Read Damned If You Do for Free Online

He cleared his throat. “Goodnight, Seth.”
    He watched Seth turn and walk slowly back toward the tent, which was now dark. He fought the ridiculous urge to call out. To beg Seth to stay, even if only to stand at the edge of the field together a few minutes longer.
    And as if Seth had heard that call, he turned. “We’ll be here all week. Maybe you’ll decide to come back?”
    Abaddon smiled, feeling the brightness of Seth’s soul all the way to his feet. “Maybe I will.”
    * * * * *
    As much as he longed to stay in Kentucky where he could keep his eye and his soul sense on Seth, there was still a mountain of paperwork to do in Hell. But try as he might, Abaddon couldn’t keep his focus on his work. He found his mind drifting over and over again to the bright cotton-candy luminescence of Seth’s soul, and to the unhappy look on Seth’s face when Abaddon had asked what his group had been waiting for during the revival.
    â€œWhere in the world have you been?” Baphomet asked, rushing over to Abaddon’s desk. His tie was loose and his glasses askew. He held a stack of papers and reports to his chest like a nerd clutching his calculus book. “Did you find some souls?”
    â€œOh, I found one all right.” Abaddon frowned at the form he’d been trying to fill out with his typewriter. He could never get the blank spots lined up right with the strike of the keys.
    â€œOnly one?” Baphomet glanced over his shoulder, making sure nobody was listening. “You have less than two weeks to meet your quota, and you only harvested one soul?”
    â€œDamn it!” He’d been distracted and typed his name in the date field and the date in the name filed. He ripped the sheet out of the roller. “You have any Wite-Out on you?”
    â€œAbaddon!”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œDo you want to get demoted?”
    â€œOf course not!”
    â€œThen you need to be out hunting—”
    â€œLook, I found a soul, all right? Not just any soul, either. This one is off the fucking charts. It’s—”
    Baphomet held up the top bundle of papers off the stack in his arms. “Then why didn’t I see it on today’s report?”
    Abaddon sighed. “Well, I don’t actually have it yet.”
    â€œWhat? What in the world were you doing up there then?”
    â€œI’ll get it, okay? I’m going back again tonight. And I’m telling you, this is it. I found the mother lode.”
    Baphomet shook his head. “You should quit searching for the one, and just fill the quota. Land a handful of everyday, pedestrian souls, and get back in the black.”
    The thought of a pedestrian soul had never been less appealing. “No way, man. I can’t give up on this one. This is the soul to end all souls. The fucking sweetest, purest thing I’ve ever felt. He’s perfect.”
    â€œYou’re such a sap.”
    â€œI’m not being a sap. I’m being realistic. This soul is my ticket. I won’t have to harvest again for the rest of the year. I’ll get a promotion. I’ll be King of the Department. I’ll— I’ll—break the record!” He paused, thinking. “Hey, who holds the current soul record anyway?”
    â€œBaphomet.”
    â€œYou mean you?”
    â€œNo, dumbass. The other Baphomet.”
    Abaddon frowned, thinking. “The guy with the red hair?”
    â€œNo, the other one.”
    â€œThe one with the beard?”
    â€œNo, the other other one.”
    Abaddon scratched his head. “The short guy?”
    â€œNo! The other other other one.”
    â€œI can’t think of any other Baphomets.”
    Baphomet sighed, looking over his shoulder again to make sure no managers were in sight. He leaned closer. “The one with the great big mole.” He touched the side of his nose to clarify.
    â€œOh! Mole Baphomet! I know who you mean now.”