As I took a step back to avoid the rushing coffee onslaught, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I turned around to find a thin, skeletal man in a long black trench coat standing behind me. His eyes were like two burning holes, and his teeth were long and came to very fine points. He did not not look like the kinda guy you wanted to meet in a dark alley, late at night, all by yourself. look like the kinda guy you wanted to meet in a dark alley, late at night, all by yourself.

"We'll take it from here, ma'am," he said, his voice as shrill as fingernails on a chalkboard. He lifted his hand from my skin, and my flesh sizzled where it had been touched.

A short, squat woman in a long, flowing black dress came to stand beside the skeletal man. Her face was hidden behind a black veil so I couldn't see what the heck she looked like, but whatever was behind there was totally giving me the creeps without even having having to see it. to see it.

The cloud around the old guard's head was starting to separate, bits of it trailing off in different directions, but as I watched, the squat woman pulled a jar of something that looked like amber-colored honey from her pocket and twisted off the lid, holding it out for the cloud to sense. Instantly, the cloud re-formed and headed like a homing pigeon for whatever was in the jar.

Without a moment's hesitation, the skeletal man lifted up a b.u.t.terfly net he'd pulled out of nowhere and swooped down on the unsuspecting cloud. There was a soft rustling sound, and then the cloud was gone, lost inside the net.

The skeletal man tipped his tall, black top hat at me, and the woman curtsied.

"Long live the reign of the New Death!" they said in unison before disappearing without another word and leaving me alone with the old guard's dead body.

Well, that was efficient, I thought, my eyes itching to look away from the corpse but totally drawn to it at the same time.

I stared at the pinched old face with its thatch of white hair and hound-dog eyes-and suddenly, the realization of what I'd done hit me so hard I almost collapsed.

My knees seemed to give out on me first, and I slid forward, my hands like claws, grasping for purchase on the desktop so I didn't end up on the floor-and soaked in coffee. I was able to remain upright-just barely-but now I was so low to the ground that I was eye level with the corpse's face. I turned my head away, and the tears poured thick and fast down my cheeks, like someone had broken my internal taps and was trying to flood me out.

I couldn't stop crying, my breath catching in my throat in great, heaving sobs.

I don't want to be Death. I never asked for this! The whole thing I just experienced was so so not as much fun as shopping at Saks or spending a day at the Golden Door! not as much fun as shopping at Saks or spending a day at the Golden Door!

It sucked!

I felt like some alien force had taken over my life, and no matter what I I wanted, this force was gonna make me do wanted, this force was gonna make me do its its bidding instead. Like, for example, bidding instead. Like, for example, I I wanted to slam my head into the desk and make the nasty creature that was curled up inside my brain climb out, but it was no use-the sucker was here to stay. wanted to slam my head into the desk and make the nasty creature that was curled up inside my brain climb out, but it was no use-the sucker was here to stay.

I mean, even as I was thinking thinking all these things, the little voice was directing me to get up and get the show on the road. all these things, the little voice was directing me to get up and get the show on the road.

I climbed back up to my feet, my eyes still averted from the dead body I had helped to create, then started for the bank of elevators that led to the inner sanctum of the Psychical Bureau of Investigations.

I pressed the call b.u.t.ton and waited as the elevators vied to see which one would reach me first. It wasn't even close. The elevator in the middle-the one directly in front of me-whooshed like a speed demon down the numbered floors until it came to a shuddering halt at the lobby. It slid open invitingly, and I stepped inside its plush red velvet and bra.s.s b.u.t.ton-covered interior.

I looked over at the long row of thick, bra.s.s b.u.t.tons that stood at attention on the thin, golden plaque in front of me. There were so many to choose from that for a moment I felt like a little kid and almost pressed them all at once just to see what would happen, but luckily, reason reinstated itself and I punched the topmost b.u.t.ton-the one marked PENTHOUSE-instead.

The doors slid shut with a whisper, and I waited for the elevator to begin its ascent to the top, but nothing happened. The elevator just sat there, slightly swaying, but totally not not going anywhere. going anywhere.

"C'mon," I said, punching the Penthouse b.u.t.ton angrily with my index finger-if the thing wasn't going up up, then I wanted out out.

Suddenly, there was a loud hiccup hiccup, and then, like someone had clipped its wings, the elevator began to free-fall like a bullet down a gun barrel . . . with me screaming my lungs out the whole ride.

we hit the bottom of the elevator shaft with a thud. Even though intellectually I knew we'd been falling way too long for us to be anywhere near the elevator's original original end point, I was still holding out hope that there'd been some mistake, that I hadn't end point, I was still holding out hope that there'd been some mistake, that I hadn't actually actually been shipped right back to my least favorite place in the whole universe. been shipped right back to my least favorite place in the whole universe.

But when the elevator chimed our arrival and the doors slid open, I finally had to accept the fact that I really was was back in-you guessed it- back in-you guessed it-h.e.l.l.

Well, this bites, I thought miserably to myself as I stepped out of the elevator, finding myself in the middle of a lush, tropical forest. Other than the extremely long elevator ride I'd just suffered through, the only reason I knew this place belonged to h.e.l.l was because it was so incredibly hot outside. I mean, it was I thought miserably to myself as I stepped out of the elevator, finding myself in the middle of a lush, tropical forest. Other than the extremely long elevator ride I'd just suffered through, the only reason I knew this place belonged to h.e.l.l was because it was so incredibly hot outside. I mean, it was sweltering sweltering-hotter even than the desert I'd left barely twenty minutes before.

I vaguely remembered someone once saying that it only seemed seemed hotter in tropical climes because of the humidity. Well, they were full of c.r.a.p-this place didn't just hotter in tropical climes because of the humidity. Well, they were full of c.r.a.p-this place didn't just seem seem fifty degrees hotter; it fifty degrees hotter; it was was fifty degrees hotter. My skin was already covered in a thick sheen of sweat, and a cloud of nasty little gnatlike bugs were attacking every exposed part of my person, desperate to scarf down as much of my blood as possible before I could slap them away. fifty degrees hotter. My skin was already covered in a thick sheen of sweat, and a cloud of nasty little gnatlike bugs were attacking every exposed part of my person, desperate to scarf down as much of my blood as possible before I could slap them away.

My head jerked up, instantly watchful, as I heard a loud rustling in the foliage to my right. I had no idea what kind of evil monsters inhabited this jungle-other than the hateful vampire gnats-but I hadn't come this far to get disemboweled by some mutant anteater creature.

It was only then that I remembered my true nature, and with that remembrance came the dissolution of all my fears. The b.u.g.g.e.rs just instantly dropped away-dead as all the gnats I'd been able to get my hands on. I knew it didn't matter what kind of beast came for my head now that I was the anthropomorphic version of Death Death. I would dispatch it before it could get anywhere near me. Enough said.

This idea made me laugh, and the laugh was so heinous, so evil and cruel, that it nearly froze the blood in my veins. I hated that laugh and all it stood for.

I hate me. And I hate what I have become.

After a few minutes of fumbling my way through the thick jungle undergrowth, branches grabbing at my a.s.s and leaves tickling my nose, I realized that I had totally missed the path. I clomped my way back through the underbrush and sighed when I was back on solid earth again, no more long tendrils of plant life clutching at my skin.

The path was long and narrow, winding its way through the jungle like a giant slalom course that went on farther than my eye could see. Since I still didn't know how to open a wormhole on my own-and my Death sense told me only where I could find find one-I was stuck. All I could do was follow my version of the Yellow Brick Road and hope I came to the Emerald City without running into too much trouble. one-I was stuck. All I could do was follow my version of the Yellow Brick Road and hope I came to the Emerald City without running into too much trouble.

As I set off down the narrow path, sweat pouring from my face and body, I made a promise to myself: I was not not going to use my Death powers again, no matter what the little voice in my head said. I would not dispatch another soul-and that included any gnats I couldn't kill with my own two hands-until I knew what the h.e.l.l I was doing. going to use my Death powers again, no matter what the little voice in my head said. I would not dispatch another soul-and that included any gnats I couldn't kill with my own two hands-until I knew what the h.e.l.l I was doing.

With that decided, I let out a sigh of relief. I might have no idea where where or or what what I was, but as long as I could keep that promise to myself, then the world wasn't such a terrifying place after all. I mean, looking on the bright side of things . . . if I could handle being the incarnation of Death on Earth, then what I was, but as long as I could keep that promise to myself, then the world wasn't such a terrifying place after all. I mean, looking on the bright side of things . . . if I could handle being the incarnation of Death on Earth, then what couldn't couldn't I handle, right? I handle, right?

There was only one thing niggling at the back of my brain, one question that I didn't have the answer to: Why the h.e.l.l am I back in h.e.l.l?

twenty-five.

I walked for what seemed like an eternity before I came to the end of the jungle. I had suspected that the end was fast approaching only about ten minutes before it actually happened-primarily because the foliage had begun to thin just just as the path had started to widen. as the path had started to widen.

I hadn't seen another living soul-other than my constant companions, the gnats-the whole trip, and I had been looking. I tried to make as much noise as I could while I walked so that anything lurking out in the trees or undergrowth would know I was coming and get the h.e.l.l out of my way.

I can't kill what I can't see, I wisely surmised. I wisely surmised.

I could feel the voice in my head aching to kill something, but I found that if I could keep up a constant barrage of singing, the voice would get annoyed and go away-at least for a little while. So, desperately grasping for songs that I knew the lyrics to, I made my way through the whole Beatles canon, and then when I got really really desperate, I dusted off the Spice Girls and Depeche Mode. I think the real "knock your socks off" number was my warbling, off-key rendition of Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive," which was so horrible that it made desperate, I dusted off the Spice Girls and Depeche Mode. I think the real "knock your socks off" number was my warbling, off-key rendition of Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive," which was so horrible that it made even even Death want to take a vacation from my head. Death want to take a vacation from my head.

It is weird the caliber of song that comes to one's mind when one is wandering through the jungles of h.e.l.l all by one's lonely, I philosophized. I philosophized. I don't even much like the Spice Girls. I don't even much like the Spice Girls.

Anyway, when I reached the end of the jungle, I stopped and looked around, uncertain of where to go next. It wasn't like the jungle had gradually faded into the next landscape. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Where the jungle ended there was only a sheer drop-off that seemed to stretch on into infinity.

And part of me-the one that itched to push all all the b.u.t.tons in the elevator-wanted to throw myself the b.u.t.tons in the elevator-wanted to throw myself into into that gaping chasm . . . but luckily, I restrained myself. that gaping chasm . . . but luckily, I restrained myself.

I don't know what it was about mountainsides and cliffs that made me want to fling my body off their ledges, but ever since I was a little kid, I had been obsessed with what it would feel like to do just that. I had a very vivid memory of being in the car, driving with my mother, and looking out the pa.s.senger seat into the swirling ma.s.s of the Rhode Island Sound. I remember rolling down the car window to feel the cold wind on my face, but really what I wanted was to get even closer closer to the edge. to the edge.

The next thing I knew I was unsnapping my seat belt and reaching for the door handle. My mother must've had a heart attack when she realized what I was doing, but instead of screaming at me-which would have just encouraged me to make the leap-she quietly grabbed the collar of my shirt and yanked me over into her lap, the car door slamming shut almost as soon as I had gotten it open. (Yes, I wouldn't have died if I fell-but maternal instinct is strong, no matter what.) I don't think my mother ever forgot my near escape from the cliff because, after that, she watched me like a hawk whenever we went anywhere near the sea. What she didn't realize was that it wasn't the sea that had so enthralled me: It was the edge. It was the edge.

"Welcome to end of h.e.l.l, Calliope," a voice called behind me.

I whirled around so quickly it made my teeth ache, and I saw Daniel Daniel standing at the edge of the jungle. He was wearing a clean white T-shirt and a pair of tight black jeans, and he looked pretty d.a.m.n delicious. standing at the edge of the jungle. He was wearing a clean white T-shirt and a pair of tight black jeans, and he looked pretty d.a.m.n delicious.

Too bad I want to rip his throat out, I thought miserably. I thought miserably.

"What're you doing here?" I asked as I casually made my way closer to the edge so I could get a better look at what lay at its bottom-and keep a safer distance between the two of us.

I didn't want want to hurt Daniel. I to hurt Daniel. I liked liked Daniel. So why was I itching for his blood? Daniel. So why was I itching for his blood?

"I was waiting for you. The boss had you summoned, if you hadn't already realized." Aha! So that is why I'm back in h.e.l.l, Aha! So that is why I'm back in h.e.l.l, I thought to myself. I thought to myself. Boy, that Devil is a sneaky little b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Boy, that Devil is a sneaky little b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

"You look nice," Daniel added as he moved closer to where I was standing, his eyes locked onto my face. It was totally crazy, but I was starting to feel that surreal s.e.xual heat I'd experienced the first two times I'd met him-what the heck is that all about? I thought we already cleared that up eons ago-jeez!

"Thanks . . . I guess," I replied, my armpits starting to sweat as Daniel came to stand beside me, his fingers only inches from mine. G.o.d, just being near near him was intoxicating. him was intoxicating.

Wait a minute, I thought. I thought. I don't look nice. I'm a mess. I don't look nice. I'm a mess. It dawned on me what he was doing! He was trying to work his weird s.e.xual mojo on me again. He seemed oblivious to the fact that I had been immune to his charms the last few times we were together, but I guess he was under the impression that "no" didn't It dawned on me what he was doing! He was trying to work his weird s.e.xual mojo on me again. He seemed oblivious to the fact that I had been immune to his charms the last few times we were together, but I guess he was under the impression that "no" didn't always always have to mean . . . well, "no." have to mean . . . well, "no."

"Not interested," I lied, sidestepping away from him, but he was quicker than me, reaching out and grabbing my hand. I felt an electric charge race through my skin, my body beginning to change its mind about Daniel's level of attractiveness. I was starting to feel much much more positively charged toward him. more positively charged toward him.

"Daniel, this is probably not a good idea-"

"I saved your life; you saved mine. I think we can put pleasantries aside."

"These aren't pleasantries-" I started to say, but my words were silenced by his lips firmly pressing against mine. He tasted terrible again, and I was totally not not into it- into it-and that was when the ugly little voice inside my head decided to make itself known. Suddenly, I was pushing Daniel away from me-shoving him away, actually-and I found my right hand lifting of its own accord, the index finger reaching out to place itself in the hollow of Daniel's solar plexus. that was when the ugly little voice inside my head decided to make itself known. Suddenly, I was pushing Daniel away from me-shoving him away, actually-and I found my right hand lifting of its own accord, the index finger reaching out to place itself in the hollow of Daniel's solar plexus.

"Die," I whispered, my lips still hot and bruised from Daniel's earwax-tasting mouth. I whispered, my lips still hot and bruised from Daniel's earwax-tasting mouth.

I waited for him to start shrieking, for his eyes to roll up into his head, for Death to sneak up behind him and suck him dry until he was a mere husk of flesh and bone.

Instead, absolutely nothing happened-other than Daniel started laughing like a hyena at me.

"Die!" I yelled again, my finger itching to take his life, not understanding why his life was rebelling against the inevitable.

"I don't understand! You should be dead," I screamed at him.

And then the strangest thing happened: Daniel's whole body began to smoke. I watched as his skin turned a dark brown, and large, liquid-filled blisters formed on every bit of his exposed flesh. He looked-and stank-like he was being set on fire from the inside out.

"What the-" I said, stepping back as his flesh began to slough off in wide swatches, leaving behind a sheath of new, pinkish skin. Daniel, still laughing like he was totally immune to the pain of being burned alive, reached up and started to pull off any of the old burned skin that remained, throwing it to the ground like it was refuse.

"Your skin," I said. "That's disgusting!"

"It's not mine," he said as he ripped the last of the dead flesh from around his mouth and smiled up at me. What he said was true. It wasn't Daniel I was looking at anymore. This was a new man entirely-one with a penchant for Keith Richards's old wardrobe.

"Who are you?" I whispered as I stared up at the handsome stranger. He was taller than Daniel, with a mane of thick, curling pitch-black hair, and pale pink skin that was becoming a startling shade of snow white. He had a wide, cruel mouth and the darkest, blackest eyes I had ever seen. He leered at me, his lean, well-built body moving closer and closer until I had to step back away from him-and closer to the edge of h.e.l.l.

"I'm the Devil, Calliope. I can take whatever form I want; I can control anyone"-hmmm, like a rheumy old guard with hound-dog eyes-"and the hysterically funny thing is: You can't kill me. Or anyone else down here in h.e.l.l . . . because-"

He giggled here, and it was the creepiest sound in the whole world.

"Because they're already dead, Death. Death. Completely outside of your dominion." Completely outside of your dominion."

Well, I guess my theory about just killing anything that attacks me down in h.e.l.l is shot to s.h.i.t, I thought dryly. I thought dryly.

"Wait a minute," I said, my mind whirling. "So you made made me kill that old guard?" I was starting to feel all shaky inside again as I thought of the poor old man I'd cheated out of his life. me kill that old guard?" I was starting to feel all shaky inside again as I thought of the poor old man I'd cheated out of his life.

"You were after me, Calliope: the one who was controlling him. That little voice inside your brain wants my head my head on a plate." on a plate."

"Really? 'Cause that makes me feel a whole whole lot better . . . lot better . . . not not."

"SILENCE!" the Devil screamed, and I took another step closer to the edge because he was so terrifying. the Devil screamed, and I took another step closer to the edge because he was so terrifying.

"I don't know what your game is, Calliope Reaper-Jones, but you will not disobey me now that you are in my realm."

"What do you want?" I said.

He gave me a nasty little smile that made me shrink inside my skin-not a pleasant feeling. a pleasant feeling.

"I want you to pledge Death to me. I want you on my team for eternity." He began to pace in front of me, one eye locked on my face, almost holding me in place with its intensity, the other eye rolling around his head like a marble. I guess this this was how the man did his "power" thinking-even if it was how the man did his "power" thinking-even if it was was a very odd-looking way to get one's thoughts in order. a very odd-looking way to get one's thoughts in order.

"Look, it's like real estate, Calliope. I'm the head honcho, the one with his name on all the signs. You're the minion, the little guy that sits at all my open houses, fields questions you don't really know the answers to, and then refers all the buyers back to me. Capiche? Capiche?"

Am I hearing this correctly? Is the Devil really really referring to himself as a real estate agent? referring to himself as a real estate agent?

"Excuse me, I don't mean to be a pest, but why real estate? That just seems like a strange choice, you know?" I finished, then held my breath, waiting for him to scream at me again.

"That's actually a very good question, Callie-may I call you Callie?" the Devil said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. I nodded.

I mean, who the h.e.l.l am I to tell the Prince of Darkness that he can't call me anything he d.a.m.n well pleases?

"I think managing h.e.l.l is just like just like running a real estate company. In fact, I can think of running a real estate company. In fact, I can think of nothing nothing more fitting." more fitting."

"Really?" I offered, encouraging him to continue.

"All the rush to wealth on someone else's dime, and then the reckoning in the guise of foreclosure. All those families constantly moving in and out of properties . . . just like the ebb and flow of life and death. And me, running the show behind the show." He sighed happily at the thought. "Me controlling the purse strings of salvation."

He giggled to himself, then turned both eyes in my direction, serious again.

"You can't talk your way out of this one, Callie. There's no appeasing the Devil, no 'get out of jail free' card," he said, running his hand languidly through his thick hair. "But I do have to admit that you were a much much worthier opponent than your father gave you credit for." worthier opponent than your father gave you credit for."

"What?" I said. That got my attention. Up until then I'd been kinda bored. I said. That got my attention. Up until then I'd been kinda bored.

The Devil grinned eagerly at me, excited by my interest.

"What do you mean, 'I'm a much worthier opponent than my father gave me credit for'?" I demanded. "Tell me what you mean!"

The Devil sighed and c.o.c.ked his head, appraising me.

"If I must, I must," he began. "You do understand the Death lineage, don't you?"

I shook my head. The Devil looked at me like I was some kind of mutant thing in a test tube that should've been thrown out a long time ago.