I'm so sorry guys. Please accept this new chapter as an apology.

The Scorpion writhed in his bed beneath wickedly soft black sheets. Lucifer had equipped the boy to be every inch the perfect incubus, especially where his lair was concerned. For the first time in several millennia, pictures raked across his mind's eye. Though dreams were considered Lucifer's gift to his favored servants, they were certainly never gentle. One mirage after another twisted through the boy's head, shot through with tendrils as dark as Hell itself, each one bringing with it a delicious stab of pain. These, too, were a boon from the Lord of Hell, a reminder that his underlings had once been able to feel sensations such as agony and joy and grief. The carnies learned to drink emotions in like wine, a fact which formed the basis for the torments each sinner must endure upon their admission to the carnival. The intoxicating brew of hope followed by anguish that fairly emanates from each damned soul always proves irresistible to the assigned tempter. However, at the conclusion of the torturous administrations, after the last exquisite ounce of pain has been squeezed out of the patient, the euphoria drains away, leaving a hollow chamber occupied only by a ravenous craving for the next hit.

It was only after he was sure that the girl was dead to the world (so to speak) that The Scorpion snuck upstairs to the cavernous chamber he called his own and began to undress for a long night of what he supposed would be sleeplessness. He peeled off the cotton t-shirt he usually wore and dropped it unceremoniously on the floor. It was a habit he had retained first from his time as an earthly adolescent and then as a citizen of Chaos itself. Cleanliness is next to godliness, after all, and thus was not highly valued in the Carnival. Next he stripped away his jeans and prized sneakers and discarded them in favor of his favorite flannel pajama pants. He ran his hands through his perfectly sculpted hair, transforming it from plastic perfection to a dark mess of tousled strands over his pale skin. He felt tired- which was admittedly unusual- but content, which was even rarer still.

His thoughts turned to the girl, filling him with an adrenaline shot of pride at the progress he had made. As he climbed into bed and settled into his sheets and his thoughts, he began to wonder what his new guest would look like in the morning, hair feathered from sleep, lovely eyes half-closed, lips relaxed from a night of carefree oblivion. His own lips curved into a goofy smile and he closed his eyes, quickly falling into the pool of images he had been gifted with for the night. He saw himself back in his old life, before the real darkness had crashed over his head, back when he had the luxury of despairing at a flunked test.

He was at his old job, the crackle of grilling meat and the shouts of cooks and customers swelling around him. He was serving up a steaming burger to a girl with lovely blonde curls and a sweater tied across her shoulders, and she was leaning over the counter to press her lips to his. The trickster saw himself flying paper airplanes in Composition class and serving his time in detention being even less productive. He saw laughter, dances, and playful caresses. The only thing missing, he realized, was concealed in the dark strains weaving in and out of the visions.

What he couldn't fully see was the moment the quiet boy from algebra had walked to the board to demonstrate an equation, slipped a sleek revolver from his jacket, and washed the silky curls of the blonde in the earlier visions in bright, silent blood. The Scorpion vaguely recalled rushing forward and being knocked off his feet by the second bullet, and thinking then that breathing blood felt remarkably natural. In retrospect that last thought seemed highly ironic.

The images swirled faster until they became indistinguishable from one another, and the boy thought he could make out in the general confusion the silhouette of his unexpected houseguest, her slim form and dark waves rendered bright as day in the shadowy haze.

Lucifer stepped to the edge of the encampment outside Heaven's gates and took a moment to look down on his favorite charmer and the boy's houseguest, who, on second glance, was no longer inside the house. With growing fury, he looked into the darkness beyond and saw her stumbling her way into some unknown corner of the carnival. Although she had no hope of making any real headway, sinners assigned to a specific tempter were never to cross paths with another carnie separate from the knowledge and presence of their own tormentor. It is written very clearly in the rules. Who knows what kind of trouble the little minx could literally stumble into without the boy watching her? The Ringmaster gave a fiendish growl and interrupted The Scorpion's pleasant night of dreaming with a single roar that blasted all the way to the depths of the carnival:

"FIND THE GIRL OR ENVY THE FATES OF THE SINNERS YOU HAVE SO FOOLISHLY CHOSEN TO NEGLECT." The unmistakable tone of his Lord woke The Scorpion with a start and pain like a bullet through his temple. Find her? She was right downstairs. The boy ran downstairs with dread rising through his whole body and stopped short at the couch where the girl had been resting not four hours ago. His body went unusually cold and he nearly lost his balance. He had to find her. He flew back to his bedroom and pulled his jeans back on, and then down the stairs and to the front door. Where could she have gone? As he reached the threshold, one more question froze him in his steps: why did she go?