Opportunity in Hell

“You know,” I said, once his scream had died down, “as bargains go, yours was pretty disappointing in its terms.”

“W-what?” Thunder boomed outside, and the raven on the car’s hood tapped on the windshield with its beak.

“You know, the usual demand for modest wealth and power.” I paused, lit a cigarette with a small flame that licked out from my thumbnail. “You offered your wife’s body and soul rather than your own, but you went above and beyond the call with your part’s execution.”

He’d recovered from his initial surprise, narrowed his eyes at me. “Does that mean it worked? Do I get what I want?”

I laughed, a sound rich and deep like rumbling stone. “Sure, if that’s all you want.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s been decades since last I saw such artistry. The way you flayed her flesh and dissected the moorings of her soul – it was beautiful. Have you ever considered a job in Hell?” Flames rose behind my irises, a disconcerting trick I like to use in shattering my human guise.

“What’s in it for me?”

View this story's 6 comments.