Author's Note: The first bit is just a bit of backstory, I don't plan for it to really do anything else. This chapter really is all backstory. Bit of niceness before we really kick things off.
Reviews would be nice.
It wasn't enough. Despite everything Lucifer tried in the West, and even in the East, he lost souls to his enemy daily. His triumph had been at the dawn of time, where all of humanity had fallen. But – blast and damn him – his enemy had found a way to thwart him.
And so, the cunning Lucifer had devised a plan. The chink he had created in the metaphorical armour of humanity made them awfully susceptible to any number of things. Gold, good food, a beautiful woman. Such simple things. And nowhere were such faults as strong as in the West. So he had sent out the man they call The Ferryman. To force one final, damning sin, and thus salvage souls.
A last ditch effort, but it seemed to work. Until now. The Ferryman allowed himself to be thwarted. Thwarted by a woman. Despite his outrage, Lucifer had to smirk. Ironic that that woman had destroyed his plans whereas Eve had unwittingly assisted them.
Her life was less than it had once been. She was reduced to a small apartment. The walls were a disgusting shade of khaki, but she had plastered them in photos, so you could hardly see the wall colour. Every photo she had was on those walls. Photos of her crew. Anything to remind her of better days as she went about her daily life.
She left the salvaging business. It seemed to be the most obvious course of action. She took an office job in the city, but left after three weeks. No, she was not meant to work in an office. But what, instead, could she do? All she knew was salvaging, and there was no way she could go back to that.
The answer came to her one day as she attended her weekly appointment with her psychiatrist. (The hospital's idea of course. They all thought she was crazy.) She sat in a chair, saying nothing (as she usually did) and fingering the locket around her neck absently. She didn't know she was doing it, until her shrink asked to see inside. Epps nodded and opened it up. "Is that your grandparents?" her shrink asked. "No," Epps replied, speaking for the first time in a month. "Those are Katie's parents." It was an automatic reply. She had hardly involved her brain in the process. "Who is Katie?" Dr Hill asked. "Just a…friend," Epps replied, choosing her words carefully.
The little ghost girl. Her parents would never have known what had become of her. On her way home from her visit, she stopped at an electrical shop and bought the first laptop she could see. The second she got home, she ignored the growing pile of washing, the dishes in the sink, cleared a space on her kitchen table, plugged in her laptop and switched it on.
A year later, she had begun to build herself a respectable name as an author. She wrote a children's series about a little girl from the sixties. Children across the globe enjoyed hearing of Katie's adventures; Katie and the Big Sea Voyage, Katie in New York City, and Epps was now working on Katie's School Project. The stories were simple, but children do love simplicity.
That is what Maureen Epps did with herself. She gave Katie Harwood back the life that was stolen from her.
Stolen from her by Jack Ferriman.
She could let go of that. Jack Ferriman had not only stolen Katie's life, but her own as well. The life she should have had; running the salvaging business with Murphy, spending months at sea with the monkeys she called her family. So that was why she had one room dedicated to a most peculiar hobby.