“I’m not sure what I would have done. But it’s over with. The monster is gone. You devils are free to continue doing very bad things to humans.”

  “We do as we were created to do, Sam. And our charges are free to leave whenever they want.”

  “Don’t be surprised if I come down here again and release them all.”

  “Would be a noble, if not exhausting, task. Speaking of which, the lad you seek is a new recruit, so to speak. As such, I haven’t completely figured out a way to give his punishment my own special twist. So, for now, I have continued what Rex Infernus had set forth for him.”

  I shake my head. That poor kid.

  “Oh, it’s not so bad, Sam. He did sell his soul, after all. This way.”

  He leads me past many cells with steel bars stretching from floor to ceiling. Most are rusted and/or covered in blood.

  “Rusted, Sam. These cells are ancient.”

  “Who built them?” I ask.

  He shrugs his narrow shoulders. “The Universe. The Creator. The will of mankind. I don’t really know. I only had a hand at creating those bundles of fun cackling behind you. Mostly, my gifts lie in creating illusions, which I use to great effect for my charges down here. In fact, most of the underworld gods have this gift. It’s what keeps things interesting for us down here. Did you have a look around, Sam? Not a lot to do down here.”

  “You torture souls for your entertainment,” I say.

  A half-shrug this time. “Yeah, I suppose so, though some are more entertaining than others. Those get my full attention.”

  “What about the young matador?” I ask. “Does he get your attention?”

  “I’ll give Rex Infernus credit, his punishment for the lad is rather creative. A bit on the gory side. Nothing that should offend the sensibilities of a one-time blood vampire, though.”

  We hang a right down a side passage and something strange happens: the cells sweep by in a blur. In just a few steps, we seem to have gone a mile or so.

  “Twelve miles, in fact,” says Hades. “Just a little godly magic I installed to help me through the maze of souls. Ah, here we go. Cell number 549,898. One of our newest residents, so to speak.”

  He snaps his fingers and the cell bars disappear. He gestures for me to lead the way. Ishmael and I had already discussed this scenario and agreed he would remain outside the cell. Hades knows this as well. I turn and look back at my brave guardian angel. These days, I care less and less that he is considered fallen.

  “Touching,” says Hades. “Shall we?”

  With a last look at Ishmael, and a fleeting look at the half-dozen demons and demonesses huddled behind him, I step into the cold cell. Hades follows and immediately, the bars reappear behind us.

  The deeper we go, the more I hear the sounds of snorting, grunting, and what might be the thunder of hooves...

  ***

  Soon, the drab stone walls give way to hazy daylight. Next, I see a patch of dirt. The patch soon forms a circle. In fact, it’s a bullring.

  “I should have warned you there would be a rather drastic change in milieu,” says Hades. “Don’t be alarmed. Please, have a seat.”

  I’m surprised to see I’m now standing on something wooden. Below me is a bullfighting ring. Granted, this one is different than the one in Carbon Canyon, but similar enough. Most obvious is the shape. This is a traditional circle. It’s also smaller, with only a handful of rows rising up from the dirt pitch. The sun isn’t really a sun, just a smear of light in the sky. Weirdly, the more I focus on the ring, the more it seems to go out of focus.

  “Because the bullring isn’t the focus, Sam. We only have so much magic to go around down here.”

  I’m not sure what that means, nor do I care enough to ask.

  “Just watch,” he says.

  A figure materializes in the center of the ring, standing near a tall, wooden pole draped with vague tapestries. He looks around, seemingly confused. He’s dressed in what is clearly a matador’s outfit, though from here, there’s only a scant semblance of it.

  “Couldn’t spring for a nicer uniform?” I ask.

  “It’s not a uniform. The matador’s clothing is called traje de luces or suit of lights. This is holdover magic. I haven’t tweaked it yet. That said, I probably wouldn’t have messed with it too much. Rex Infernus had a good thing going here.”

  I hear the familiar rumbling again, the sound I’d heard seemingly just minutes earlier. From the far end of the ring, mist or dust billows everywhere... and from it appears a massive shadow. Twin bursts of air blast the haze and smoke, and out emerges the biggest bull I’ve ever seen.

  The lad in the center wants to run but seems frozen in place. He looks down at his feet in a panic, seemingly willing them to move.

  They don’t, but his arms sure do. He seems to notice for the first time that he holds a red cape, which drops down seemingly on its own, startling the boy. If anything, he doesn’t seem to remember any of the skills he must have learned centuries ago.

  Meanwhile, the bull notices the red cape.

  It paws the dirt, snorting, then charges.

  Weirdly, the boy now seems to be given use of his legs. As he runs, kicking up dirt behind him, the bull bears down on him. The young man turns his head, looks back, and screams—

  “Stop it!” I shout, standing, drawing the black sword in an instant and pointing it at Hades’s bare chest.

  The bull disappears instantly; however, the young man in the bullring remains.

  “It’s not all bad, Sam,” says the dark god, staring at the point of the blade. “Sometimes he remembers who he is and gives the bull a good run for its money. Admittedly, nearly every match ends with the lad being gored to death or trampled.”

  “Only to do it all over again, right?”

  “Oh, yes. Hundreds of times a day. Tens of thousands of times a year.”

  “You will release him now.”

  “I had every intention to, Sam. Like I said, a deal is a deal.”

  “Release him now.”

  “Relax, Miss Moon. He is free to go. He’s always been free.”

  “Then why is he still standing there?”

  “Because he does not believe he is free. This is his hell, remember? He may not understand he is free, but you are welcome to convince him. And please remove the sword. I’m just a creation of the Universe, remember?”

  I study the wicked-looking entity before me, truly something out of a nightmare. I ease the sword away from his chest and hold it by my side, at the ready.

  I look over at the lost boy, still standing in the middle of the circular pitch. At present, he’s looking down at the cape in his hands. Then up and around at the stadium. His eyes stop on us. I can’t imagine what he’s thinking: a dark-haired woman with a sword, sitting next to something straight out of hell. Probably why he looks like he might scream.

  “Go on, Sam,” says Hades. “Convince him. Make him believe.”

  “And then what?”

  “Oh, it’s quite a light show. You’ll see.”

  “I don’t know what that means, but whatever. Hey, I do not speak Spanish.”

  Hades winks—something I seriously never want to see again—and says, “He will understand you. I still have some magic. Go on. Help him. And yes, that might be the first time I’ve ever said such words.”

  With that, the god fades out of existence. I step down from the row of benches, over a short wall, and onto the dirt pitch.

  The young man—really, he looks like a boy to me—watches my every move. I don’t know how much he knows about his predicament, or of the thousands, perhaps even hundreds of thousands, of “deaths” he’s incurred here.

  Turns out, he doesn’t remember much, and that’s probably a good thing. Soon, we’re sitting across from each other in the dirt. He thinks he only just died. Again, that’s not a bad thing. No reason to remember any of the suffering he’d been forced to endure these past two centuries. He asks about Annabelle and I tell him she passed, too, and the boy breaks down. He asks if I’m absolutely certain he’s dead, and I tell him yes, without a doubt. He asks where he is and I tell him he made a very bad deal with someone who wasn’t very nice. He remembers it and hangs his head in shame. He wanted to be great for Annabelle. Maybe for himself, too. He weeps some more and says he misses his mother and father and little brother. I let him weep, suddenly highly aware that I’m sitting in a cell in hell. Or a kind of hell. Yet, the dirt feels real, and so are the sounds of his sobs.

  I lift his chin and tell him it’s time to go. Go where? he asks. To a nicer place. He likes the idea of a nicer place, even if he doesn’t remember much about this one. He wants to know if he can see Annabelle again. I tell him I don’t know. I really don’t, either. I have no clue how the Universe can conspire for the young lovers to meet again, but I hope they can, somehow.

  I ask if he’s ready, and he looks scared. I would look scared, too. He asks if this is another trick, and I say no, suddenly concerned that he does remember a little about his experiences down here.

  But he nods and asks if he can have a hug. We stand and I do just that, hugging him tightly. He weeps into my neck and I hold him tighter still. And yeah, Hades was right. The light show is spectacular. I sense angelic bodies around me, though I see nothing specific.

  A moment later, I’m holding nothing but air.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  We leave without fanfare, and when we step through the shimmering cave entrance and back into the Minotaur’s tunnel, I am able to summon the single flame again. From there, I teleport us back to Ishmael’s cabin in the woods. Not as creepy as it sounds, but almost.

  There, I give him a long-enough hug that I feel guilty. He strokes my hair and kisses me on top of my head. I’ll pretend he didn’t kiss me. Maybe I made that part up.

  Except I didn’t.

  Ishmael pushes for nothing and seems to allow me to find my way to him, except I am not in a hurry to be with him. And yes, I’m pretty sure I’ve forgiven him completely, and then some.

  I reach up, way up, and pat his handsome face and tell him I will see him around. He nods and stares deeply into my eyes the way he always does. That he has known me since time immemorial is crazy to think about. That he protected me through thick and thin, I have no doubt. That it must have been hard watching me get attacked, I can only guess.

  But he did what he had to do to find true love.

  Would he find it with me?

  Time will only tell.

  “Oh, and I should probably return this.” I reach into the interdimensional pouch and extract the dark blade. Ishmael accepts it with a nod, and then quickly deposits it into his own magical pouch. No, neither of us walks around with secret compartments in front of us. The interdimensional space follows the sword.

  Oh, and it feels a little weird returning the Devil Killer for a second time. Funny how it fits like a glove for me. But with it comes a heavy responsibility, one that I don’t necessarily want to take on right now.

  I teleport home with a strong need to shower. But first, I pop into the bathroom of my favorite Starbucks, always sure to be busy. It’s mid-morning, and packed with coffee lovers. I dip generously from those who seem to have their fill of caffeine. You would think I would pop into a gym and pull energy from grunting gym rats, but Starbucks seems to work out best, though I try to drink less from those yawning in line and more from those buzzing from breves.

  Tammy’s graduation is tomorrow. I have no clue if I actually helped Nancy’s ghost problem. Sure, I helped Annabelle’s fiancé move on from the afterlife, but that hadn’t been my job, exactly. Nancy hadn’t felt comfortable in the arena and had asked me to do something about it. For all I know, the spirit of Ferdinand is also haunting the stadium now.

  If so, oops.

  But I doubt that. No, I don’t pretend to know how the spirit world works, especially when it comes to one’s final destination, but those light angels that surrounded us back in Hades’s prison had been... beautiful. Hell, I wanted to go with them. Except my heaven is here, on Earth, or whatever planet I call home in the future.

  Point being, I doubt these light beings would just return him to a desolate stadium in the back of beyond, to mindlessly haunt it with his fiancé.

  Then again, what do I know?

  With all three kids in school—including Tammy on her last day of high school—I am fighting being teary-eyed. I’m also considering how best to report my findings to Nancy, my client on the case. The problem is, I’m not sure what’s going on with Annabelle. Sure, I had helped her fiancé move on, but did Annabelle even know that?

  I’m just considering how to report my findings when my phone rings. It’s Pauline Ocean, my psychic-medium friend.

  “She’s gone, Sam,” says Pauline by way of answering my hello.

  I’m about to ask who’s gone, but I know exactly who she’s talking about. “How do you know?”

  “She came to me this morning, as I was waking up, and she wasn’t alone.”

  I hold my breath, too nervous to ask who was with her.

  “Aren’t you going to ask who was with her?”

  “I’m afraid to.”

  “Then I’ll tell you. The young matador, of course. She thanked me, and thanked you, too, and get this...”

  “What?” I ask, breathless.

  “They were dancing together, the maiden and matador, circling around and around, laughing and smiling and fading away...”

  Chapter Thirty-six

  It’s the next day.

  The sun is high and the day is hot. It is, after all, mid-June in southern California—and oh, we’re sitting in a dirt field surrounded by rows of stadium seats that aren’t, at present, being used. Not that the stadium itself isn’t ready, it is just that the school has elected to put us in the dirt, on a steamy hot day.

  I’ll live. But just barely.

  Luckily, I’m hidden under the mother of all sunhats, part of an extensive collection I’d cultivated back when I was a blood vamp. I’ve given Nancy the news that her ghost is gone and that she can rest easy. She still seems suspicious of a possible curse, but I gave her the suggestion to let that go and believe that all is well.

  Good enough.

  Sitting next to me is Anthony, looking dapper in new jeans and a white button-down shirt. Okay, more than dapper. I see a few of the moms giving him the once-over. In their defense, he looks about twenty-five. Still, I scowl at them and command them to be ashamed of themselves.

  Next to him is Kingsley, decked out in a shiny suit and shades and a freshly trimmed beard. It won’t stay trimmed for long. Heck, if I listen closely enough, I can probably hear his beard growing out all over again.

  Paxton is on my other side, looking cute in a white dress with flowers and little rainbows. She keeps grabbing my hand and pointing to Tammy, who’s sitting with a large group on a makeshift stage. Paxton loves her older sister more than me, and I’m okay with that.

  Next to Paxton is Allison, looking for all the world like a Kardashian in her high heels, tight dress, big hat and big sunglasses. My poor son can’t keep his eyes off her—and neither can a lot of the men in the crowd. Luckily, Kingsley coolly ignores her, which, I think, frustrates Allison to no end. Yes, lots of little crushes going on in our small group. All innocent. I’ll talk to Allie after the graduation about once again toning things down. I know what she’ll say: for her, this is toning things down.

  Allison glances at me and winks behind her sunglasses. At least, I think so.

  Meanwhile, the ceremony is starting. Tammy waves to us every chance she gets, looking cute but confident on stage. When she accepts her diploma, I lose it completely, bawling hard enough that Paxton takes my hand and Anthony hugs me.

  When all the students turn their tassel to one side, then toss their graduation caps, my tears turn to laughter and clapping, and then back to tears again. Tammy did it. Now, she has her whole life in front of her.

  So, what’s in her immediate future?

  First, the graduation party she arranged with her friends, but just after that…

  As mentioned before, I have a little present for her.

  Okay, a big present for her.

  A trip down south.

  Way, way down south.

  The End

  Samantha Moon will return!

  ~~~~~

  Samantha Moon and the gang are about to have the trip of their lives in South America! As you know, Sam’s vacations tend to attract the weird, fantastical, and nightmarish. Pretty sure this trip will be no different. Look for the “Latin Moon” series of short adventures in the summer of 2023!

  ~~~~~

  We hope you enjoyed Moon Matador, please help me spread the word by leaving a review. Thank you!

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  Chapter One

  I’d watched the video only once before destroying it. Amazing how the details of it seared into my memory as if I’d watched it a hundred times.