The Deep End wasn’t the hottest club in Chicago, but it did boast a loyal and varied clientele. The cackling laughter and chittering chatter often floated out through the tall front doors with a lively song on each arm.  A lovely gal stood just inside the doors to greet each guest with a cigarette or a wink. Her long sparkling dress fanned out at the bottom to give the impression of a large fin, making her a makeshift mermaid. Each of the waitresses in the club wore the same dress, it livened the atmosphere, apparently.

            The insides of the club were made to resemble an ocean with sea shell lamps at each table, light fixtures in bubbles, seaweed vines strategically placed along the walls. The entertainment stage had a busted up fishing boat and a wide net for a backdrop. A row of black musicians played swing time to flappers and suited gents raking it up on the dance floor with a shimmy, foxtrot and the monkey glide.

            Some may have called it a gaudy joint, but never was it called boring.

            Sonny worked in the back as a dishwasher and would often try to peek through the swinging doors of the kitchen and into the club to see what new dance the kids were coming up with, seemingly on the spot or who the musician was for the night. He had developed an ear for jazz and would often tilt and weave with the crazy syncopation of that devil’s music, as it had been labeled. It was certainly not the most devilish thing going on in the club.

            One of the mermaids floated past with another tray of dirty dishes which tumbled into the sink. Trying to keep up with the dishes was a chore but Sonny figured that was why they called it work. It wasn’t as satisfying as shooting a bad guy for money, but it helped him keep up appearances, and he had to admit that there was calm in the simple repetitive motion of rinsing and drying dishes that helped keep his head clear.

            His current calm was interrupted by a crash of dishes, not in the sink but behind him. An overzealous waitress had dropped a meal for three on the floor. Seems like the waitresses were always trying to one up each other on how much they could balance precariously on their tray and their long dresses just added additional daring.

            Sonny sighed. He knew what was coming next.

            “Hey, sunny boy. Clean up over here.” The waitress called out.

            Sonny finished drying the plate in his hands, stacked the plate carefully on the counter with the others and grabbed the broom standing next to the sink. The club had no official janitor so that left Sonny to the task by default. The hunchback can’t complain, right?

            The careless waitress didn’t wait long enough to catch a glimpse of Sonny’s face before she high tailed it away from the scene and out of the kitchen. It was too bad because he had really tried to enter with a dramatic flourish, brandishing his hunch and overplaying his limp, to make the impression she had been expecting. He rarely played with people in such a way but this particular waitress had never shown him the slightest kindness.  

            Sonny brushed the broken pieces of the dishes and the scattered food into a small empty box and carried it all out the back door. The door opened to an alley bathed in a dim blue light from the club and the moon.  Sonny set the box in a corner for the strays to pick at the food and was about to walk back into the kitchen when he heard a noise beside him.

            “Hunchback.”

            It could have been the sound of a mouse it was so soft. Sonny knew that sound.

            He turned to find a woman stepping out from the shadows only a few feet away from him. It was Clara. She was the one that brought him his other jobs. She wore a dress that at one time must have been pretty but that time was long ago and for another owner. Beads from her long necklaces sparkled faintly in the moon light which also glinted off the clip of a giant bow attached to a band she wore around her head. The necklaces were new. Sonny had given them to her.

            “What do you have for me?” Sonny asked, just as he always did. He had only done about a half dozen jobs, but he and Clara seemed to have already fallen into a familiar dance.

            “Money for the Gambolli job…” She replied.

            Sonny took care to count the stack of money she handed him.

            “…and a new job.” She continued.

            Sonny looked up. “So soon?”

            Clara shifted her gaze slightly so as to not look directly at Sonny’s face. They had a business agreement but he still obviously repulsed her.

            “You may not want to take it. It is an odd one but since you are kind of an odd duck yourself I thought I would throw it by you.”

            “Well, who is the lucky guy?”

            “The devil.”

            The perplexed look Sonny gave her must have been frightful because she gasped.

             “The devil? I mean the devil not a nickname or anything?”

            “All I know is this guy wants to kill the devil. Something about regaining his soul. Look, this guy could be a fruit cake for all I know. You know how it is. I hear just about everything on the street.”

            Sonny let it rattle around in his head a bit.

            “It couldn’t hurt to hear him out I guess. Who is this guy?”

            “Whelan. Benjamin Whelan. He’s the butcher for the market on East Dover.”

            “Swell. Thanks Clara.”

            Sonny stuffed the money in his pocket.

            “I think a hat would look good with those necklaces, what do you think?” He asked her.

            “A hat would be nice.”

            “I’ll pick you up a choice one soon.”

            “Purple.” Clara said with a guarded smile.

            “The finest purple hat in the store window.” Sonny said.

            Sonny ambled away and left Clara to stare up at the moon with thoughts of the latest fashions in her head. Sonny’s thoughts were of a more theological nature.  

            The butcher’s market on East Dover had a big gallery window in the front with the words ‘Best Butcher’ painted in red along the top. The owner was apparently astute in the art of advertising.  Sonny stood just opposite the window with a couple of boys that watched the proceedings inside with a mix of excitement and horror. Seems the butchering was on display for the public, though it was hard to tell if it was the act or the performer that so enthralled the young boys.

            The butcher was a young woman. Her auburn hair pulled back into a long thick braid that trailed down over one shoulder and ended just above her slender waist. A white apron protected her dress from all but a few stray splatters of blood that trailed the hem. The apron itself, however, was not so spotless. She swung the cleaver swiftly, clear down through a pig’s thick neck and into the table with a loud THUNCK. The sound made the boys jump. The woman’s smile gave away that she was well aware she had an audience.

            Sonny suddenly felt like a peeping tom and so strolled through the front door of the establishment.

            The woman turned away from the table to acknowledge Sonny. She casually wiped a line of blood from her brow as she came up to a large counter with a glass front which displayed a bevy of raw meats.

            “Hello sir. What is it we can do ye for this fine day.” The woman spoke with a silvery Irish accent.

            “I am looking for a Benjamin Whelan. I thought he was the butcher but it seems I may have been mistaken.” Sonny said.

            The woman had finally taken a good look at Sonny’s face and sized him up with her emerald eyes. To her credit she didn’t flinch once.

            “He’s my father. He owns this shop and is the butcher. He lets me practice the trade as window dressing mostly.”

            “I need to speak with your father.”

            The woman yelled Benjamin’s name out loud and went back to the butcher’s table.

            After a few minutes had passed and Benjamin was not present, she grabbed a large bone from the side of the table and hit the ceiling with it twice. This caused a commotion upstairs and Benjamin promptly stuck his head out from the top of the steps.

            “What is it Brigid? I told you that I wasn’t here.” Benjamin said.

            It was then that he noticed Sonny.

            The rest of Benjamin descended from the stairs holding a shotgun.

            “Who are ye and what do ye want?” Benjamin asked.

            Sonny held his hands up to show he was not armed, the handgun tucked discreetly into his belt didn’t really count. “I am here for a job.”

            “I have my daughter. No need for another butcher and no need for a grave digger.”

            “My talents may be useful to someone such as yourself. I hear you have a devil of a problem.”

            At the mention of the devil a twitch ran across Benjamin’s face and shivered his bushy red beard. He lowered the shotgun and stepped closer to Sonny. He was a bear of man and the floor creaked with each step the man took. The resemblance to his daughter could be seen in the eyes that squinted at Sonny with caution and skepticism.

            “What is yer dealings with the devil?” He asked.

            “Contrary to my looks I am a God fearing man.” Sonny replied.

            “The devil fears God.”

            “The question is not if the devil fears God but if the devil can be shot.”

            “I’ve seen him bleed. I assume your talent is for killing. We can continue our conversation upstairs.”

            Benjamin took a sideways glance at his daughter as he turned around and headed for the stairs. There was no acknowledgment from Brigid that she had followed any of the conversation while the blade of her knife went to work on the pig’s haunches.

            Upstairs consisted of a small room and a loft space. Sonny could tell the room was for Brigid from the crumpled skirt on the floor in the doorway. The loft must have been Benjamin’s. Clothes were stacked haphazardly in the corners of the space and the bed was half made. A table stood off to the side with two wooden stools for chairs. The table was covered with channels and gashes and blood stains from what Sonny could only assume or hope was some former use downstairs in the shop proper. 

            Benjamin, the shotgun still in his hands, motioned for Sonny to take a seat at the table.

            “It may not look like much but this table has withstood almost as many years as I have. I must have chopped a thousand legs, hocks and rumps with it. It’s plenty sturdy.” Benjamin said.

            Sonny took the seat as directed.

            “Bloody business it is.” Benjamin added as he sat down across from Sonny, “My, you’re an ugly bogger, aren’t ye? No matter. I’ve beat men’s faces into worse.”

            “Clara told me that you’re eager to get rid of someone. I’m eager to get paid.” Sonny said.

            “She’s a sweet lass, Clara. She comes by once a week for leftovers and gossip. Brigid supplies her with both. Ye aren’t playing me for the fool, boy?”

            “No sir.”

            Benjamin leaned over the table conspiratorially and said, “The devil has my soul. I want him killed so I get it back.”

            “Is he a person or a spirit?” Sonny asked.

            Benjamin leaned back. “Bogger if I know but he bleeds. Anything that bleeds can be killed.”

            “You look like a strapping man. Why don’t you kill him yourself?”

            “I’m done with killing. Strictly animals now. I owe at least that to Brigid and her dear departed mom.”

            “Does the devil have a name?”

            “I heard him called Bezel.”

            “Where does he live?”

            “I don’t know but I know where ye can find him. He walks past my shop every morning on his way to the bank. He taunts me.”

            “I require $100 cash upon completion of the job. Clara will contact you at that time. Don’t try and contact me.” Sonny said, and stood to go.

            Benjamin pushed away from the table in a hurry, not expecting their business to be finished so quickly.

            “Wait. Why take the job? What makes ye so certain that I’m not for the loony wagon?” Benjamin asked.

            The devil wore a derby hat. Sonny would have thought a fedora with a feather in the brim would have been more the prince of darkness’ style but a derby hat it was. The hat was part of an ensemble that included a brown suit with matching tie, slacks, and brown and white wingtip shoes. The devil walked with a cane but seemed to Sonny that the cane was more of an accessory than a crutch.

            Sonny stood across and down the street from the Whelan’s butcher shop, in the shadow of a newspaper stand so as to not draw undue scrutiny. The new paper would be out in under an hour so he could be just another early riser waiting to catch the new headline on his way to work.

            The devil walked past the wide window of the butcher shop without so much as a casual glance inside, a feat Sonny would have trouble with now he knew Brigid Whelan would be displaying her trade there. If he wasn’t a hunchback monster he might have entertained thoughts of asking Brigid to dinner. Fancy that. With reluctance he set his mind back on the task of watching the devil cross the street and subliminally cataloged the perfect spots to get a clear shot at him from.

            The traffic was light as the devil crossed the street and headed toward the entrance of the bank. The few cars on the road always passed just beyond or before the devil, as if the man weren’t even there. Just as the devil reached the sidewalk in front of the bank’s door, he turned and strolled past the front of the bank and down the street. Sonny had to move quick, dodged a passerby and knocked over a cart. Where the devil was the devil going?

            When Sonny passed the butcher’s shop, he spotted Brigid opening the front door to toss some small bones to a stray. She saw him as well and opened her mouth to say something, but Sonny missed the words from her lips. The growing line of traffic between the two of them didn’t help matters. Sonny scrambled down the block to catch up with the devil. He tried not to think about how he might look to those he passed on the sidewalk. A running hunchback could easily be mistaken as a man having a frantic seizure while on fire.

            He hadn’t noticed that Brigid placed her apron on the counter in the shop and shot out the door to cross the street after him.

            The devil pushed his way through a door to a nondescript building a block away. Sonny flailed his way past people and peddlers carts to catch a glimpse of the devil’s hat as it disappeared from view. Now that he knew the devil’s destination had been reached, he allowed himself to slow down a step. He was quite winded by the exercise.

            Sonny reached to open the door that the devil had previously walked through. Someone grabbed his shoulder from behind. It was Brigid.

            “You’re a hard man to catch mister.” She said. She suddenly realized her hand was on Sonny’s hunch and withdrew it with a jerk.

            “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you. I’ve got no time for this right now.” Sonny said. He had left the ray gun at home in a shoe box, but a revolver lay close by.

            “Way I figure it, you work for my father and someone works for my father they work for me. Make time.”

            Sonny drew her aside.

            “Your father’s devil just walked through that door. I aim to follow. Stay here.”

            Sonny stormed through the door. Brigid hesitated only a second before following.

            Once inside, they were overcome by the smell of rotten eggs and burnt wax. The place was a candle factory of sorts. Tall candles hung in neat rows above wide tables of molds throughout the large room. More candles were stacked in piles on tables along the wall. No sign of the devil.

            “What is the devil doing in a candle factory?” Brigid asked.

            “Maybe it’s somebody’s birthday.” Sonny replied, “Hush.”

            A slinky shadow separated from between two far tables of candle molds. A shadow that was soon joined by two others. When they entered the realm of dim light supplied by high narrow windows above the door, they had the semblance of men, with fine suits and shined shoes, but moved like a slow flickering flame; with an awkward glide more than a step.

            A speck of light glistened off one of the men’s toothy smile.

            “What do we have here?” He asked.

            Sonny grabbed Brigid’s hand. The tendrils of the sulfurous smell enveloped them both.

            “We must have made a wrong turn at the apple cart.” Sonny said, “Begging your pardon, we’ll be on our way.”

            One of the men moved to block the exit with incredible speed.

            “You’re a long way from the bell tower hunchback.  You’ll find no sanctuary here, only pain and suffering.” The man with the smile said.

            “Pain and suffering.” The other man in front of Sonny repeated.

            It was time to leave, and by the way Brigid’s hand squeezed Sonny’s, she agreed. He just had to keep things under control. He wished he had his ray gun.

            The smiling man pulled a shiny gun out from under his suit. His partner did the same. Sonny could hear the click of a gun behind him as well. This left Sonny little choice but to draw his own gun.

            “I’m so glad you want to play.” The smiling man said.

His body shook and shimmered and changed, or at least half of it did. The lower part of the man took on the form of a satyr complete with dark hairy hooves. The torso of the man was still draped in the suit and tie but two horns grew out from the side of his head. A long thin tail curled out from behind the man as his skin turned an icy blue.

            “Play.” The other man echoed and transformed as well.

            Brigid gasped and Sonny let his reflexes take over. He fired a shot into the creature in front of him, right between the eyes. Brigid’s hand left him and by the time he had turned around, the creature in front of the exit had doubled over. Brigid’s small bloody fist withdrew from the creature’s stomach holding a small knife. Sonny couldn’t tell who looked more surprised, the creature or Brigid.

            Sonny shoved Brigid out the door and followed. The one creature left unscathed fired two shots at them. Sonny felt the wake of a bullet as it passed his right ear. Momentum carried him and Brigid across the sidewalk and into the street. Cars veered and careened all around them and angry drivers honked their horns with indignation.

            The three men, for that was the form they had returned to, had left the candle factory and scanned the streets and sidewalks to find their quarry. Sonny knew it was only a matter of seconds before he and Brigid would be found. He ignored the pain and wet warmth in his back and scrambled to his feet. He pushed Brigid forward to hide behind a parked car.

            She crouched beside the car, shaking like a frightened bird, the bloody knife in one hand and a crumpled piece of paper clutched in the other. Her eyes looked to Sonny for a sign that the demonic creatures were far away, that the last five minutes were a dream. He gave her nothing but a nod once the strange men were out of sight.

            Sonny hid his gun and pulled out a white handkerchief. He wiped the blood from Brigid’s knife and hand.

            “I suggest you put that away.” He said.

            Brigid placed the knife back into a sheath sitting sideways at the small of her back just above her skirt.

            Sonny helped her to her feet and the pair briskly walked along the sidewalk, trying their best to blend in. They sat down at a table outside a small Italian café.

            “What was that? Who where they?” Brigid asked between deep breathes.

            “I don’t know. Friends of the devil I suppose.” 

            “They certainly looked like demons but they bled like men.” Brigid’s hand still held a stain of that blood.

            “Look, you shouldn’t have even been there. What were you thinking? You should go back to your shop before your dad misses you.”

            “I…I can handle myself.”

            “Yeah, I saw that. You’re scared and that’s fine. I’m a little freaked out myself. This has been a strange week. Go home.”

            It looked like for a second that she might actually go, but a glance at the paper in her hand sprung her resolve back into place.

            “I grabbed something from that…thing.” She said, as she unfolded the paper and spread it out on the table.

            “What is it?” Sonny asked.

            “I don’t know. There are numbers, times I think and names.”

            “Let me see.”

            “Wait. It’s a train schedule. The Dawn Driver. Chicago to Kansas City.”

            “What time?”

            “At eight o’clock…tonight.”

            Sonny snatched the paper away and took a look for himself.

            “Looks like the devil is taking a train ride. Great. I always wanted to ride the train.” He said.

            “I’m going with ye.”

            “No.”

            “I just need to go home and grab some things for the trip.”

            “I don’t think you would enjoy traveling with a monster to kill another monster and possibly run into more monsters like the ones we just recently encountered. You seem like a nice girl outside of the cutting and hacking of dead animals. My job is scary.”

            “I’m coming. Who else is going to verify you’ve finished the job. My father will consent. I’ve seen mangled pig flesh up close, a few scars and a hunch are not going to sicken me.”

            Sonny sat in stunned silence as Brigid left the table. After a few steps she turned her head. “Well?” She said, in that Irish tilt that could already make Sonny grin.

            “I’ve got to grab something back home. I’ll meet you at the station.” He said.

            “You skip out on me and I’ll find ye. I guarantee I’ll be on that train.” She said.

            Sonny got up from his chair and ambled past her, gave a little wave. He then noticed the trumpet player on the corner across the street.  A black man in tan pants, suspenders, button shirt rolled up at the sleeves and a white bowler hat. He had seen that white hat before but shrugged it off. No time for introductions.

            Sonny had to catch a train.