Page 71 of Housesitter

“Really?” Easy spat as Shepherd hurried toward the end of the page. “That’s the best you could do? I’m going to kill you here, before you can embarrass me in Hell.”

He closed his hand around Shithead’s torso as he started to rip her in half.

Honestly, Kel had always thought, cursed or not, that Shepherd was a little crazy for giving Shithead a dialogue. As he stared at the doll’s cracked, smiling face, though, he could feel its twisted satisfaction.

Dada! The voicebox croaked out. I wuv you.

Then Shithead burst into flames. Sparks and black, greasy smoke bled from her eye sockets and embers spilled out of her torn body. Her china limbs crazed and blackened from the heat and licked hungrily up Easy’s arms. His body hair singed and crisped and his flesh blistered.

“What the—” he yelped as he tried to fling the doll away from him.

Sticky, taffy strings of a dress made before anyone thought about fire-resistant material stuck to his hands. He staggered back a step as the fire licked at his face and…stepped right off the edge.

“No!” Shepherd yelled. He dropped the contract as he lunged for the pit, his hand out to grab the doll. Kel grabbed him and dragged him back. “Let me go! I have to—”

“Keep reading,” Kel told him as he shoved the contract back into Shepherd’s hands. “Shithead made her call. Respect it.”

It took a second. Shepherd finally wiped his nose on his forearm, took a ragged breath, and kept reading. As he got to the end of the page, the ink started to flake and squirm on the parchment.

The name at the bottom crawled into shape.

Ezekiel Red Laker.

“I need blood,” Shepherd said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. The blade snapped out as he pressed the button. He looked expectantly at Kel, who grimaced and held his hand out. It was stupid to be squeamish at this point, but he still flinched and looked away as Shepherd carved his thumb open. When he looked back, he could see bone and round blobs of fat spilling out of the cut. He took a sickly breath and jammed his thumb down on the signature line.

It drank it thirstily. He could feel it suck at the edges of the wound, the ache of it working down into his knuckle and the palm of his hand. In the pit, Easy screamed with rage, and then there was a sharp, distinct sound like a lock being turned.

The screaming stopped.

The rustling faded.

The house stopped rattling.

Shepherd carefully folded the contract with shaking hands. He watched himself doing it intently and then handed the result to Kel. It felt like…paper.

“Did it work?” Kel asked.

Shepherd sat down and dangled his legs over the pit. He didn’t answer, but nothing grabbed his feet and dragged him to Hell. Answer enough, Kel supposed. He sat down next to him and stared into the darkness.

They sat in shocked, awkward silence for a while until Kel nudged his elbow into Shepherd’s ribs.

“...that’s up to me?” he said. “Seriously? I spilled my heart out and—”

Shepherd leaned against him and put his head on Kel’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

Fair enough.

Epilogue

Hell House Client Brief: The devil is in the details...and the basement.

Shepherd rolled off Kel and fell back onto the bed. He stretched out on the black silk sheets, fitting his toes into the gouges on the baseboard. There was no uneasy sense of something malicious waiting under the bed, and he felt a moment’s guilt.

They really did need to be more considerate. This was its home too.

But for now, apologies could wait. They were tangled in sheets that smelled like sex and just a hint of sulfur, and Hell hadn’t processed Kel’s intake yet, so they had all the time in the world. Shepherd rested his head on Kel’s chest and listened to his heart settle back down into something close to normal. At the same time, Kel ran his fingers idly through Shepherd’s hair.

“So,” Kel said eventually. “I own a farm.”