One snowfall and then another ushered in winter. Soft, white particulate covered the ground in a thick carpet, its hazy pallor contrasting with the dark shape of the Frontenac county courthouse looming in the night. Beneath the snow lay the unconsecrated, unmarked graves of criminals and indigents, and above it, a metal cage hung heavy on the wall of the building. Past the cage and the walls and the white yard were old hedgerows. They created thick and gnarled patches of darkness within, forever separating the unconsecrated ground from the hallowed earth of the churchyard.

The church’s bells tolled midnight. Every living thing was tucked away in its home, and nothing stirred in the night except for a black carriage, which made its way through the town. A haze of steam barely visible in the dark plumed off its horses and obscured the carriage itself as it progressed past the St Germain estate and the Count’s lands and through the heart of the town. It didn’t stop at the inn or the church, instead turning to pass through the gap in the hedgerows and enter the silent courthouse yard.

As it approached the building, the large, black horses stepped on the pure scene. Each step came with a hissing noise as their hooves melted and vaporized the snow, leaving dark, muddy hoofprints in their wake. The horses trampled upon the unmarked graves and walked past the entrance to the courthouse before stopping, with no command from their driver, in front of the cage that hung from the courthouse wall. A tall figure dressed all in black alighted from the carriage a moment later.

He looked up at the cage as if he had no trouble distinguishing its features in the darkness. It was a gibbet, an enclosure meant not for birds or beasts but the display of condemned sinners. Iron bands were formed into circles for the arms, legs, torso, and head, and they were all joined into a vaguely human shape by more iron bands attached perpendicular to the circles, running up and down the body.

Preserved by the sudden cold, the sinner in the cage looked almost alive. She had long, dark hair and deer-like eyes that were closed as if she was merely sleeping. Her body leaned against the inside of the cage, arms and legs stretched out along the iron. A lock of loose hair caught a slight breeze, stirring in the invisible wind for a moment before returning to rest. Only the absolute stillness, and the snow piled on her outstretched arms, suggested a more definitive state.

The figure stood below the cage and spoke, “It’s a fine evening, isn’t it?” The easy conviction in his voice made it absolutely true.

Madelaine’s eyes flickered open at his call, looking down at the man with suspicion. She couldn’t see clearly in the dark. He was just a black smudge against the white backdrop, a stain on the pure snow. However, it did not take long for her to deduce who, or perhaps what, he was.

Madelaine cleared her throat and put on her sweetest voice, “I agree completely. I only wish I were better disposed to enjoy it.” She smiled down at him and trusted he could see it clearly.

The Devil laughed at her words. “Then our thoughts are aligned. There are many fine evenings to enjoy yet, and a clever woman like yourself ought to enjoy them completely.”

“Your sympathy relieves me,” Madelaine cooed back, “It’s only that a woman like myself is of limited means.” She twisted her brow and bit her lip in frustration, as if she was on the verge of tears. Never mind that she was far too cold to actually cry.

“Ah, now that,” the Devil put his hands in his pockets and smiled back at her, “is something that I’d be all too happy to help you with.”

The next day dawned on an unsettling sight. Madelaine’s gibbet was missing from the courthouse wall, and all along the road, from the courthouse to the county border, were dark hoofprints in the snow.