You know what they say about jobs done in haste…they are a ready recipe for disaster.
Misery has more important things to do than play executioner with rotten humans but there's nothing she won't do for her lady. She's working round to clock to speedily round up the souls on her kill list but she meets an empty house upon arrival – the Dupuchois are on another trip to some remote beach in Greece and Misery does not have neither time nor patience to track them.
And so she does what any reasonable hell citizen would do in that instant – dump a glob of hell matter stuck to her boots inside their well – after all, a soul claimed days later is a soul claimed all the same.
What Mistress Misery does not know is that the Dupuchois are scheduled to host a ball upon their return and half of England is going to be there clinking glasses full of drinks made from that one well…
