The Business of Hell

"I had rather doubted that you would have the tenacity of spirit to actually show," said the man with the black haired, sleeked to a glowing shine, a tad too unctuously for her liking. He and his immaculately tailored suit fit in this dank alley in much the same way that Leonardo's "The David" belonged in a sewer.

She swallowed carefully, in as much as that concept made sense, and tried to create the proper words in reply, "Of course I would," she murmered in a voice that sounded like a light rain hitting chimes, "I promised I would."

His lips pealed back in a wordless delight that seemed more than slightly reminiscent of a death grimace. Sighing softly, he commented, "Ah, true, my dear one, but you would be rather surprised how many people try to weasel out of promises they make with me." Giving it a moments thought, he continued humorlessly, "Or perhaps you wouldn't."

Shifting a half step back involuntarily, she issues a laugh devoid of mirth. "I would not. To the business of our rendezvous, however. Why did you wish to meet in this dank alley? Certainly someone of your... stature... could afford a nice restaurant in the city?" she queried, her mild French accent adding flavor to the words.

Again he graced her with his sapromyiophyllous smile. "Well, yes, I could have. I chose not to. I am such a sucker for the feel of places like this." He gave a sharp intake of air that smelled of fermenting refuse and hot pavement. "That, and most have just the slightest bit of... apprehension about meeting me in unlit alleyways. Though I don't my company would be more soothing in a bistro at noon." He slowly placed a pallid hand against the mortar facade of a surrounding building, as though having lost balance under water.

She gave him an appraising leer, expecting him to grin again and put a chill where her bones should be. Lilting, she reminded him, "You are not exactly well liked here. Nor are you beyond instilling fear. You are, after all, Satan."

He grabbed her shoulder, startling her. "I beseech you, dear one! Do not dare to call me by that moniker! He quit eons ago, likely before I came into existence. I never even met him. It wasn't even his name, I do not think. A Sanskit word for 'adversary,' was it not?" He did not wait for an answer, for he knew innately he was right. "Thus, it is certainly rude to say I am he. My given title is Dulcin." He had not spoken that name to any being, living, dead or otherwise, in as long as he had possessed the mantle of Devil.

Were she a more self possessed her, she would have giggled to herself over the irony of feeling apologetic to the Prince of Darkness. She was not, by her very nature, so she pursued further inquests. "Why do you want me? Why now?"

He removed his dark red glasses with a fluid movement that lasted just long enough to seem completely unnatural. His eyes glowed a pale yellow in the darkness, giving him a jaundiced pall. With a sigh well bespeaking his pain, Dulcin give sorrow words, "I have grown tired, lo these hundreds of years. I have become so infinitely tired of helping souls find their ways out of Sheol - that is what we call it, Sheol, not Hell..." Heaving a sigh, he continued, "I've been at this since 1312, when the last one summoned me down from Heaven, as I have done you. I chose you, Thrynaedy, for the selfsame reason I was chosen. You are beautiful among the angel of Our Father and you question."

She realized the body she was occupying had flushed about the cheeks at his remark. The Devil indeed had his way with words. She knew, with a small degree of pride, that she was beautiful, but she didn't know it was enough to make The Devil himself to notice. Everyone and everything in Heaven was so beautiful, there was no means for comparison. Beauty didn't matter if nothing wasn't.

"Why would I want to become The Devil and leave The Kingdom?" She inquired honestly, bereft of the sacrasm her words suggested.

"I think the mortal poet Milton put it best when he said 'It is better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.' It is. You may still return to Heaven and consult with our Father. You will always be as beautiful, as you were created. But you will be free now. Free to agree or dissent as you see fit. God will love you all the more, for you are doing a far more important job that sitting in Heaven and looking pretty. Indeed, you will be the most beautiful being there, as there is much that is not beautiful. The souls will see their own ugliness as contrasted and be better for it. Will you take my place, darling?"

Freedom. This was all she ever wanted, in that she could want. With a glance downward, she said "Yes, I shall."

Dull red light flew from Dulcin to her and engulfed her. She knew at once what freedom was. Dulcin simply walked away and never looked back.