When the Devil Came, He Was Not Red
a short story about meeting the devil
Standing at the crossroads south of Grand Marais dressed in her finest clothes. She said the words and waited. The sun high and bright and hot, she regretted the heels and the tightness of her top. It seemed appropriate but also absurd.
A clap behind her, she turned to see a tall man of ambiguous race wearing a grey three-piece suit.
He smiled wide and stretched his hands open, as if inviting her in. “You rang?”
She cocked her head and scrutinized him. She thought about being coy but decided against it. This was all stupid enough already. “You the devil?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You look confused.”
“You don’t look like the devil.”
His smile teased. He was handsome. Dangerously handsome. “Have we met before?”
“Probably not.” She folded her arms, looked around for somewhere to sit. But she chose this out of the way place where no one would see her or the devil, assuming he showed.
“Disappointed?” He was leering at her, smiling as if he knew everything she was going to do, had ever done.
Maybe he did. He was the devil. “I don’t know. It’s just—I mean, you get this image in your head, you know, and then here you come looking like…” she gestured to him, “this.”
His smile faded ever so slightly. He looked down as if surprised by himself. Then back up at her. “You don’t like my suit?”
“No, it’s a nice suit, it’s just—"
“Where are the wings, the horns, and the tail?”
“Well,” she laughed, nervous. “Yeah.”
Frowning down at himself, his voice carried a touch of uncertainty. “Do you want me to look like that?”
“Not now. I mean, it would’ve been nice, but now—"
“I can change.” He sounded almost apologetic.
She felt awkward. Bad. He clearly had put a lot of thought into his wardrobe, his appearance. His handsomeness was no accident. Had she seen him last night at the bar— “Nah, it’s okay. You look great.”
“Well,” he straightened his tie, “what was it you wanted from me?”
Uncomfortable, she started walking, looping around him. “Strange that it worked, you know?”
He had to turn to keep her in front of him. “You must want something. People don’t just do this on accident.”
“Well,” she heard the flirtation in her voice but didn’t want to think about that. “I didn’t exactly call out the same name.”
‘Mephistopheles, Lucifer, Satan, Prince of Darkness, they’re all me.” He kept turning as she kept circling him. He seemed both annoyed but too polite to say anything. “Now, don’t be timid. What do you want from me?”
“Where’d you learn English?”
“England.”
First out of nervousness but gradually out of the pure comedy of it, she kept circling him. Part of her wanted to see him stop smiling, get frustrated. Maybe even angry. “I kind of imagined you’d have a Middle Eastern accent or something. At least a British one.”
“I can have either, if you’d like.”
Clasping her hands behind her head, she looked up at the sky instead of at him. He was too handsome, really. “Nah, it’s okay.”
“Not the devil you imagined?” His voice teasing instead of disappointed.
She wondered if maybe this was him defensive. Teasing to keep from self-doubt. “Are you, like, the real devil? I mean, the original one?” She knew he’d say he was, no matter if it was true. He was, after all, the devil.
“Yes.” Finally he stopped spinning to follow her.
“Do you always do these in person?”
He folded his arms, shifted his weight to one hip. “People usually don’t call me by name.”
“How do they usually call you?”
“Come now,” he smiled wider. “What is it you want?”
“Do you really buy my soul for something?” Her heart fluttered at the thought. Her soul. Of all the things she’d never given up, the thought of trading away her soul seemed almost funny.
“Yes.”
“I don’t think I have a soul.” She didn’t but she’d never told anyone that. She remembered a boy she went to high school with. He offered to sell her his soul for her lunch. He was always hungry and never had food. He never said so, but she knew he was poor. Made her feel bad, awkward. Whenever he offered to trade her something, she always just gave him food. Probably that’s why he always asked her.
“Then it shouldn’t matter if you give it to me.”
“Does God ever do this? Make personal appearances?”
The devil scratched at his jaw, looked up into the sky. Nervous. “He’s more hands off.”
“Shouldn’t someone be fighting you for my soul? Like Jesus or somebody?” She tried to remember the last time she went to church. Probably her dad would have a stroke if he found out about this.
“You didn’t call them.” There it was: the frustration. “You called me.” His voice grew gruffer, less seductive and teasing.
Don’t laugh. She kept repeating those words in her head. “I thought everyone’s soul was important to God.”
“Condemned to be free, as they say.”
“I don’t believe in God.” She’d never said that out loud. Wasn’t even sure she believed that as she said it. But he was the devil. If you couldn’t lie to the devil—
“Me neither.”
“But I’ll be damned for all eternity?”
The devil shrugged, smiled.
“Is it, um, painful?”
“Better than heaven.”
She barked a laugh. Couldn’t help it. His smile only broadened at her laughter. “Are there gonna be flames and all that?” She stopped circling him, tried to find a comfortable position in her heels. Again, she regretted wearing them.
“Do I have horns?”
She frowned, somehow disappointed. It wasn’t meant to work. The devil and God were meant to rage inside her, fight for her soul and every soul in a war waged over and through time. It all seemed so mundane. To sell her soul to this man in the middle of nowhere.
“Surprised?”
She sighed. “What if I want to go to heaven?”
“Thought you didn’t believe in God.” His seductive smile and teasing twist to his words.
“I guess.”
He shrugged then, as if this meant nothing to him, as if he didn’t leave hell specifically to talk to her. “It’s nothing to me. But heaven is a nightmare. There’s a reason I left.”
“Is Hitler down there?”
“We got Gandhi, too. It takes all kinds to be in hell.”
He was so fast, so effortless. “What did Gandhi do?”
“Didn’t take Jesus Christ as his personal savior.”
Shifting her weight to her other hip, she took a moment. Tried to remember what she’d heard about deals with the devil. “Did Robert Johnson really sell you his soul for guitar prowess?”
He only smiled.
“Did he?”
He took a step towards her, dropping the charade. His voice thick and masculine. “What do you want?” He moved like a panther. A great predator. Languid but also sexual.
She forced herself not to take a step back. “What do you recommend?”
He stopped a foot from her, looked her up and down. “You really didn’t think about this beforehand?”
She could smell him. He smelled hot but also like lavender. It was so common she nearly laughed. Gave her courage. Something about this basic devil gave her confidence. “Who would’ve guessed it would work?”
He looked down at his nails, perfectly trimmed. "Want to live forever?” Then he looked up at her again, his eyes flashing bright. Like holes full of fire, but only for a moment. Rapid enough that it could maybe be a trick of her own eyes.
But she knew it wasn’t. “How does this work, anyway? Is it really, like, a contract? I sign something in blood or whatever?”
“Yes.”
“So, is God gonna be pissed at me?”
He smiled but she saw the tightness in his jaw. “You don’t believe in God.” His patience wearing thin.
It excited her. Made her feel powerful. She took a step towards him. Close enough they were nearly touching. “I didn’t believe in you either.”
He stared down his nose at her. He spoke quietly, nearly a whisper. “God is going to damn you to hell for the rest of eternity.” When he smiled down at her, she felt the heat swelling inside her.
“That’s a long time, huh.” She spoke to keep from thinking about the fluttering in her chest, the heat between her legs. The slick wetness she knew she’d find.
He leaned closer, his nose nearly against hers. His breath somehow cold. “It’s neither long nor short. It’s just the rest.”
Refusing to step back or look away, she matched his voice. Whispering, husky with seduction. “And why does it matter if I sell my soul. It’s mine, isn’t it?”
A heavy sigh, his frustration revealed as he pulled back from her. “This is really what you want to know right now? You come all this way to summon me and these are your questions? What about everlasting youth or the power to rule the world or flight or read minds?” His voice whipped sharply but never rose. “I can give you anything you want. Just say the word, sign the contract, and go. Now, what do you want?”
The words sliced through her, making her shudder. Clearing her throat, she held her head high. “What does the contract say?”
“I renounce God and hereby pledge allegiance to Lucifer.”
“That’s it?”
Staring down at her, he kept his voice even. “Yes.”
“Shouldn’t it say something about the exchange?”
“You haven’t made a decision yet.”
“So it will?”
Taking a moment to study her face. His eyes wandered down to her feet. She kept from shifting her weight, displaying how much she regretted leaving her flats in the car. Then, slowly, he brought his gaze back up to her face. Exhaling long and loud from his nose, his eyes expanded with fire for another flash of an instant. “What do you want?”
She thought maybe that was a display of anger or warning. Like the way cats bristle their fur and arch their backs. “You’re really kind of pushy, you know that?”
He smiled, swiped a hand over his face. “Forgive me,” he laughed lightly, “but I’ve never had to ask more than once.”
“No, I get it. This is just all a bit strange.”
The devil nodded, folded his arms. “Have you made a decision?”
“Can I have a minute? I mean, this isn’t like picking dinner or something. I’m trading my soul. What do most people do?”
He sighed and she bit her tongue to keep from laughing. “Eternal life, eternal youth, various forms of magic. Anything that makes them more than mortal. Sometimes musical skill.” He winked.
“So he did sell his soul to play guitar?”
He craned his neck and looked back and forth, behind him. Real theatrical. Then he leaned in close, whispered, “Yes.”
She gave him a laugh, playing along. “I don’t think I want any of those.” Hard to admit to herself, but she liked him. Not for his power or his seductive charm or even his beauty, but for that. For the glimmers of humanity in him. It was endearing.
Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a candybar. “How about a Snickers?”
“Can I do that?” She reached towards the Snickers.
He tsked, pulled it away and took a bite. “You can literally sell your soul for anything. A house, a woman, food, power, money, you name it and it’s yours.”
“See,” she pointed in his face while he chewed, “that doesn’t make this any easier. Especially because now I’m thinking God is real, you know? I mean, he’s God. The wrath of God isn’t something I want.” Teasing him now, she felt alive. More herself than ever before.
“God isn’t going to smite you, if that’s what you think.” He took another bite of the Snickers, then reached in his pocket and pulled out a Twix. He raised his eyebrows, offering this in trade for her soul.
Smiling, she shook her head. This first flirtation. “Well, yeah, but, I mean, Thou shall not have any false Gods. It worries me a little bit.”
He tossed the Snickers away, opened the Twix. “You’re probably damned anyway.” Then he took a bite of the Twix. Instead of choosing one of the two, he bit into both of them like a barbarian.
“Really?”
He shrugged. “God doesn’t make it easy.” Took another bite, just like before.
“Is God a man?”
The devil choked on the Twix. Pounding his chest, he coughed. “Really?”
She shrugged.
“God doesn’t have a gender.”
“Do you?”
He smiled, stepped back towards her.
She ran a hand down his lapel. “You kind of look like a dude.”
“People trust men most when it comes to this sort of thing.”
The heat of him. The beauty of him. She took a step back, kicked out of her heels. ”Is it okay if I sit?”
Raising an eyebrow, he looked around. “Where?”
“Right here, I guess.” She stretched out her hand and he took it. Then she lowered herself to the ground. Shielding the sun with her hand as she looked up at him, “Can I ask you something?”
“I guess.”
“Why a crossroads?”
“Just one of those human beliefs.”
“Is it too late to change my mind?”
“I can give you anything you want.” His voice not angry or defeated, but almost plaintive. He seemed suddenly less sexy. “Anything imaginable. It’s yours.’
“I don’t think I want…anything.”
“Everyone wants something.” The heat returned to his voice. Silhouetted by the sun high in the sky, he felt like both monster and God. Powerful and enticing. “I can make you like a God. You needn’t fear anything.”
Shielding the sun from her eyes, squinting up at him, she shrugged. “I don’t think I want that.”
“You’re a hard sell.” He put his hands in his pockets, leaned over. Kicked casually at a rock between them. He missed and she thought maybe she could have loved him if he wasn’t the devil.
“Sorry.”
Sighing, he stood straight and looked around. Loosening his tie, he unbuttoned the top button. “Do you mind if I sit?” He didn’t look at her when he spoke.
The slight awkwardness of it—she never thought the devil would remind her of pathetic men she’d loved before. “Get tired of standing?”
He unbuttoned his suit, then vest. “Yes.”
“It’s kind of dusty.” She gestured to the ground, to her barefeet already browned by the dirt, the dust.
“Maybe I’ll just stand.” He looked back up at the sky.
“Up to you.”
“Would you like a cigarette?”
“Sure.”
He reached out into nothing and pulled out a lit cigarette. “Voila!” He handed her the cigarette and she took it.
“Cool trick.”
“I’ve millions of them.”
Leaning back, she looked around. The forest all around them but everything quiet. Still. Like time stopped when the devil arrived. “What should I call you?”
“Whatever.” He sighed. “My name’s still Lucifer.”
“How about Louie?”
He looked down at her with revulsion. She saw it even though he was silhouetted by the sun. “Absolutely not.”
“Lou?”
“Kill me.”
“I’m Grace.”
“I know.” He sighed, kicked at another stone.
“What do we do now?”
Looking up at the sky, he looked sad. “You really don’t want anything?”
“Not really.”
He nodded. “I’ll wait awhile. See if you change your mind.”
“Okay.” She picked up a stone. Thought about throwing it, but just set it back down. “I probably won’t, though.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I got a lot to think about now. You being real and all.”
He took a step back, kicked at another stone. Then looked up at the sky again. “Do you mind if I stick around for a while anyway?”
“Um, I guess not.” Butterflies. That’s what people called them. They fluttered in her stomach, her chest.
He stepped towards her, then sat down beside her. Brushing at his pantlegs, he sighed. “It’s not so dusty.”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “Do you come to earth often?”
Looking up at the sky, he smiled. Then turned to smile at her. “It’s nice here.”
Great read!