Reid stared at the woman in shock. He’d beat some people up—a lot of them, in the past few weeks—but they were all lowlife scum. They deserved what they got, but did that warrant a trip down here? An admonishment, a slap on the hand, sure, but Hell?

  This was ridiculous!

  “Why am I here? This has to be a mistake. I shouldn’t be here.”

  She gave him a deadpan stare before letting out another huff.

  “Everyone ends up here, not just you. Your punishment, your atonement, whatever it is you think happens after you die—that’s all on you. You want answers? To go to heaven? Be reincarnated? I really don’t care. Just get in line.”

  She pointed a well-manicured finger once again to the winding line on the left and left before he could draw breath to ask more.

  Reid sighed.

  With no other options, he went to stand at the end of the line. After what felt like hours, Reid began counting the people in front of him, hoping the line would start moving sometime soon. There were at least a hundred people in front of him, and almost all of them had the same vacant expression as the old woman.

  Finally, after Reid had counted the line twice, and the line to his right, he turned his attention to the river. From the higher vantage point on this side of the river, he watched as person after person appeared in the field. Some were young, and many were old, but all of them eventually made their way to the riverbank. And all of them crossed as the woman had, arriving on this side with an eerie expression devoid of emotion.

  When Reid reached the front of the line, he glared across the table, ready to demand what the hell was going on, only to find it empty. He looked around, searching for Hudson, but stopped short when something finally arrived. Occupying the chair in front of him was a short red imp. The creature had clambered up a set of steps built into the side of a stool even higher than the table, probably to make up for its diminutive stature. It wasn’t much larger than the stray cats Carter always fed in the alley behind his apartment.

  “You… must be Hudson?” Reid asked, trying not stare but finding the task impossible. The imp’s cracked, leathery skin looked as dry and uncomfortable as it must feel, and the creature shifted in its seat every few moments with a pained wince, the sound like a metal pipe scraping against pavement.

  Hudson held up a hand, stopping him from further questions.

  “Wait,” the imp paused, fixing him with a side-eyed glance, “You still have your memories.”

  Eyes brightening with what could have been joy, Hudson bowed in the boatman’s direction, clasping his stubby arms in front of him as if in prayer.

  “Oh Charon, thank you for your deliverance. May the waters remain calm and your boat swift.”

  When he finished, the imp took one look at Reid’s raised brow and hissed.

  “Don’t look at me like that. It’s rare enough to encounter someone who holds on to their memories of the living world, rarer still for them not to be a wailing, sobbing mess.” The imp paused, scrutinizing Reid’s face. “You’re not going to get hysterical on me, are you?”

  Reid shook his head slowly, trying not to let the confusion show on his face as the imp chattered on.

  “Do you know how many empty souls I’ve had to guide to the Annex, how many times I’ve said the same lines, ushered their listless forms into a virtual lottery, over and over and over again?” he sighed, seeing Reid’s gaze kept shifting to stare at his grotesque body. “Dont bother asking. I’ve answered the same question for decades. I don’t want to hear it again. Unlike some people,” he shot a pointed glance towards the black-robed woman, “I don’t see a point in wasting karma on my appearance.”

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  “Just what is going on? Isn’t the afterlife supposed to be where souls go to be judged or whatever?”

  He didn’t believe in any of that life after death nonsense… but now, it was kind of hard not to.

  “It’s not my job to explain, but I haven’t had an actual conversation in over fifty years. Consider this my gratitude, so listen up. I’m only going to say this once. I don’t know what religion you follow and, frankly, I don’t care. The Afterlife is understaffed, underpaid, and the gods upstairs are apparently far too busy to deal with it. They don’t care where you end up or how you get there. It’s all the same to the rulers here in Diyu, too. They care even less than the gods. So, everyone winds up here.”

  “Why Diyu? Why not just call it Hell?”

  The term seemed more confusing than necessary. In Ried’s opinion, Hell was a pretty universal term. No matter your culture, ending up in Hell was never a good outcome.

  “Someone ages back started calling it the do-it-yourself Underworld and the name kind of stuck. We call it Diyu now for short.”

  Reid smirked. Do-it-yourself Underworld. Yeah, that was the impression he was getting. The living world was certainly a corrupt piece of shit. What made him think the afterlife would be any different?

  Hudson clapped his thick, three fingered claws together, drawing Reid’s attention.

  “Listen. Right now, you have a choice. Take your chances with the lotte—ahem, the Lord’s verdict and be assigned your punishment. If your lucky, you’ll work here and help the newly dead, like me and that slacker over there. Your only other option is to continue on to the Realm of Wrongful Dead and choose a job there.”

  “How long do I have to work?” Reid asked, thinking a few years playing lackey wouldn’t be too bad if it got him out of here. He’d expected grueling torture and unending terror, not mundane work like this, but he wasn’t complaining. If this was enough to get him reincarnated, then he would do it gladly.

  “Depends on what you choose to do. Could be a few years. Could be a few hundred. It’s nearly impossible, if you want to resurrect in your old body, that is.” Hudson held a finger to his temple, tapping a rhythm. “Karma’s just the first step, mind you. You’ll have to face Lords and King Yama eventually, if you want a chance at your old life.”

  “You’re joking.”

  Reid raked a hand through his hair. It was possible to go back? Even if what Hudson said was true, and he could come back from the dead, was it worth it? There were severe consequences for necromancy in just about every culture he knew of. What was the cost? There had to be a catch somewhere. Did the gods not care if the person you bring back to life is yourself?

  Either way, coming back from the dead sounded too good to be true. How much chaos could one person reap if they could keep coming back to life? He shuddered, wondering how many of the murderers throughout history were just the same one, resurrecting themselves over and over again.

  “Don’t look so nervous. The rulers of Diyu aren’t that irresponsible. Even if you did make it back to your old life, your soul can only return once. Die again, and the best you can hope for is reincarnation.”

  Hudson pushed a pile of documents across the table, almost knocking over a candle in the process. As melted wax spilled down its sides, the candle flared to life, illuminating more of his sharp, twisted features. A fat nose and pockmarked leather skin made him quite hard to look at.

  Reid averted his gaze, feeling guilty, but Hudson merely shrugged and continued. It was obvious the imp had since stopped caring about his appearance.

  “It sounds easy, but getting your old life back is quite difficult. The success rate is slim, considering the time limit. You’ve got quite an advantage though, considering you paid Charon’s toll and still have memories of your past life.”

  Reid’s eyes glossed over as he tried to comprehend the chicken scratch scrawled across the page, but he gave up. He asked Hudson what it said, but the imp remained silent, green eyes fixed on Reid’s arm.

  “Decide quickly. It seems we’ve talked for too long. You’re running out of time.”

  Reid followed the imp’s gaze towards his arm. Seeing nothing abnormal, he turned it this way and that, peering at lines of the tattoo peeking out from his sleeve, then his fingers as he wiggled them back and forth. After a few seconds, Reid paled as he realized what was wrong.

  He could see through his hand.