Prologue

Prologue

Crossroads of Eternity Way Stationand Limbo

“Next!”

I glanced ahead to see I was finally next in line. “You can do this. You’re done being a doormat.” I hoped I hadn’t said that aloud.

I walked forward to where a creature of some sort stood with something in their hands. It looked like a small television.

“I, uh, I believe that’s me. I’ve been in that line for a bit.” I pointed behind me where a bunch of other people were waiting.

“Name?”

The thing stood there and stared at me, obviously expecting something.

“Name?”

“Oh, uh, my name. I’m Norman Evans from Baltimore, Maryland.”

“Evans? Oh—yes. Why have you petitioned the Council to return to the Human Realm?”

I took a deep breath. “Do I... I mean, do I tell you, or do I tell them because I don’t want to repeat it. I don’t know how this works, really.”

Suddenly, a man walked over to where I stood with the creature. “Joel, what’s the holdup? I’ve got things to do.”

The creature, Joel, gave the man a dirty look. It was then I noticed the man had black wings behind his back. He was tall, dark, and handsome. He would have never looked twice at me.

“Look, Lust, I have my orders. You can wait to do disgusting things for a few hours.”

Lust turned to me. “I’ve got places to be, so tell this asshole what the hell you want so I can get out of here and get laid.”

“I, uh, well, it all started when I went to the aquarium to tell Ginny Brown to get over herself.”

Lust looked at Joel. “What the hell is he talking about?”

Joel smirked. “Norman Evans, please tell Asmodeus, the embodiment of lust and a prince of Hell, what happened, and don’t skip any details. He’ll explain it to the Council. That way, you only have to tell your story once.”

“Sounds fair. It started in⁠—”

December 1983

“Dewey! Where are you, dammit?”

I went to my small library, located in the second bedroom of my tiny apartment, and found the male cat, a black American Shorthair, relaxing in my reading chair. “Hey, you. Time to eat.”

I carried him into the dining room where a crystal dish full of tuna awaited him. I’d grilled a salmon steak and roasted some winter squash for myself. The house smelled like winter, and with the snow falling outside, we were glad to be in our cozy apartment near the Patapsco River in Baltimore.

It was a new custom for us to eat dinner together at the dining table. Dewey, as I’d named him, seemed to enjoy our dinners together, but he was a bit messy. I didn’t want my furniture stained with fish oil, so eating at the table was the best option.

“Here’s your entrée, Mr. Decimal.” I put him down on the placemat I kept at his spot, and then washed my hands.

In the beginning, Dewey was cautious around me. His powers of observation were nearly as astute as my own. We had mutual respect, the two of us. We enjoyed our own pastimes—me reading and Dewey climbing—but we also enjoyed our times together.

Dewey was a rescue, though a pure-bred American Shorthair, according to the vet we visited to get him checked out. He’d had ample time and opportunity to return to his home, but he’d chosen to stay.

If he was staying, he’d have to come around to my way of living. No more alleys. No more running around all night and eating out of garbage cans. No more testicles. The last one had pissed him off immensely.

When I’d found Dewey outside the central branch of the Enoch Pratt Free Library on Cathedral Street, he’d been a wet, angry mess. I’d seen him there for a few days when I locked up at eight in the evening during the week before Thanksgiving. I left him alone, assuming he belonged to someone in the neighborhood. I had hoped my aloof attitude would encourage him to return home.

The Saturday after the holiday, when I closed in the late afternoon, the cat had hovered near the back entrance, attempting to stay out of the steady rain that had started around noon. It had been cold too, as Baltimore tended to be in late November, so I’d stepped into the storage room and grabbed a cardboard box and some dusting rags from a shelf.

I’d found some bubble wrap from a recent shipment and put it under the box, which I’d turned on its side to make the top accessible. I’d lined the bottom with the rags and pushed the makeshift bed into the corner of the entrance, out of the wind and rain.

I’d still had half a chicken salad sandwich I’d bought for lunch and hadn’t eaten, so I had split the carry-out container into two pieces, putting the sandwich in one and some water in the other before I’d placed them next to the box. If kitty wanted to eat, he’d have to get to it before the rats, or so I’d reasoned.

When I returned on Monday morning, he’d still been there, the sandwich and water gone, and there were two dead rats on the back stairs. I admired his ability to take care of himself, so I’d invited him to live in the library, taking him home with me on weekends when it was closed.

We’d found our rhythm, Dewey and me, and he was quite a hit at the library, especially when children came in on Saturday mornings for Ginny Brown’s Fish and Friends Story Hour.

Ginny, a marine biologist, was a lovely woman in her mid-thirties, who worked as a docent at the new National Aquarium near the Harbor. The county had hired her to give informative talks about marine life to bolster interest and support for the two-year-old aquarium. She brought a variety of fish and sea creatures with her on occasion, and the kids who frequented the library adored her.

The previous weekend, I’d invited her to dinner to thank her for her work at the library, but she’d laughed at me. I glanced at Dewey. “Did I tell you I asked Ginny Brown to dinner last Wednesday evening, and she laughed at me? She said she was otherwise engaged that night with her police officer boyfriend. She seemed to think I had romantic ideas about her. Have you ever heard anything so preposterous in your life?”

“Meow.”

I cut into my glazed salmon steak and nodded to my companion. I deserved someone much better than Ginny Brown.

After dinner clean-up,Dewey and I moved to the library. I pulled a book from the shelf—an American classic about revenge. Somehow, I was drawn to stories of revenge. I’d read Something Wicked This Way Comes at least twenty times when I was a kid camping out at the library instead of going home to my domineering mother and milquetoast father.

As fate would have it, I was cursed to follow in my father’s footsteps. I’d had numerous boyfriends who’d treated me like a doormat, and I’d stupidly hung on to their every word, which were primarily criticisms of everything about me.

I sat in my favorite chair and slid off my loafers to put my feet on the ottoman, crossing my ankles. “You know, Dewey, if I could do it all again, I’d do things a hell of a lot differently. I would be the one to order others around. I’d be the one with all the power, and I’d show all those people who made fun of me or treated me like dirt under their shoes. They would rue the day they ever crossed me.”

“Meow.”

The next morning, I got up at the usual time, showered, dressed, and ate my usual breakfast of cinnamon oatmeal while Dewey had his high-protein dry food. After we finished, I cleaned up the dishes and Dewey climbed into the carrier I used to transport him between my apartment and the library.

“At lunch time, I’m going to go to the aquarium and give Ginny Brown a piece of my mind.”

“Meow. Meow.”

That was Dewey’s way of telling me I probably wouldn’t, and he was right. Confrontation wasn’t my strong suit.

By the time my lunch hour arrived, I was so incensed that I decided I would go to the aquarium and tell Ginny Brown exactly what I thought of her shitty attitude. I grabbed my umbrella—classic black—and headed out, leaving Dewey snuggled into a blanket I’d bought him and kept in my office. It was where he slept weeknights after I went home.

I wrapped my scarf around my neck and stopped at the front desk. “Christine, I’ll be eating out of the library today. Can you take messages for me, please?”

“Who do you think is gonna call you?”

Christine was a young woman who worked at the library part-time while attending Johns Hopkins University. I didn’t care for her slip-shod attitude regarding the card catalog she refused to maintain because everything was becoming computerized. She thought I was a persnickety asshole—her words to a coworker, not mine.

I exited the front door of the library onto Cathedral Street, heading toward Pratt Street to walk the mile to the aquarium. “Ginny... Miss Brown... No, I won’t stoop to her level. I will remain respectful. “Miss Brown, I fear you’re under the impression I’m interested in you as more than a friend— no, no. We’re not friends.”

“Excuse me.”

“No. Sorry.” A random guy thought I was talking to him.

I stopped at the crosswalk and took a deep breath. I would stand up for myself come hell or high water—though I hoped there was no water.

Once my speech was perfected, I walked up to the ticket window at the aquarium. “One, please.” I handed over the cash and was given a ticket.

I stood in the short line to enter and began the self-guided tour. When I stopped at a sign that pointed to the Atlantic Coral Reef, I remembered hearing Ginny say she’d been assigned to the coral reef exhibit, so I skipped the rest of the tour.

The walkway spiraled up, and one could look over the side to see the fish swimming through the fabricated reef. It was colorful and beautiful, even though it scared me speechless.

I glanced around and saw Ginny standing near the edge, speaking to a group of youngsters, and my anger spiked. I needed to get to her immediately, so I climbed onto the ledge and ran down the ramp. Too many people blocked the ramp for me to get to her as quickly as I desired.

I couldn’t control my legs, and I was rolling...picking up speed...and...splash!

Present Day

“No! You dumb bastard, don’t tell me you fell in the fucking reef tank!” Asmodeus was shouting, and I wanted to drop dead on the spot, but I was already dead, wasn’t I?

“I never learned to swim. The tank was deep, and the fish were terrifying. By the time they got me out, I’d drowned.”

“So, what do you want?

“I want to go back and show everyone I’m not a pushover. I’m not some guy people ignore. I deserve to matter to someone.” It all came out so fast that I couldn’t breathe when I finished talking. I was sure I wouldn’t be taken seriously. But at least I’d made myself heard.

“I’ve got this, Joel. Take the next soul. I know exactly how to help Norman.”

He took my hand and led me to a dark spot near the river of fire. “Hold on to me, human.”

Before I could respond, we were airborne. The huge black wings flapped in the heated air over the river, and I held on as tightly as possible. We finally landed, and Asmodeus pushed me away. “I can’t be seen here but go to the bottom of the hill and ask for Nyx. She’ll be happy to meet you.”

“Can I have Dewey back?” I really missed him, though I was sure he was dead by now. I’d been waiting a long time.

“She’ll give you anything you want. You just have to swear loyalty to her. She’s a lovely woman, I promise.”

At the bottom of the hill stood a huge half-man, half-something I couldn’t recognize.

The thing groaned at me.

“I’m here to see Nyx. Asmodeus brought me.”

I was led down a hallway into a huge room filled with people like me. A regal-looking woman sat on a throne with a black cat resembling Dewey on her lap.

The woman smirked. “Welcome, Norman. I think I’ll call you Thane Nyxon. We’ve been waiting for you⁠—”