## Solomon POV As to be expected on Halloween, the evening was a great deal busier and louder than usual, especially with the gaggle of teenagers (Cherry’s friends?) now gleefully cackling about our new decoration “Boner.” In the middle of all this hustle and bustle, Aurelian received a call from the crew manning the festival — apparently, some sort of angelic interference was preventing our booth from continuing to serve food. Frankly, I was surprised that the angels are as obsessive and hypervigilant about preventing harmless fun in sleepy Marlowe as they were in Las Vegas. In any case, it was obvious that Aurelian was the best candidate to go resolve the issue; after all, they are of angelic origin, and just a few months ago they too were one of these tired stick-in-the-mud types themselves (although admittedly, they were now improving somewhat). Aurelian themself looked distinctly uncomfortable with having to leave the diner, though it was hard to tell if it was from the idea of potentially confronting their old colleagues, or leaving me in charge. If it was the latter, Aurelian truly had no reason to worry. I ran a butter-smooth operation as the temp manager — after all, the rules of hospitality and customer service do not change much whether you’re running a diner or a resort. Jonny and Cherry shirked their kitchen and waiting duties somewhat, but I allowed them to do so as they were surprisingly adept at keeping the large crowd of teenagers entertained with spooky stories and occult theories. In the meantime, the ghosts of Hell clamored to visit our diner, and serving them alongside our other human diner customers posed no problems whatsoever. In fact, I’m sure all of our customers would have been even more entertained if the veil had been lifted and the teenagers could see that real ghosts were walking amongst them. As the night went on, some of the ghosts began clamoring to be allowed to stay longer, which is only possible for them through possession. One of the more coherent ones, who called himself Dorian, offered a fraction of his soul for a chance to possess a human. Ghost souls are not a particularly powerful currency, but I was feeling charitable and decided to humor him. He was interested in possessing one of the high school students, but I knew just the perfect occult enthusiast who might be interested in the experience. I approached Jonny in the kitchen and described the opportunity — Dorian would get his wish of visiting the overworld just a bit longer, and Jonny would have some time to experience real magic and get to know another occult being intimately. But to my complete bafflement, Jonny began launching into a tirade about — oh, I don’t recall exactly at this point. Something about aliens and body-snatching Eden? At first I thought the poor guy was suffering some sort of seizure, his sanity dashed by his obsession with Eden and the divorce. But then I vaguely remembered Eden herself, breaking down in my office one night some months ago, describing him as similarly unobservant, combative, and offputting most of his life. And now I suppose he was intent on directing all of this unwarranted vitriol at me. Some people never learn\! I was not happy that Jonny was blowing up this win-win opportunity just for some misplaced grudge, but at the very least, it did help me make up my mind about what to do about the favor Eden had requested of me. I had been considering whether to use it as some sort of opportunity or leverage against her new heavenly restaurant, but witnessing his tirade — it simply won’t do to have this lunatic near her. I was in the middle of admonishing Jonny when I received a series of calls. The first was from Aurelian. There was a change in plans, and 1\) Leslie should have come back to the diner (he had not. slacking off again, no doubt) and 2\) Emil needed to come back to the diner, and his festival shift will be taken by Jonny. What an obviously deranged decision — Emil clearly needs as much as time as he can take to be outside the diner and get some outside air, and the miniscule raving madman in front of me should really not be anywhere near the public — but apparently sending Emil home was the only way we could continue vending at the festival, and Jonny is our only other cook. The second call was from Leslie. At this point I had kept Dorian waiting for too long, and so since he seemed to be on his way now at least I quickly ended the call and turned back to the counter to address Dorian. As I stepped out, I saw the door swing open, and a tall, shadowy demon who I did not recognize entered the diner and sat at the counter. I welcomed him to the diner and briefly turned to Dorian to inform him that there will unfortunately not be any possession happening today, when the new visitor turned, ate him (\!), and politely announced that he wanted to speak with me, specifically. For obvious reasons, these days I do not enjoy speaking to people from my past any more — but I saw no other option but to ask what exactly he wanted from me. It was then he suddenly lunged at me — which I dodged easily, having predicted some level of animosity — before confessing that his true desire was to completely break me. My memory still did not recall on its own who this could be. Thankfully, he introduced himself as Thatch, a demon imp who had apparently been gifted to me by Julian and worked in the cogs of the soul-accounting machinery in hell. I had then transferred him to another wrath devil, who in the end treated him poorly. I began putting the pieces together — I would have remembered a large demon like him amongst my assets, so he must have gained his stature after his tenure with me. And having gained some power, he seemed to be on some sort of journey of vengeance now, as Thatch mentioned that he had already “taken care” of the wrath devil who owned him after me. I’ve heard of this sort of thing, in sensational tabloids — after a lucky break where they gain some extra power, some imps seek violent revenge against their former masters who have been exceptionally cruel. Still I was initially taken aback — they usually are apprehended before they could do much damage to anyone, not to mention that I had been one of the most indulgent masters in Hell by far, especially once compared to the average devil lord in the wrath circle. Then he mentioned that Julian had sent him. I see. Of course. Thatch summoned a manifestation of my connections, this thick tangled web of golden threads. There were somehow simultaneously more threads than I thought — shouldn’t I have lost many? — and less than I thought, if all of those years of deals could fit into one palm. He ran his fingers through them, and it sent an odd shudder down my spine. How unnerving it was to feel that I was also connected to those who had bound themselves to me. He picked one thread out of that clump, to “take” first — the cry of a baby, the click of heels on the pavement — and I knew it was Eden’s. He lunged for me again — can he take the thread from me forcibly, like this? — but this time, I had it in me to summon a small column of hellfire to separate the two of us. He jumped back, promising to take everything I had, eventually, and began scampering out the door. As he did, he nodded to Leslie, who had been busy making himself small by the tables.