“So. It is done”, I said. “I don’t feel any different. How quickly is this supposed to work?”
The demon shifted awkwardly.
“To be honest, I feel worse if anything. The chemo side effects, I suppose, but I think I assumed this deal would make me all better, not just get rid of the tumour and leave me still feeling like shite. Look, what the fuck is the matter with you?”
The fidgeting hellspawn visibly flinched. “Um”, he said, “I think there might be something not quite, perhaps 100% as we discussed.” He flicked through the sheaf of blood signed papers on the table between us. Then he froze and went red. Well, redder I guess.
“What now? You trying to hardball me? I’ve already given you my immortal soul. You want my shirt as well?”
“No”, the Demon replied, “it's worse than that I’m afraid. You are not, entirely, cured actually”.
“Well, how cured am I?”
“About...no percent?”
I swept the papers from the demon's hands in fury. He scurried around trying to grab them up while avoiding my gaze. “On the plus side”, he said as he gathered, “you are now the proud owner of an extra soul. And a fairly valuable one, being as it is in fact, um, mine.”
“How do I own your….. wait. You did the paperwork wrong didn’t you!”
“Well, I think technically WE did the paperwork wrong.”
“I’ve never done this before. I thought you knew what you were doing!”
“WELL I’VE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE EITHER”, shouted the flustered beast, that apparently I now owned.
“So you are cured of a disease you never had, I’m still dying, and now I own a demon?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
I had no answer to that. The weight of my impending demise wiped out the hope I’d been living in since I made contact with Deealzebug. I felt lower than my white cell count. Stunned, I stood up and walked out of my flat.
I got about halfway down the stairs before something he had said started to flash in my mind. I turned around and went back.
The demon was pacing around my dining table when I returned. “Hello, er, Master”.
“Don’t call me master, it's weird. Or weirder than this already was. Whatever. What did you mean by a valuable one? Valuable to who?”
“Well, valuable to my old bosses, they would do anything to stop my soul falling into the hands of the ang….” He stopped suddenly and reddened again.
“Angels? OK. So, there is a potential bidding war here. This might work out after all. Dee, can I call you Dee? I suppose I can, given that I own you! Dee, can you still make contact with your boss? We are going to need to do this quick because I don’t have long left. You bring the overlord of the Demons to my kitchen.”
“OK”, he replied. “Where are you going?”
I scooped up the sheaf of papers Dee had placed back on the table. “I’ve got to take my chemo ravaged ass to church. I need to put in a collect call to the Angels. Let's see if they are interested in what I have to offer.”
___________________________________________________________
My local church was empty. This was not unusual actually, as the flock had dwindled in this part of town as the old folk died and the new arrivals brought a new religion or lack thereof, that clashed with the very traditional ministry of our priest. I remembered him being old when I was a child, and he was still there. I felt like this had to be the spot. The church was ancient, one of the first buildings put up around here, and certainly the oldest standing.
The priest looked at me warily as I shuffled into the nave. I was going for purposeful stride, but while I had the purpose, my body was lacking the stride these days. I guess his only likely visitors at this time of night would be drunks or the homeless, and my shambling walk was probably not dissuading him of that notion.
“Who’s cross do I have to genuflect to get an audience with the angels, around here?” I asked as I drew closer to him. His mask of tranquillity had enough of a crack in it for me to see the impatience behind it.
“My child, are you lost?” he replied.
“In what sense? Life-wise, no. I’ve got a pretty strong clarity of vision on that front, and physically I know where I am right now. But I am looking for some guidance.”
The priest sighed and indicated I should take a pew. “What is the problem?”
I sat down heavily, grateful not to have to try and keep being purposeful. “I need to talk to the angels.”
“Prayer is free, my child. If you wish to make a donation, some feel a candle helps them to focus on the prayers.”
“No, I mean an actual two-way conversation.” The priest opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “And I don’t want to hear about how some people feel they speak to God in the silence or some shit. I need to speak to them about this.” I proffered the sheaf of human and demon blood signed paperwork. He looked blank.
Grumbling I fished out some change. “OK, OK. Is this enough for a candle? We’ll try it your way.”
A few short minutes later I found myself knelt in front of a lit candle, painfully aware of the sideways gaze of the priest watching me. I thought about talking in my head but decided that I’d nothing to hide. Screw it.
I started in the traditional way. “Listen up angels. I’ve got something you want, and if you want it, we need to talk about what its worth.” A beautiful sonnet, appealing to the heavens. In hindsight perhaps I should have planned something first. Nothing happened. I looked around at the Priest enquiringly, and he shrugged. He seemed to have given up on me as another crazy, and just wanted rid of me.
With no idea what I was doing, I started to read out the contract.
I had got only a few lines in when someone cleared their throat behind me. I stood up and turned to face a radiant woman (or man, to be honest, it was not clear), in an elegant tunic and trousers.
“This is most irregular”, xe said.
“Are you who I think you are?”, I asked. The priest stood gaping in the background, mouth opening and closing.
“Well, that very much depends on who you think I am. My name is Bazael. I am the..let me put it in terms you might understand as a layperson, the Duty Supervisor for this realm.”
“Duty supervisor of who? You on Deealzebug’s team?”
Xe made a face. “Team. Really. This is not a game. But no, I am not of the darkness. I am of the light. I am the Angel you seek.”
“Well I don’t want to burst your bubble there Bazael, but I’m not looking for a duty acting deputy assistant to the junior angel. I want the head honcho. I am currently the proud owner of one slightly used demon soul, and I am led to believe you would want to acquire that item.”
Bazeal spluttered “We would never lower ourselves to deal in the souls of others in such a grubby, underhand, demonic way!”
I took a breath and let it out in a sigh. “Fine. Whatever. You can fuck off upstairs then. Excuse me.” I shouldered past the shimmering, simmering angel and headed for the door. As I reached it a much smaller, much less angelic looking figure stepped through it.
“Now, now, now. Let’s not be too hasty. I feel like we are starting on the wrong foot. I am, as you so eloquently put it, the head honcho. My name is not important before you ask.”
Bazael continued to gibber, “my Lord, this heathen is talking of dealing in souls, of trading them like bushels of wheat! We cannot…”
“Bazael.” He interrupted.
“Yes, Lord?”
“Shut up. You are dismissed.”
Bazael was mid response when xe snapped out of existence. “Now, where were we?" I understand you have something you believe to be of value?”
I smiled internally. He was positioning, setting himself up for the negotiation. The game was on.
