Name’s Keeper

by Melissa R. Mendelson

Melissa R. Mendelson is a horror, science-fiction and dystopian author and poet.  She has two publications with Wild Ink Publishing.  One is a prose poetry collection, This Will Remain With Us, and the other is a short story collection, Stories Written On Covid Walls.

Website  –  Amazon Author Page

More TTTV Stories by Melissa R. Mendelson

 

The Body in the Trunk

Hot night at the Red Lit Diner. The sun had sunken, but the heat refused to die. Air conditioners bit the dust. Fans begged for their torture to end, but the sweat continued to drip down. People’s heat-stained glares fell across smoky windows. They tried not to think of what was found outside or who was in here with them. Their stares turned to me, hoping that I would save them.

The stranger sat on a red stool beside the counter, picking at her bagel and butter. She sipped her water, ignoring their burning stares. Her blue jeans were faded and ripped. Her black boots were small and sharp. Her feet should have been dying trapped by all that leather, but she didn’t seem bothered. Instead, she scratched the crumbs off her black t-shirt, nails moving over the face of one of those men seen on the CW, and he stared at her, captivated with wonder and fear. I felt the same way.

The deputies had stopped at the diner for a late snack. Coffee and Beth’s famous hot apple pie. The vanilla ice cream was soup by the time it reached them, but they piled it in, preparing themselves for a long night. And it was going to be a long night. They saw her outside checking the contents of her trunk and told her to freeze, but she didn’t even bat an eye. She smiled and walked into the diner.

Jimmy called me a moment later. He was never one to second guess himself, but something about her really bothered him. He couldn’t describe it, but then he said the damnedest thing. “Devil,” and Jimmy had never been a man of faith. He even went so far as to say that God wasn’t real.

His partner, Paul was the polar opposite. He told me when he saw her, he felt physically sick, and his knees buckled. He’s still outside, sitting in the squad car.

Jimmy said, “Should I call for backup?”

“I’ll handle it,” I said.

She smiled at my words. “You here about the trunk?” She took another sip of water. Her voice was velvet. Sweet with a sting of toxic. She refused to look at me. “I don’t have all night,” and she slammed the glass down, making everyone around her jump. But I didn’t jump.

“Yes,” I forced myself to say, reaching for my gun, but something deep down said it wouldn’t do. She smiled as if she’d heard my thoughts. “I’m here about what’s in the trunk. Why is it in the trunk?”

“What would you do if you had Hitler in the car?”

“What?” As she took a drink, I watched, and I could’ve sworn her tongue was black.

“What would you do if you had Hitler in the car?”

“I wouldn’t let him out.”

“Exactly.” She turned toward me, and for a moment, her face vanished, revealing nothing but pale flesh. I felt like I was going to be sick. A few minutes before, I was craving Beth’s famous hot apple pie, but that soft, vanilla pool had my stomach spitting acid. She smiled again. “It’s my penance,” she said, softly, as if she felt bad for me.

I forced the bile back down. “Penance? For what?”

“You don’t want to know.” She swatted at a fly that touched the remains of her bagel. The fly stopped moving a moment later.

“You know, I can’t let you leave.”

“Can’t?”

I couldn’t break away from her stare. My body turned cold, legs felt weak. My mouth opened, but I was lost for words. I stepped closer, and she smiled.

“Or can?” Her voice was so smooth, but I felt its sting.

“There’s a body in your trunk,” I whispered, trying not to alarm an elderly couple who was attempting to pay their bill before making a run for it. “I have to take you in.” She laughed. “What’s so funny?”

“Are you so sure that you want to touch me?” She stood up and moved away from the red stool at the counter. “Might not be the smartest thing, sheriff.”

“I could shoot you.” I was surprised those words came out of my mouth. I hardly fired my gun. Maybe I shot someone a few years back, but that was a long time ago. Again, she smiled as if she heard that. “Who’s in the trunk?”

“A very, very bad man.”

“Hitler.” She shrugged. “And you’re what? Driving cross-country with him back there?”

“I drive all over most of the time except for stopping here and there like tonight at this diner.”

“You don’t sleep?”

“I do, but only a few hours or so. That’s all I need. Trust me. The things that I see… Would rip more than the sleep from you.” She slammed a hundred-dollar bill on the counter. “Are we done here? I would like to keep moving before the sun comes up.”

“You a vampire?” I asked, trying not to be funny.

“I’m worse.” My smile vanished. “Name’s Keeper,” and she held her hand out to me. For a second, it looked skeletal. “No?” She pulled her hand away. “Good man.” She moved past me.

I don’t know why I did it, but I grabbed her by the arm. I regretted it instantly because it felt like an invisible hand reached inside of me, squeezing my heart. I dropped to my knees and tried to breathe. I released her arm, and despite all the damn heat, I was ice cold.

Jimmy took a step closer, reaching for his gun. I waved him aside, and she looked at me, half amused and half full of pity.

“I told you,” she leaned closer to me, “not to touch me. Now, are we going to keep on playing, or can I go, sheriff?”

“You can… You can go.”

“Good.” She moved toward the glass entrance doors. “You are a good man, sheriff,” she said, then looked over at Jimmy. “But you aren’t.”

Jimmy shuddered. “Why did you let her go?” Jimmy asked.

“Shut up, Jimmy.” I struggled to my feet. I was so cold, I wanted those damn fans to shut off. I wanted the heat to raise up another notch. I wanted that hot apple pie to be boiling.

I watched her peel out of the parking lot, and something deep inside of me said that I would never be warm again or know sleep like I once did. As she disappeared from the Red Lit Diner, I knew she wasn’t alone. She had packed my soul up and tucked it right next to the body in the trunk.

A Pale, Cold Night

They said it would be ten degrees tonight. They were wrong. It was more like minus ten, and that damn bar door kept swinging open. The drinks were frosty, but so were patrons’ breaths. White mist painted the air before being sucked out into the icy, black void outside, and large, tattooed men huddled around small, wooden tables, trying to gather warmth. Nobody was going to invade my space, for the corner was my friend. The corner was my dagger, where it would cut down anyone that dared to venture over to me, but that didn’t stop the server, Beatrice.

“Another.” Beatrice slammed a large beer down in front of me. “Long night?”

“Damn it, Beatrice. Leave me alone. It’s also fucking cold in here.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but the heat keeps cutting out. You’re welcome to fix it, if you aren’t too bothered.” She walked away from me.

“Aren’t you cold, or is the fat keeping you warm?”

“Another comment like that, Dallas, and I’ll have your hide stripped. And I’ll have your bare ass body thrown out into the snow. You get me?”

I stared at the muscular heart with barbed wire on her right shoulder. Her boobs were nearly hanging out of her open blouse. Her poor excuse for Daisy Duke shorts made me shudder, and I was sure she wasn’t wearing any underwear. I should have buried her. Instead, I met her stone-cold gaze and gave a short nod.

“Good. Last drink, and then you’re out.”

I was tempted to make another snide comment but watched her walk away. The bar door opened again. I swear that the next person that opens that door will taste my boot. The door opened. I spun around to give them hell, and that’s when I saw her. We all stared. Some of those tattooed men shuddered at her entrance. It amazed me that such a little girl could make big men quake. She was heading in my direction, but I was in no mood for company tonight.

“Keep walking,” I barked before downing half my drink.

“Water,” she yelled over to Beatrice and pulled up a chair to my table. “Mind if I sit?”

“Get lost, bitch,” I said, but part of me wanted her to stay. I liked her voice. It was soft but with a hint of something dark.

She moved the chair almost beside me and sat down. “Rough night.”

“My friend died.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, but she didn’t sound sorry.

I leaned back and stared at the strange creature next to me. She wasn’t dressed for this weather. She wore faded, ripped blue jeans, black leather boots, and a black t-shirt with one of those rejects from the CW.

“What show is that?” I pointed at her shirt. “He looks familiar, except his face is all worn out now.”

“Does it matter?” She touched the man’s face with her nails but softly, and she smiled sadly. “He’s seen so many demons.” She locked eyes with me, and I nearly fell into her gaze. “So have I.”

I shuddered, thinking of the icy, black void outside. She reminded me of a cobra, swaying a little in her chair with that hypnotic stare of hers, but I would not be captured by her beauty. I would not play her game nor meet her gaze again.

“Name’s Keeper.” She wrapped her hands around the glass that Beatrice placed on the table, and Beatrice paled at the woman’s brief touch. “Thanks,” and she downed the water.

Was her tongue black?

“Another. Please.” She seemed amused at how fast Beatrice moved away. “How’d your friend die, Dallas?”

“Excuse me? How the hell do you know my name?”

“I know lots of things.” Her doll face flashed to a mash of dirt and worms. “So, how’d your friend die?”

“Wasn’t much of a friend, and I should be going.” I finished my drink and pushed back my chair.

“So soon?” I met that gaze, and my body went numb. “Stay for awhile before you go outside.”

“Why?”

“I miss the company.” She didn’t even flinch when Beatrice dropped the water next to her. The glass almost crashed on the floor, but like a ninja, that woman, Keeper caught it. Then she stared at me, and I couldn’t look away. “So, won’t you stay for awhile?”

“What are you?” She shrugged. “I have to leave,” but my body was still numb. Only my heart thundered in my chest. “Why are you here?”

“I have to pick up a package.”

“Package? Here in this bar?” I looked around, wondering what it was. “Where is it?” I asked and turned toward her, avoiding her gaze.

“Cooling off.” She reminded me of a cat, and I realized that I was the mouse.

“Don’t play with me.”

“I’m no cat.”

Did she just read my mind?

“But I do have claws,” she said. “Now, are you going to answer the damn question or not?”

“Do you know the answer?”

“I would like to hear you say it.”

“You a cop?”

“Do I look like a cop?” She leaned in close again. Her eyes sparked with amusement, but her skin had a sick glow to it. “Are you a killer?”

“Watch it, lady,” I snapped, but I glanced at my hands.

“No blood stains.” That gaze numbed every part of me again. “All evidence gone, and nobody’s going to miss him.” She leaned back. “I wonder. Will anyone miss you?”

“You threatening me?” She didn’t answer. “I could snap your neck with my bare hands. Snap.”

“If only I wasn’t already dead,” she said.

My heart dropped in my chest.

“Did you know that?”

“Let me go,” I said. “Just let me get out of here.”

“You never cared about anyone. Did you, Dallas? Not your parents or your sister or your girlfriend or your friend.”

“Stop it!” I didn’t mean to yell, but I did. I screamed like a little girl. “Knock it off.”

“You’ve been empty your whole damn life. Don’t you want to know why?”

“Get away from me.” Finally, I found the strength to jump out of my chair. All I had to do was run for the door, but she grabbed hold of my arm. Just my arm, and my knees caved. “Why? Why am I so empty?” I heard myself say.

“Because you have no soul, you poor bastard. Your time’s up.” She let go, and where her hand had rested was red, raw flesh, as if her touch had burned right through my skin. “Go outside.”

“What’s outside?” I struggled to stand, ignoring the stares from everyone around me, including Beatrice. “What’s waiting for me out there?”

“Your ride.” Those words sliced through me. “Go on your own accord, or I’ll carry you.” Her eyes pierced through me, and I felt nothing. No ice. No fire. I was a puppet, and she pulled on my strings, leading my feet toward the door.

“Wait. Wait. I don’t want to go. I won’t kill anyone else. He was the last. The last one. I swear to Christ that I don’t want to go outside,” I said, but the door was already open.

“Package delivered,” I heard her say, and I struggled to turn my head, watching her drop a hundred-dollar bill onto the table.

“Someone help me,” I screamed.

She blew me a kiss, and something, something with razor sharp nails grabbed the front of my shirt, ripping both fabric and skin, and it pulled me outside.

One Last Droplet of Rain

Cars hydroplaned, racing along the black, slick surface, and some nearly lost control. The drivers grabbed hold of their steering wheels, begging to live one more day. They tried to peer past the windshield wipers that taunted them with clarity, and their prayers were answered. Death was left in the rearview mirror, but he would not go quietly. The poor bastard speeding in his direction was blinded by another driver’s brights, and his car slammed into a power pole.

I was a short distance away at a rundown gas station, with two pumps out of commission. The little shop was dark, and one of its windows was broken. The rain had no mercy, pounding against the glass and plastic. One sign for cigarettes bent to the ground by the wind. My car crawled to a halt beside the pumps, where it would stay for a very long time. The engine gasped one last breath, and sparks from the power pole lit up the darkness like fireworks. I enjoyed the dazzling display as the rain that fell around me.

I slumped against the hood of the car, raising my face to the dark skies, and opened my mouth. My black tongue welcomed the rain, and I moved my hand into the jacket pocket. My fingers wrapped around a cigarette, and I searched for a match. I found none. Maybe I would have to break into that little shop nearby. I really need a smoke.

A match sparked and lit up my face. I hesitated, but leaned forward, lighting the cigarette. I did not thank the stranger standing an inch away from me, just sat on the hood of the car and smoked the cigarette. With my other hand, I tried to catch the rain, but even it retreated as if it feared the one next to me. The stranger took a seat beside me.

“The hood’s not big enough for us two,” I said.

“It’s big enough.” Her voice was satin and sandpaper. “The rain’s giving up.”

“Shame. I was enjoying it.”

“It rained enough, giving death its fill.” Her head turned in the direction of the accident. Her eyes shined with blue and white lights. She stuck a cigarette between her red lips and lit another match. She blew her smoke at me, and it tasted like brimstone. I did not miss that, and I don’t think she did either.

“I didn’t hear your car.” I avoided her gaze. “You walk over here?”

“I did. My car’s parked a short distance away.”

“Not too short, I hope.”

“Don’t worry. Nobody will be peering into my trunk.”

“Yeah, I thought the same.” Now, I welcomed the abyss in her gaze but then shook myself out of it. “I was wrong, so be careful.”

“You were stupid. You should never have gone back home. You know the rules.”

“No. The rule is never to go back to where you were born. That’s not always home. Aren’t you a little young to be doing this?”

She was very young, almost a teenager, but not quite.

“I make do,” she said. “And I’m doing better than you.”

“For now. Can I ask what you did?”

“No. I know what you did. How could you be so foolish to ruin your chance to get out?”

“I told you. I made a mistake.” I smoked my cigarette, and she did the same. “You heard about Mexico?”

“Yep. That your doing?”

“Inadvertently.” I shot the young woman a look. What the hell did she do? “You kill someone or someones?”

“I’m not telling you.” Some ash from her cigarette fell onto her black t-shirt, burning the face of the man still going strong on the CW.

I noticed a large, red stain on her ripped blue jeans. “Something happen?”

“The last assignment was … rough.”

“They think they own us.”

“They do own us.” She smoked her cigarette, pulling all the smoke inside of her, and then she released out into the air. This time it was away from me, but the brimstone was strong, making me a cough a moment later. “There’s no escape from them.” She looked away from me. “They’ll find you wherever you go.”

“Yeah. They cleaned up my mess pretty fast.”

“And the count of dead bodies is still climbing.”

“I didn’t need to know that. It wasn’t my fault. Stupid kids.”

“One kid is still missing,” she said.

“They won’t find him. He was the one that opened the trunk. He was the one that touched the body, and …”

“And that was that.” She sounded annoyed, and her stare cut through me. “Why did you leave the trunk unlocked?”

“I didn’t! The little shit broke into the car and opened it. I was gone for like two minutes. Two minutes, and because of him, so many people are dead. Stupid kid. Stupid,” and I slammed the butt of my cigarette against my black shoe. “I was just right around the corner.”

“You got distracted. What distracted you?” She waited for an answer, but I avoided her penetrating stare. And not all of us got that stare. She must be special. “Old wife? Elderly mother?”

“My brother. It was my brother.”

“He didn’t see you. Did he?” She watched me shake my head. “Good, because that would be a hard one to explain.”

“Don’t you have family?” She turned away from me with the cigarette held tightly between her lips. “Did you kill them? Is that why you were down there?”

“I never had a family.” She crushed her cigarette against the palm of her hand. “Foster homes. They were fun until they weren’t.” She stared at her hand and watched it heal. She looked at me, and her gaze folded over me, causing me to lean forward. I wanted to disappear inside that void. “I didn’t kill them.” She held my stare, smiling at how I drew closer to her. “I did bad things, terrible things, and I’ve paid for them in spades. I won’t let anyone take away my get out of hell card like you did. I have no ghosts to chase.” She moved away from me and flicked burnt ash from her skin. “I only have myself, and myself to blame. It’s time. We’ve waited long enough.”

“I don’t want to go back. I’ll never leave there, and you know it will be worse down there. Those denied this exit will tear into me, rip me apart. It’ll be more than torture, and it’ll never end. I don’t want to go back.”

“We are condemned souls,” she said. “You should have played by the rules.”

“What if you go back?”

“I’m not going back,” she snapped.

“No. I mean, what if you go back to where you were born? Why are they so adamant about it? What happens if we step foot on where our life began?”

“Fictitious dreams, my friend. Fictitious dreams.” She reached for me, but I slid off the hood. “Are we going to fight? I’m still picking bone out of my clothes.”

“Maybe I go back, but what about you?”

“What about me?”

“How much longer can you do this? Drive across country with a body in the trunk? At some point, someone is going to find it, and then what? What if they let them out? What if you cause another Mexico?”

“The border is just a hop and a skip away from here, and I usually travel away from it. Maybe a little tragedy would wake this country up, but who I have in my trunk would go beyond a little. And I had a few brushes already with the police and nosy teenagers, and I handled it. So, let the next poor bastard try, and I’ll give him the boot. Literally.”

“How many souls have you taken, Keeper?” She looked away. “How many of them were good people?”

“I warned them.” Again, her stare cut through me. “I gave them a chance.”

“And now they’ll wind up just like you.” She flinched at my words. “What did you do?”

“I can leave.” She slid off the car. “I could leave you to the next one, and they won’t be so nice as me. And they definitely won’t talk with you like a friend.”

“Friend? You like me. Don’t you?” I watched her shrug. “We barely know each other, even when we were down there.”

“You’ve done this job almost longer than anyone. I volunteered to find you, so let me do this.”

“Can’t we just enjoy the sound of sirens for a little bit longer?”

“Even the sirens are fading, I’m afraid.”

“At least, I got to taste the rain. One last time.” She reached for me, but I moved away again. “Before you do it, promise me something.”

“What?”

“Think about going back to where you were born.”

“Even if I knew where that was, you know I can’t.”

“Just think about it. Promise me?”

Her hand hovered over my shoulder. “I promise.”

“Goodbye, Keeper.”

I closed my eyes, waiting for her touch, but nothing happened. Her hand still hovered over my shoulder. Her gaze was different, almost human, and a black tear ran down her face.

“I was good once. I was,” she said. “But then I made a mistake, and that mistake destroyed my life. And…”

“I know,” I said. “I was good once too. A long time ago.” I sighed, staring at her hand. “Was it revenge?” I watched her shake her head. “Maybe, that’s a good thing.”

“I’m sorry, Keeper.”

“Me too.”

She touched my shoulder. I burst into flames, but I did not scream. I just burned, and she did not move away. Instead, she stayed with me, and I raised my head up to the sky, looking for one last droplet of rain. But the heavens had their fill, and the sirens disappeared into the night. The ground opened beneath me, and my body started to turn into ash, slipping downward. I was going back, and I would never see the world again. But maybe, just maybe, there was hope for her, and she walked away, leaving the rundown gas station behind her.

No Rest for Those Wicked

Since she returned, she had been haunted by dreams, swimming through dark water, and hearing a baby cry. She wandered down a crooked hallway, forced toward a glowing door. On the other side, a baby cried, and she tried to open the door but couldn’t. She banged her fists against the door and screamed. The baby cried louder, and she felt like she was being watched. And she knew who was watching her, and claws sliced down her back.

Keeper sat up in the bed and wiped the sweat off her forehead. The motel’s neon sign flashed on her face, and her face turned skeletal, then formed into a pile of molded flesh. She touched her skin, waiting for it to take its normal shape, but there was nothing normal about her. She knew what she was, but she would rather spend her days above than below.

Keeper walked over to a small table and threw a black t-shirt over her head. She had to get rid of the last one because it was saturated with blood. She liked that shirt. This shirt had the face of an angel, but the guy from that show was no such thing. Cass had done terrible things, but he still got to visit heaven. She would never know such a place. But she liked the actor, so she’d bought the shirt and burned her old one. She put on a pair of tight, ripped jeans. These jobs were ruining her clothes, but when she asked for reimbursement, the response was the angry, red scar on her arm, made by the same claws that sliced through her in her dreams.

“I hate this,” Keeper said to the empty room. “Are you here? Are you listening? I’m driving the damn body across this fucking country, and this country is still going to hell. So, what’s the point?” She waited for an answer, and a pair of red eyes flashed against the darkness. “What else do you want from me?”

There was a knock on the motel door. Her hands folded into fists. Was it the police? Did they know about the body in the trunk? Did they know about her other crimes? Who the hell was knocking at such a late hour?

“Shit.” Keeper opened the door.

“Greetings,” her neighbor responded, holding two beers in his hands. “Thought you could use a cold one.”

She snarled. “I was sleeping.”

“Didn’t sound like you were sleeping. It sounded like you were talking to someone.” He peered past her and into the dark room.

“I was talking to myself, and I’m not thirsty. Thank you.”

“Come on. A young thing such as yourself would like a cold one.”

“I told you before, Kenny. I’m not open for business.”

“All you sweet things are open for business, so let me in. Let’s make use of that bed that you’re not using right now.”

“Kenny, you don’t want any of this. Trust me.” Keeper tried to close the door.

“Yes, I do.” Kenny stuck his foot out, preventing the door from closing. “Why do you have to be such a bitch?”

Keeper stared at the man before her. His eyes held an ugly glare, but also had a glint of lust. His muscles bulged under his shirt, and she smelled the liquor and tobacco on his breath. This man was definitely what they called trash, and he thought women were something to be owned. But he would not own her, and she had no patience for a flea such as him.

“I am a bitch. Now, get lost,” she said, but Kenny kept his foot right where it was. “Are you sure that you want me?” Keeper’s face flashed against the neon light flooding into the room again. “I’m no sweet thing.”

“I must be high,” Kenny mumbled as he shook his head.

“So, sleep it off.” She pushed the door closed.

A sinister laugh filled the room. They were here, watching her, enjoying the show. Maybe, they put Kenny up to it. And Kenny was a damn idiot. She was trying to spare him. He just wouldn’t take the hint, but the door was finally shut. A moment later, Kenny kicked it open, still holding the beers in his hands.

“I’m not done with you.” Kenny placed the beers on the floor. “Someone like you wouldn’t come to a motel like this if you weren’t looking for some action. I want to hear your honey slick voice scream.”

“You do not want to hear me scream,” Keeper snapped. “Last warning.”

“I’m not going anywhere, little girl.” He unbuckled his pants.

“You really do not want to touch me.”

“Why’s that?” He licked his lips.

“Because you won’t like how I taste. Now, I’m trying to do you a favor here,” she said, but he dropped his pants. “And it’s not a small favor like your package there.”

“Oh, a dick joke. You’re funny. Hey, it’s not the size that counts. It’s how you use it.” Kenny kicked his pants aside. “And I’m gonna use it on you. We’re going to break that bed.”

“You’re going to break something.” Keeper stepped back. Part of her wanted to give in. That’s what they were hoping for, and she could use some excitement. She was tired of the terror, the dreams, the waiting, and even the driving, but she didn’t want to go back. She wouldn’t go back.

Red eyes flashed behind Kenny. He was such a poor fool, and maybe he deserved it. But she didn’t have the heart. Well, she didn’t have a heart, but she still hated herself for what she did to the sheriff and that waitress, Beatrice.

“Last chance, little girl.”

“Get out of my room,” Keeper screamed. Her scream was almost that of a banshee. She even heard the window crack, making Kenny fall to his knees. “Get away from me, you stupid, dumb fucking shit!”

He staggered to his feet. “You got quite the scream there. I would love to make you scream harder.” The neon sign’s light filled the room, and Keeper’s face changed. “What the hell are you?”

“Hell is a good word. Now, get out.”

“No, you’re just a little girl, a little girl that needs some manners taught to her.”

“Did your mother drop you on your head?”

“Don’t talk about my mother.” Kenny grabbed her by the arm.

“You stupid, dumb shit.” She watched him crumble to the floor. “I told you to not touch me.” She knew his body was ice cold. Just like the sheriff. Just like with Beatrice. “You wanted to fuck me?” She pressed her lips against his, and his body shook violently.

“You taste like … Like …”

“Brimstone,” and she pushed him against the floor. “I would love to fuck your brains out now because it doesn’t matter. You just damned yourself.”

Keeper stepped over him and walked back to the table. She sifted through her things until she found a pack of cigarettes. Placing a cigarette between her lips, she sat on the wobbly chair. She leaned forward, locking eyes with Kenny, and lifted her right index finger. The butt of the cigarette brushed against her finger and lit up. The cigarette blackened. Ash fell to the floor, burning the carpeting, and she crushed the small fire out with her foot.

“Are you a demon?”

“No. You don’t want to meet one of those. Now, put your damn pants on.” She took a drag of her cigarette. “Tell me, Kenny. How many girls?”

He slowly put his pants on. She watched him shake, making her think of winter. Would she be around when the snow fell? And no matter how many girls he fucked, he would never be warm again. That absence would grow inside of him until nothing else was left.

Keeper thought of the sheriff and Beatrice. She flinched, hating herself more, but Kenny deserved it. She tried to warn him. But he did not listen.

“I asked you a question. How many girls?”

“How many girls what?” He kept his back toward her.

“It’s a little too late to be afraid of me. How many girls did you rape?”

“How could you possibly know that?” He turned toward her, and she smiled at the fear in his eyes. “You don’t know me.”

“Oh, Kenny boy. The moment you touched me, I knew everything about you, and I saw what you did. And I don’t feel guilty about where you’re going.”

“How did you get out?”

“Get out? Get out of hell? Why? You think I’m going to help you?” She laughed an ugly laugh, and she could hear the demons laughing with her.

“If I’m going to hell…” Kenny took a step toward her. “Then, I’m coming back. Just like you.”

“You have no idea what I had to do to become a Keeper.” She crushed the butt of her cigarette out on the table. “You didn’t leave too many of those girls alive, and the ones that you did … I feel sorry for them. I don’t feel sorry for you. You have no idea what they are going to do to you down there.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Your mother must have dropped you on your head.”

“Don’t talk about my mother, bitch! And you’re fucking wrong. I’m not going down to hell. I’m going to heaven. I believe in God, and he will save me.”

She laughed that ugly laugh again. “Look at this guy on my shirt. Face of an angel, but he’s no saint. Neither are you, and if he were real, he would drag your sorry ass down to hell himself.”

“Fuck you, you crazy bitch. There’s no such thing as demons.”

“Really?”

He cringed at the grin on her face. “Yeah, you’re no demon. I’m just high.”

“You’re right.” She watched him relax at her words. “I’m no demon, and yes, you are high. And stupid. And I wouldn’t look behind you.”

“What?”

“Don’t turn around.”

Of course, he turned around, but there was only darkness behind him. Then, the darkness circled, turning into a funnel cloud, and in the middle were a pair of red eyes. Two long claws extended from the sides and swiped at Kenny, barely missing him. Kenny screamed, running from the room.

“At least, he’s finally gone.” She stared at the red eyes, and they refused to blink. “Did you enjoy the show?” Keeper heard its sinister laugh. “Add another one to your collection.”

The wall behind her burst into flames. The flames formed letters. Willow City. 5 p.m. The message went up in smoke. Another mission. Another soul to condemn or return. If only they would let her rest, but they never did. But it was still better up here than down there.

Keeper gathered her things and shoved them into a worn backpack. She needed money and gas. She was running on fumes. Kenny’s wallet lay near the door. For a piece of shit, he carried a lot of cash around. He would no longer need it. The money was hers.

Outside, a car screeched. She heard the ugly impact, chased by a woman’s cry. Someone had been run over by her car, and the woman was shrieking for help. But it was too late. It was too late to save that soul. Keeper knew who it was. Nobody would miss him, and those girls that survived would celebrate his death.

She picked up a beer from the floor and popped off the cap. She downed the cool liquid, and a silver cloud escaped from her mouth. “Here’s to you, Kenny. If you didn’t run out into the parking lot and get hit by that car…” She took another swig of the beer. “They probably would have torched this place, and you would have burned. You still will burn, but you didn’t listen. And I’m glad you didn’t.”

She left the motel room. Sirens flashed in the distance, and the rain started to fall. Somewhere, she could hear a baby cry, and she cringed at its sound. She got into her car.

Why is it that when I try to remember, I hear a baby cry? That cry haunts me in my sleep. I want answers. I want to open that door and see what waits on the other side, but the demons keep that door locked. They don’t want me to know. Are they afraid that once I do, I will be free? Maybe then, I could go to heaven and be with the real angels?

I will probably go back down, but I will fight like hell to stay up here, even if it means that I will never know peace. But there is no rest for those wicked.