Dale wiped the blood red dirt from his hands and took another swig from the flask in his pocket. The familiar clinical taste of cheap vodka splashed the back of his throat with a burn causing him to cough. Normally the escape Pavovs offered was enough to smooth out life’s ills that plagued him, but not tonight. Though he normally drank to forget about his failing business or the fact that his kids no longer spoke to him, tonight was different. Tonight was about righting a wrong. Tonight he would turn his life around.

He grabbed the orange tin from the back seat and stumbled just shy of the freshly dug hole illuminated by his headlights. His eyes drifted up to the darkened sky looking for one last glimpse of hope or a sign from the heavens, perhaps even see his guardian angel or something.

But Dale knew there would be no angels tonight, not until it was finished. Not until she was his. Rachel was the only angel he needed.

Her voice haunted him even now, unbidden memories of her asking if he needed a refill. Memories now more tarnished than the overused mug he used to hand her. She had been his light in the shit-show that was his life, the best part of his mornings after pulling another all nighter down at the shop.

None of that matters now. She will be mine. She will love me.

Dale opened the tin and examined the small doll inside. It was white knit tinged with brown, made from old socks that he had lying around. A smiling face had been crudely drawn along with what appeared to be a dress. It wasn’t his proudest work, but the hair, it was perfect. It was hers. This was her, a totem of his angel.

He took the doll and placed it carefully in the hole. Taking a last swig from the flask, he finally emptied the rest onto his precious creation. For a moment his feet stayed rooted in place as his eyes felt glued to the effigy of Rachel in the hole.

Last chance. No turning back after this. Should I-

The banging from his trunk finished the thought. No, he would finish this. He reached into his pocket, groping for his lighter while mumbling half-slurred incantations. After a couple tries the red Bic lit and he let it fall into the hole.

The flame caught fast and Dale looked at the shadowy figure that took place in front of him.

“You rang?” It asked, it’s voice a mirror of it’s half-drunk summoning. The being cracked a smile and rubbed its hands together.

Dale pointed at the car. “She’s in there.”

“You sure this is what you want? A soul’s an awfully high price for some waitress.”

Dale just nodded.

The being chuckled, placed it’s hands over the pit, and then clapped with some finality. The banging stopped.

“She’s all yours, buddy!”