath. And another, 'Dark One, I beseech you, come to me.'� The request seemed quite informal considering the gravity of the situation, but the book expressed the need to be accurate quite ardently. Wondering how long it took for the Dark Lord to come from Hell to North Dakota, Tabitha waited patiently, her shrouded fingers tapping out the overture to Mozart's Le Nozze di Figaro.

The snap and rustle of paper shattered her operatic musings. Twisting with painful speed she found a man seated on the corner of her bed. Silver hair tinged with ebony, his face buried in a newspaper resembling the Times, but written in a language she couldn't recognize. He seemed of medium build, dressed much like the doctors that came and visited on occasion. Though, she thought, his brown suit doesn't fit well through the shoulders. Doctor's suits always fit perfectly. Folding the paper carefully, he looked up at Tabitha, black eyes appraising her curiously.

'Well, this is the first time I've been invited in here! I'm quite honored really.'� The sound rolled from his tongue, warm and mellifluous. 'To be honest with you, Tabitha, that summoning circle's been out of commission for near three hundred years.'�

'I'm sorry,'� the girl stammered, 'It is the only book I could get and'�'�

He waved a hand dismissively, 'It's nothing, besides I've taken quite an interest in you.'�

'You have?'� she asked a little nervously.

'Of course! It isn't very often that one of His just up and decides to summon the Devil.'�

'Well, It isn't like I just decided this in a day! I've been mulling it over for months!'�

'I know, I know. But a few months are nothing to me.'�

'Oh,'� she said a little less indignantly. 'To be sure, that's right. Um'�'�

'Yes, yes! Enough idle chatter.'� He clapped his hands together smartly, 'On to business! What, exactly, is your dilemma?'�

'I'm sure you already know this, but I'll go over it, you know, for the record.'� He motioned for her to continue. 'When I was just a wee thing the doctors found out I had brittle bones, or osteogenesis imperfecta is what they're calling it now. I break real easy. Now, my family, bless them, tried to take care of me but round the time I turned six, I came down with the consumption too. Being so overwrought, the family decided it would be best to place me in God's hands.'�

'Of course they did,'� Lucifer scoffed.

Tabitha raised a brow crossly, but continued undeterred, 'It's been seven years now and God's not seen fit to take me. Worse yet, the doctors have said my lungs are holding up well, considering. They speculate I might last another fifteen years. Fifteen years! I can't do it, Dark One, sir. Every moment is an agony to me and fifteen years of moments is just too fathomable for words. It won't cost my folks much, not since they moved me here instead of that fancy asylum closer to home. But still, I imagine it would burden them some. Back in November, when they told me how long I had, well I considered suiciding myself right then. I knew the consequences to be sure, but fifteen years'�'� She paused, shuddering and wheezing. After a moment, 'Then it hit me. If Hell be my destination, I should get something out of it first. So I wrote my mother and told her we were studying the conversion of pagans and sadist and asked for books on the subjects.'�

'She didn't'�'�

'No, not really. The maid, Lizzy, usually reads and responds to all my letters. She mailed the books, probably without Mother ever knowing. To wrap it up, I found that little journal and now here you are.'�

Lucifer picked up the slim volume, flipping through it with casual disinterest. 'And why am I here?'� he asked, replacing the book onto the bed.

'Ten years.'�

'Ten years?'�

Tabitha nodded, 'I want ten years of healthy, blight-free living and then you can take me. And,'� she added quickly, 'I want to keep all my memories, good and bad.'�

Lucifer rubbed the fine gray stubble at his chin. Tabitha noted with some relief that his expression seemed decidedly humored. Clearing his throat, 'Five years and the memories.'�

'Unacceptable. This is my soul we're talking about!'�

He laughed, 'And, I have millions of them to care for as it is. They aren't so precious as you would imagine.'�

'Maybe not to you,'� she grumbled in an altogether unladylike fashion. Jaw locked and eyes hard she met his gaze, 'Seven years, all memories.'�

'Done!'� A thin scroll of paper materialized in his hand. He passed it to Tabitha, letting her read it through.

'Everything in order?'� She nodded. He waggled a finger, 'Your mark then, dearest.'� Tabitha pressed the tip of her saturated glove against the paper. The smudge glowed brightly and then disappeared, replaced by the name: Tabitha Lynn McAllister.

Standing and bowing with a flourish, Lucifer smiled delightedly. 'And now, my lady, I leave you,'� he snapped his fingers, 'See you in seven years.'�

Tabitha watched him fade away. The brown suite, tanned skin, peppered hair paled to white. Vanishing with such perfect ease that she wondered briefly if he'd ever really been there. With a lurch that strained every muscle fiber in her scrawny legs, she launched herself to her feet. That her bones did not shatter on the spot meant a great deal. That she felt no pain meant even more. Air, once harsh and jarring, poured into her lungs like honeyed wine, pure and sweet and full of life. Tears, always so sad and distressed, poured down her face, falling to the floor in a happy crescendo.

Feet shuffled unsteadily, guiding the revived body to the cell door. The weight of her actions did not fall lightly on Tabitha. She knew what lay ahead, seven years to the future. She knew also that nothing could change that fate now. That knowledge alone gave her the strength to slide each foot farther than the next. Her destination locked, she need only discover what paths lay before her. What new, exciting memories would bear her soul down into Hell. As the strike of fist on door thundered down barren halls, the tired corners of her mouth lifted in anticipation.





***



In a room drenched in obscurity, Lucifer paced, murmuring to himself. The granite walls, gray marble floors and obsidian fixtures listened cool and uncaring. Shedding his human guise, Lucifer let the cold air wash over his cobalt skin. The chill brought him clarity. Something he needed greatly.

He should have found the evening entertaining. However, he felt nothing but disquiet. Something vast and steeped in ambiguity hung just beyond his reach. The absolute purity of Tabitha's very being exuded danger. Evil manifested itself in everyone, in increments large and small. Lucifer, more than most, could see even the faintest fibers of darkness in soul threads. The legacy of the 'Devil'�, a twisted gift endowed upon him by Him, proof of His incessant involvement in all things. In Tabitha he sensed nothing but good. Light, pure and strong and bright as a newborn star. The absence of evil wreaked havoc on his nerves. Bringing her to Hell would invite anarchy in an already chaotic world. But, having invented several himself, Lucifer knew there were methods to madness. She is coming here, later than sooner, but here in the end. Lucifer grimaced, sure of one thing: Somewhere, somehow, He had something to do with it all.













Checking In





Twenty-three seconds after Tabitha took her last breath, she found herself standing outside an intimidating iron door. Tarred and scorched, it reeked of brimstone, rot and all things unholy. It loomed above Tabitha and the few thousand other souls with her. She stood at the forefront of this trembling swarm of once-livings, chin lifted determinedly. Squelching the tiny quaver in her chest, she resolved to face her fate with dignity. Feet dug steadfastly into the sweet, acrid mud, Tabitha waited. Murmured prayers wafted by, well on their way nowhere. She wished to scoff at them and berate their hypocrisy, but the pulls of sympathy and camaraderie clung stubbornly to the scorn. Like them, Tabitha faced the unknown with trepidation. Unlike her, most of them never came to terms with their fates.

With a squeal that seemed to rend the air itself, the gate rose, slowly disappearing into the black clouds above. Tabitha felt the masses shrink behind her. Turning, she found herself alone before the gate, the others cowering far back. Warmth and confidence radiated from a scarce smile and she spun back, walking through the gateway and into everything unknown.

The everything unknown looked a great deal like Grand Central Station harmoniously spliced with the Smith Grimm and Jenkins law firm in Chicago. Beyond the door, which shrank considerably, stood a friendly looking woman handing out tickets. Each ticket held a number written in bold green letters. Tabitha's ticket read 784569. She guessed the numbers reset themselves after 999999. Necessary when considering the traffic flow. Tabitha stepped past the ticket lady into a waiting room so massive it had neither a beginning nor an end. Hundred feet high stone arches partitioned ranks of benches by the dozens, marching to the left and right in an infinite procession. On the far side she could just make out a wall dotted with sunbursts and service windows. Two seemingly endless lines streamed out of every window and above each one six digit rotaries glowed. Tabitha realized, with some alarm, that none of the numbers displayed were close to hers or even the same.

Turning back to the ticket lady, she noticed a small trickle of souls moving through the door, following in her wake. The woman looked at Tabitha and seeing her confusion, smiled and motioned toward the nearest line. 'Just pick any one, dearie,'� she said kindly.

'What about my number?'�

'Oh, those are more for show than anything else!'� she answered sagely. 'There are over eight hundred doors from as many worlds coming into this room alone'�here you are. We couldn't possibly get everyone in any correct order'�there you go! Besides some people like to wait around for a while, you know, put off the inevitable...keep moving please! I don't recommend it though. Just makes things worse in the long run.'�

'Where is this place?'� Tabitha ducked to one side, avoiding the now freely flowing mass of incomers.

The woman hesitated, trying to keep up with the increased traffic. When the procession began to thin out, she looked back to Tabitha. 'This is Styx Station. It's the North-Northeast universal check-in location. From here you go to Claims and Appeals. The service associates at the window will help direct you.'�

Feeling that she had hindered the lady enough, Tabitha moved away, 'Thank you'�'�

'Oh'�um, Wynnette,'�

'Thank you for your help Wynnette!'� The girl left and Wynnette watched the young woman melt into the crowd, a look of intense curiosity radiating through her normally frozen hospitable face.

'Excuse me. Pardon me. Excuse me. May I move through here?'� Employing every ounce of propriety burned into her, Tabitha eased through the lingering damned.

At first everyone she saw seemed normal. That is to say, they seemed human. Men, women and even a few children milled about, most looking as confused as she felt. Half the distance to where the lines ended, Tabitha noticed a young man with the most brilliant pale emerald skin. Six tiny antennae poked out of the blackest hair and thin iridescent webs connected each of his elegant fingers at the base. Broad feet, similarly structured, emerged from loose, twill pants. Tabitha stared, very inappropriately, until their eyes met. Embarrassed, she looked away quickly and then back again even more contrite for the discourteous action. Face flushed, she smiled demurely.

The odd man smiled in return and moved toward her. Tabitha looked about nervously and then laughed at her own anxiety. What could happen to her anymore? When he approached with his unusual hand extended, she shook it confidently. 'Good day, sir.'�

He laughed, a light and altogether endearing sound, 'You are probably the only one to think so, miss. I say, you stick out as much as I do.'� Tabitha looked down at herself wonderingly. 'Oh no,'� he added. 'No, not physically. It's just that you seem so lighthearted and curious. That kind of energy shines like fire in the dark.'�

'Thank you,'� Tabitha stammered. 'You, yourself seem rather cheerful. For being damned.'�

'Well, there isn't much that can be done about that now, is there? I'm just happy to see someone in better spirits. I can understand being upset, but looking upon so many somber faces is disheartening.'�

With a jolt, Tabitha stumbled forward. The young man reached out a hand, steadying the girl. He cast the large form that knocked into her a scornful look. Taking her arm, he guided Tabitha through the crowd. 'It is exceptionally busy by this gate,'� he chatted gleefully, moving them through the multitude of people. 'I can't imagine what your world must be like, with so many sinners.'�

'Very interesting, at times,'� Tabitha marveled at the ease with which he traversed the throng. 'And where are you from?'�

They arrived at an unoccupied bench, just before the end of the nearest line. The man motioned for her to sit and followed suit. 'Seven-hundred and forty-three doors that way,'� he motioned off to the left. 'You can't imagine how long it has taken me to get this far.'�

'Are you avoiding checking-in?'�

'Oh no!'� he answered quickly. 'Well, in a way I suppose. I'm just awfully curious about everything here. I'm the first one of my race to ever be damned.'� He pulled out his ticket, proudly showing it too her. 'Number 000001. There wasn't even a door attendant, just a table with a strand of tickets.'�

'How curious. If I may ask. That it, if it isn't to rude to inquire'�'�

'Why am I here?'� She nodded. 'I asked. You see, my people are naturally peaceful and quiet. Always polite and self-sacrificing. Extremely reserved. It's really amazing we've survived as long as we have.'�

'You do not seem unusually reserved.'�

He laughed in his enticing way, 'True, my dear. I am a philite of a different type entirely. My parents were beside themselves raising me. Too many questions and experiments. Far too high-strung and rebellious. In the end everyone agreed I must be a genetic anomaly. I tend to agree myself. I love my people, but I could not stand to be near them anymore. So when my time unexpectedly arrived, I came here.'�

Tabitha sat silently. The space around her seemed to undulate in a disorientating fashion. In that moment the reality of her situation clashed violently with the surrealism and the impact left her reeling. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to her companion, listless and unsteady.

'Are you alright, miss?'� he asked concernedly 'You seem quite pale.'�

A bubble of frenetic giggling burst from her and Tabitha doubled over in an attempt to control it. Tears fell unbidden into her hands and her body shook fiercely. Something soft touched her cheek and her fingers grasped the cloth without leaving her face. Burying herself in the offered kerchief, Tabitha marveled at her situation.

For seven years, even while striving to make things better for others, she emotionally prepared herself for Hell. Her very existence centered on these mental exercises. Tabitha knew what to expect. The pain and suffering. Terror and hatred and malevolence. Burning pits of oil, blood, gore and sights beyond reckoning. All were the foundation of her inner strength. So far, not that she had traveled very far, nothing resembled her expectations. While comforting, the revelation that kind and courteous people existed in Hell had seriously shaken her carefully laid groundwork. Also, how could a dead person be anything but pale? And'�

'Why do you have a handkerchief with you?'� She lifted her head slowly from her lap.

His face seemed genuinely perplexed, 'I'm not sure. I just thought that it would be nice to have one to give you and then, well, there it was.'� Suddenly he froze, his jade skin paled to a golden green and it was Tabitha's turn to be concerned.

'Is something wrong?'� The question seemed pathetic considering their circumstances.

'It just occurred to me that I haven't introduced myself.'� Mortification played across his young face and Tabitha could not help but assume that such a transgression must be very severe in his world.

'That's okay,'� she offered gently, 'I haven't either.'�

But he would not be deterred, 'I was so happy to finally find you. I can't fathom how I could have forgotten. I'm so very sorry'� See, I can't even apologize properly because I never asked you your own name! I'�'�

'Tabitha! My name is Tabitha McAllister, Mister?'�

'Jayeme hani Merhayme,'� Jayeme looked at the floor, his face shone golden with shame.

Tabitha laid her hand on his, 'Words cannot express how pleased I am to meet you, Jayeme.'�

His other hand fingered absently at the vest he wore. He flicked his huge amber eyes to her soft grays and smiled, 'I've always been a bit absent minded.'�

Tabitha looked about and then back to him, her expression full of mirth. 'Weren't we all?'�

Jayeme stared at her. He burst out laughing and a sour looking old woman fell from the bench in alarm. 'You, dear Tabitha, are quite the find.'� He motioned to the nearest line. 'I think I've wandered around here long enough. What say you?'�

'Why put off the inevitable.'� She stood, smoothing her periwinkle nightgown. 'I wonder if part of your penance in Hell is having to endure the clothing you died in?'� A man passed between them, all his inadequacies displayed for all to see. Jayeme lifted a thin brow. 'Of course,'� she appended, 'I do suppose there are far worse ways to go.'�

'Agreed.'� He offered his arm. She took it, marveling at the absolute irrationality of the situation. In all the years at all the sanitariums and even the years after her agreement, she'd never made a single friend. Now, on the very outskirts of Hell, she found someone she felt kindred to in mind and spirit. Absurd, completely absurd.

If time existed in Styx Station, it passed scarcely at all. Breath measured moments and hours fell with each infrequent step. Curling and flexing her slippered toes, Tabitha mused that being dead seemed a great deal like being alive. Her feet hurt terribly. The unrelenting din dug its way into her head, giving her brain a thorough thrashing. Massaging her temples lightly, she closed her eyes, letting Jayeme guide her. Listening, she honed in on a single voice. It vanished. Then another and another. For every stride she and Jayeme took, a hundred voices fell away. Fifty feet and who knew how many years later, she reopened her eyes. People still shoved and thrashed about in general disarray, but with an eerie silence. Angry words articulated in soundless gestures and motion. Tabitha watched the chaotic, sometimes violent ballet with muted interest, lost in her own detachment.

They waited silently, the desire for conversation sated for a time. The lines leading away from the other side wove drunkenly around bench and body. People cut in and out unnoticed, their nerves fortified and failing. Through it all, the two marched, each consumed by the levity of their thoughts. As the far wall drew closer, Tabitha realized the large sunbursts were actually clocks. Hands inched and sped backward and forward. Some traveled in opposite directions, some together. A few moved not at all. The erratic motions threatened to disorient Tabitha further. Swallowing her stomach, she glared at the clocks, refusing to be undone by such a silly ploy. Jayeme, it seemed, lacked the tenacity to keep the dizzying effect at bay. Black pupils consumed amber eyes and his skin flushed a deep forest green. He staggered, caught himself and then staggered again.

Tabitha moved closer. Threading her tiny fingers through his webbed hand, she supported his forearm with her own. Jayeme looked down at her, but she gazed ahead, expression soft and distant. They continued on without breaking stride. He clenched his hands periodically, continuing to wrestle with dancing insides and crawling skin.

'All my life I've been a devote Catholic. I dedicated my life to God and Jesus. I gave thanks for blessings so miniscule; most people would consider them chastisements. For thirteen years, I contributed nothing worthwhile to the good of humanity. No one knew I existed. I think my family even forgot about me sometimes.'� Tabitha's voice conveyed a sense of sadness, but one without accusation. 'He made me that way for a reason, but I often wonder to what end. What good is a child that breaks at a touch? Who can't play with others because she might infect them with an incurable disease? Such a wretched and useless creature. How could I do God's work like that?'� Jayeme listened silently. 'It's funny, when I think about it. I did more for the greater good after I made my bargain with Lucifer than before I became damned.'�

'Irony?'�

'At its best,'� Tabitha agreed. 'I remember one time in San Francisco, these three men tried to rob a bank. They came in, thunder and powder smoke, ready to kill anyone in their way. You could slice the tension it oozed so thickly. Everything moved along just as they pleased, when the youngest tripped over his own untied laces. He landed on the floor splayed out like a newborn colt and I couldn't help it but I burst out laughing. I thought the other hostages would faint dead away then and there'�'�

Her melancholy appearance melted away with the humorous recollection. She told story after story, recounting the events of her last years with guilty satisfaction. Jayeme followed her tales closely, his queasiness forgotten. Her words alleviated the tiresome wait. By the time they reached the service windows, a crowd of others had fallen in step with them listening with rapt attention. When at last Tabitha stepped up to the window, they all sighed gloomily and trickled back into line. Jayeme smiled once more and took the window beside hers.

A shiny peach dome fringed with brassy hair loomed over two watery, decidedly bored brown eyes. The service associate looked through Tabitha, gaze wandering aimlessly. 'Name?'� he asked in a nasal baritone.

'Tabitha McAllister,'�

The man focused on her face, the tiniest flicker of interest aroused at her cheery tone. 'Let's see, McAllister, McAllister'� Ah, yes. Tabitha McAllister.'� He tapped quickly at a tiny little typewriter, ripping off a small square of paper. Handing it to her he added, 'You are expected. Take the hall to the right, room 311C. Your Claims and Appeals advisor will meet with you shortly to go over your file.'�

'Claims and Appeals?'�

'Don't worry, Ms. McAllister. They'll explain everything to you. I'm just the traffic director, you see?'�

'I do,'� she said unconvincingly. The place seemed awfully confusing. Stepping away from the window, she glanced over at Jayeme.

He held his paper square aloft, 'I'm headed left, you?'�

'Right,'�

He grasped her hand warmly, 'Well then, sweet Tabitha, I truly hope to see you soon. Though I suppose hope has little chance of survival here, I can't help but believe we shall meet again.'�

Strangely, Tabitha felt the same. Considering the vast population and the very nature of Hell, it seemed impossible to imagine them crossing paths in the future. But she knew they would, 'I will see you later.'�

Jayeme nodded. Spinning away, he snaked through several people and turned into the entryway. Tabitha watched him disappear and then made way for her own corridor.



Claims and Appeals



People milled about the hallway. Many looked confusedly around, glancing down at the small pieces of paper clutched in their hands. Tabitha understood their consternation: None of the doors were numbered and every one was locked. For near a mile the corridor went on and door after door passed by without a single identifying mark. Walking unhurriedly, fingers trailing against the gray walls, she felt a sharp prick. Barely breaking the surface, a broken tack pushed out of the plaster. Tabitha rubbed at it curiously. Eyes roaming the painted surface, she noticed other tacks; their flat heads pressed into the wall and painted the same dreary color.

Sliding the edge of a nail around the pin, she loosened it slowly and then pried it from its resting place. Tabitha frowned. It was a silly, immature game. She pinned the tiny square to the nearest door. With an unnerving squeal the knob turned in her hand. Tabitha cast a knowing glance at the man beside her, motioning to the tack and paper. The effect spread like a shockwave. In moments hundreds of people were clawing at the walls. The demeaning system effectively undermined, Tabitha moved into the room and closed the door'�

And stepped into a vast cavern, complete with verdigris stalactites and towering stone columns. Behind her the door remained. Jagged rock framed its dull gray trim. In front of her everything changed. Clouds of miniscule, luminous fish flitted through iridescent pools crowned with quartz. Lanterns cast a amiable glow from myriad nooks and crags. Stone played like chimes under dripping water. Near the center of the cave, on a leveled spot, stood a table and two chairs. Cheep aluminum, formica and vinyl created a measure of dissonance in the harmony of the massive room. A plastic pitcher and two glasses sweated atop the table, endangering a slim manila folder close by.

Tabitha approached the table cautiously, looking about. When no one appeared, she carefully lifted the edge of the folder. Inside laid a single sheet of paper written in a language unknown to her. It seemed like a list. Six lines of printed text made for a short, unintelligible read.

'Not very impressive, is it?'�

Tabitha dropped the folder cover with a start, gaze snapping up guilty. Leaning casually against the far wall, stood a man. Or something of the like. His features were decidedly human. Unquestionably alien. The bright, lopsided and somewhat sharp grin stood out in contrast to his coppery skin. Crimson scales contoured his brow fading down to the youthful line of a strong jaw. A shock of red hair pushed out over a tapering line of tiny horns and slightly pointed ears.

'I'm sorry I made you wait so long,'� he offered friendlily. 'Please, take a seat.'�

'I didn't wait very long. If anything, working my way through this childish establishment wasted the most time.'� Pulling out a chair, she sat leisurely but never took her eyes off the man.

'It's foolish to be afraid.'� He shifted the box at his side from one arm to the other. 'I have neither the authority nor the desire to touch, much less harm, you.'�

Tabitha's skin prickled. Whether she reacted to the patronizing tone or his ability to detect her apprehension, she couldn't say. 'You need not worry,'� she proclaimed coldly. 'I stare, not out of fear, but because I have never seen anyone endowed with such freakish features before. Though, I expect you will be the first of many grotesque creatures I shall encounter henceforth.'�

The man's smile faltered and a muscle in his cheek twitched violently. Tabitha felt a stab of satisfaction, marveling at her own uncharacteristic audacity. Silence followed her retort, punctuated only by the occasional tapping of a single claw-like fingernail against the box he carried.

Tabitha motioned to the other chair, 'Care to sit down?'� After a moment's time he pushed himself away from the wall, absently brushing at his khakis and white buttoned shirt. The pants, top and brown leather loafers seemed ill-suited to the locale.

The box dropped onto the table with a clunk. Its lid fell to the floor, revealing more folders within. The man sat with an equally unceremonious thud. He glared at Tabitha with astonishingly effulgent blue eyes. She glanced away, feeling a twinge of remorse at the genuinely wounded expression within them. Even if it was only his vanity I injured.

'I'm your claims and appeals representative for today,'� he began stonily. 'On a normal basis we would examine and compare your sin-virtue ratio, so you could understand why you are here and not there,'� he pointed up. 'Any objections would be logged and considered for redemption. Then it's off to Housing or Allocations for placement. You, however, are a special case, Ms. McAllister.'� He pushed the box toward her. 'This represents all the noteworthy good deeds you've done in the past. This,'� he waved the solitary folder, 'represents any significant transgressions. Most of the apostles in Heaven don't have a folder this thin. As a rule, you would by and large be sent straight to Sirius, St. Peter or whomever your beliefs entail. I guess you didn't care to follow the beaten path, Ms. McAllister?'�

'I have no desire to explain myself to you. Besides, I'm sure my contract is around somewhere, you can read the details there.'�

'I have. Quite the novelty around here. The problem, Ms. McAllister, is that we're not sure what to do with you. The council has been mulling at the idea for several years now and still has yet to come to a decision.'�

'I don't understand. I sold my soul to the Devil. How much more eligible can I be for Hell?'�

'Eh, but look at all the disgustingly good deeds you accomplished with the time you gained. Honestly, I think they are afraid you might taint the place. For that reason you shall be assigned temporary housing in one of our gentler districts. I've already made all the arrangements. Please keep clear of trouble. I'm sure you'll find someway to occupy your time. When a sufficient path has been decided on, I'll notify you personally,'� he pushed his chair away from the table. 'There is a woman waiting for you outside. She'll escort you outside and fill you in on any vital information.'�

Tabitha stood and held out a hand, 'Thank you for your time, Sir.'�

He hesitated and then extended his own, revealing an the fringes of a tattoo where the sleeve rose. 'Don't call me Sir,'� he told her, his voice still sullen. 'I'm too young for titles like that. My name is Luc.'�

Tabitha smiled briefly, 'And I'm younger than you. But as long as you see fit to address me as Ms. McAllister, I shall address you in kind. Good day, Sir.'� She spun and walked smartly from the cavern.



***



Viscous and wet and slippery blackness enveloped everything. Every choking breath welcomed a lashing of cinnamon and milk gone over and festered wounds. A hundred points of needled ivory slipped from the confines of their bulbous, rotting drapes. Hidden in the smothering dark, the smile came and went unknown to all save one. As he allowed the tattered lips to sheath his daggered teeth, a thought slugged through the muffled darkness. Breathless. Deafening. Where'� is'� Venir?

A slight form shifted, moving close to the mass of putrid flesh. 'He is with his new as'chiva, Master.'�

Find'� him.

'Yes Master. At once.'�

The'� time'� has'� come. It'� has'� returned.



***



Luc watched her slip through the gray door. As it closed, the ugly metal structure melted into crystalline sediment. Rocking back, he propped his feet on the table.

'What a terror.'�

'Funny she was so sweet before. Maybe it's you.'�

Luc jumped, sending the precariously balanced chair toppling backward. CRACK! Cradling his head, he cursed loudly. 'Damn it, Dad! Don't sneak up on me like that!'�

Lucifer moved to the empty chair and sat down, 'You're a fine one for paying attention, Luc. What if I'd been a Scavian?'�

'Then I would have smelled you coming.'� Luc righted himself, joining his father at the table, 'If you're so concerned about Scavians, go warn Damon or Darius. They are more at risk. What would a thing like that want with this place?'�

'Your brothers can handle themselves,'� the elder said mildly, 'You, however'�'�

'Alright! Drop it, please,'� Luc pleaded. He picked up a glass of water, rolling the dripping plastic in his hands. 'What did you want anyway?'�

'We will return to this conversation later, Luscious.'�

'Whatever,'� he hissed. Luc loathed his father. They shared the same eyes, same brow, same smile. But for all their many physical similarities, the two differed vastly most every other way.

The lord ignored his son's mood, 'How did your interview go?'�

Luc shuddered, 'Why is she here again?'�

Lucifer shrugged, 'She's contracted.'�

'So, contracts are nullified all the time,'� he pointed to the vanished door, 'That little snippet defines altruism. I'm surprised she's not up for sainthood.'�

'She will be,'�

Luc leaned across the table. 'Then why didn't He take her?'�

'He rarely enlightens me as to His plans, son. We haven't exactly been on speaking terms of late. Besides, there is more than Tabitha to consider. How did the Philite get here?'�

'By his own choosing; so he says,'� Luc laughed at that. 'Since when do people just decide to come to Hell? A lot of questions here, old man. Why don't you enlighten me to some answers?'�

Lucifer shook his head absently, 'Those two have a purpose here, but I'm damned if I know what. We'll just have to wait see.'� He looked at Luc, 'I assume you put them together?'�

'Of course! I set them up at Charyl's new place, She'll keep them entertained until we figure this all out.'�

Lucifer frowned, 'Interesting choice, but I am concerned about their safety. Charyl is good but if the darker powers take notice, she'll be woefully outclassed.'�

'What would you suggest?'�

'You.'�

'What!'�

'Come on, Luc. You hate running Styx, you've always bugged me about doing something important and now's your chance. I want you to watch out for Tabitha and Jayeme. Especially Tabitha. Jayeme very well may be a simple fluke, but that girl has divine intervention oozing out of every pore.'�

'I am not a babysitter! How can you even consider this an important job? Damon gets the West Vortex. Darius leads the Order. And you expect me to keep tabs on that dagger-tongued Mother Teresa! That woman is'� completely'� entirely'�'�

'Perfect,'� Lucifer finished for his stammering progeny, laughing explosively. The joviality faded from his black eyes, 'Absolutely perfect.'�





***







The woman designated to escort Tabitha out was Elenar. A human, pure and true, she lived in Styx all her life.

'Born and raised,'� she answered proudly when Tabitha asked.

'Humans can be born in Hell?'� The idea seemed entirely ludicrous.

'Why of course, honey! This is a world like any other. It's just that several other realms lead here as well. Think of it as a collection and disbursement point. My daddy walked straight outta a Paris subway and right into Styx. Never even died!'�

'My word! How strange.'�

'You bet! They were in an uproar about what to do with him. Wanted to send him back and all, but Daddy wouldn't have none of that! He never did have a home on Earth, said Hell couldn't be much worse than wandering aimlessly. Right about twenty years later he met my Momma, bless her she'd come in fresh from Georgia. Well, alls all and here I am.'�

'That's incredible. Where are they now? If you don't mind me asking.'�

'Not at all, honey, not at all!'� Elenar went on joyfully. 'Mamma redeemed herself some ten years back. They chose not to reincarnate; wanted to be together instead. Second Fall last year they took door 686 too look in on some old friends, newly reborn. They should be back First Summer. Of course, they may decide to go'�'�

Elenar went on chatting, gleefully unaware of Tabitha's waning attention. Jaw still clenched tightly, she couldn't quiet her raging thoughts. While seven years of unrelenting strain found her cursed with sometimes insufferable wit, her temperament remained unchanged. Never one quick to anger, Tabitha was unaccustomed to her own reaction. She had never been so blatantly rude before. But the man'� demon'� person's demeanor, his very presence, put her on edge instantly. Trying to calm herself, she concentrated on Elenar's constant prattling.

The pair walked down corridor after corridor, each identical to the next, taking lefts and rights with abandon. Moments after Elenar ushered her through the first doorway, Tabitha became completely disoriented. At some unrealized point, Elenar ceased talking. Tabitha looked at her ashamed and embarrassed for ignoring her, but the woman hadn't seemed to notice.

Two ornate wooden doors marked the end of their labyrinthine journey. On the left, a scantly clad maiden with dancing hair and ribbons twirled gaily to a satyr's flute. Unicorns grazed under fluttering willow boughs. To the right, the same satyr played, but with a sinister eye. The girl danced on, thrashing about while flames melted flesh from bone. Skeletal forms hung from tangled creepers, their bones twisted with repulsive design.

Tabitha's eyes shifted between the alluring and the atrocious. A presence lingered. Unseen eyes. Waiting. Watching. Her short life taught her one thing: Simple choices tended toward complexity in the end. Hand lingering before the two heavy bronze handles, she looked at Elenar.

'Which door should I choose?'�

Elenar's kindly face grew pensive, her voice grave, 'That is a decision only you can make, Tabitha. I cannot tell you what lies beyond, because I do not know.'� Her expression softened, 'Understand this: Only that which you give power, can hold power over you. Be it in Heaven or Hell, your destiny is the consequence of your actions, your beliefs, your heart and no one else's.'� She gestured to the doors, 'This is just an exit; if that is all you take it as.'�

'Do I still have a destiny?'� Tabitha wondered aloud.

'Oh darling!'� Elenar exclaimed, her demeanor once again jovial. 'You haven't even begun to walk that path! Earth, your life and death there, it's nothing but the gestation of the soul. This is your birth. Right here and now.'�

'Figures'�'� Elenar looked at her questioningly and Tabitha flashed a small smile, 'I'm a woman through and through. Completely indecisive.'�

Fingers rubbing her dampened palms, Tabitha looked again from one door to the next. Grasping both handles, she pushed the doors open. And all the world was afire.



Welcome Home





Red flame spread from horizon the very threshold at which they stood. Tabitha threw her hands up, desperate to ward off the heat. She quickly realized that it wasn't very hot at all. Through watering eyes she glimpsed a land drenched in the crimson light of a setting sun.

Nothing burned save the golden glow of torches newly lit for the coming night. Grass edged a gray stone road, rolling away and carpeting far-away hills. Green and healthy, if not the lush lawns of Elysian lore. Tiny, lopsided flowers pushed through cracks in the road, stubbornly announcing their existence. A great forest loomed in the distance, spreading shadowy fingers up the sides of an outlying range of jagged cliffs. The road cut a meandering path past a few bedraggled buildings and disappeared around a stand of oaks.

'Not what you anticipated?'�

'Yes and no,'� Tabitha answered absently. 'Nothing thus far has even approached what I imagined. I fear I'm far beyond meeting expectations now.'� She stepped out of the entryway, more than expecting everything to turn to ash and cinders. The world outside remained solid and unchanged.

'Can you skip the goggling? I want to get home before dark and I already wasted enough time dragging the other one along.'�

Tabitha shrieked in alarm when something grabbed her arm. Swinging blindly at the source, she felt her hand connect solidly with flesh and bone. Head pivoting to follow she found her fist buried in the soft indent of a girl's cheek. Liquid brown eyes, so large with shock they threatened to burst, slid from Tabitha's face to the hand dug into her own.

Flushing hotly, Tabitha withdrew her fist, 'I'm so very sorry! You startled me to no end and, well, the reaction's become instinctive I'm afraid. I can't begin to'�'�

'Please, shut up!'� the girl growled. A furry hand explored the swelling skin tenderly. 'Damn but you hit hard for a mouse!'� She glared at Tabitha, 'What are you looking at?'�

Brow furrowed deeply, Tabitha couldn't fathom the answer to that question. Definitely not a human. Soft brown hair covered much of the girl's body. Thickest on the shoulders, legs and back, it tapered to tawny, freckled skin at the bared chest, through the abdomen and loins. Mostly humanoid, her face bore feline features as well. Soft pointed ears and short chestnut hair crowned her head. A broad forehead narrowed to a pointed chin and thin white fangs peeked out of her almost lipless mouth. Attired in a hide skirt and myriad belts strung with weapons and trinkets, the small female seemed fierce and foreign. Though the girl also stood a head shorter than Tabitha and, she determined, seemed much younger indeed.

Blinking rapidly, Tabitha broke out of her reverie. 'Forgive my staring. There are so many new things'�'�

The girl's paw shot into the air, cutting Tabitha off with a snap. 'Stop with the apologizing. It's embarrassing. For you!'� She looked at the woman still standing in the doorway. 'Geez Elenar, why did I get shackled with this lousy job?'�

Elenar smiled fondly at the little creature, 'You'll have to take that up with Master Luscious, Charyl.'�

'Not a chance I'm talking to that stuck-up pig again!'�

'So you've said many times,'� the woman answered mildly. To Tabitha, 'My dear, this is where I'll be leaving you. Charyl here is a spitfire for sure, but once you get to know her you won't hate her quite as much. And you'll be safe with her. I do hope you'll come visit me some time! Styx is a lonely place, especially with Momma and Daddy gone.'� Elenar waved to her, careful to keep her hands inside.

'You can't leave there. Can't come out?'�

'No. Not yet, at least. Maybe someday, but until then you'll have to take a rain check on house calls.'� Creaking loudly, the doors began to swing shut.

'Thank you. Elenar.'� Tabitha spoke through the diminishing crack. 'I'll be sure to visit, if I can!'� The doors closed soundlessly, leaving an uneasy feeling of unfulfillment.

'Well wasn't that sweet. Now, if you're done with your heartfelt goodbyes, let's get moving.'� She hooked a thumb at the horizon, 'The sun doesn't wait for anyone, even you princess.'�

Tabitha shivered in irritation. What a rude little beast! 'Then stop running your mouth and get on with it!'� she snapped.

Charyl's whiskers twitched. 'Feisty, eh?'� She turned and headed down the road, 'I bet he just loved you.'�

'Who?'� Tabitha asked, jogging to catch up. But the girl waved a hand dismissively and said no more. The two walked silently into the dusk.

A billion shining stars fought for Tabitha's attention that night. They saturated the sky, unrecognizable in pattern or location. The lights of distant suns, one of which could be her own. Preoccupied with her dazzling companions, she failed to notice her guide's stationary form until she plowed into it.

'S'�'�

'Don't say it. Accept the fact that you're a klutz with silent dignity. If not for you sake, do it for me.'�

'Are we there yet?'� Tabitha asked, trying unsuccessfully to moderate her own irritated tone.

'Yes, as a matter of a fact we are; as I was about to say, before you stupidly mauled me from behind. Stepping to the side, she pointed down a shallow incline to a dark patch of night below the road. 'Watch carefully, Earthgirl.'� With a snap of her fingers, seven faint orbs sprang into existence. They grew slowly, each birthing an ever expanding pool of light. When the illuminated spheres finally met, they fused with a flash. Revealed in this impressive show of luminosity, a circle of buildings popped into view. 'Welcome to Nano.'�

Charyl squinted and jabbed a finger at one of the houses, causing its porch lamp to flare, 'That is our destination.'� She smiled viciously. Shoving Tabitha hard, she added, 'Watch your step!'�

Tabitha half-ran half-fell down through the heavy underbrush. Tripping over a log, she landed on her knees next to the closest building, just inside the light. Charyl dropped down beside her. The girl's catlike face was frozen with fear, her eyes roving over Tabitha concernedly. Realizing her charge remained unharmed she sighed, 'Good light above, girl! Don't scare me like that!'�

'Scare you! What in God's name do you mean, 'Scare you'�? You pushed me down a hill in the middle of the night!'�

Charyl backed up a bit, 'I guess I figured you were tougher than that. Tumbling down on account of a little tap like that!'�

Tabitha took a deep breath and reduced herself to glaring. She doubted anyone could win an argument with that creature.

Charyl jerked her head to one side. 'Let's go. It really is getting dark out. The lamps won't last long and this is Hell.'� Pulling Tabitha to her feet, she dragged the bruised woman through the town. Tabitha glanced at the passing buildings, but could make out little in the waning light. 'You can look at everything tomorrow.'�

They stopped before a two story building. Two windows, on above and one below, glowed faintly, but all else lost itself to the dark.

'Finally!'� Charyl grumbled, stomping up the porch stairs. Tabitha hesitated. 'What are you dawdling for?'� Not waiting for a reply, she disappeared through the front door.

Tabitha watched the crease of light grow and fade with its opening and closing. She felt completely adrift, unhinged from reality. For a place of eternal suffering, things in Hell moved far too quickly. She had no idea where she was or why. Moving up the steps unsteadily, Tabitha wondered where this door would lead her.

As her fingers brushed the cool metal knob, it swung open of its own accord. There, emerald skin lit from behind, waited Jayeme. Standing in everything unknown, the familiar face, even one so new in her mind, crashed through her like a wave. Bursting into tears, Tabitha lunged forward clasping him tightly. He embraced her warmly as she sobbed into his chest.

'I dare say, I never imagined I'd have this effect on women!'� Tabitha laughed at that, looking up at him. Jayeme wiped a tear from her face. 'It has been a long day,'� he added.

'It has.'�

'I think I'm going to be sick!'� a voice piped from the back of the room.

Tabitha glared at Charyl through Jayeme's arm, 'And here I hoped you'd disappeared.'�

'That's gratitude for you!'�

'Charyl, dear, don't be so mean,'� Jayeme admonished.

The beastie shrugged, 'Whatever.'� She moved to the staircase, 'I'm beat.'� Ascending halfway, she stopped and looked back, frowning. 'Tabitha, your room is up here. Are you coming or not?'�

Disengaging herself from Jayeme, Tabitha looked up at Charyl, surprised at the almost friendly tone. 'Yes, I'll be right there.'�

Charyl nodded and went up. Tabitha glanced at Jayeme, 'What did you do to her?'�

'She's a sweet kid. You'll see.'�

'If you say so. I guess I'll see you in the morning.'�

'For sure,'� Jayeme said seriously, 'We have a lot to discuss.'�

Tabitha dipped her head in agreement, 'You sense it too?'�

'Yes.'�

Squeezing his hand once, Tabitha moved to follow Charyl. At the foot of the stairs she paused, 'Goodnight, Jayeme.'�

'Goodnight,'� he replied. 'Oh, and Tabitha...'�

'Yes?'�

'Welcome home.'�





***





Invisible in the night, Luc leaned against a tree outside. He watched the human girl and the philite with mild fascination. Charyl took to Jayeme instantly, in her own way of course. Her reaction to Tabitha seemed mixed and that intrigued him. Leotides were notoriously stubborn creatures, driven by instinct more that logical thought. They decided instantly whether they trusted someone or not. The human had to be unusual to puzzle Charyl. It also explained his volatile reaction to the confounding young woman. Somewhere within her, Tabitha held two very different energies. One, the virtuous and unusually strong force she had shaped and refined during her short lifetime. The other hid deep within her, untouched and unnoticed. Luc could barely detect it. Time would tell where the root of that power lay.

Inside, Tabitha ascended the stairs. The lights flickered out, first downstairs, then up. Shadows enveloped the house, plunging it into a darkness even Luc's keen vision could not penetrate. He stared into the gloom, the source of everything ominous just beyond his gaze. Time, he thought, Time will illuminate everything. With a frustrated sigh, he turned away. And came face to face with the philite.

'You don't strike me as the skulking stalker type.'�

Luc stood rigidly, aware of the shocked, confused look on his face and completely incapable of banishing it. Father's right I need to be more careful. If he had been a Scavian, I would be dead.

'So, I assume you have a reasonable explanation for loitering out here in the dark?'� Jayeme continued.

'Just making sure you settled in properly.'� Luc offered weakly.

'Quite well. Though most inquiries are best executed when the subject of one's curiosity is addressed'�um'�personally.'�

'I thought I arrived too late,'� Luc stammered on numbly. 'The house was dark and thought I'd come back tomorrow'�'� Jayeme's mouth twitched and Luc cursed quietly, realizing his error. Deception would be pointless. He sighed, 'Or perhaps someone sent me here to see that you arrived safely and to, unfortunately, check on the two of you often. So, my stealthy friend, you can expect such visits regularly.'�

The philite's delicate features softened; his expression grew pensive. Stepping past the other man, Jayeme sat down on a crumbling section of wall.

'You can't figure her out either, can you?'� Luc asked quietly, moving to sit beside him.

'No, not at all. And for me, that is something rare.'� Jayeme stared down at his hands. Their fine webbing glowed softly in the night, the brightest points of his luminescent body. 'Yesterday, or whenever it was, I knew nothing beyond my own world. And that knowledge I've found quite unreliable of late. But even in my naiveté, I can feel a wrongness, a peculiarity.'�

Luc rested his head in his hands, pushing lightly on the horns about his head. 'You and me both. And we're not alone; my father senses something. I've never seen him this on edge before. It has been subtle for the last few years, but since she arrived his unease is more apparent.'�

'What can make the Devil nervous?'� The question lingered for a breathless moment.

'You knew who my father was?'�

'I guessed as much, but in truth I coerced it out of my hostess.'�

Luc looked at the philite with burgeoning respect. He had definitely underestimated the man's perceptiveness.

Jayeme seemed to be appraising Luc with equal intensity, 'I would be interested in knowing what and where she was before.'�

Luc watched the amber glow of the Sadien moon wash over tiled roof ridges. He nodded slowly, 'I'll look into it.'� Pushing himself up, he walked toward the town's black heart. Cloaked in utter darkness, he turned back. Jayeme met his gaze, golden eyes visible in the gloom. 'I didn't think the Philites subscribed to the whole God and the Devil spiel?'� He couldn't see, but he felt the philite smile.

'We don't.'� Jayeme answered, 'I heard the term used often enough, in Styx, to grasp the general idea.'�

'Just checking.'� Satisfied, Luc continued on, leaving the enduring questions to be scrutinized under a new day's light.

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