Page 273 of Castings & Curses

“I uh… I should have said something, but I guess I wasn’t paying attention…” She twists her hair around her finger nervously. This girl needs to stop these nervous habits. It is unbecoming.

Instinctively, I reach out for her hand and pull it down, my gaze fixed on her. “Spit it out.”

“Uh… I don’t eat chicken. Or any meat, really,” she admits as she cowers in her seat.

I shut my eyes, my lips pursed. Great. Not only has fate dropped a lost soul in my lap, but she is also a vegetarian. I sigh, dropping her hand and opening my eyes.

“This would have been helpful knowledge, yes,” I agree.

“It’s fine… I’ll just…”

Hearing her speak this way makes my gut twist with an innate understanding. Being a creature of Hell myself, I recognize the behaviors, the tells of individuals who have been berated, mistreated in one way or another.

Mercy’s body language, the tone of her voice, her inability to meet my gaze. Her insistence to put her own discomfort aside to alleviate an argument or a problem all tell me this sweet, lost soul has likely been emotionally abused.

The notion pains me, making my chest swell with anger, something I was not expecting to feel. I shove the feeling aside, focusing on the moment at hand, on how I should handle this situation.

What is the right thing to do?

“I will prepare you something feasible for your palate,” I say evenly.

Her gaze darts up to me, and I don’t miss the surprise in her eyes. “You don’t have to do that,” she says in the sweetest voice of defeat.

“Nonsense. You are my guest. For the time being, anyway. Until we figure things out. Which we will do… tomorrow,” I say as I disappear around the corner and into the kitchen again, looking for something suitable.

“Thank you, Endor,” she calls after me.

“Don’t thank me yet,” I grumble as I pull out a pan of vegetables and pop it into the still hot oven, turning it on once more.

Don’t thank me until we get to the bottom of how a lost soul got into Hell without drawing any attention…

CHAPTER8

Endor

My hand hoveredover the send button on my computer screen. A part of me didn’t want to admit that reality to anyone. Didn’t want to admit there were things out of my department, that I wasn’t equipped to handle because it wasn’t my job. After all, the higher ups were still watching me.

What if this is the final straw?

What if my alerting Roche about Mercy being a lost soul is the thing they choose to settle the score?

I stare at my computer screen in thought before looking down the dark hallway. After a decent helping of potatoes, steamed vegetables, and pasta, I’d shown Mercy to the bedroom and bathroom, urging her to get some rest.

Lost souls tend to feel more exhaustion because so much of their energy is put toward simply existing. Yet, it’s drained because there isn’t a clear “choice” of where they will rest.

Heaven and Hell are two sides of the same coin. It doesn’t matter what religion you’re raised in, or what kind of spiritual mumbo-jumbo you’re into. It’s less about following the rules or choosing sin, and more about weight of character, the power of your choice. And we all have a choice, I realize as I sit in front of my computer, faced with the first one I’ve ever felt truly conflicted about.

If I do nothing, what will happen to her?

Lost souls aren’t something that are freely talked about, even here in Hell. We’re told they exist, told the basics of why they are lost—because they belong to no specific place. They simply have not made a choice. But no one’s ever said what their fate is, if they never decide.

Mercy seems like a decent kid.

Kid.

The word makes a strange swelling feeling in my chest. It tightens like a vice, making me feel guilty—wrong even—to consider my fate more important than hers. Measuring my own personal goals is more important than that of her soul.

It’s a startling moment of clarity I never thought I’d have, and I press the button without another question, wondering if I’ve just punched my ticket to staying in HAD the rest of my demonic life.

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