Contracts

I met my demon at school. They made an offer, I took the deal. I'm not sure if I regret anything, but if I do, it's too late anyway.

The first time I met my demon was at school. Now, I know most kids in high schools are… less than normal, but the new kid was really weird, even by adolescent standards. When they first walked in the door of my homeroom class, I couldn’t tell what gender they were, what social groups they would fit in, not even how old they were. The only thing that was clear? This kid was weird.

They wore knee-high black boots with no particular decoration or heel over a matching black pair of jeans and zipped-up hoodie. A silver chain peeked out from beneath the collar of the hoodie and black rings decorated their fingers. Their black hair was cut short in messy layers that framed their face just so, and mismatched eyes scanned the class with a calculating look that sent chills down my spine when it swept over me, seeming to meet my eyes for a millisecond as it did. I shivered.

“Class, this is our new student, Avery.” Of course, they had a gender-neutral name. I bet I wasn’t the only student frustrated by that. We were all used to knowing things like that about people, what gender they were, their social status, at least a hint of their personality, from their clothing, mannerisms, and name alone. Now that we were given this, a person to whom these questions did not have easy answers, we were intrigued.

“Hi, Avery,” the class chorused in practiced unison so you could practically hear the eye rolls.

“You can go sit there, between Gemma and Carter,” The teacher, Mr. McGillian, pointed to the spot next to me, one of only three empty desks in the room. Avery gave a curt nod and gathered their things, all in plain black, no decor, no personality, and came to sit next to me.

“Because we have a new student today, we will be doing ‘get to know you’ activities for the remainder of the class,” Mr. McGillian announced to our chagrin, no one liked his ‘get to know you activities’.

A few minutes later everyone was sitting in a crude circle at the front of the classroom getting ready to say their name, age, and one interesting thing about them. Basically, everyone was trying to think of the one interesting trait they had buried beneath the stress and sleep-deprivation this prison-school had brought on,

I racked my brain for mine. At that moment, I had had maybe an hour of sleep the night before and was running mostly on the dread of returning home and caffeine, so I wasn’t in the best shape for thinking, let alone dredging up an, ugg, hobby from the darkest recesses of my mind. I decided to play it safe. I liked to draw. I would leave it at that. No need to mention why I started, just that I enjoy it, if enjoy is the right word.

They went around the circle, thankfully, starting a few people to my left and going clockwise. First was Kaleb, “I’m Kaleb, I’m sixteen, and I’m really good at coding, like, computer games and stuff,” there was an awkward pause before he nudged the guy next to him and he went, introducing himself as sixteen-year-old Josh, who was ‘the best football player in the school’. And around they went, stating their names, which were probably immediately forgotten by Avery, who showed no emotion of any kind, even as some students blatantly flirted with them despite their unknown gender. I guess they were just that pretty. Okay, they were that pretty, but it was my turn, and I didn’t think I should stare when those eyes were on me, one like a forest just after rainfall and the other so light brown it was almost yellow.

I cleared my throat and averted my eyes, instead pinning them on the vintage American flag that hung on the wall just behind the new student, “Erm, I’m Gema, I’m sixteen, and I like to draw?” It came out as more of a question than a statement, as many of my classmates ‘interesting traits’ had, but at that Avery showed their first sign of emotion since entering the classroom. It was hardly noticeable, but my eyes had somehow drifted to meet theirs, so I noticed the slight narrowing of those larger-than-should-be-natural eyes, making me feel like a puzzle myself, like they were trying to figure me out. I shifted uncomfortably and Avery’s eyes moved on to the next student, who was stuttering out something about her favorite book.

Last was Avery. Mr. McGillian liked to do that. Even when you were new, you had to share with the others. My theory was that he liked to make us uncomfortable, that he liked the way we squirmed and stuttered under pressure. Either that or he was just oblivious.

Regardless of our teachers intentions, Avery had to share, so they did, “I’m Avery,” They started in a silky voice, neither masculine nor feminine, just smooth like calm water or a flat river stone, “I’m seventeen,” They smiled to themself as if their age was some kind of inside joke, “and I enjoy practicing my knife fighting,” There was a pause. Whether my classmates had been silenced by awe, fear, attraction, or some mixture of the three was unclear, but it was our teacher who broke the quiet.

“Well, you shouldn’t be doing that here,” He tried to make it sound like a joke, but I doubted he would know how to make something funny if he had been given instructions (he had proven he wasn’t very good at following those either when he’d tried to hook his laptop to the projector, a task that required one cord running from one device to the other, and ended up trying to use at least six different wires to find one to fit the port in his computer. He wasn’t using the right port)

Avery looked up at him, face blank as ever, “I shouldn’t have to,” They agreed. Avery never seemed to blink.

Thankfully, we had managed to waste enough time during the go-around to avoid having time for another ‘game’, so Mr. McGillian announced it quiet free time, meaning we could chat with each other or do homework or something at our desks. Avery sat down after me and continued to scan the students. It looked oddly robotic, the way their eyes took in every detail, from the way everyone dressed, to how they held themselves or who they hung out with, it gave me the eerie impression Avery could gather someone's whole life story from just a sweep of their eyes.

I took out a notebook and started a new sketch. This was my ‘homeroom’ sketchbook, I had one for every class. It was how I took notes, I drew them. My science notebook was full of drawings of mad scientists labeling beakers of liquids and dragons with chemical reactions written out on their wings. My history notebook had famous people and warriors of all kinds reading out proclamations of their deeds. English didn’t teach anything worth taking notes on, so if I had something to remember then I scribbled it onto my hand or something. Math depicted number armies, waging war on each other with complicated, and, frankly, useless equations (unless you were going to be an engineer, which I was not). The rest of my topics shared a notebook, Phy Ed, and study hall, and that one was mostly random doodles of the more attractive of my pimple-infested peers.

Avery was looking at my drawing. I had scribbled out the basic shape of a person, but my efforts were on the other details, namely, the prison yard around the character and the figures in it, all caricatures of my classmates. I wasn’t one of them. I never drew myself. I slid the paper to the side and put my stack of textbooks and notebooks between Avery and I, so they could no longer see my drawing.

~

It was a few months before anything interesting happened again. I fell into a routine with Avery, with whom I shared homeroom, English, Phy Ed, and lunch. I sat next to them in homeroom and tried to ignore that calculating look I found never seemed to leave their eyes. We sat on opposite sides of the room in English, but I still managed to find them a little distracting. In Phy Ed Avery didn’t use the locker rooms, instead, they just showed up, in basketball shorts and a t-shirt (both plain black like everything else that kid owned, no decor, no personality) somehow exactly where they needed to be before most of us had unlocked our lockers. It was that class in which I learned Avery was unbeatable at anything physical, unlike me, whos only skill in the physical department is flexibility from hiding in small spaces since I was little.

The ‘interesting event’ I refer to is, of course, the day my father left a bruise on each of my wrists so I had to wear a long-sleeved sweater on a hot spring day only a few weeks before the end of school. Avery never seemed to miss anything. They never missed the tension between a newly broken-up couple or failed to make it clear they knew one way or another. They never missed the promise ring that vanished from many girls fingers over the months, and I was sure they knew every piece of gossip in the school, every friend group, every secret, even the challenge concerning Avery themself was unlikely to have been kept from their ears.

The ‘new kid challenge’, as some unknown student had dubbed it, was a challenge to find out Avery’s biological gender. The teachers never used pronouns for Avery, so no one had found out that way, not even with Mr. Prigins, who was notoriously every kind of ‘phobic’ known to man from ‘germaphobic’ to ‘transphobic’ he hated everything that wasn’t ‘normal’ or ‘moral’ by his standards, but he always referred to Avery by their first name only. Most kids had come to the conclusion that the only way to know for sure was to see for themselves, so the ‘new kid challenge’ became the ‘seduction of the new kid challenge’. It was rather amusing to watch from afar.

But this particular day, the thing Avery didn’t fail to notice was me. They had been interested in me for a while, or, at least, more interested than they were in the others. I was the one who was spared the extra glance, the one whose appearance was observed and analyzed every day, the one who Avery was low looking at with an unreadable mix of emotions on their face, a rarity in itself, with their head cocked to the side as I had noticed Avery tended to do just before writing something down in their notebook in homeroom when Mr. McGillian decided to give a mini-lecture on a historical event he found interesting. Those notes were all corrections. When Mr. McGillian explained that the sinking of the Titanic was a tragedy that occurred on a fairly warm night for the area, Avery had written that there had been a cold flash just before the sinking. I looked it up later. Such a flash was recorded by survivors accounts of the incident.

I sat down at my desk and tried to ignore their gaze on me. I decided to draw instead, pulling out my homeroom book and starting a new drawing of a beautiful character in a tailcoat bowing down to a woman with their head down and hand extended in an invitation to dance while the woman faced him with her hand hovering above his as if she were about to take it. It wasn’t long before the woman's turned back and the inviters elaborate coat was finished and I moved on to the environment, my hands moving on autopilot until I was staring down at the empty ballroom the figures stood in, the drapes drawn on any windows and doors and the light dim save for a few rays of light that shone onto the figures like a spotlight. Avery watched my hands despite my hidden paper.

A few hours later, in English, I raised my hand and asked for a hall pass. One was granted and I took one of the two the bulky pieces of decorated wood with the words ‘HALL PASS’ carved into them from the tray next to the door and shoved through the doorway. I didn’t need to use the bathroom. No one used the school bathrooms. There was never any soap or paper towels and, frankly, they were just gross.

I did, however, need to get out of that classroom. I was suffocating in there, and every word the teacher said felt like a hammer to my skull. My head was pounding and my fresh bruises were throbbing and I wanted to run some cold water over them to sooth them. I hurried to the bathrooms and stopped at the drinking fountain, figuring I hadn't had anything to drink all day and a little water might help dull the headache. It didn’t, but I didn’t ponder on it. I probably hit my head at some point the night before, it was all a bit of a blur of flying fists and beer cans.

I was about to shove my way into the girl's room when a familiar voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Hello,” Avery said. I froze. “I need to talk to you,”

I gulped and turned around. I didn’t think I had given Avery a reason to be mad at me, but that didn’t mean I wanted to be trapped in an empty hallway with a scary knife-wielding kid who claimed we needed to talk. “What about?” I managed to choke out.

Avery’s eyes dropped to my wrists, where I only now realized the cuffs of my sleeves had slid upward a fraction, giving Avery the slightest glimpse of the ugly purple-blue blotches there. My eyes went wide and I instantly pulled them down again to cover my hands, “That’s nothing!” I said, a bit to quickly.

Avery’s eyes met mine and I found myself incapable of looking away, “Nothing?” They repeated in their usual monotone, only breaking it to raise the pitch at the end, a question, “I am not stupid, Gema,” Their eyes searched mine, probably finding exactly what they wanted behind my thin cover, “I saw you on the first day of school, your shirt shifted during class so I could see the scrapes on your side like from broken glass. During Physical Education I saw new bruises almost every day. It is hot out today, no one should be wearing anything like what you have on. I didn't even have to see the bruise to know it was there.” They took a step forward, wrapping any of my remaining attention on them, “Who is hurting you?” They asked.

I didn’t know what to say, so I stuttered something like, “I-I-nothing. It-it’s no-nothing,”

Avery’s expression didn’t change. They didn’t step back. “Fine.” They said after I had rambled something about ‘handling it’ or ‘not needing help’ for a few seconds, “Don’t tell me who. Tell me when.” They produced a pen from the pocket of their hoodie and tested it on their palm before closing their eyes and taking a calming breath, the only show of nerves I had ever seen Avery show.

“I heard about the challenge to find my gender. Are you a participant?” Avery’s eyes locked back on mine.

I gulped, whatever I had been expecting, this wasn’t it. Were they about to give me their phone number? I couldn’t even imagine Avery holding a phone, let alone owning one. “Er, no?”

Avery nodded as if to show they understood, though that seemed unnecessary, and continued to look me in the eye, pen positioned over their palm, just outside my personal bubble. “It is pointless.” They stated, “I do not have a gender,”

I rolled my eyes, somehow managing to muster up some sarcasm, “We know, you identify as nonbinary or something along those lines, but that’s not what it’s about. It’s about your biological gender or whatever, what you were born as,”

Avery shook their head, “You misunderstand, I do not have a biological sex.” They took another breath, “I am only telling you this because you need me to, you will not share this with the other students,” I nodded, my brow furrowed in confusion, “I am not human, not really. This body took a long time to build up, otherwise, I would have to find a host to possess. I am a demon.”

I was really freaked out now. Avery was insane. No doubt. A sliver of doubt. If they were really a demon I would have been in more danger, I reasoned with myself, and if they were insane I would be in danger as well. My conclusion was to run. But I couldn’t. My body wouldn’t respond. It was like I had become stone. I couldn’t even twitch my little finger.

Avery was watching me with a sad expression, “I am sorry,” They apologized, “I didn’t want to have to use my abilities on you, but you need to listen. I can make a deal. I will show you how to draw a symbol that will summon me to you whenever you draw it. In exchange, in twenty years, I will take possession of your soul. Once you have summoned me I will be under your command until you verbally release me from your service. I will be back in your service the next time you draw the symbol. If you take my deal, I can stop whoever is hurting you, and do whatever else you want me to, within my abilities. If you do not I will release you and remove your memory of this encounter.”

I blinked. It was tempting. I had long ago stopped loving my parents, but did I want to set a demon on them? Yes. I did. I really, really, did. I felt myself regain the ability to speak and I used it, “I’ll take it. I’ll take the deal,” I said, affirming it twice more for myself than for Avery.

The corner of Avery’s mouth twitched up in a smile, “All right,” the demon's grip on my body dissolved and I stumbled a step toward Avery. They took my hands gently and cocked their head, a tiny little smirk on the gorgeous face. What had I gotten myself into? They took a small step forward, very much in my personal space now, and caught my eyes, “We need to make if final.” They said, that smirk creeping into their voice like ink in water.

It took me a moment. Then I remembered. The stories. I didn’t know much about demon lore, but I did know a few things, like that deals were sealed with a kiss. I gulped. My first kiss. With a demon. A pretty demon, my mind said like a flustered school girl. Hu, I guess I was a flustered school girl. Avery put a pair of fingers under my chin and lifted my eyes to theirs, “Are you hesitant to kiss someone you don’t know the gender of?” They asked, a little hint in their tone suggesting they didn’t approve of that excuse.

I decided to truth was the best option. I wasn’t sure if Avery could tell when I lied. “It’s just...my first kiss,” I breathed. I had never thought I would get one of those. Now I realize that was a silly thought. I wouldn’t be living with my parents forever, I would have the freedom to date one day. But still. Avery was a demon. I was making a deal. To sell my soul for freedom from my parents. That last part drove me over the edge. Freedom.

Avery was waiting patiently in front of me, one hand on my shoulder, the other on my forearm, where I noticed the bruises on my arm no longer hurt. I shoved aside my hesitation and kissed them. I wasn’t sure what to do at first, but Avery took over and, not a moment later, they pulled away. Not fair. Okay, where had that come from? I wasn’t supposed to want Avery to kiss me. I was just supposed to do it. Get it over with. But I did enjoy it. And I really, really, didn’t want to.

Avery was standing in front of me, a little smirk on their face like they knew what I was thinking. They probably did. Now that got me blushing. I tried to compose myself as well as I could and held out my palm, “Now, the symbol?” I tried to sound demanding, but I probably sounded about as commanding as a mouse.

Avery’s smirk persisted, but they pulled out the pen and took my palm. On it they drew a strange squiggling symbol and put away their pen. “There, draw that anywhere, with anything, and I will be there within the second. Just be sure to draw it correctly.” They pulled out the silver chain they wore and revealed the charm on the end, the same symbol they had drawn on me. They slid off the chain and put it around my neck, “Use this as a reference.” then they were gone, blinked out of existence like they had never been there at all. I went back to class to find them in their desk, as expressionless as always, and not even bothering to spare me a glance. Their chain around my neck was the only sign I hadn't hallucinated the whole thing.

I went home that night feeling jittery. I had taken a permanent marker from the art room that day and had spent most of my class time tracing the symbol on the end of the chain with my finger to make sure I would get it right. This time, when my dad threw his beer can at me when I walked in the door, I caught it and drew the symbol on the tin. Just as they had promised, Avery was there in a heartbeat, smiling that small smile and wearing pure black armor. They raised their hand and, before my father or my mother, who was in the kitchen doorway, could do anything, snapped their fingers. Both parents were gone, vanished just as Avery had after the deal.

“Wh-where did they go?” I asked after a long pause.

Avery kept their eyes on the seat where my father had been sitting, “Somewhere no one will find them for now. If you would like me to kill them, instruct me to do so.”

I shook my head. I hated my parents, but...Kill them? It felt extreme, even after making a deal with a demon to be rid of them. “No, just...can you get them arrested or something? Put them away for life?”

Avery looked...disappointed, but they complied, snapping their fingers again and affirming that it was done. I looked around the room. It was that easy. All I had to do was say the word and Avery would do whatever I wanted. It was intoxicating.

Before I continue my story, you have to understand. Avery was powerful. I was weak. With Avery under my control, I could own the world, or, at least, that’s what it felt like. And as a high school age kid coming from an abusive home where I had been regularly reminded of my worthlessness? Yeah, I wanted the world. So that’s why I gave my next order, and the next, and the next, until five years later, when I was twenty-one, and I was the most adored celebrity in Hollywood. I was an actress, using my demon, time and time again to get deals and gain fame with Avery posing as my childhood friend and personal assistant who was barely spared a glance by the public and never seen on camera. I was unstoppable.

Until that day when I was twenty-one, getting into costume with Avery’s help, who had taken to alternating between wearing overpriced tux’s and simple black prom dresses. Today was a dress day, so I had to try to keep myself from flinching whenever the gauzy knee-length skirt tickled my bare legs. It was a superhero role, so, of course, I was wearing a one-piece rubber bathing suit with minimal coverage and low practicality.

Today we were scheduled to film one major fight scene and a few more minor falling-action scenes. I wasn’t in a hurry, it was five A.M. and filming didn’t start for an hour, so I had at least a half hour to kill if I cut out the time I would spend in makeup. Avery helped me with the invisible zipper in the back and said, “What do you plan to do for the fifteen years before I take your soul?” I jumped at that. Avery’s voice was monotone as per usual, but I could hear something else there was well, something...hungry.

I kept my face blank and my tone light, though I suspected Avery saw right through it, “Probably this, get richer, more famous, maybe have a kid,”

“Whom you would abandon when I kill you,” I froze. Avery had never referred to the taking of my soul as ‘killing me’ before. Of course, I had known that’s what it meant. But it was much different to hear from the mouth of the demon who would be doing the killing.

I forced myself to shrug it off. “Then I’ll stick with the first part, it’s not like this world needs more kids anyway,” My voice was calm, but I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. Fifteen years.

Avery eyed me up and down and cocked their head to the side, “Many children's souls have been sold already. You should not worry about how many of them there are.”

“What?!” I spluttered, “But...children!”

Avery looked me in the eye and raised an eyebrow, “You were a child when you sold your soul to me,”

“I wanted to be rid of my abusive parents! Most kids grow up in loving households!”

Avery looked like a customer service worker whos client had spent the last half hour asking for grass-fed chickens, “Even if that were true, children are still the most abused group in this world. Racism and sexism, homophobia, transphobia, and thousands of other examples of human idiocy apply to them an equal ratio to their adult counterparts, but they are also ignored and treated as though they cannot accomplish simple tasks or understand simple logic simply because of their age. This leaves them easy targets for deals. You are not the first child I have taken advantage of. I have taken the souls of many others. The only way in which you are unique, is I gave you twice the time and a much different deal than most others,”

I smoothed out a piece of my rubber costume and went to put on the boots, “Why?” I asked, knowing that Avery knew what I was asking.

Avery looked me in the eyes, “I gave you a different deal because I wanted to. The usual deal is ten years and one request. You got twenty years and me at your beck and call,”

I finished peeling on the boots and gave Avery an inquiring look, “But why would you decide that? Why would you wait ten extra years and sacrifice your freedom for my soul?”

Avery narrowed their eyes, “I am not obligated to answer that,”

I threw up my hand in exasperation and grabbed a pen off the desk where my costume had been previously draped and scrawled the familiar symbol onto a scrap of paper, “Now,” I demanded, “answer the question,”

Avery tried to hold back their words, but to break the contract was to lose their reward, so they gave in, “Your soul could not be exchanged for the usual deal,”

“Why,”

“Because, Gema, you are not human,”

I spluttered, “N-not human?! Of course I’m human! What else would I be?!” I was pacing now, rubber boots clunking on the wood paneling of my RV’s floor.

“I am not at liberty to answer that question,”

“Not at liberty? NOT AT LIBERTY?!” I whirled around to face Avery, my own face bright red with rage while theirs remained impassive, “You WILL tell me! I order you to tell me!”

Avery closed their eyes and their form flickered. I was about to scream at them for trying to leave when they opened their eyes again. I gasped. Instead of the green and yellow I was used to, their eyes were pure black, not even a speck of white. “This is the one area in which the contract does not apply,” They stated, their voice oddly tripled, “If you continue to push I will have to end our contract immediately, and I will take your soul now,” I stuttered out a reply but Avery just blinked and their eyes were back to normal, as if, like everything else Avery did, it had never happened. Of course, by now, I had learned to distinguish these little ‘blips’ and know that whatever I thought I had seen, had happened.

I swallowed hard and got on with my day. Neither Avery nor I, mentioned our conversation for many years after that.

Now, this next part is a little strange. The last part was to show you the one time Avery slipped up, this next part will show you something entirely different. It takes place four years later when I had turned twenty-five. The movie’s I starred in became instant hits, due, in part, to a little demonic intervention, so I was doing well for myself. I was the most sought-after actress in Hollywood, even more so than before, and I had the biggest fanbase in the world.

So that was my public image. But behind closed doors was drastically different. I had boyfriend after boyfriend, all of them turning out to be greedy jerks who only wanted my money and my fame, not to mention my body, which at that point had become the ideal form for females all over the globe. The weirdness happened during one of my lull periods, where I had just broken it off with one boyfriend and was waiting for the media to pick up on it and for the boys to start spamming me with invites to dinner and pleas for my number. I was between jobs and taking a short vacation on my personal yacht with no one but my personal chef, a staff of maids who were really just paid to sit around since I had Avery do most everything, and Avery theirself.

Avery was standing next to the deck chair I was lounging on in their neat black suit with their black undershirt and black silk tie (the variation of fabric was the closest thing Avery had to color unless I ordered them into something specific for an event so they wouldn’t stand out). I was soaking in the sun, enjoying my new pixie cut hair, and debating which role I would go for once I got back to shore when Avery went stiff.

“Forgive me, mistress, I must leave you momentarily,”

I bolted upright and turned to face them, “What?” I pushed my sunglasses onto my head, “No, the contract-”

“Does not apply in this situation.” Avery turned on their heel and walked a few steps toward the stairs.

“What? No, stop! Why doesn't it apply?”

To my surprise, Avery stopped, turned on their heel again in an almost robotic motion, and blinked. Their eyes went black for the second time since I met them and I had to use every ounce of self-control in my body not to cringe away.

“I have received orders from the highest authority of Hell. You will wait here momentarily while I complete my orders. When I return the contract will once again be in full effect.” Then they vanished, no shimmering, no frills, just...gone.

I groaned in frustration and ran my fingers through my now-ultra-short hair. Since I was sixteen, when I first met Avery, I had been researching demon lore. I would be lying if I said it wasn’t primarily to escape my deal, but I quickly hit a dead end there. Everything I found didn’t seem to apply to Avery at all. Salt repels demons? Avery handled the stuff all the time. Iron burns them? Nope, I’d seen Avery wearing iron rings and bracelets for formal events (how iron anything counted as formal was beyond me). Symbols and sygals, rituals, prayers, all of it were pointless.

I stared at the spot where Avery had been. There wasn’t much I could do now. I went downstairs to the full-service spa to take my mind off of everything. By the end of my massage, I had a mind full of demon lore and slightly less sore muscles.

I went to my room in frustration to find Avery. They stood by the bed, wearing an all-black suit, and looking just as emotionless as always. I tried to imagine their face scrunched up in anger, or smiling, or even looking smug or prideful. Nope. Didn’t see it.

“What was that about?” I asked, gesturing vaguely.

Avery walked closer and invaded my personal space, as they tended to do, and said in a blank tone, “I am unsure as to what you are referring,” They stated.

I bit back a tirade of curse words, “On the deck, earlier, ‘the contract does not apply’, remember?” I arched a brow.

Avery stared me blankly in the eyes, “I was called back to Hell by a higher authority than that of the contracts to complete a task. I have returned now, so you may stop inquiring about it and focus on something that concerns you,”

I seethed, “This does ‘concern me’! You’re my demon, exclusively! I don’t want some big headed hellspawn ordering you around while you’re under my control!” In retrospect, I sounded like a whiny little brat. I probably was a brat. It’s a little fuzzy.

Avery watched me like a statue. Unblinking. Unmoving. When I finished, they spoke, “You would do well not to speak ill of those more powerful than yourself,” They said without looking away from my eyes, “The being you speak of is the ruler of Hell and the holder of all contracts. That includes yours. If Andie so pleases, they can change your contract and order me or another demon to kill you immediately.” They placed their hands behind their back.

I would not be shaken.

“Well, this ‘Andie’ can come and talk to me theirself if they want me to let you off your leash!”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Chanted a singsong voice behind me. I whirled around. A figure stood there, with swooping blond hair fading to lavender at the tips, wearing a gaudy red cape with fake fur trim over a purple t-shirt with the word “Royalty” written diagonally across it.

I crossed my arms and frowned, “What are you supposed to be?” I asked incredulously.

The newcomer skipped forward and leaned down a couple of inches to reach my height, “I’m the Queen of hell," Presumably she chirped.

I frowned, "Uh-hu, yeah, right,"

The newcomer crossed their arms and mimicked my stance, "Yeah, Gemma, that is right. I'm the King, Avery is one of my favorite workers, and you're a spoiled little brat,"

I, definitely a spoiled little brat at the time, huffed, "Prove it." I raised an eyebrow in challenge.

The monarch smirked and turned to Avery, "Avery, sweety, get your contract with Gemma here." They gestured to me.

I watched as Avery vanished and reappeared a second later with a rolled up piece of paper, tied closed with a gold ribbon, held together with a glob of red wax pressed with a skull-shaped seal.

Andie plucked it from Avery's hands and broke the seal to unfurl it. They cleared their throat and read, "The contract between the demon Avery and the F.A. Gemma is dictated by the following rules. The demon Avery is to follow every order issued by Gemma for the twenty years after the binding of the contract-"

"Wait, back up, F.A.? What's that supposed to mean?"

Andie and Avery exchanged a look, a blank one, but still. Andie curled up the contract and handed it to Avery, then stepped into my personal space. Demons didn't understand that concept very well.

"F.A. is an abbreviation for what you are, obviously," Andie gave an irritating, innocent smile.

I grit my teeth in frustration and gave a, hopefully, frustrating smile of my own, "And what would that be?" I asked sweetly.

Andie cocked their head, "I have no obligation to tell you." Then they vanished. I resisted the urge to scream.

Avery was standing in the exact same place, no longer holding the contract and looking just as statuesque as ever. My eye twitched. "Tell me what their magesty left out," I demanded.

Avery folded their hands behind their back, "Had you no interrupted, Andie would have told you that a direct order from the ruler of Hell overrides the contract. I am under direct orders not to tell you that particular piece of information. Is there anything else you would like me to do for you?"

I squeezed my fists. manicured fingernails bit into the flesh of my palms. "Get the script for 'Homerun', I have lines to memorize." I shoved past and stormed down the stairs.

Nothing interesting happened until I was thirty-six, dreading the upcoming end of the contract. Though I had aged, I didn't look it. Various orders to Avery and absolutely zero plastic surgery had ensured that I looked not a day over twenty-five. But, of course, that didn't matter. Because Avery was going to kill me tomorrow.

I sat in my favorite penthouse, on the balcony with a mug of hot chocolate cupped in my hands. I really did love Alaska. I pulled my thick, fuzzy blanket tighter around my shoulders and listened to the sounds of the frozen nature around me.

I had thought about going somewhere else, maybe my New York estate, or perhaps Paris or London. But no. Alaska was perfect. I sold all my other houses and donated every last penny I owned to various charities. This house was scheduled to be converted into a research center in a few weeks as well. If I wasn't going to die tomorrow, I would be homeless and broke.

I sighed and sipped my cocoa. It didn't matter. Thinking about it was pointless. I sat on the balcony, watching the sunset, for hours and sat there, still, long after. Even as the cold chilled me nearly to the bone, I stayed, simply huddling further into my blanket and watching the stars, cradling my long-empty mug in my hands.

The next day came quickly. I awoke on the empty floor of the living room, probably put there by Avery, who would feel cheated if I died in the cold rather than by their hand. I groaned and sat up, rubbing my stiff neck and squinting at the bright sunlight through the vast windows. Avery was standing at the top of the stairs far to my left, silent and stoic as always. I found that somehow comforting.

"You slept quite late," Avery said, making the first pointless comment I had heard them make, possibly ever.

"Uh..yeah," I groaned and got to my feet, rubbing my eyes.

"It's time." Avery's eyes bored into mine.

Their words shocked any remaining grogginess from my body.

"Oh."

Avery walked forward and stood parallel to me, looking like my exact opposite. Avery stood without a black hair out of place, wearing a suit with a perfectly centered tie and every button done up precisely. I stood across from them in a pair of plaid pajama pants and an oversized unicorn t-shirt with my blonde hair sticking up in a rats nest.

A black dagger materialized in Avery's hand. I gulped, suddenly overcome with the urge to run. But, for the second time in my life, my body wasn't under my control. Avery crossed the remaining space between us with a sort of hesitant melancholy. Avery looked sad. That scared me more than the knife.

I didn't have much time to think about that, because, suddenly, the knife was stabbing up under my ribcage. A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of my mouth. I collapsed.

~

I opened my eyes. Avery stood before me, I saw them before the rest of the room. Not that there was much else to see. It was little more than a black box, with a desk in one corner, and various weapons hung on the walls.

"What..." I couldn't find the words.

I didn't have to.

"You are in Hell," said Avery, answering my unasked question, "It is much like on Earth, but our roles are reversed," I didn't like that. A chill ran down my spine. "You will serve me, as I served you, though for much longer," They didn't show any emotion, but I imagined if they did they would be giving me a smug look, "As a fallen angel, your powers will have returned to you now that your mortal form has been destroyed, so you may do much the same as I can,"

I wasn't sure I heard correctly, "A..what? What did you just call me?"

Avery seemed to consider whether or not they would answer me. They made a decision. "You are a fallen angel. F.A., as Andie said."

~

Many years later. I lost count of how many. Avery had worked me into the ground every day, but I didn't sleep. I relaxed to re-charge, and I didn't eat. Avery had become the bane of my existence, but I learned to suppress my emotions so they wouldn't show. Hell is the consequence for those who sell their souls. I knew that when I was alive. Hell just happens to include a lot more possessing people and following orders than fire and brimstone.

Author's Note

Pick it apart. I want your honest opinions and your critiques on everything from story to characters, to grammar, everything. Give me your worst.