The Nightmaretaker- The Man Possessed By The Devil -

From that night Martin did what he had been doing with more resolve and more ruthlessness—deciding, deferring, forgiving on paper. He learned to weigh life with a coldness that made him ill. He kept meticulous accounts: those who had been cruel in life and thus owed less mercy; those whose kindness warranted aid. He sometimes favored himself in quiet ways—allowing his sister a moment of remembered joy, easing the pain of a child whose laugh had been stolen by illness. Each favor required a balancing entry: a broken tire, a sudden mis-sent letter, a dream that never opened to morning.

When the man died, Martin kept the locket. It lay on his dresser like a promise. Night by night the ledger pulled the locket's chain taut: small favors here, sweet little rewrites there. The staff admired Martin's competence. He began to keep a little black notebook for himself, an imitation of the ledger, where he recorded name and small mercy and cost. He crossed things off and felt a faint, sharp pleasure like a splinter removed. The Nightmaretaker- The Man Possessed by the Devil

"Who are you?" Martin asked.