![]() ![]() “And what makes you say that?” He’s coiled like a snake. “You can’t hurt me. You take me, Devil, and you’ll die one way or another.” Pauses. “Well, one out of five chance, anyway. “You take me and you’ll get a bullet between the eyes,” she says. I’m just waiting to collect on your end.” He eyes the gun and he grins ghoulishly. “Care to make that sooner than later?” He eyes her chest. “Though by the smell of it, I could take you now and there wouldn’t be a difference.” “I don’t go back on a deal,” the devil says, words hissing through his teeth. “Peter’s cancer is gone, isn’t it? I’d say that I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain. It can’t touch her through her soles now, she’s got tough feet. The heat rises through the floor but she knows better now. The fire in his eyes swells until the room around them is consumed by it. “I do,” she agrees, “unless you’re in breach of contract. He says, “Why, you know that won’t do a thing to me, my dear.” Behind him his shadow writhes and hisses. She turns the gun on him and cocks back the hammer. here, if you insist, I’ll help you.” He reaches forward and his nails are such a deep red that they appear black. You didn’t even manage to load the gun properly. “Well,” he says, “I can’t say I expected you to kill yourself. They stare at each other, fire to fire, as the gun clicks. The devil arrives as she pulls the trigger, the smell of brimstone no longer making her eyes water. She’s alone when she puts one bullet in the chamber, gives it a spin, locks it into place, and holds it to her head. He’s pure and good and he doesn’t have the strength of her family’s lore behind him like she does. She won’t let Peter see her like that, won’t let him see the stakes of the game she’s playing. She’s not going to wait until she’s on her deathbed, lungs shuddering and heart straining. It’s no surprise he passed it on to you.” “You know,” her grandmother says, “your grandpa was a fiddler. She nods anyway, eyes sparking with fire. She notes the way her grandmother twists the phrase, the way it puts her in power. After a long moment, relief breaks over her face like an ocean wave. “The devil made a deal with you.” “Love-struck,” she says and meets her grandma’s eyes. “But not a fool.” “You’re a fool,” her grandmother says. “A love-struck fool.” Her breath is short these days and she’s not going to waste it on statements with no questions. She nods, calm and serene in the flimsy hospital gown. It’s not a question and there’s no judgement in her eyes at all. “You’ve got his cancer.” It’s just her and Grandma a few days later, sitting in the doctor’s office, waiting for her results. “It’s a miracle,” he says and breathes the first pain-free breath he’s taken in months. “A miracle.” She holds him and coos in his ear as he falls apart. ![]() He’s trying not to cry and he succeeds until they get in their car. Peter’s hand is sweaty in hers and his shoulders are shaking. They talk about equipment error and inconclusive biopsies before sending them on their way. Peter’s cancer disappears like smoke between one doctor’s appointment and the next. She knows she’ll be seeing him a lot sooner than that. He takes the paper lovingly into his jacket, presses his own bloodied finger to it to sign it, sweeps a bow, and promises she won’t see him until she’s on her death bed. His smile returns full force when she signs it. “Sure,” she says, heart a rampaging thing in her chest. “That’s a good deal.” His smile flickers when he sees that she’s got the same fire in her eyes as him, when he sees that there aren’t any tear tracks on her face. ![]() Then, when she’s done, she stands tall and she looks the devil in the eye. She breathes in the smoke and feels the word settle deep into her lungs. Her blood eats through the ink of this word, steaming and hissing. It’s black, blacker than anything she’s seen and she knows it’d be bad to let her eyes skip over it. She’s reading the fine print because it’s the only part of the paper that’s not red like the pinstripes of his suit. He thinks she’s crying right now, he thinks she’s trying to muster the courage to sign, but she’s not. She hunches over the paper and her shoulders shake. That’s a good deal isn’t it? You’ll have the rest of your lives together.” They’re red and they shine in the red light of his eyes. “I get rid his cancer and then you give me your soul on your dying day. The pinstripes on his suit aren’t black like she’d first thought. “It’s the standard contract,” the devil says. This deal is too important to lose her head now. So even though the brimstone in the air is making her eyes water, even though the ground is so hot it’s making the rubber of her soles soft, even though he’s looking at her with fire in his eyes, she’s not going to go throwing that away now. That’s what Grandma said and Uncle said and Daddy said and Peter said. A woman makes a deal with the devil… but before signing, she actually reads the contract. ![]()
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