'That's because I died early of a fever and took my youth and beauty with me to the grave.'
The old man gazed at her appreciatively. 'Sure an' you did that, girl! You were just a little bit of a thing, prettiest waif on the street. I thought sure you'd be a grandmother by the time you were sixteen.'
Molly smiled. 'I tried, but life ended too soon. I thought my soul would be damned to Hell, after what that honey-tongued man did to me — '
'Not your soul, dear child! You were the petunia in the onion patch, sure, always ready with a favor to them worse off'n you. Sure an' it's a shame you died before your time.'
'How are they treating you, Sean?' she inquired. 'Well, it's not fun, as you can see. We clean and clean, but the mess never ends, and at times like this it's so cold — '
'Haven't you expiated your burden of sin yet? After all, you've been in Hell longer than you lived on Earth, Sean, and you were never a really bad man, just a litterer.'
Sean scratched his head. 'I don't know, lass. They keep the accounts, and somehow I never seem to gain. I must have a really incorrigible nature.'
'Here, your glove is torn,' Molly said solicitously. 'Let me fix it.' She reached for the man's hand.
'Oh, no, that's all right, miss,' he said quickly, snatching his hand away. 'I'll get by. I've got to get back to work anyway.' He resumed shoveling ineffectively at the slush.
'If you're sure — ' Molly said, concerned. 'As you can see,' Satan said with another smile, 'we are tough but fair, here in Hell. People who refuse to reform in life are hard to reform in death, but persistence and consistency eventually pay off.'
'Yes, I can see that,' Zane agreed. 'It certainly seems reasonable — '
He was interrupted, for Molly had stumbled and collided with him, shoving him into one of the Irish workers. Her ghost form was completely solid to his spirit form. Zane's hand slapped bare flesh before he recovered his balance. 'Oh, I'm sorry,' he said, apologizing to the man he had struck. 'I lost my footing — '
'The guttersnipe was the clumsy one,' Satan muttered. 'It's all right,' the man said gruffly, drawing his patched overcoat around him more tightly. 'Just clear out and let me work.'
Satan opened a new door in air, and they stepped through to a comfortably furnished living room suite. 'So you see, there is no point in disrupting the system,' he said.
'I agree,' Zane said. 'Yet I also don't see why I should take Luna out of turn. I think I'm on the fence about this.'
'By all means,' Satan said readily. 'I am sure when you consider all aspects, you will see it My way.' He opened still another door, and Zane and Molly stepped through to Zane's own Death house living room. The door swung closed behind them, becoming the television screen.
Zane walked to his still body, positioned himself, and carefully sat down in his own lap. He sank into his flesh, reuniting with his host. In a moment he opened his eyes, solid again. It was a relief!
'I will send My minions to see to your comforts. Death,' Satan said from the screen. Then he winked out, and the regular news program returned.
Chapter 12
PARADOX PLOY
Molly sat down in Zane's lap, put her arms about his shoulders, and touched her lips to his right ear. This close, she smelled slightly of shellfish and she weighed nothing at all.
'Hey, that's not necessary,' Zane protested, embarrassed and perplexed.
'But I must thank you for taking me on your trip to Hell,' she said. 'I got to meet an old friend.'
Zane submitted to her embrace. After all, what could a ghost do to his solid form? 'Glad to do it, Molly. Now you can return to — '
Her substanceless lips brushed his ear like a faint breeze. 'Death — I must tell you before Satan takes over this house,' she whispered urgently.
'What?'
'No, no — don't react. Just smile and look relaxed. Satan is watching. He'll let me caress you, because he wants you to assume an interest in any woman other than Luna. Here, I'll make myself more solid so you can feel my flesh.' And now she had weight, pressing down on his lap. 'You took me along as guide, and now I will guide you. Trust me. Death — it's important.'
Zane, astonished by this abrupt shift of character, smiled and forced himself to relax, physically. The truth was, Molly was one fine-looking spirit, and it was not hard to tolerate her proximity, though he felt slightly guilty that she wasn't Luna.
'When I touched Sean's hand, there was no glove,' Molly whispered, nibbling at his ear.
Zane started to speak, but she touched his lips with a forefinger. 'Those people in Hell aren't wearing anything,' she continued. 'They are naked in the snow. They aren't being punished — they're being tortured.'
Now Zane tried to protest, but again she hushed him, simultaneously opening her blouse to expose more of her fine bosom, as if seducing him. Indeed, the perfume of the sea was about her, making him think of a vacation at volcanic isles in the great Pacific Ocean. 'Death, believe me! I suspected it before, but was never allowed to touch my friends in Hell, or even to get close to them. Satan's minions were always watching. This time I touched Sean — and now I know. That's why I pushed you into him. His clothing was illusion, wasn't it?'
Startled, Zane recalled how his hand had slapped bare flesh, though the man had seemed to be fully clothed. The notion of souls wearing illusory clothing was odd, but in the context of Hell, it made grim sense. 'Yes — '
Molly let her skirt slide away to expose more of her thighs, then opened her blouse another notch. Zane understood why Sean had thought she would be a grandmother at age sixteen; she had died at that age, but had a body that suggested prompt male action. Maidens bloomed early and well in Ireland! 'So now you know, too. Death. The Father of Lies is lying to you. He's not reforming souls at all. He's keeping them forever in vile bondage. He'll never let them go. And you can't trust his word on anything.'
The implication was stunning. If Satan had lied about the nature of his proceedings in Hell itself, in what other context would he ever tell the truth? If he was not truly reforming souls, what was it that Luna, later in life, would stop him from doing? If Hell was no reformatory and Satan was in fact building an empire, then of course his reason for eliminating Luna was suspect. Under no circumstances should Death cooperate with the Prince of Evil!
'Thanks, Molly,' he said. 'You have served your office well. I shall remember.'
'Get out of here immediately,' she said. 'Get to Mortis, who can better protect you. I know how Satan operates; his minions are at this moment moving to take over this mansion, to make quite sure you go his way.'
'Agreed.' Zane stood up, and she slid to her own feet, becoming weightless again. He strode toward the door.
A huge man in a chef's hat met him at the portal. 'Your repast is ready, sir.'
This was not his regular cook. 'I will return for it in due course,' Zane said, attempting to squeeze by him. The chef put a massive and calloused hand on Zane's shoulder. 'But it is ready now, sir.'
Molly remained insubstantial here in Purgatory, except when she concentrated, but this man was as solid as a side of beef. Zane squirmed out from beneath the punishing grip. 'Not now, thanks.'
'I am sure you will reconsider, sir,' the brute chef said, his hand dropping to Zane's forearm.
Angry and somewhat alarmed, Zane turned his gaze directly on the man's face. He knew the other saw the death's head, for he remained in uniform. 'Whom do you think you are touching?' he demanded grimly.
The big man blanched, as most people did when confronted by the Death mask, but stood his ground. 'I am already dead. There is no harm you can do me.'
Then why had he blanched? Zane lifted his right hand. The gems on his wrist glowed. His fingers caught the man under the chin and lifted him up. The man lifted readily, becoming cellophane — thin; he was, in fact, a soul. Zane folded the soul in half, and then in quarters, and finally wadded it into a ball and hurled it downward through the floor toward Hell.
Then he paused, surprised. He hadn't known Death could do that! But it was obvious, in retrospect, since
