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  “When are you coming back home, Daddy?” she asked.

  “Soon, baby, I swear. As soon as I can.”

  “What happens if you get lost?”

  Henry wasn’t sure where the fear had come from, but just before that trip, his baby girl became obsessed with knowing where he and Sam were at all times. She was so afraid that they’d either get lost or lose her.

  “I won’t get lost,” he said. “And if I ever do, I’ll always be able to find you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I love you so very much, and that love is like an arrow. It will always lead me back to you.” Henry felt corny at the time, and downright prescient in reflection while watching from the shadows.

  Samantha clicked Stop and cried out, grabbing a wad of tissues beside her on the couch and blowing her nose.

  Beside the pile of Blu-rays stood an empty bottle of wine. Cheap shit from Trader Joe’s, not the good stuff she’d been buying since Henry had landed the deal. Not a good sign. Sam loved good wine, but part, if not most, of her still felt guilty when spending large sums of money. Especially on something like wine, which she referred to as her recipe for expensive piss. Cheap shit meant she planned to drink by the gallon.

  Which was even more worrisome with the bottle of OxyContin beside it.

  Henry stared at Samantha from his shadows, helpless as she picked up the bottle, shaking who-knew-how-many pills into her palm, then slapping them past her lips and into her mouth.

  Henry wondered how long she’d been crying. Her face was so red and splotchy, and her eyes were bleached of their twinkle.

  He couldn’t stand seeing her suffer, couldn’t allow it to happen. Not a few feet away, where he could end her torment with a sentence or a touch. He stood in the shadows for another minute, pushing his arms through the dark, almost daring Samantha to see him, most of him hoping she would see him and draw him from the shadows to comfort her.

  Would she see him for who he once was? The man who loved her back even when she was broken? Or would she see the monster he had become?

  Go to her. Let her know you’re here.

  Fuck Boothe. Let him do his worst!

  He can’t steal this moment.

  It wasn’t fair to leave her in anguish, not when he could soothe her pain. She didn’t have to be alone. Henry stepped toward Samantha, shedding shadows like dead skin.

  I’m here. Look up.

  Please, just look up, Sam.

  Then she did, her eyes opening wide in surprise.

  Their eyes locked, and fear, joy, and a hundred other feelings swelled in Henry’s heart as he approached her.

  He would’ve told her everything, but before he managed another step, or said a single word, he was gone.

  Henry’s body hummed, vibrating with a screaming frequency that ripped him from one spot in the universe and dropped him into another. He blinked, back in the shitty apartment where he’d ended the asshole an hour before.

  Boothe stood over the asshole’s girlfriend. The blonde who had taken the photo. He stood with one foot on either side of her dead, crumpled body. Henry screamed, not at the dead girl beneath Boothe, but at being taken away from Sam just seconds from contact.

  “Why?” Henry yelled, though he quickly realized Boothe might not know where he’d been, and he should aim his anger at the present scene to perhaps conceal what would surely piss the demon off. He shook off his usual blur and disorientation. “What the fuck, Boothe?”

  “Like so many things since we met, this is your fault, not mine.”

  Henry wasn’t sure if he was getting scolded for going home, for stepping from the shadows to speak with Samantha, or, somehow, for the dead body lying cold between the demon’s feet.

  “Wanna give me a fucking hint? I’m way better at taking my spanking when I know what it’s for.”

  “You let her take a picture of you, Henry. I told you, explicitly, that you are never, ever to be seen. I’ve cleaned your messes a few times now, but I might not be there next time. Believe me, you’ll learn far more from the experience if I’m not, but then I won’t get my part from our little arrangement. That doesn’t seem fair to me. Does it to you?”

  Something about how Boothe carelessly stepped over the blonde’s body sent a flush of anger through Henry. He flashed back to her terrified face as the asshole’s hand hovered above her, ready to strike. Her eyes had gone from surprise to horror to gratitude as Henry destroyed him.

  He turned on Boothe and screamed. “How could you kill her? She was innocent and didn’t deserve to die! I thought we weren’t supposed to take innocent lives!”

  Henry wanted to scream louder, to beat at the demon’s chest and break him to nothing, like he had broken the asshole. Instead, he only muttered, “She was innocent,” over and over.

  “You’re right, Henry. She was innocent, but I didn’t do this. You’re responsible.”

  “No! You killed her!” Henry roared.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have been in such a hurry to get home to your wife. I told you not to return, and yet, what did you do the second I turned my back? You went running to Samantha like some lovesick puppy.”

  “She’s my wife! Do you expect me to suddenly forget our life together and sit back and pretend like I can’t see her? She’s a wreck, Boothe. She’s on the verge of self-destruction, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna sit back and do nothing!”

  “I told you not to go,” Boothe said, calmly.

  Henry exploded. “My wife! Maybe if you ever cared about anyone other than yourself and your stupid fucking rules, you might understand. Maybe I’m not human anymore, but I’m not dead inside like you.”

  Something flashed across Boothe’s face, an expression Henry had yet to see in their short time together, and one he definitely didn’t understand. It was almost as if the demon’s face displayed a new emotion. Something between rage, anger, and a resigned breed of defeat.

  He didn’t ponder it long, because before he knew it Boothe grabbed Henry by the throat and snarled, “Never speak to me that way again, Henry, or you will spend an eternity in Hell getting raped by Hellounds with no sun to ever set on your torment. Do you understand me?”

  The demon’s hands bent into claws, digging deep into his throat. He fought for air the to answer. Suddenly, the discomfort of vibrating into a different plane folded through Henry’s body. He found himself able to scream as he opened his eyes back in Purgatory.

  Boothe wasn’t there.

  “Hello!” Henry cried into the silence.

  Broken city and ashen sky were everywhere, their colors all missing.

  Henry screamed until he thought of Amélie, and remembered Nowhere was exactly where he had wanted to go.

  He headed down the broken road in search of his daughter, hoping to God Boothe didn’t find her first.

  CHAPTER 18

  Henry stumbled through Nowhere, walking in circles while cursing Heaven above, hating Boothe for dropping him back into the soul-twisting vacuum. He had to find Amélie, but the world around him was a dark haze.

  Amélie had probably gone toward the garden, since that’s what Henry told her to do. He couldn’t find it, though he looked everywhere, trying to think of anything besides Amélie crying, lost and searching for safety.

  He spun, frantically looking around as his eyes begged for color. Green, blue, lavender like he’d seen growing in long rows around the table. Anything other than the fog of nothing.

  Thunder rumbled above, bringing a cool breeze which threatened rain. The thought of even drizzle in Nowhere frightened Henry, though he wasn’t sure why.

  He pressed on into the darkness, chasing instinct rather than memory. Eventually, the haze dimmed, giving way to light in the distance, gradually growing brighter until Henry blinked in disbelief at the giant Tree’s glowing outline. He ran until reaching the garden, ignoring its majesty as he raced forward, unwilling to allow its beauty to awe or overwhelm him.

  “Amélie
!”

  The Tree was different. Taller and wider. Blacker somehow, despite its glowing leaves. The long table was still suited for one hundred, but held none.

  He screamed “Amélie!” until his throat was raw, turning in a full circle, eyes scanning the thick mist darkening the garden for any sign of movement. Something behind him hissed. The rustle of fabric. Henry turned as a shape formed in the mist.

  Randall, not Amélie, stared at him as though he’d been watching for a while. A small smile lifting the corner of his lips. His pewter hair and white robe swayed in a breeze that seemed to follow at his back.

  “Good to see you again, Henry Black.”

  Something about Randall angered Henry. He had no idea what. Maybe because he should have done more to stop him from accepting Boothe’s offer. It could’ve also been his smug judgment, or simply the white of his robes.

  “Have you seen my daughter, Amélie? She was here, calling, begging me to find her.”

  “Yes.” Randall nodded. “I’ve seen her. I tried to help, but she was too frightened to listen. I told her it was okay, and that her father would want her to trust me. She didn’t believe me, and ran back toward The Forgotten.”

  “The Forgotten?”

  “Yes, the Forgotten. Lost souls are stuck, often for centuries, many losing their minds until what used to be human is putty.”

  Henry swallowed. “The place with the crumbling buildings and people in windows? Looks like a bomb exploded a thousand years ago and all the road crews are on strike?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, God. I’ve gotta find her!”

  “No!” Randall’s hands flew to Henry’s shoulders. "If you go inside, you’ll never leave.”

  “I’m not abandoning my daughter in that broken pile of Hell. Besides, I’ve already been there once and found my way back. I’ll do it again.” He turned from Randall, even though he had no idea how to reach the Forgotten. There was nothing but darkness around them.

  “You are not an innocent, Henry. Only the mind of an innocent is safe from being haunted by their sins inside the Forgotten. She’s a child, so she’ll be safe for a while. And far less likely to get lost.”

  “But I’ve already made it through,” Henry repeated. “And I have to find her.”

  “That was before your transformation. Enter now, and you’ll be lost within a day. Even if you find Amélie, you’ll be of no use. And might be a danger.”

  Henry refused to listen. “Is there a chance she could get stuck? A chance she could lose her mind?”

  “Of course.” Randall nodded. “Nothing exists without chance.”

  “Then you’ve gotta show me where it is.”

  “I will tell you how to reach the Forgotten … if you tell me what Boothe has you doing on Earth.”

  “What?” Henry was reminded of every night club manager he’d ever dealt with.

  You do this if you want that.

  “What business is Boothe having you tend to?”

  Henry shifted, uncertain what he should, or even could, say. Boothe wouldn’t want him talking to Randall. Yet, if the man in black was bad, odds and common sense agreed — the man in white was good.

  “Can you tell me where the Forgotten is first?”

  “Yes, but I won’t. I prefer a show of faith from you, Henry.” He smiled. “Not an unreasonable request.”

  “Boothe is helping me find the men who murdered my daughter.”

  “And murdered you, Henry,” Randall reminded gently.

  “Yeah, and me. And raped my wife,” he said, tasting the hate on his tongue.

  Randall winced as if Henry had used the C-word to his grandma, in church.

  “I’m going to kill all three of them.”

  Randall stared at Henry, saying nothing. His eyes broadcast a bottomless sorrow into Henry’s soul. Not at him, but for him. Henry felt rage rather than comfort.

  Who are you to judge me, you condescending cocksucker?

  “Are you sure you’re using the right word? There is a difference between help and coercion.”

  “Thanks, professor, but I don’t see it,” Henry sneered. “No such thing as coercion when the coerced is locked, loaded, and ready to pay these fuckers back.”

  “You’re weaving a rope, Henry, thread by thread, tying your future to a fate you’re blind to. Consequence is bred by your choices. Tie yourself to what’s right … or to an anchor around your ankle, dragging you to Hell. How do you want to spend your eternity?”

  “Last I heard, free will didn’t cover shit happens. I’ll link the fucking chain as long as I need to, until it gets me where I need to go. Boothe’s done more for me and my family than you have.”

  “You can’t trust him. Boothe, like all demons, will wrap your neck in silk so you’re half asleep before seeing the leash. His insides are twisted, and he twists yours further with every lie. He will say whatever he needs if it will get someone to help him, and he will omit that which does not serve his cause.”

  “Get someone to help him do what?”

  Randall was quiet. Then, in barely a whisper, “I cannot say.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” Henry glared at him.

  “Both.” He held Henry’s stare. “There are rules around what each of us can and should know.”

  Henry wanted to find whoever made these so-called rules and wear his skin as a dress. “Again with the fucking rules?” he barked, somewhere between a laugh and a yell. “What’s with you people and your rules and all the secret-decoder-ring bullshit? Can’t you ever speak clearly?”

  “That isn’t how it works here.” Randall moved his eyes to the sky. “Or up there. Some things are a matter of faith. You must trust me so you can turn from the darkness. I can help you more than any demon, and will, if you allow it.”

  Randall’s smile was an invitation, but Henry ignored it.

  “Sorry, Mr. Man-in-White, I’ve never done well with the ‘I’ll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today’ bullshit. I’m not trying to be a dick, but your God didn’t do much to encourage my faith. It’d be a lot fucking easier to devote myself to something with fewer contradictions, evil assholes, and slick salesmen acting on His behalf. Even people who want to believe can’t ask legitimate questions without getting slapped on the hand and being told to have faith. People aren’t wired like that, Randall. Shit has to make sense. We need answers, not faith.”

  “Answers are there, if you’re willing to look.”

  Henry suppressed a laugh. “Great, more mystical mumbo-jumbo. You want people to believe in God, tell Him to get His ass to Times Square and use one of those giant light-up billboards so everyone catches a glimpse of Him.”

  “You think God should light a room with a star?”

  “I’m not saying I don’t believe in God. I’m saying He has a PR problem. Even if I could cross my heart and hope to die right here, it’d be ridiculous for me to deny His existence after all that’s happened, especially since I was nearly murdered by your angels.”

  Randall seemed surprised for the first time since Henry had met him. “You were almost killed? By angels?”

  “Yeah.” Henry shrugged. “These fucking glowing assholes in the sky, right outside the church. They had massive wings, and swords and nets.”

  “And they saw you?” Randall’s eyes appeared to measure Henry’s words.

  “Saw me? They were hunting me!”

  “You must stay here in Nowhere, Henry,” Randall said, his voice uncharacteristically firm. “Do not return to Earth.”

  “That an order?”

  “No.” Randall shook his head. “Of course not. I can’t order you to do anything. But I care what happens, and your return to Earth won’t be good.”

  “Boothe already warned me about the angels. Said they were called Trackers, and that they hunt demons on Earth.”

  “Did he also tell you that once they see you, they’ll never stop trying to find you?”

  “Sure did. But so what? If I’m not afr
aid of a demon, I sure as shit won’t be scared off by an angel.”

  “You weren’t frightened?”

  “Okay, yeah, I might’ve been a little scared, but that won’t keep me from doing what needs to be done. I’m certainly not in Purgatory because I ran. I’m here because I’m stuck. Boothe was pissed, so he put me on timeout like I’m a fucking toddler.”

  Randall winced at Henry’s language.

  The F-word that broke the angel’s back.

  “Sorry,” Henry said, almost meaning it. “Look, I’ve answered all of your questions, and I need to find Amélie. Are you going to help me, or not?”

  Randall grabbed Henry’s shoulders again, gently. “Please, when Boothe returns you to Earth, which he certainly will since he needs you to finish what’s already started … you must tell him you refuse.”

  “But I don’t,” Henry said. Curious, though, he asked, “Can I really do that? Let’s say I tell Boothe I refuse. Will he really let me go, or will he send me back here? What happens after I say sayonara?”

  “Boothe will send you back here. But here is better than there, Henry. Refuse him now. You can’t afford to wait.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you can’t refuse Boothe once you’ve finished his task.”

  “I’ve already killed one of the men. Does that matter?”

  “There are three men, correct?”

  Henry nodded, unsure whether he’d told Randall, or if both he and Boothe knew the details of his death.

  “I don’t know. But I suggest you stop. Before you are swallowed by the dark and it’s too late to turn back.”

  Henry paused, considering Randall’s words, wondering if the man in white was steering him in the best direction or telling him things to foster confusion. “Boothe’s a stuck-up asshole, sure, but he’s hardly the personification of evil.”

  “That’s the horrible truth, Henry.” Randall’s smile was thin. “Evil isn’t always obvious, and it’s often attractive enough to turn even the strong into an eager accomplice.”

  Henry hated himself for asking, and Randall for making him doubt, but he couldn’t throttle his follow-up question. “How do I stand up to Boothe then, assuming I wanted to? I have no leverage.”