The daylight hours were spent parked in the middle levels of a parking garage in a small city Billy didn't recognize. Lindsey and Sean slept most of the day, leaving Billy alone with his thoughts.

He had expected to be bored, but instead time seemed to slip by in large, unnoticed chunks to him. When he was lucid, he worried about his travelling companions. He had been pulled out of the depths, but he felt like he was stuck on the life raft with two cannibals.

Billy had already seen Sean murder two people, and Lindsey, smoking hot as she inarguably was, was also clearly not firing on all cylinders. He had some serious concerns about if they could actually help him in any way, or if they really were just insane.

The sun was slanting in sideways through the windows by the time Sean roused himself. He rolled out of the little bed situated at the rear of the van and, scratching at his pits, flopped bleary-eyed into the driver seat.

"Good morning." Billy said.

"Fuck." Sean yelped, jumping. "I forgot you were here. Not hard to do, you being invisible and all."

"What are we doing today?"

"Well thanks to the fuckery last night at the gas station, we need to wait for nightfall before we leave. In fact..."

Sean pulled up his phone, and after a few typed words, he was watching a local news clip. A professional looking asian woman with chin length black hair was standing in front of a gas station that had been cordoned off with yellow tape. Blue and red lights flashed from the tops of several cars parked in the background.

"Early this morning, local man Ram Sharma was killed while working his shift at the route 44 Texaco. Police do not say the motive was robbery related. He was shot one time, in the head, by a high caliber round that came from outside the shop. Police have stated that they do not think the death was accidental but have not ruled anything out at this point. They are in search of a suspect in a black camper van that was last seen heading west on route 44."

An image of the van from a poor angle was briefly imposed on the screen, followed by a grainy security camera photo of Lindsey. She had a ball cap pulled down low on her head, there was no clear shot of her face. But those silver linings weren't enough to stop Sean from muttering curses to himself.

"If you have any information regarding the incident, you are urged to call 911 or your local crime stoppers." The reporter finished, flashing a smile that showed more teeth than a toothpaste commercial.

"Well that's that." Sean said, patting the dash sentimentally, "The van is finally blown."

"You can always get another one." Billy said, trying to cheer him up.

Sean let out a mirthless laugh. "There's not a lot of money in what I do. Like Wesley Snipes once said, 'We're not exactly the March of Dimes here.'"

"What is it you do for money?" Billy asked.

"I've got a few wealthy benefactors that see value in what I've been doing. Mostly Sam, but a few other people with too much time and too much money throw me a job now and then."

"All murder?" Billy asked incredulously. He couldn't think of a person less likely to be a hitman.

"That's the rare exception. Usually its to make use of my talents as a medium. Real mediums are rare, and I can usually stay afloat just by talking. Once in a while, the talk requires harsher vocabulary."

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Sean's words brought back memories from early that morning.

"That thing last night, the reaper?" Billy asked, "Are there many of those?"

"No, in fact its kind of like running into a grizzly at Yellowstone. It doesn't happen often, and if it does, you've got a real story to tell. Last night was just really bad fucking luck."

Sean picked up a shoe off the floor next to him and tossed it at the back of the van. It hit near the bed with a loud thud and Lindsey popped her head briefly out from the covers. Sean signed a long message to her, and she responded but growling inarticulately and flipping him off.

"What was that about" Billy demanded.

"I was just telling her how she's wanted for murder."

"What are we going to do about that? What is the plan for this rolling piece of murder evidence?"

"Once night falls, we will head over to Sam's place. It's only a few hours away, and he will probably have something we can replace it with."

Lindsey got up then, and within minutes they were off, both chewing on toast they had made in the camper van's small kitchen.

"Where does this Sam live?" Billy asked as they turned and drove into the setting sun.

"He's got a place about 40 miles north of Baton Rouge." Sean replied. "You'll like it, its got history."

The place had history, and Billy definitely did not like it. It was a plantation. The beams from the van's headlights revealed ornate iron wrought gates flanked on either side by tall ivy covered brick walls. Above the gate, in ornate, loopy writing was the name of the place.

Enfer Sur Terre

Even in the dim moonlight, Billy could tell the place was huge. Beyond the gates were perfectly manicured lawns that seemed to stretch on for miles. Far in the distance were the lights of an enormous mansion.

Sean had pulled up level with a security camera. A blue light blinked on an attached speaker, but no one spoke to them. Sean just looked into the camera for several seconds, and the gates opened.

"He lives on a plantation?" Billy asked, dumbfounded.

"Yep." Billy replied, grinning.

"Who the fuck is this guy?"

Sean sighed. "He's basically immortal. He's been on earth for at least 2000 years, and who knows how long he existed before that. He knows more than any other person you'll meet. He's not particularly fond of lost souls, but he will do what he can to help you, its in his nature."

Billy couldn't think of anything to say. He was definitely starting to feel anxious about meeting this Sam guy.

The driveway was ridiculously long, it was white gravel, and lined with lightly swaying willow trees. Lightning bugs weaved in and out of the leaves, and from one of the outbuildings, a banjo was playing in the night. It was like they'd turned off the highway into another century.

The house had the style and build of an early 1800s mansion, but everything looked brand new, spotless. As they pulled up next to a front porch large enough to have a ball on, Billy could only gawk.

Lindsey and Sean both hopped out comfortably, like they were back home. Billy floated through the side door.

There was a sudden ferocious snarling and barking all around them. Two of the most ferocious looking animals Billy had ever seen came tearing around the side of the house, bearing down on him. They had black fur, streaked through with patches of crimson. Their muzzles were contorted with grotesquely mutated teeth, and their eyes burned like hot coals.

"What the fuck are those?!" Billy yelled, trying to grab Sean and use him as a human shield.

"What? Those are just Sam's dogs."

"What the fuck kind of dog is that?"

"I think it's a Pomeranian."

"Cain, Abel, HEEL!" a voice commanded, and the two vicious looking dogs stopped, just feet from Billy. The voice continued, "Actually Sean, they're hellhounds. And I imagine they look quite different to a lost soul.

Billy pulled his attention away from the killer hounds to see who had spoken, and was stuck in a moment of disbelief. He couldn't do anything but stare, feeling like his jaw should be hanging slack, if he'd had a mouth.

"Sam, I'd like you to meet Billy. Billy, this is Sam."

"Welcome to Enfer Sur Terre." Said the fallen angel.