The old woman's laugh cut through the chaos, razor sharp. "You forget your place," she hissed. "You know who has the say here, and it isn't you. Now cease this useless show of power and simmer down. We have work to do." Flames licked the bottom of her feet, but she gave them no mind. In the flickering light, she looked like an avenging angel strewn in hellfire.

Before her stood a giant, black cat made up of smoke and burning embers. It growled ferociously, coiling in on itself as it spoke, "Damn you," its eyes glowed red, "I begrudge the day I ever made that wretched bargain with you."

Her shoulders relaxed, her laughter now good-natured. "Here we go again. I've heard you moan about that time and time again, I'm sure I'll hear your

voice on my deathbed!" She gestured toward him. "Aren't you eager to go back home?"

The cat yowled. "Next to your decrepit bones? I think not." I leaned back stared at her.

The fire at her feet flared. "Careful Toots," she said softly, "for these decrepit bones still hold your life in her hands. Now come along, and I'll let you have all the trains you want when we're done."

Hearing the condescension in her voice, its eyes narrowed. Still, the cat slowly lowered it head, and slunk to her side. "Damn you, old woman," it muttered.

Quispe smiled, and ran her hand along its burning pelt. "You always were difficult, weren't you? Right from the start."

And woman and cat left the car and descended into the dark hills, the train blazing behind them.