BRIMSTONE
VS Episode #212
"Remembrance"
Written by Joel Rauch
with ideas by Phil Gee & Derek Saul



Enzo D'Amato carefully wiped off the razor.  He didn’t shave every day 
anymore, as he had while he had served with the New York City Police 
Department.  Today was Tuesday, the highlight of his week.  Every 
Tuesday night, his daughter Sophia D’Amato had dinner with him.  

He inspected his gaunt face in the bathroom mirror.  His eyes were 
still clear, he still had his hair.  It was gray now, not the dark 
black it had been in his prime.  He had had a good life, he reflected, 
but now, in his eighth decade, it was good to slow down.  

Satisfied with his appearance, he carefully made his way to his 
bedroom.  The apartment that he had retired to was small, but with age, 
the distance between rooms always seemed to grow.  It was a slow, 
creeping process, one that could not be measured, but he knew that 
every year, it took longer and longer to move around his home.  

He dressed quickly and efficiently.  He had always taken pride in how 
he presented himself as a police officer, from his first day as a 
rookie to the day he retired as a captain.  And now, even though he was 
dressing for an audience of one, he still checked his pants for loose 
threads, his shirt for lint, and made sure the shine on his shoes 
sparkled.  

Everything was set out in the dining room.  The white cloth draped over 
the table was clean, the dishes and silverware were gleaming.  He 
always prepared the table on Tuesday afternoons, listening to the 
afternoon talk shows as he did.  Rosie O’Donnell was his favorite, she 
seemed so nice, and much better behaved than the rest of the lot.

He settled to wait in his evening chair.  Today’s newspaper, delivered 
right to his doorstep by a boy down the hall, was on the table next to 
him.  On the front page, in the lower right hand corner, was a story 
about the killer who had been terrorizing local hospitals.  The seventh 
victim, a young boy with a broken arm, had been found dead by his 
mother when she returned from the restroom.  

He was reading the second paragraph when the knock came on the door.  
It was his daughter, his only remaining family since his wife Filomena 
had passed away.  She was still dressed in her uniform, and she carried 
a plastic bag.  His mouth watered as he smelled the rich sauce from the 
Italian food she had brought.

“Hello, Dad,” she said, kissing him quickly on the cheek.  He could 
smell a faint trace of perfume, the same fragrance her mother used to 
wear.  It was unusual, and he wondered if she was wearing it for 
someone at work.  

The food was superb.  Antonio’s down the street was the only pasta he 
enjoyed now that his wife was gone.  Even hers had been bested by his 
mother’s cooking, using the recipes she had carried across the ocean 
from the old country.  All the pleasures he had known in his life 
seemed faded, receding along with his hairline.

The dinner conversation was pleasant.  They often talked about the 
police force, but tonight Sophia steered around it.  He suspected 
something was bothering her, and when she pushed her plate away and 
helped herself to a third glass of wine, he thought she might be ready 
to talk.

“Any tough cases at work?”

“Yes,” she answered simply, after a moment.  He said nothing, and she 
expanded, “Another woman was killed at St. Mark’s Hospital.  A janitor 
found her this afternoon, and I spent most of the day on the scene.  We 
aren’t even sure if it is the same perp, or a copycat.”

“Any leads, any witnesses?”

“Oh yes,” she said. “One of the nurses saw a man nearby.  That’s all 
she could say.  He might have looked familiar, but she’s not sure.  
That’s it.  Eight murders and this is the best we have.”

“Any physical evidence?”

“Nothing.”

They considered this for a moment.  Sophia finished her glass of wine.  
“Do you remember the St. Mark’s Strangler, must be almost twenty years 
ago?” Enzo asked.  “It was in the papers, but you were young.”

“At the same hospital?”

“Eight women were raped and killed, all at St. Marks. It was over eight 
or nine months, about one a month.  You can look it up in the case 
files, if you want.”

“You think it might be related?”

“No, the person who strangled these women is still in jail.  They were 
up for parole last year, but got turned down.  It just reminded me of 
that case.”

“Was it one you solved?”

“No,” Enzo said.  “It was a detective named Ezekiel Stone.  I was his 
lieutenant when he was a rookie.  He couldn’t get anywhere with it 
either.  ‘There’s no common thread,’ he told me.”  He rested his arm on 
the table and smiled to Sophia, teacher to student. 

“So what did he do?” she asked.

“Why, he came to me, of course,” he joked.  “I told him assumption was 
the mother of all foul-ups.  He knew there was a common thread, that 
they’d all been killed.  So one of his assumptions was wrong.  He went 
back through, widened his search.  A new name popped up, and he brought 
them in for questioning.  Sure enough, they confessed.  He got his name 
in all the papers for that one.”

“What was the twist, what was he missing?”

“It’s in the case file.  I’m positive that it’s not related.  Look it 
up sometime if you have a slow day.”

“The next slow day I have will be my first,” Sophia said.  “Paperwork, 
paperwork, and more paperwork. I never seem to get caught up.”  Her 
cell phone rang, and she glanced at it.  “I should take this, it’s the 
station.”  She punched a button on the phone.  “Detective D’Amato,” 
she answered briskly.  Enzo smiled at her words.  How many times had he 
used them?  Detective D’Amato.  It was the best any father could hope 
for, to have your child follow in your footsteps.  

“Okay, I’ll be right down,” Sophia was saying.  She hung up and turned 
to her father.  “Dad, I’ve got to go.  They have a suspect in custody, 
caught him in the act at St. Mary’s Hospital.  I want to be there when 
they question him.”

“Of course,” Enzo said, rising to his feet.  Sophia was already putting 
on her jacket.  “Sophia,” he said, getting her full attention.  “I just 
want you to know how proud I am of you.”

Her face had begun to tense up as she slipped into her police mindset, 
but when she heard her father’s words, it softened.  “I know, Dad.  
Thank you.”

He hugged her, more tightly than he had in months.  “Take care.  I love 
you.”

“Thanks, Dad, I’ll see you next week.”  With that, she slipped out the 
door.

When she saw his mutilated body later, her regret was that she hadn’t 
told him how much she loved him.

				#

The glow from the burning church sparkled across his face, framing it 
through his broken window.  Ezekiel Stone watched, horrified.  He tried 
to speak, but he could find no words.  Serpents, controlled by the 
woman sitting opposite him in the limousine, tightened their grip 
around his body, allowing him no room for movement.  

He recalled the crucified body he had found; a damned soul fastened to 
a cross like a tool hanging on a pegboard.  Now the same woman had 
trapped him.  Using all of his supernatural strength, he strained 
against the bonds.  There was no effect.

Delilah Ash smiled.  Perhaps it was at the flaming church, perhaps it 
was at the man she had professed her love for just moments earlier.  
Whichever the target, her crooked grin seemed malevolent in the pulsing 
firelight.  “What’s wrong, Zeke?” she asked.  

“You bitch,” he swore.  “Jesus, you bombed a church!”

“Invoke His name, Zeke.  That will certainly keep you on my good side.”  
She moved to his side, the reptiles under her control boiling up and 
forming a seat for her.  She settled into it, and raised a hand to 
point at the church.  “Look.”

Walking down the steps was a figure.  Swathed in flame, it strode 
steadily for the car.  The fire that engulfed him began to shrink, than 
extinguished itself.  The man left a trail of white smoke in his wake 
as he crossed the street.  

He leaned into the broken window.  His face and skin were unharmed; his 
hair was perfect and unmussed.  “Just as you ordered, Ash,” Luke said.

“Thank you, Luke,” she replied.  “Tell us what happened, just for the 
clarification of our friend here.”

Luke bobbed his head.  “Everyone got out safely.”

“You’re lying,” Stone accused.

“Thank you, Luke,” Ash repeated, dismissing him with her tone.  Luke, 
understanding the cue, climbed back into the driver’s seat of the 
vehicle.  The engine started smoothly, and they rolled away from the 
crime scene.  In the night air, sirens were making their call heard.

“Zeke, what makes you think I would want to kill anyone?” Ash asked.  
“All the churches I burned, what did they have in common?”

He resisted the obvious answer for a moment, but finally admitted, 
“They were empty.”

“I had it worked out with Luke ahead of time.  He made sure the church 
was evacuated before he activated the bomb.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You’ll have to read about it in the morning paper.  I’m not taking you 
back.”  She rubbed against him as best she could with the snakes 
between them.  “I’m telling you the truth, Zeke.  I want you to trust 
me.”

“Prove it,” he challenged.  “Tell me how many escaped souls are left in 
L.A.”

“Hmmm,” she replied.  “No tactical information you can use against me, 
not while we’re on opposite sides.  Even if I wanted to tell you, I 
couldn’t.  I don’t know.  They don’t check in with me every day.”

“Okay,” he said.  “Tell me about a senile old man I came across today.  
Seemed to respond to William.”

“Why do you want to know?” she wondered.  “Your job is done.”

“Because I do.  Can you tell me?”

“William Wilson was born in England in 1465.  Fought in the War of the 
Roses.  In his younger days, after he came home, he was a bit of a 
drunk.  Hung around with a rough crowd.  But he finally settled down, 
started a family.  Raised three daughters.”

“Why was he in Hell?”  

“Things he did when he was young.”

“How did he die?”

She grinned.  “Here,” she suggested, snaking a hand out towards him.  
He resisted, but she placed her hand against his cheek.  “Let me show 
you.”

Stone grunted, flexing against his serpent bonds like a man 
experiencing a powerful orgasm.  He writhed, trying to twist away from 
Ash’s touch, but she kept contact with him.  

After a moment, he fell limp.  “What was that?” he asked weakly.  “I 
saw… things.”

“What did you see?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t tell,” he explained.  “Sheriff Kemp, Bishop Gregory, they 
wanted to know who stole the cup from the cathedral.  It was… my 
daughter… who did it.  I wouldn’t tell them, and they locked me up.  It 
was winter, and I froze to death.”

“Did William steal the cup?”

Stone looked at her with wonder.  “No.  The church, the priests, in 
their fancy robes, they let me die.  They locked me up, the farthest 
cell away from the fire.  They killed me.”  He locked eyes with her.  
“They killed me.”

Ash’s eyes glowed green as she answered him.  “Powerful memory, isn’t 
it?  His hatred for the church burning throughout.  All of his memories 
are there, but he can’t access them.”

“Why didn’t you help him?”

“Zeke, I tried,” Ash said softly.  “His mind is a sieve.  Anything I 
teach him, it fades.”

“How do you do that?  Teach people?”

“The powers of Hell.”  She settled back, opposite him, and motioned 
with her hand.  The snakes slithered away, disappearing into the 
cushions.  “Secrets I could share with a partner.”

Stone looked around.  He was free.  He flexed his arms, enjoying the 
freedom of movement again.  “Thank you,” he said.  

“I’m not going to ask you again, tonight.  You know what I want.  Maybe 
we’ll see each other, soon.  Luke!” she called.  “Stop the car.”  To 
Stone, she said, “I’ll let you out here.  Walk for a while, think about 
what you want.”

“I know what I want,” he said.  With that, he lunged at her, thumbs 
hooked out.

Her form collapsed, blue energy sinking into the floor.  Stone found 
himself alone in the car.  “Damn,” he swore.  “Not again.”

Luke jerked open the door.  “Where’s the boss?”  Stone looked back 
guiltily, a fox in the hen house.

From behind Luke, a voice spoke.  “Back here.”  The Asian man turned.  
Ash stood there, her look transformed into the dark haired priestess.  
“Let him go.”

Luke grabbed at Stone, hoisting him out and throwing him into the 
street.  Stone rolled into a crouch, then stood.  “It’s not over, Ash,” 
he said.

“It’s over when I say it’s over,” she said.  Luke stood by her side, 
ready to defend her.  “And I say it’s over, at least for tonight.”  She 
climbed back into the car, watching him through the broken window. 

“If you killed anyone at the church, I’m coming for you next,” Stone 
promised.  Luke resumed his place in the driver’s seat, the engine 
still idling.

“Stone,” Ash said.  He waited.  “Happy deathday.”



ACT ONE


“Praise the Lord!” Father Horn shouted.

Gina Brayker and Rosalyn Stone exchanged a look.  They stood behind the 
former St. Rose’s Catholic Church, a flaming cinder of its previous 
self.  “Everyone got out okay, didn’t they?” Gina asked.

“What about that man, the one who was yelling?” Roz wondered.  “Do you 
see him out here?”

“No,” Gina replied as she scanned the crowd.  “Call the police.”

“They are on their way,” Father Horn said.  “Can’t you hear them?”

“No,” Roz said.  But then, just barely, she could.  “Maybe I can,” she 
hedged.

Gina looked into the flames.  In the light, Roz noticed several dark 
streaks on Gina’s face.  She touched them gently, and Gina winced.  
“Does that hurt?” Rosalyn asked.

“A little.  It doesn’t feel too bad.  Who was that man, the one who 
warned us out of the church?”

“I don’t know,” Rosalyn replied.  “But he saved all of our lives.”

“He looked a little like an actor in a movie I saw.  Chow Yun-Fat.  
Maybe he’s your guardian angel.”

“Zeke.  It could have been him in the bank.  He’s here, he’s in L.A.”  
She gripped the arms of the younger woman.  “Zeke is alive!”  A short 
hysterical laugh escaped her.

Gina smiled back.  “I’m so happy for you.  Go, find him.  We’ll be 
okay.”

Emergency vehicles stopped on the street, their powerful lights 
flashing over the glare from the fire.  Several of the other 
worshippers signaled, and an ambulance circled around to the back of 
the church to where they were.  “Anyone hurt?” the paramedics wanted to 
know.

“The Lord sent a divine angel to warn us,” Father Horn exclaimed.  
“Through his providence, all are unharmed.”  

“Actually, Gina has some cuts that should be looked at,” Roz said.  She 
took Gina’s arm and led her to the ambulance.

The paramedic looked her over.  “This isn’t too serious, but we’d like 
you to come by the hospital and have it looked at.”

Gina nodded, and said to Roz, “It’ll be fine.  Go ahead, find Zeke.”

“Thank you,” Roz said.  “For everything.”

“Good luck,” Gina said, exchanging a quick hug with her before climbing 
into the ambulance.  Roz looked around for Father Horn.  He was talking 
to a police officer, and she really didn’t want to speak with him 
anyway.  He might blame her for the inferno that still flamed behind 
them.

Roz walked away from the scene, heading for her car and the Hotel 
Irondell on 26th.  Her mind repeated a single thought, over and over.

Zeke was alive!

				#

Ashur Badaktu sat silently in the limousine.  Rejected again by her 
love, she brooded.  He was too attached to Los Angeles.  If she could 
break him free of this place, maybe he would be more open to her 
proposals.

From another compartment, she removed a cellular phone.  This was a 
course of action she wanted to avoid, but if it brought Zeke to her, it 
would be worth it.  She hated to break the rules that she had set down, 
but the millenium was almost here.  If he was to take Novak’s place, it 
would have to be soon.  The master plan was coming together.  

Her fingers danced over the phone’s keypad.  Three thousand miles away, 
a voice spoke.  “Go.”

“Novak.”

“Ashur.”

“It didn’t work.  Go ahead with your plan.”  

She could almost hear his smile over the phone.  “Okay,” he answered.  
“I’ll have it taken care of.”

“Good.”  Novak disconnected, and Ash dropped the phone.  She was alone 
again.  She recalled her daughter, the way Seri had smiled the last 
time she had seen her.  One hand dropped to cup her womb.  There would 
be new life growing there soon, she was sure of it.

				#

Lisa Kay Napoli was seated at the computer in her new husband’s home.  
Her fingers flew over the keys.  Ashur had given her excellent typing 
skills, allowing her to get a job as a secretary in a Wall Street 
investment house.  Her dark Italian features had caught the eye of one 
of the brokers, and they had been married two months ago.  She no 
longer had to work, just stay at home and keep house for Michael.

Today she was in a chat room, discussing current events.  She still 
thought in Italian, and her conversations helped her to fit into this 
new world.  Just two months away from the fantastic year 2000, they 
were talking about the Y2K computer bug.  

“I’ll be getting out of the city for New Year’s Eve,” DAVE345 was 
saying.  “Too much could go wrong.”

NYCLUVR agreed.  “If there was going to be a terrorist attack, Times 
Square would be seen around the world.”

Lisa chimed in.  “LKN1743:  Anyone think the world will end?”

There was a general agreement that the world would continue, except for 
RPNT1999.  “It’s in the Bible,” they stated, “The Lord whill deliver 
his judgement and take the faithful to heaven.  For seven years, the 
Devil and his army whill rule the earth.”

Lisa smiled at that.  Who better than she knew that the Devil had no 
power on Earth?  He was helpless here.  Fighting the urge to comment on 
RPNT’s spelling, she added, “The Devil isn’t competent to rule Hell, 
how could he rule the Earth?”

“The Devil is destined to fail,” RPNT1999 replied.  

A new window popped up on her screen.  It was an instant message from 
someone that she didn’t recognize, HARLOWEEN2000.  The short message 
made it clear that the sender knew her, and her past.  “Ashur113,” it 
read.

“Who is this?” she replied.  

“Our mutual friend has a errand for you.  Go to the restaurant on 53rd 
and Central tomorrow at 9AM for breakfast.  Wear something attractive.”

“What is this about?” she wanted to know.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.  Don’t be late, it would be bad for Michael.”

“Who is this?” she typed furiously, but HARLOWEEN2000 signed off.  Lisa 
Kay stared at the screen for a moment longer.  She’d tried to put her 
past behind her, and start a new life.  Michael was a good Italian man, 
close to his family, and had a solid career.  It was the best she could 
have hoped for when she had followed Ashur out of Hell.  Now the bill 
for her second chance at life was coming due.  

Lisa Kay shut down the computer and went to her room.  She browsed 
among the dresses that Michael had bought for her.  Something 
attractive, her mysterious correspondent had said.  This black dress 
would do nicely.



ACT TWO


Stone hurried down the street.  It was just after ten, and he was 
hoping to make it back to his hotel before Samantha left.  She could 
take him back to Father Horn’s parish, where he could verify things for 
himself.  

The image of the exploding church appeared to him again.  Was Ash 
lying?  Or was everyone safe?  She was probably being honest with him.  
But he wanted to know for himself.  

Samantha, however, was no assistance.  “Sorry, Zeke, you know I’d be 
happy to help.  But I loaned my car to a friend today.  I can give you 
a ride tomorrow if you need.”

Stone nodded, disappointed.  “Thank you.”  

Sam shrugged into her backpack.  “Want to get something to eat?”

If he was going to worry about Father Horn, at least he could do it on 
a full stomach.  “Sure.”

				#

The Rawshank Diner was deserted, except for a pair of men sitting near 
the pool table and having an animated discussion.  Teresita was working 
tonight, and he caught her eye as they found their way to a table.  
Samantha slid into a booth, her back to the window, and Stone seated 
himself across from her.  

Sam scanned the menu.  “I think I’m going to have a hot fudge sundae 
tonight,” she announced.  Stone arched an eyebrow, but made no comment.  

Teresita approached.  “Evening, you two.  How’s everything?”

“Fine,” Sam answered.

“Coffee tonight?” she offered, holding out the brown handled decanter.  
Zeke and Sam flipped their cups over, and Teresita filled them.  They 
ordered, with Zeke going for the usual calorie loaded plate.

“So what time tomorrow did you want to meet?” Zeke asked.

“Eight, nine, something like that.  I can pick you up, if you want.  
I’ll bring you home, too.”

“You’ll bring me home?”

“The thought has crossed my mind, Zeke.  You haven’t thought about it?”

“More than I probably should,” he said candidly.

She winked at him.  “Get a few drinks in me, and you never know.”

Stone watched his coffee, on the off chance it was doing something 
interesting.  The second woman to proposition him in as many hours.  
But where was the woman that he wanted?

				#

Rosalyn Stone walked out of the Hotel Irondell.  The clerk had rung 
Ezekiel’s room, but with no response.  She’d decided against leaving a 
message for him, wanting to see him in person.  Back in her car, she 
considered her options.  What sounded good now was a cup of coffee and 
some time to think.

Ezekiel Stone was registered at the hotel!  It was Zeke, her long lost 
husband!  What would she say when she saw him?  Hi, Zeke, it’s Roz.  
Welcome back.  

Would he come home with her tonight, would he share her bed?  Would he 
take her to his hotel room?  Would they talk first, or just make love 
until their strength was gone?  In a few hours it would be November 
3rd.  She’d kissed him goodbye on his way to work, sixteen years ago, 
and he’d never come home again.  Instead, a squad car had brought home 
news of his death.  Where had he been, all these years?  What had he 
done, who had he been with?  For the first time since her hopes had 
been confirmed, she wondered about those things.  

At the end of the block, there was a small diner.  She stopped at the 
traffic signal and peered inside, looking to see if they were open this 
late.  

What she saw shocked her.

Her husband, Ezekiel Stone was there, staring down at the table.  She 
knew it was him, even without fully seeing his face.  It was him, it 
was him, Zeke was here.  

He shared the booth with a woman.  

She was blonde, which was all Rosalyn noticed.  Zeke captured her 
focus, held her attention as he laughed and smiled with his dinner 
guest.  The blonde plucked a cherry from her food and held it up, 
dangling it the air before slipping it into her mouth.

Behind her, a car horn voiced disapproval.  She looked up to see the 
light was green, and peeled out into the intersection.  Zeke was with 
another woman!  At the next light, Roz pulled a U-turn and doubled 
back, selecting a parking space across the street from the diner.  She 
left the car running, the heater on full blast.  Her skin was ice cold, 
and she shivered even under the torrent of hot air that erupted from 
her dashboard.  Zeke was with another woman!

She watched the window of Rawshank’s diner.  Zeke ate heartily, she 
noticed.  Usually, when his conscience bothered him, he didn’t eat 
much.  So he must be comfortable with this woman.

Zeke wasn’t cheating on her, was he?

				#

“Ready to call it a night, Sam?” Zeke asked, pushing his empty plate 
away.  

Samantha scraped the bottom of her bowl for remnants of her hot fudge 
sundae.  Finding nothing, she nodded.  Stone glanced at the check, and 
dropped what remained of his $36.27 on the table.  It was almost 
midnight, and there would be more to replace it in the morning.

As they walked back toward the hotel, Sam asked, “Zeke, when was the 
last time you saw your ex-wife?  I haven’t heard you talk about her in 
months.”

Stone thought for a moment before answering.  “We haven’t talked in 
years.  I’ve started to accept the fact we can’t get back together 
now.”

“So, what are you doing tonight?”

“What?”

“Would you walk me home?  I don’t have my car.”  

Stone looked at her oddly, but agreed.  “I can do that.”

She stopped on the street.  “Come here,” she demanded.  He halted, and 
she wrapped her arms around him.  “Thank you,” she said, kissing him 
quickly.   

“What was that for?”

“No reason.  You know, I never heard back from that guy from Hellbent 
records, Mr. Sellers.  Was he a friend of yours?”

“Him, uh, Mr. Sellers?  No, he’s not a friend.”

“Okay,” Sam replied.  “I thought you knew him.  It’s okay, though.  
Lost Souls has been getting some airplay on some of the local stations.  
One of the DJs is a fan, and plugs our concerts.  If things keep going 
well, maybe a major label will be interested.”

“That would be great, Sam.  I hope you can do it.”  

“Yeah, me too,” she joked.  “Alex keeps joking that he’ll propose to 
Amie when we get signed, and I think she’ll try to hold him to it.”

“They seemed like good-” He was about to say ‘kids’, but thought better 
of it,  “people.”  

“They’ll be there tomorrow night, at the bar.  You’re still coming, 
right?”

“Of course,” Stone replied.  “Nothing’s changed since you asked me this 
afternoon.”

She smiled, and they continued on their way.

				#

Roz watched her husband with the blonde, walking down the street.  
They’d passed the Hotel Irondell, so she didn’t know where he was 
going.  Her optimism about this evening was fading, and anger was 
taking its place.  The blonde was young enough to be his daughter, but 
Roz was quite sure that the kiss they had shared on the street was not 
their first.  

When her school had found out that she and Dan Copper had been seeing 
each other, they had been required to meet with Ms. Garner, the vice-
principal.  She had explained, in obtuse legal terms, that public 
displays of affection (PDAs as Ms. Garner liked to call them) were 
strictly against the school’s policies.  The school, it seemed, was 
worried that young children would be permanently warped by the sight of 
any affection between adults.  

Her husband, over fifty, and the freakishly blonde girl he was 
escorting had apparently never been warned about the effects of PDAs on 
young minds.  When they stopped at a building, presumably hers, the 
little slut wrapped her arms around him and appeared to shove her 
tongue down his throat.  

Roz wondered about the waiting period to buy a gun.

As she watched, the whore led Ezekiel up the stairs, inside the 
building.  Roz stayed in her parking spot for five minutes, waiting, 
watching, and raging.  Zeke was sleeping with someone else.  He’d 
abandoned her, and run off to become a womanizer in California.  What 
an ass.

This was who she was searching for?  There was a perfectly good man who 
cared about her; she didn’t have to skulk around Zeke, waiting to find 
out why he left her. If he wanted to screw around, that was fine, two 
could play at that game.

She left strips of rubber a meter long when she pulled out.

				#

“It’s not much,” Sam said, opening the door into her studio apartment.  
She tossed her keys haphazardly onto the table near her door.  “But 
it’s home.”

Stone examined his surroundings.  The main room was six meters square; 
an unmade bed tucked into one corner, under a window.  On the north 
wall, a doorway led into a small kitchen, and on the south wall, an 
open door revealed a bathroom.  There was a computer on a desk, and 
Samantha seated herself at it.  Stone closed the door, trying not to 
step on any of the clothes that were spread across the wooden floor as 
though by a shotgun blast.  “Nice,” he said politically.

“Sorry about the mess,” she said, not sounding sorry at all.  “Want a 
beer?”

“Uh, sure,” he replied.

“They’re in the fridge,” she said, waving a hand towards the kitchen.  
“Grab one for me, too.  I’ll have the computer up and running in a 
sec.”  

The beer was easy to find in the refrigerator.  A jar of olives, salad 
dressing, and the six pack were the only things inside.  Zeke freed two 
of the cans from their plastic bonds, and delivered one to Samantha.  
“Thanks,” she said.  “Have a seat, make yourself comfortable.”  The 
only place to sit was on the bed, and Zeke perched on the edge.

“So what was it you wanted to show me?” he asked.

“Actually, something I wanted to play for you.”

“A new song you wrote?”

“No, an old song,” she said cryptically.  She clicked at her computer 
then switched off the monitor.  She opened her beer and turned to look 
at Zeke, her face lit up with a grin.

“You know it’s gonna be trouble, yeah,” came a weathered voice.  “Yes, 
you know my woman’s trying to quit me, when I ain’t done nothing wrong.  
She done put me out the door.” 

Ezekiel stared at her, his mouth open.  “Shotgun Blues,” he said in 
amazement.  “Lightning Hopkins, how did you know?”

“You told me, months ago,” Samantha explained.  “Don’t you remember?”

Zeke leaned back onto the bed, smiling broadly. “I said go, bring me my 
shotgun, and a pocket full of shells,” Lightning sang.

The bed creaked as Samantha sat next to him.  “We almost have the same 
name,” she said.

Zeke turned to her.  “Samantha,” he said.  “Sam ‘Lightning’ Hopkins.”

“I thought it was pretty cool,” she said.  “I downloaded about an hour 
of his music.”

He sat up.  Another woman had given him the gift of blues music, long 
before.  And he had loved her.  But things were different now, Rosalyn 
had probably forgotten about him.  Samantha, on the other hand, was 
here, and very much available.  She was a good friend, and now maybe 
more.

“Sam,” he said.  Leaning toward her on the bed, he kissed her lips 
gently.  “Thank you.”  Another kiss.

“Zeke?”

“Yes?”

“Turn out the lights.”

He did, glad that his tattoos would be hidden.  Shotgun Blues ended, 
and Once Was A Gambler began.  “Do you like it?” Sam asked softly, her 
breath warm in his ear.

“I do,” he whispered.  He reached out for her.

It was a beautiful end to a long and strange day.

				#

Pounding.

It came again, a deep beating that rumbled up into his dreams.  Dan 
Copper sat up in his bed.  Someone was knocking on his door.  He 
fumbled into his pants, and went to the front door.  Even after being 
awakened, he was still cautious on the stairs.  His wife Alexis had 
fallen down these very stairs five years ago and died.  

“Who is it?” he demanded.  Stephen was working tonight, and he had the 
house to himself.  

“It’s Roz,” came the reply.

“Roz?”  He unbolted the door, and swung it open.  “What’s wrong?” 

She stepped inside, and the look in her eyes was almost feral.  Her 
hair was disorganized, and her cheeks were puffy.  “Nothing’s wrong.  I 
just had to see you.”

Dan closed the door behind her, and stood there.  “What?” 

She reached for him, wrapping her arms around his bare chest and 
latching onto him.  Her lips were warm, and Dan was surprised by the 
intensity of her kiss.  He found himself thinking of his breath, none 
too fresh after being awakened.  When he found his reflex rising, he 
disengaged and held her at arms length.  “Roz, what’s wrong?  What’s 
this about?”

She eyed him hungrily.  “Do we have to talk, Danny?” She glanced down 
at his pants, and smiled.  “You want me, and I want you.  Can’t that be 
enough for tonight?”  She pulled him to her again, kissing him hard as 
she ground her hips against him.  

He’d wanted her so long.  He had had this same fantasy, with her 
showing up and demanding to be taken.  If this was a dream, he should 
enjoy himself.  He reached behind her, and using every ounce of skill 
he had learned in college, he unhooked her bra through her shirt.  She 
moaned with anticipation.

The tile floor was cold at first, but it soon warmed under their flesh.

				#

Later, in his bed, after their second time, he tried to talk to her.

“Roz, is everything okay?”  She shifted, turning onto her side.  “You 
broke off our date, you wouldn’t make plans for the weekend.  I thought 
you didn’t want to see me anymore.  And then you came by tonight.  You 
made me very happy, but I want to know what you’re thinking.”

“Nothing’s wrong, Danny.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Dan asked.

“I told you, nothing is wrong.  Maybe I should go.”  She started to sit 
up, but Dan put an arm out to hold her.

“I won’t ask anything else, Roz.  Please stay, I was just worried about 
you.”  She wavered, and he repeated, “Please stay.”

She allowed herself to be drawn back down against the cool sheets.  He 
wrapped a protective arm around her, and kissed the back of her neck.  
Something was bothering her, he knew, but only so much could be 
accomplished in one night.  When she was ready, maybe she would open up 
to him.

				#

“No,” she repeated, louder this time.  

Jason Novak looked at the Italian woman with annoyance.  She had been 
sent to Hell for murder, just like most of the other escaped souls.  
When she had found her fiancée in bed with her older sister, she 
plotted against him, poisoning him rather than become his wife.  Ashur 
had freed her after 200 some years in Hell, and how did Lisa Kay show 
her gratitude?  By refusing the first request that was made of her.  

“Is that what you want me to tell her?” Jason clarified.  “That you 
refuse?”

“I’m married, I have a good life. I don’t want to kill an old man.”

“Of course, I understand.  I don’t want to kill anyone either,” he 
lied.  “But she is quite insistent, and you are the best person for the 
job.  If you can’t do us this small favor, there will be 
repercussions.”

Her eyes narrowed.  “Are you threatening me?”

“It isn’t our nature to make threats,” he said smoothly.  “I just want 
you to know that we can no longer protect you if you refuse our 
friendship.  Can’t you be reasonable?”

Lisa Kay Napoli sighed.  “What do you want?”

Novak placed a leather briefcase on the table.  From it, he withdrew a 
manila folder, which he handed to Lisa Kay.  “The minimum you need to 
know is in here.  I can give you some personal information, if you 
like.”

“Okay,” she agreed.  Novak held out his hand above the table.  She 
placed her own hand in his, and waited.

There was a spark, a quick flare of energy.  No one around them 
noticed.  Lisa Kay sagged back in her chair.  Novak grinned, his streak 
of sadism pleased by her discomfort.  He held her hand a moment longer, 
then released it.  

Lisa Kay opened her eyes.  “That bastard.  He kicked me in the balls… 
wait, what did I just see?”  

“That was your target.  Do you remember him now?”

“But, it wasn’t my memory.  Whose was it?”

“No one of any importance.  Just something I thought you might 
appreciate.  The information you have there has his current address and 
photo.  There are specific instructions that you are to follow as well.  
Read them carefully before you go.  He has to die a certain way.  
Otherwise the message could be misinterpreted.”

“Okay.”

He glanced at his watch.  “You have until five tonight.  Get it done.”

				#

Dan’s alarm went off at 6:00 AM, the same as it did every school day.  
He slapped at it with his free hand, his left, hitting the snooze 
button.  The silence was golden, a nine minute respite from getting up.  
He wrapped his arm around the beautiful woman who shared his bed.  The 
sun was just beginning to make its presence known, giving a warm glow 
to the room.  “Good morning,” he said softly, kissing her shoulder.  

She stirred, but said nothing.  Dan held her, enjoying the warmth from 
her body.  There had been exactly three women who had shared his bed 
since his wife passed away, and Rosalyn was the only one he had felt 
such a strong connection with.  She was smart and attractive, not 
afraid to speak her mind.  And not afraid to say something if she 
wanted it.  He smiled in remembrance of last night’s events.

When the alarm sounded again, Dan gently removed his pinned arm and got 
out of bed.  He padded off to the bathroom in the hall, still smiling.  
It was like a dream, having Roz here.  The only sour spot was that she 
wouldn’t talk with him.  Entering the bathroom, he wondered what she 
was thinking.

				#

Alone in Dan’s room, Rosalyn sat up.  It had been her rage last night 
that had led her here, but it had been a good choice.  Dan was a good 
man.  She picked her purse up off the floor and took a picture of 
Ezekiel from it.  She stared at it for a moment, trying to remember 
what she had seen in him.  He was probably still in bed with that 
little girl.  Her hair color was certainly from a bottle, like all 
cheap women.  Apparently, that was the woman Zeke preferred these days.  
Apparently, he was the kind of man who would abandon his wife.  
Apparently, he’s never cared about her, and had run off at the first 
opportunity.

When she looked back at the last twenty years of her life, things 
looked very different than they had last week.  Today was November 3rd, 
the day he had left her.  Maybe it was time to see it as the day she 
gained her freedom instead of a day of abandonment.  She’d done so many 
things since then, things she hadn’t known she could do on her own.  

Now, here she was in Danny’s bed.  Dan was a good man.  Not like that 
son of a bitch Ezekiel.  Dan was a family man, who kept in touch with 
his daughter Maya, who spent time with his son Stephen.  Not like 
Ezekiel, who abandoned his family.  Apparently, the words ‘Til death us 
do part’ didn’t mean anything to him.

Down the hall, the toilet flushed.  Rosalyn took a firm grip on the 
picture in her hand, and pulled.  The tear ran down the center, 
obliterating Ezekiel Stone’s smiling face.  She folded it over, and 
halved it again, then a third time for good measure.  She tucked the 
shreds into the wastebasket near Dan’s bed. 

Dan came back into the room, wearing only his boxers.  “Good morning,” 
he said.  

She went to him, letting the sheet slide off of her body as she rose.  
“Good morning,” she repeated, kissing him firmly.  He had freshened his 
breath, she noticed.  “You aren’t ready to get out of bed yet, are 
you?”

“Well,” he hedged.

“I’ll be right back,” she promised, giving his rear a good swat as she 
went out the bedroom door.  The bathroom was relatively clean, 
considering two men inhabited the house.  She found the mouthwash and 
used it while checking her appearance in the mirror.  Dan’s desire for 
her last night had been very flattering.  He was a good man.  

Dan had crawled back into bed, waiting for her under the sheets.  She 
eyed him from the doorway, letting him look at her.  He was a good man, 
and she went to him.

				#

Again, he wanted to talk afterwards.  “Rosalyn,” Dan said.  “I’ve 
wanted you for a while, I guess you know that.  You’re just so kind, 
good with the kids, and, well, you know.”

“Thank you,” Roz replied.  Dan was a sweet man, and she kissed him.  

“I know, this is early, and I know, you’re still thinking of Ezekiel, 
and I don’t want to scare you or anything, but,” he stammered, “I love 
you.”

Dan was a good man, she thought.  He would never abandon her.  “Thank 
you, Dan.  But Zeke is gone, I understand that now.  I need a man who 
is here for me.”  In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought.  “What I 
want to say,” she lied, “is that I love you too.”

To Hell with you, Ezekiel Stone.



ACT THREE


Ezekiel Stone awoke to a knock on the door.  Samantha, on the side of 
the bed against the wall, did not respond.  The knock came again, and 
Stone slipped out of the bed.  The morning sun lit the sky, and enough 
light filtered in through the blinds that he was able to see the floor, 
and avoid the many obstacles there.  

He picked up his pants from the floor and slipped into them.  As he 
buttoned them, the rapping on the door came a third time, loud enough 
to rouse Sam.  She opened her eyes, and asked, “Get that, will you?”

“Samantha?” asked a voice through the wood paneled door.  Zeke’s head 
jerked in recognition; there was no mistaking that voice.  He twisted 
the doorknob and revealed an old friend.

“Max?”

“Oh my god,” Maxine blurted.  “Stone?  What are you doing-oh my god.”  
She laughed, caught off guard by the absurdity of the situation.

“Hi,” Stone replied, laughing with her.  “When did you get back from 
Tibet?  How are you, how have you been?”

Maxine leaned against the door as she said, “I got in on Sunday.  I was 
going to surprise you tonight, but I guess it’s too ruined now.”

“This was certainly a surprise,” Stone said, folding his arms across 
his bare chest.  

Samantha appeared with the sheet from the bed wrapped around her.  She 
put her arm around Zeke’s waist.   “Morning, Max.”  

Maxine turned to her friend.  “I brought your car back,” she said, 
holding out a key ring.  “Here.”

“So are you back now?”  Stone asked, still smiling at Max’s return.  
“Did you get a new novel written?”

“Yes to both of those,” Max said.  “But we’ll talk tonight, Stone.  
I’ve got to run.”

“Okay,” he agreed.  “I’ll see you tonight.”

Max waved before retreating down the stairs.  “Sorry I spoiled the 
surprise,” Sam said, closing and bolting the door.  She wrapped her 
arms around him, leaning her head against his tattooed chest.  

“It’s okay,” he replied, hugging her back.  “She was about the last 
person I expected to see.”

Samantha sat back on the bed, the sheet still coiled around her.  “You 
can go, if you want.”

“What?”

“It’s okay, I understand.”

“What are you talking about?” Zeke demanded.

“You’d rather be with her, I know.  That’s why I seduced you yesterday, 
because it was my last chance.”

Zeke sat next to her on the bed, but she looked away from him.  “Where 
did this come from?”

“I had a dream,” she said.  “Like a vision.  That you would turn your 
back on me, ignore me.  And you were going to meet Max today, so I knew 
that was why.  I had to try, you know.”  She still refused to meet his 
eyes.

“Hey,” he said gently, “Sometimes a dream is just a dream.  Max is just 
a friend.”

“But-”

He touched her chin and turned her head gently to him.  “Don’t be 
jealous of Max.  I haven’t left, have I?  I’m still here.”  She tried 
to protest again, but he kissed her, stopping her words.

After a long moment, she asked, “Zeke?”

“Yes?”

“Is that a flashlight in your pocket?”

				#

“Il mio dio!  Sguardo che cosa accaduto!” Lisa said, her native 
language rolling off of her tongue.  She spoke the words loud enough 
for the nearby gentleman to overhear.

“La mia signora, posso essere di servizio a voi?” he asked.  My lady, 
may I be of service to you?

“Il mio cavaliere giusto!  Il mio automobile se rotto.”  My fair 
knight!  My car has broken down.

“Desiderate utilizzare il mio telefone?  Il mio appartamento e di 
destra qui.”  Would you like to use my telephone?  My apartment is 
right here.  He gestured at the stairs.  

“Grazie.”  She lowered the hood of her car, and followed after him.  
His Italian was understandable, but it sounded terrible with his New 
York accent.  “You are very kind.”

He also switched to English.  “No trouble at all.  Do you have a 
boyfriend or husband you can call?”

“No, I will call the auto club.”   She saw the lecherous look in his 
eyes as he reappraised her.  Playing her role, she tried to look 
inviting.  Inside, she was laughing.  An eighty year old man who 
thought she might be attainable?  It was pathetic.

Inside his apartment, he asked, “May I get you something to drink?  
Tea, wine, water, anything?”

She smiled seductively at him.  “Wine would be excellent.  I’m so upset 
right now, it would calm me down.”

“Of course,” he said.  “Would you like to rest a moment before calling 
the auto club?  I don’t have many guests, and the pleasure of your 
company would bring a ray of sunlight into my day.”  He motioned to the 
loveseat, and she sat down.  “I’ll be right back.”

While he was gone, she removed the nail file from her purse.  She slid 
it under a cushion where it would be easy to reach.  Then she waited.

He returned with the wine and seated himself next to her.  “Here you 
are, il mio caro.”  

“Grazie,” she replied.  They sipped from their glasses.  “What do you 
do?” she asked.  

“I’m retired now.  I was a police captain until recently.”

She tried to sound impressed.  “Really?  Captain… I’m sorry, I don’t 
know your name.”

“Enzo D’Amato.  And you are?”

“I think I might have met you before,” she said.  

“Is that so?” he replied.

“You were working on the street then.  You always made trouble for me.”

He smiled, and tried to reassure her.  “You must have me confused with 
someone else.  I would never make trouble for someone as beautiful as 
you.”

She continued, her voice harder now.  “Oh, I didn’t look like this.  I 
was black.”

“What?”

“You planted evidence on my friend.  You swore if I told, you’d have me 
killed.”

“Who are you?” he asked urgently.  He stood, beginning to back away.

“And then you did this,” she said.  Her right leg swung out, connecting 
with Enzo’s groin.  He gasped, and brought his feeble hands down to 
cradle his injury.  “I remember you,” she said, picking up the nail 
file.  “It’s going to be hot where you‘re headed.”

He looked up at her, a helpless old man.  “No,” he said.  “Please 
don’t!”

She stabbed out with the nail file, her eyes flashing hellfire.

				#

Detective William Kane surveyed his cluttered desk.  There never seemed 
to be an end to his paper work.  He was going to be stuck here for the 
rest of his shift, trying to catch up.  At least the guy who’d been 
murdering hospital patients was in custody.  He’d confessed last night.  

Kane was just starting over on a form that he’d filled out last week.  
Somewhere between here and headquarters, the original had been lost.  
His phone rang, and he picked it up.  “Detective Kane.”

“Will?  It’s Nick.”  Nick was one of his buddies from over in Little 
Italy.  “You remember Captain D’Amato?  He just got killed.  It 
reminded me of what you were asking about, a few months ago?  You know, 
from the weird file?  The details won’t be public, but I thought maybe 
you might have a lead on it, you know, 'cause you asked about the 
M.O.?”

Kane listened for a few minutes, then hung up.  Written on the pad in 
front of him was the name, Enzo D’Amato.  He opened up a locked 
cabinet and withdrew a personnel folder.  

He’d met Ezekiel Stone back in 1998, when he’d been working on a series 
of missing altar boys.  Some digging had turned up interesting facts-
Ezekiel Stone had died in 1983.  Stone had helped him catch the 
criminal who had kidnapped the children and then destroyed his eyes.  
After an amazing display of pyrotechnics, Father Edward Salinas had 
disappeared.  Stone explained that he was sent by the Devil to catch 
113 damned souls who had escaped from Hell.  Although Stone had moved 
to Los Angeles shortly after, Kane continued to keep his ears open for 
anything that might be related to Ezekiel’s quest.

Now there was this.  

Kane searched through Stone’s file.  There it was, in black and white 
type.  When Stone had been a rookie, Enzo D’Amato had been his 
lieutenant.  That was the connection.

Kane picked up the phone and dialed.

				#

“Detective D’Amato.”

“Sophia?”

“Mrs. Puzo?  What is it?”

“Sophia, Sophia, you haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“The police are all over his apartment.”

“My father?  What happened?”

“They’re everywhere.”

“What happened to my father?”

“Sophia, someone killed him.  I saw his body taken out.”

“Oh my God-”

“He’s dead, I hope you catch the figlio di boutana and kill him.”

“Are you sure?  Mrs. Puzo, are you sure it was him?”

“He was always a good man, I’m so sorry, Sophia.”

“It can’t be, I just saw him last night.”

“Sophia, you should come down here.  Help get the figlio di boutana.”

“Goodbye, Mrs. Puzo, I’m on my way.”

				#

The bar was half full, a good mixture of companionship and personal 
space.  At a round table, Zeke found himself seated between Samantha 
and Maxine.  The rest of Lost Souls were there, and the table had 
already finished three pitchers of beer.  Right now, Amie was proposing 
a toast to Max. 

“Even though I never met you before,” Amie said, holding a shotglass of 
tequila in the air, “you seem like a pretty damn cool person.  Here’s 
to new friends!”

Everyone repeated the toast.  Stone knocked his back with a practiced 
motion.  Even though the alcohol didn’t affect him, he enjoyed the 
feeling of camaraderie, of being with friends.  He sensed that Max was 
waiting to talk to him, but she kept the conversation light, telling 
stories of her adventures in Tibet.  She delivered them with ease, a 
smooth narrative that he hoped was a reflection of her literary skills.  

Eventually, Sam excused herself to use the restroom.  Max leaned over 
to him.  “Sam’s a good girl,” she said without preamble.  “You two are 
cute together.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“I take it things didn’t work out with that lady cop?”

“What?”

“You know, that one who came by for you a couple times.  I thought you 
had a thing for her.”

“It’s complicated.”

Max laughed.  “Everything’s complicated with you, isn’t it?  If you see 
her again, tell her she looks much better as a blonde.  Black hair just 
wasn’t her.”

“When did you see Ash with dark hair?”

Max shrugged.  “The last few times she came by.  She didn’t talk to me, 
or anything, but I recognized her.”

“Really.”  So Ash had been checking him out, following him.  She hadn’t 
mentioned it before.

“It’s just great to see you, Stone.”

“You too, Max.  I missed you.  Here,” he said, finding two undamaged 
shots of tequila.  “To good friends.”

“Not yet,” Max protested.  “I need a few minutes.”

“Is that your final answer?” he asked.

“What?”

“You know, from that game show.  Everybody’s saying it.”

“Oh my god!” Max exclaimed.  “Stone, I never thought you’d have to 
teach me anything about pop culture.  Anything else?  The macarena is 
still dead, right?”

He laughed with her.  “To good friends,” he repeated, setting down the 
shotglass and picking up his mug of beer.  Max did the same, and they 
clinked glasses.  

“To good friends.”

				#

Back in his room, Ezekiel collapsed into a chair.  The cross was still 
there, leaning against the wall.  It wasn’t really the kind of thing 
you could take to a pawnshop and get rid of.  

The Devil appeared in the other chair.  “Mr. Stone, sleeping alone 
tonight?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.  It’s late, and Sam’s 
working tomorrow.”  

“She’s quite the young lady, isn’t she?  You know, technically, she 
could be your granddaughter.  Feel like you’re robbing the cradle?”

“I wasn’t even thirty when she was born.  And I’m not arguing this with 
you.”

“That’s up to you.  A nice change from Rosalyn, wasn’t it?  Rosalyn’s 
almost twice her age, I can see why you’re in no hurry to go back to 
her.  That Samantha, though, she’s something.”

“She asked me about you,” Stone said.  “Mr. Sellers.”

The Devil chuckled.  “It’s nice to take a small part now and then in 
this mad play you humans act out.”

“Like Dr. Woodbine?”

“I have so many names, Ezekiel.”  The Devil looked at the cross.  “You 
know, it’s just two pieces of wood.  It won’t give you a second chance 
at life.  Only I can do that.”

The phone rang.  The Devil waited, watching.  “How about some privacy?” 
Stone asked.  “Donnie told me some guy has been calling here for me 
every hour.”

“Very well, Mr. Stone.  Just keep up the good work.”  The Devil 
disappeared.  

Stone reached for the phone, catching it on the third ring.  “Hello?”

“Ezekiel Stone?”

“Yes?”

“This is Detective Kane.  I’ve been calling all night, I’m glad I could 
finally get in touch with you.”

“Kane?  Is something wrong?”

There was a pause.  “Do you recognize the name Enzo D’Amato?” he 
asked.

“Of course,” Stone replied.  “He was my old C.O., Lieutenant D’Amato.”

“He was murdered this afternoon.  Something about his death made me 
wonder if it might be related to you.  I thought you should know.”

“What happened?”  

“His eyes were destroyed.”

“What?” Stone asked, not comprehending.  “Like one of the damned 
souls?”

“I’ve only got early information, but someone pulled them out.  Killed 
him by sticking a thin blade into his brain.  Then they smashed the 
eyes.”

“Smashed?” he echoed.

“Ah,” Kane said.  “The eyes were placed onto the kitchen counter.”  His 
monotone suggested he was reading from a paper.  “Then they were 
smashed with a hammer, apparently the victim’s own.”

“Damn.”  Stone thought for a moment, letting the information percolate.  
“When did this happen?”

“Today, early afternoon.  No sign of forced entry.  You think this 
might be related to you?”

“It’s possible,” Stone replied slowly.  “These damned souls, I pissed 
off the ringleader last night.  This might be payback.”

“And, uh, not to remind you, but today is November 3rd.”

“The day I died.”

“Look, you told me you only get a few dollars a day, the amount of 
money you had when you died.”

“Right.”

“I can’t afford a plane ticket, but if you’d like to come out for the 
funeral and look into it, I can get you on Greyhound.  It’ll take a day 
and a half, so you’d have to leave tomorrow if you want to make it in 
time for the funeral on Saturday.”

There was silence for a moment.  “That might be a problem.”  

“Okay,” Kane said immediately.  “You know more about this than I do.  I 
just want you to know, I’ve been keeping my ears open for anything odd.  
I can’t bring Charlie back, but I can try and help you stop them.”

Another pause.  “You’re right,” Stone admitted.  “I should at least 
check it out.  What do I have to do to get out there?”

“I’ll have a ticket pre-paid for you waiting at the station.  Is noon 
too early?”

“Yes,” Stone replied.  “I’ve got things to take care of first.”

“There’s another at four, and then at eight.  If you take the eight, 
I’ll be on shift when you get in, so I wouldn’t be able to meet you at 
the station.  But you know your way around town.”

Stone calculated who he would need to see.  There were many people, but 
Father Horn and Sam were at the top.  And maybe Max again.  There was 
no way to wrap up everything in one day.  But he wanted to make it to 
the funeral.  He owed his former C.O. that much.  “I can make it by 
four.”

“Okay, great.  I’ll meet you at the station, and get you up to speed on 
the case.”

“Thanks.  Guess I better start packing.”  

“Okay,” Kane said.  “I’ll see you Friday.”  He hung up.

Stone looked around his room.  Where to start?  

And what was he going to tell Sam?

				#

Lisa Kay Napoli reclined in her tub.  It was filled with pure hot 
water, but it didn’t hurt.  She’d felt hotter, much hotter.  The steam 
floated in the air, fogging the mirror.

It had felt so good yesterday, killing that man.  She’d suppressed much 
of her rage since the escape.  After her time in Hell, she’d had 
strange urges, desires to hurt people.  Yesterday had been such a 
release.  

A knock came on the door.  “Lisa?” Michael asked.  

“It’s open,” she replied.  

Her husband entered, his outline muted in the foggy air.  He held the 
dress she had worn yesterday afternoon.  “Damn, it’s hot in here.  What 
happened to your dress, Hon?  There are stains all over it.”

She sat up, water lapping near the edges of the tub.  “Nothing.”

“Is this blood?  Did you hurt yourself?”

“It’s nothing.  Just put it back in the hamper.”

“Baby, you know I love you,” Michael said. “But this dress was 
expensive.  What happened to it?”

She stood up.  The influx of cool air from the hallway hit her hot 
skin, and steam rose from it.  “Leave it alone, Michael.”  She stepped 
out of the tub, naked and dripping wet, and grabbed the dress.  “It’s 
ruined, accept it.”

“What happened?” he insisted.

Lisa Kay tore the dress, renting it down the middle.  She threw the two 
halves into the tub.  “Drop it.”

“What’s the matter?” he asked.  

“Why don’t you listen?” she asked.  She was getting angry, she was 
getting hot.  Her skin dried as the remaining water boiled away.  She 
stepped towards her husband.  “Get out!”  She pushed him, using only a 
fraction of the strength she had available to her.  It was enough to 
force him out of the room, and back into the hallway.  “And stay out!”

On her way back to the tub, her eyes flashed with hellfire.



ACT FOUR


Ezekiel Stone watched the miles fly by outside his window.  LA was 
behind him now, and he was headed back to his home state of New York.  

Samantha had taken the news of his impending departure well. “I knew 
you’d be leaving,” she said.  She’d called in sick for work, and spent 
the day with him.  They’d tried to stop by Father Horn’s church, but 
nothing was there except a shell of a building.  They’d had lunch with 
Maxine, a somber affair.  Finally, she’d dropped him off at the bus 
station, kissing him goodbye before she left.

He’d decided not to ask her to go by Roz’s house.  He would come back 
for Roz, when it was safe to do so.  Right now just wasn’t a good time, 
especially if D’Amato’s murder was related to the escaped souls.  
According to Ash, she had given orders that his friends and family were 
to be left alone.  If she’d changed her policy, things would be bad.  

He sat back in his seat, remembering all the good times he had had in 
Los Angeles.  The miles rolled by.

				#

Sophia D’Amato looked at the police sketch on her desk.  Neighbors 
from her father’s building had been able to describe the woman seen 
entering his apartment.  An Italian woman, police suspected it might 
have been someone that he knew.  They’d made their rounds of his 
hangouts, brandishing the picture, but with no luck.

Generally, if a murder case would be solved, it would happen in the 
first 72 hours.  The sketch would be running in all the papers, looking 
for the fellow New Yorkers who could put a name to the face.  Copies 
had been given to all the television stations, asking that they run the 
picture with their news broadcasts.  Anyone with information could call 
the tip line that was set up.

She herself was out of the loop on this case.  It was too personal, her 
supervisors said.  Let us handle it.  So she sat at her own desk, 
ignoring the ever present paperwork, and reading through the file on 
her father’s case, searching for some detail that would allow her to 
get involved, be there when the mystery woman was taken down.

Something would break soon.

				#

Ezekiel Stone dismounted the bus, which had been his home since 
Wednesday.  It hadn’t been the most comfortable way to cross the 
country, but it had been much quicker than his trip out to Los Angeles.  
He looked around the crowded station, and spotted his friend William 
Kane.  

“Kane!” he called, making his way forward.

“Stone, welcome home.”  Kane shook his hand firmly.  “Did you know 
D’Amato’s daughter?  She’s a detective also.”

“No, I forgot he had a daughter.  Is she on the case?”

“No, but she has a copy of the case file, which I haven’t been able to 
see.  I thought we’d meet her, and see what she can tell us.”

				#

There was a little coffee shop across the street from D’Amato’s 
station.  Kane and Stone waited there, sipping on overpriced coffee, 
until she arrived.  She stopped at the edge of the booth, looking at 
the two men sitting opposite each other.  After a pause, she slid in 
next to Kane and dropped the file on the table.

Kane scooped it up.  “Thanks,” he said.  “Ezekiel Stone, I’d like you 
to meet Detective D’Amato.”

“I was sorry to hear about your father,” Stone said.  “I used to work 
for him.  He was a good cop.”

“Thanks,” Sophia replied.  Her cell phone rang, and she answered it.  
“Hello?  No, you can’t have a few words.  Stop calling me!”  She hung 
up.  “Damn press.”

Kane held the out the sketch to Stone.  “Anyone you recognize?”

He studied it.  “No.  But that doesn’t mean it’s not related.”

“Related to what?” D’Amato asked.  “Do you know something about the 
case?”

Kane and Stone exchanged a glance.  “It’s the M.O.,” Stone answered.  
“The destruction of the eyes.  I’ve been working on something very 
similar.  There is a whole group that I’ve been tracking down.”

D’Amato raised an eyebrow.  “I haven’t heard of any other related 
cases.  Where did you get your information?”

“From a lower power.”

“What?”

“Never mind,” Stone said.  “If it is who I think it is, you’re going to 
need my help taking them down.”

“Why would I need your help?”

“Sophia,” Kane said.  “We’ve known each other for a while.  I ignored 
this man, and that was how Charlie got killed last year.  Trust me, 
please, he knows what he’s talking about.”

“He’s not talking about anything,” D’Amato complained.  “He’s not 
making any sense.”

“You want to know who I think did this?”  Stone asked.  “There was a 
jailbreak in Hell last year.  Damned souls escaped, and they are 
walking among you.  They can’t be hurt.  The only way to kill them, 
send them back to Hell, is to destroy their eyes.”

“I’m not believing this,” she said.  

“I think,” Stone began, then lowered his voice and leaned forward, “I 
think someone killed your father as a message to me.  A threat, maybe, 
I don’t know why.  I just spent the last day and a half on a bus, 
getting out here from L.A.  I’ll be at your father’s funeral, and I’ll 
be looking into this case.  I’ll have a better chance with your help.  
Can we work together?”

“Sophia, I believe him,” Kane said.  “I saw him do it, destroy the eyes 
of one of these creatures.  It made a believer out of me.”

Sophia D’Amato looked at the two men.  Her experience suggested they 
were telling the truth, or at least believed they were.  But it was 
such a crazy story.  The only appeal of it was that it gave her a 
target to hate, a mysterious shadow group, a “them” that was behind 
everything.  “They” had ordered her father killed.  

Before she could make a decision, her phone rang again.  “D’Amato.  
Yes.  Wait, let me write that down.”  Sophia scrawled a name on a 
napkin.  “You have an address also?  Thank you.  How did you get my 
number?  Hello?  Hello?”

“That was weird,” she told the two waiting men.   “Some man just told 
me he recognized the woman.  Says her name is Lisa Kay Napoli, lives 
uptown.”

“We’ll go with you,” Kane said.  

				#

“Look,” D’Amato said as she knocked on the door.  “Just stay back, and 
let me handle this.”  

“You’re the boss,” Stone replied, stepping away from the front door.  
He moved several feet left on the porch, where he could not been seen.  
Kane had gone around behind the house, and was covering the back door.  
“I’ll be right here, if you need help.”

“I think I can handle it,” Sophia told him.

From the other side of the door came the sound of a chain being undone.  
Stone heard the door swing open.  “Yes?”

“Lisa Kay Napoli?” Sophia asked.  “I’m Detective D’Amato.  May I talk 
to you for a moment?”

“D’Amato?” Lisa Kay repeated.  “Please, come in.”

“Thank you,” Sophia said.  “This won’t take long.”

Stone moved from his position, wanting to gain entrance from the house.  
But it was too late, the door was slammed forcefully shut behind 
Sophia.  He stared at the closed portal for a moment.  If this wasn’t a 
damned soul, it would be pretty bad to break down the door.  Best to do 
this politely.  He knocked on the door, waiting for admittance.

				#

“What’s this about, Detective?” Lisa Kay wondered.  Sophia D’Amato 
eyed her.  Lisa Kay was just the type of girl that her father would 
have invited in.  Which would explain the lack of forced entry to his 
apartment.  She heard Stone knocking on the door, but ignored it.

“It’s a homicide case, yesterday in Little Italy.”

Lisa Kay grinned.  “He was your father, wasn’t he?”

“What?”

“Enzo D’Amato, Detective D’Amato.  Aren’t you related?”

“How do you know that name?”

“I saw it in the paper,” Lisa Kay explained.  “And I was the one who 
killed him.  He was a prick, you know.”

Sophia reeled as if she had been slapped.  “You?”  She fumbled for her 
gun, drawing it quickly.  “Put your hands above your head,” she 
ordered.  “You are under arrest for the murder of Enzo D’Amato.  You 
have the right to remain silent.”

Lisa Kay laughed.  From the front door came another knock, louder this 
time.  “I don’t think so,” she said.  “Why don’t you join him instead?”  
With that, she stepped toward Sophia, hands raised.

Sophia fired three times, striking the suspect in the gut.  “Die, 
bitch,” she muttered.

Lisa Kay ignored where the bullets had hit her, and knocked the gun 
away from Sophia’s hand.  “I already did,” she replied.  Wrapping a 
hand around Sophia’s throat, she picked her up and slammed her into the 
wall, holding her helpless.  “Now it’s your turn.”

Sophia struggled to breathe.

				#

At the sound of gunshots, Stone decided that immediate entry was 
needed.  He kicked at the lock, shattering the wood.  The door burst 
open, and Stone charged in.  

Lisa Kay had Sophia pinned to the wall.  Stone tackled her, letting 
momentum carry them into the corner of the room, where they crushed a 
table and a marble chess set.  Sophia crouched on the floor, trying to 
catch her breath.  

“You’re like me, aren’t you?” Lisa Kay asked, standing up.  

“I’m not like you,” he replied, “but I have powers too.”  He pulled his 
gun, jamming it toward her eyes.  She blocked.

“Why do you hunt your own kind?” she asked.

“Destroying Enzo’s eyes.  Wasn’t that a sign, a clue to get me here?”

“It wasn’t my idea,” Lisa Kay replied, kicking out at Stone’s legs.  He 
dodged.

“Whose was it?”

Lisa Kay answered his question with one of her own.  “How did you find 
me?”

“Anonymous tip.”  

“Really?  The SOB must have sold me out.  I’ll be leaving now,” she 
said.  She shoved him, hard, and he dented the wall where he hit.  When 
he fell, she ran for the back door, disappearing around the corner.  

“Sophia?” Stone said quickly.  “You okay?”

“Go,” she gasped, still clutching her throat.  “Get her!”  From around 
the corner came two gunshots, then an unearthly scream.

Stone raced after her.  In the kitchen, Kane stood at the back door, 
still aiming his gun.  Lisa Kay clutched her right eye, ether light 
flowing from it.  Kane fired again, but Lisa Kay turned away from him.

She stopped, facing Stone.  “Wait,” she begged.

“Time to give the Devil his due.”  Stone squeezed the trigger, and 
shattered the remaining window to Lisa Kay’s soul.  Lisa Kay screamed 
again, clutching her eyes in a hopeless effort to hold back her 
escaping life force.  

Kane and Stone watched as her body disappeared.  “Nice job,” Stone 
said.  

“The eyes, just like you told me,” Kane answered.  Lisa Kay’s body 
disappeared.

Sophia came into the room.  “What happened?” she asked.  “Where did she 
go?”

“Hell.”  Kane and Stone exchanged a look, a silent nod to each other.  
One more damned soul, the creatures who had cost them so much, was 
destroyed.

				#

Everyone attended the funeral of New York Police Captain Enzo D’Amato.  
The police chief was there, along with the mayor, two congressmen, 
reporters from all the newspapers, and liaisons from the governor’s 
office and the cardinal.  The police presence was high, both out of 
respect and for security.  His daughter, Sophia, was dressed in black 
and comforted by family friends.

Ezekiel Stone watched from a distance.  There were several people he 
recognized, old friends and co-workers who would know him if he 
approached.  He recalled the funeral of Thurston Bristol’s son, only a 
few months ago.  How many more would there be, how many innocent people 
would his quarry kill before he caught them?

“Are you going to visit your grave as well?” came a voice behind him.

“No,” Ezekiel replied, recognizing the Devil’s voice without turning.

“Lots of famous people are buried here.  Grant’s tomb, for example, is 
right over there.”

“Great.”  He looked to the funeral, where the casket was being lowered 
into the grave.  “Where did he go?” Ezekiel asked.  “Can you tell me, 
or just taunt me?”

“Enzo D’Amato?  Do you think he was like you, that he’s with me now?  
Or did you look up to him, like to picture him as a model officer?  
What do you think, Mr. Stone?”

“Can’t you give me a straight answer for once?”

The Devil grinned.  “Enzo D’Amato helped get hundreds of criminals off 
the streets.  He saved many lives with his work.  But your old boss, 
like your new boss, had some methods that the man upstairs doesn’t 
approve of.  And it’s his vote that counts.  D’Amato is with me, 
detective.”

Stone absorbed this.  “Do you have any clues for me, what I should do 
to keep finding the Damned Souls?  Should I go back to Los Angeles?”  

The Devil burst into song, singing an old Clash tune.  “Darling you got 
to let me know,” he crooned, “should I stay or should I go?  If I go 
there will be trouble, and if I stay it will be double.”  Stone glanced 
around, unsure of what to make of this, as the Devil continued, “So 
come on and let me know, should I stay or should I go?”  The Devil 
grinned at him.

“You just told me this week that there were Damned Souls all over in 
Los Angeles.  So I’m going to head back, and track them down.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s why you want to go back.  It wouldn’t be anything 
like a certain young lady who let you into her…" he raised an eyebrow, 
“life.  If you think back, I told you that my children were there to 
deal with you.  Organized by a certain ringleader, who you continue to 
let escape.”

The funeral was over, and had begun to break apart.  Stone watched as a 
woman in black made her way to a waiting car.  “So you won’t tell me,” 
Stone said.  “That’s fine.  I have free will, remember?”  He walked 
away.

At her car, he caught up to her.  “Sophia,” he called.

“You,” she said, glancing around.  There was no one else within 
earshot.  “Who are you?  Ezekiel Stone is dead, I asked around.  Tell 
me who you are, or I’ll have you arrested.”

He ignored her question.  “I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am 
about your father.  It’s a bad development, my friends being targeted.  
Not a good time to know me.”

“I want to know who you really are.  And what happened yesterday with 
Lisa Kay Napoli?  What happened to her body?”

He answered her question with a story.  “Your father helped me on a 
case I was stuck on.  Back in 1981, women were getting raped and 
strangled at St. Mark’s Hospital.  There was almost no physical 
evidence.  We’d interviewed dozens of people, but nothing turned up.  
We were missing something, some clue.

“So I went to your father, and told him everything.  He was a great 
detective, I hoped he would see something.  He told me something, 
something that broke the case.  Assumption is the mother of all foul-
ups.  Contradictions don’t exist.  And he was right, we were assuming 
the killer was a man.”

“What?”

“Turned out to be a female nurse.  I had her brought in for 
questioning, and when she was patted down, they discovered she was… 
prostheticly equipped.  The first victim had been a former lover of 
hers, and after that she just kept at it.”

“My father told me that story,” she said.

“You saw Napoli go around the corner, and heard the gunshots.  You 
assume that I’m lying, but is there another explanation?  Do you think 
Kane and I let her go?  That’s the only way she could have escaped.  So 
maybe I’m telling the truth.  I’m Ezekiel Stone, former NYPD detective.  
And I track down these creatures like the one who killed your father.”

Sophia looked to the waiting car.  “I’ve got to go.”  With that, she 
climbed inside.

Stone watched.  At least he’d stopped Enzo’s killer.  One more down, 
dozens to go.  He had a feeling that this wasn’t the last he’d see of 
Sophia D’Amato.

				#

Mario’s was a small bar.  The feature that appealed most to Ezekiel 
Stone was the fact it was not a regular watering hole for the local 
police.  It was slightly on the seedy side, and Mario was a three 
hundred pound Italian man with a regular table in the back corner.  He 
watched over his bar from that vantage, and a regular stream of 
visitors kept him company.

Kane sat on the barstool next to him.  “So she put a cross in your 
room?”

Stone grinned.  Somehow, when he’d told the story about finding Mary 
Chaine, it became a humorous anecdote.  “Yeah.  It was taller than I 
was, so I couldn’t very well throw it in the garbage can.”

“Or hide it under your coat.”

“Right.”

“So what did you do about it?” Kane wondered.

Stone glanced around.  No one was eavesdropping, and in the corner, 
Mario was deep in conversation with a well-dressed man.  “I dragged it 
into the elevator and took it up to the roof.  It was at four A.M., so 
no one saw me.”

“Then what?”

“I chucked it off the roof into the dumpster.  You wouldn’t believe how 
loud it sounded!  Then I ran like Hell.”

Kane laughed uproariously, and Stone joined him.  On the TV in front of 
them, the Saturday evening news began showing coverage of Captain 
D’Amato’s funeral.  Both men sobered.  The sound was down, but they 
watched anyway.

“He was a good man,” Kane said.  

“Apparently, not good enough,” Stone replied.  

“What do you mean?”

“I’m told he’s down below now.”

Kane was impressed.  “You can tell that about people?”

“A little Devil told me,” Stone explained.

“So, what comes next?  You just keep hunting these guys down?”

“Something like that.”

“Did you look up Rosalyn?”

Stone took a long pull from his beer.  “Almost.  I was afraid to.  I’m 
afraid for her now, now that my friends are getting killed off.  I 
can’t protect her.”

“What are you going to do?”

Stone shrugged.  He looked around the bar, noticing the faces of the 
patrons.  Outside the plate glass window, people walked briskly and 
taxis swarmed.  The door opened, and through it Ezekiel heard the noise 
of the street.  

Each moment was a random jumble of noise, a combination of people, and 
a distinct order of vehicles.  Each moment in time was unique, never to 
be repeated.  Each moment was a piece of a puzzle, and together they 
created a picture which Stone recognized for the first time since his 
return.

“I know one thing,” Ezekiel Stone said.  Maybe he was addressing Kane, 
maybe the bar, or maybe just himself.  He set his beer down, and stood, 
facing the city street before continuing.

“I’m home.”


			THE END