Standing in front of the television (it was mine) for once not running Genshin Impact (the PS4 was Carl’s, and he had packed it up when he left), I faced my congregation. Craig leaned against the wall of the corner he slept in. He had to be told to leave the couch as neither Tracy nor Chevy wanted him there. I wasn’t a public speaker, and I hadn’t bothered to come up with any prepared words, just vague plans for the sermon. My family had never been particularly religious. I sometimes went to holiday services with my grandparents, but after Dad passed, that didn’t happen as much. So I wasn’t completely unused to what a sermon should sound like, but coming off the cuff seemed quite daunting.

  “In for a penny…” I muttered. I cleared my throat and began: “My faithful congregation, I have assembled you here for my first sermon. Despite how new this all is to me, and to all of you” (Craig harrumphed at this) “I will do my best as Lieutenant of Hell to lead you all to glory. I have been told that this place hasn’t seen war in a long time, that this is foolhardy and perilous. But I believe that under my guidance, we can make Wayward Souls a contender in this sphere.

  “I want to use the very same structure that brought Wayward Souls to me, to those outside. Wayward Souls didn’t lure me in with a promise of power or other dark enticements. Hell found a willing employee by offering a respite from the trials of living. It offered a small boon in light of my financial peril. The world is a cruel and unforgiving place. Communities are fragmented and hostile. I don’t think it’s any coincidence that Hell is making a move now. Humanity has never been more open to what Wayward Souls provides.

  “I want to use that, the desire for safety and stability. With your help, I’d like to start a society of people to help each other and establish its own form of community. We can figure out who is good material for elevation into Wayward Souls, without letting on what our main goal is. It will be difficult at first, but I’m hoping to tap into any monetary means that Carl’s family has at their disposal. We will need to find a good place downtown to rent for meeting in- my apartment can’t be that. This new site will also need to be profaned, I assume?” I looked to Craig for an answer but was interrupted.

  “Whoa whoa whoa,” Tracy cut me off. “You want to recruit people for this with charity? Isn’t that a thing that the… the other side would do?”

  “How many evil rich fuckwads are known for their philanthropy and charity?” I countered.

  “Hm, point taken.”

  After Tracy was satisfied, Craig spoke up. “Aye lad, you can profane it. Might need something bigger than a rabbit. All those people down there. Hard to make them not see. Thinking a ram might do it.”

  “I don’t want to have to kill shit.” The same hand that could stab Terry Smock would tremble at an innocent animal. It was a lot easier to pretend that Terry deserved it for enabling Carl or for calling me Jer, or for constantly begging me to get Carl a job when he was too cowardly to ask it himself. I couldn’t dredge up much to hate about an animal. I guess it added to global warming, but it was just a dumb critter, it didn’t know any better.

  “You think a war can be won without killing?” Craig picked at his teeth with a fingernail.

  “I think a war is won before the killing starts. This has been Heaven’s territory for how long? And it’s because of the communities established. It wasn’t because blood was shed, but because they had a foundation to build from. I simply want to make a foundation of my own, gathering in its own wayward souls. I don’t think Hell will mind if I coopt things a bit and use that name for this society. That's my guiding vision going forward, what do you guys think?

  “Actually hold that thought, I’m thirsty.”

  I went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. I felt a little electric, bordering on giddy. I hadn’t really considered doing it before, the idea just came to me in the moment. Obviously it'd have to wait until after the holidays. But it was a good goal, in my estimation. Just like all those strip mall churches I saw everywhere, or even what Smith would offer during breaks. Maybe doing it for Hell sounded more insidious, but that was just because of the same reluctance I had- that Hell was only for the bad people.

  I wasn’t a bad person.

  I walked back out. No one had moved appreciably. “What do you guys think?”

  A tick of silence and then Chevy piped up. “We’re starting a cult? I’m cool with it.”

  “Not a good idea, lad,” Craig cautioned. “Declaring way too early.”

  “What do you mean?” I queried.

  “Heaven will sniff that out. Can’t keep it hidden very long. Too much light. Gets in everywhere.” Craig shook his head. “Do this, and we’re dead.”

  “Oh, how did it work before?” I couldn’t help but have a little smarm in my tone. “What led to success here?”

  “You think a cult is new? You think they don’t suss that out? It’s not a new tactic.” Craig scratched at his arms irritatedly. “They got me at a revival. It's always the same.”

  I shrugged. “Do you have a better idea? If this is a wolf’s den, I better try to become a wolf too. Sheep ain’t gonna cut it here.”

  Tracy interrupted with “Why did those others fail? What happened?”

  “They got found out. Everytime. Crying to their priests. Can't stay hidden long. ‘Oh woe, please forgive me mine sins.’ The padre reports it straight away. Guilt always gets them. Only thing more powerful than greed.”

  “So we don’t make them guilty,” Tracy said. “It’s not that hard. Just keep them in the dark. “

  “They never stay in the dark. They always get skittish. Soon as you let them in on it someone breaks. Always do. Can't keep a tongue. Waggling. Blurting. Confessing. Don’t do it.”

  I pondered. “What about using that guilt against them?”

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Craig said nothing but quirked a bushy pessimistic eyebrow.

  “They're struggling, why should they feel guilty if we offer aid? Make them feel guilty about their guilt. Weaponize it for us. ‘Why are you upset about receiving help? Don't you deserve a little relief from the rigors of this life?’ Something like that. People are predisposed to feel good about themselves. Them being browbeaten into feeling otherwise can only be to our gain. There’s no welcoming home to go to at the end- it’s all a lie.”

  Craig sighed and threw up his hands. “Survived a lot, Craig Baird has. At least my time will be short with you.”

  “Get ready to be surprised then,” I said, with bravado that I’m not sure I felt deep down. “I’m going to make this happen. We have a holiday to survive first, then we can start figuring out how to make enough money to finance this. I know Carl's parents own their home, so that's a possible one time source of cash, but I'd rather only go that route if necessary. Until then we can look for other ways to finance it. Any ideas?” I knew I'd come up with something, but any other opinions couldn't hurt.

  “Place you had me look into. The church. Loaded. Plenty of lucre.” Craig stated bluntly.

  “Huh, really?” I considered. “But Smith works for peanuts, are you sure? I make jack shit at the job and he’s only been there a little longer than I have.”

  Craig nodded boisterously. “Absolutely. Surname Burrows. Name’s all over the place. Plaques, pews, gravestones. Big family. Lots of money. He’s rich.”

  “So that asshole is just working for fun?” Tracy piped up.

  Craig shrugged. “Sounds like it.”

  “Oh fuck him,” she hissed.

  “He's just doing it to give out pamphlets. Or something.” It didn’t sound right even as I said it. Even working for the fun of it wouldn’t let Smith bombard customers with pamphlets. At least not for very long.

  “A customer would complain, he’d be gone,” Tracy said, confirming my thoughts.

  “What about us?” This idea felt right.

  “Makes sense,” Craig murmured. “Could be getting some reinforcements. Up their numbers. Bolster the ranks.”

  “They’re doing the same thing I’m doing? Smith is me? But why is he asking me if I’m a good fit for Hell?”

  “Same qualities. Same drive. Different expression.” Craig offered. “Plenty of angels were good for both. Humans even more tricky.”

  “He has spent a lot more time bothering you on breaks,” Tracy stated. “Not like just a little, he’s into you, Jeremy. Do you think he has a knife? Nah, probably not.”

  “Less blood, more bibles,” Craig added.

  “Oh no. Oh no no no.” I realized where this was going. “I have to pretend to be recruited. I have to get into his circle. And then what? Sneak his credit card? Steal his family’s silverware? Too risky, we’re not doing it.” My congregation looked up at me. I sighed. “Fine, fuck it, I’ll talk with Smith. But not until work tomorrow, today is my goddamn day off and I’m going to enjoy it.”

  “Cool,” Chevy said. “Do I stay here or do we break the huddle or what?”

  “Yeah, we can find a place for you,” Tracy cut in.

  “No, no we cannot. This is a two bedroom apartment with four people in it. It does not have the room for another person. I don’t have enough blankets or beds or couches.” Craig’s bed pile and Tracy’s stake on the couch were already hectic enough.

  “I’ll figure it out,” Tracy said. “I’m the congregation leader after all. I’ll go get my shit from my apartment. While I do that you should take out the trash, it’s gross, Jeremy.”

  I looked, and sure enough there was another bag of garbage. Carl could have taken it out but instead had carried every single thing he owned outside for going home with him, excluding only carrying the trash. It was insane. I needed to figure out a way to not have to police Carl all the time. The Implement seemed to only be as effective as I let it be. “I command souls, and I somehow have to take out the trash,” I groused theatrically. I briefly considered asking Craig but I didn’t want him finding the cornucopia that was the communal dumpster. After the way Craig complained about the past date food, I didn’t want him anywhere near that.

  I grabbed the garbage and tried to soothe my anger at somehow still having to do this shit. It was only “gross” because after throwing out all the expired food, Tracy just left the bag tied against the wall. At least it didn’t feel as heavy, thanks to my newly won vitality.

  At the dumpster, I found Danielle, because of course I would. She was in a dark parka, with an extremely fuzzy hood. At this point outside most of the snow was gone except in the northern shadows. She was completely overdressed for this level of cold. She was also smoking a cigarette, looking out down the hill from my apartment complex. “Ah, Mr. Owens,” She said, without turning to me. “You have a congregation.”

  “That I do. Sermonized and everything.” I hefted the garbage bag into the dumpster, gagging slightly on the combined reeks of everyone’s detritus. “What’s up? Boss?” I hadn’t actually thought about it before, but in some ways Danielle was my supervisor, right?

  “Danielle is fine. We’re friends after all.” (Then why did she keep calling me Mr. Owens?) Danielle’s expression was far away, very at odds with her intensity from our prior conversations. “I do commend you for assembling a congregation in such short order. You are achieving everything we hoped for and more. Wayward Souls applauds your ambition and temerity. It should serve you well in the coming days.”

  “Coming days?” I didn’t like the sound of that.

  “There’s quite a large holiday coming up, if you didn’t know.”

  “Yes, Christmas, but what does that have to do with any of this?” I recalled Smith’s warning about things not being safe on Christmas Eve.

  “It’s a time for new beginnings. End of the year, end of the shopping season, end of everything.” Danielle took a pensive drag. “But to have a beginning, you have to have an ending.” There was a long pause as I waited for her to continue. She did not.

  “What does any of that mean? What should I be ready for? The end end? Like an apocalypse? What am I supposed to do against that?” I couldn’t even get Carl to take out the trash, how was I going to handle anything more difficult than that?

  “I don’t expect you to survive, but Wayward Souls does heavily encourage it. Current forecast metrics are appalling, to put it mildly. However, the strongest steel requires tempering, does it not? Prove me wrong, Mr. Owens- survive to see the new year. In the meantime, enjoy one last boon from Wayward Souls. You will know wherever your congregants are, as well as their status, generally. Your first congregants shall know the boon of fluency. Their words shall be taken with slightly more grace and earnestness, while disregarding any inadvertent slips. It’s subtle, but very potent. Addition of this boon to starting congregations has provided almost a threefold increase in the time it takes Heaven to identify a congregation. Loose lips may sink ships, Mr. Owens, so we went for the ears instead.”

  “Okay, but how do I keep from dying? What is going to happen?” She was babbling about talking better, when it sounded like I wasn’t going to live to see the new year. I remembered Craig talking about his former employer, dying to an angel on a unicorn. “How am I supposed to fight against angels?”

  “I didn’t tell you to fight, Mr. Owens. I told you to survive. Do that however you can. Remember that you are more important than your congregants or those whose souls you possess. Use them.” She exhaled a plume of smoke to punctuate this dire sentence.

  The lid on the dumpster slammed shut and jolted me, just for a moment. But in that speck of surprise, Danielle was gone.