jackofallgeeks | The Day of the Devil

The room was dark, barely lit by the flickering of thirteen candles placed around where the coffee table had been. He'd moved the table out of the room entirely in order to have the space needed for the work. The hardwood floor was marked by an intricate chalk lattice of interlacing circles and sigils. He sat in the middle of a small, unadorned chalk triangle near the middle of the design; just in front of him was a chalk circle so intense in it's design that it had taken nearly as long to complete as the entire rest of the design. But it was all as the book had described. He sat in his protective circle and now there was just the final act. He slit his palm with an iron knife and drizzled the blood into the ebony bowl in front of him.

Adam sat tensely watching the triangle, waiting for some sign that all had been done appropriately. It felt as though his heart had frozen in his chest.

"Ahhh, I love that part," said a smooth voice from behind him. "So... dramatic."

Adam turned on his knees to find a man standing in the corner. He was tall and thin, with slicked-back hair and dressed in a smart Italian suit, all sharp angles and lines. Adam looked over his shoulder at the chalk triangle, then back to the man as he took a few steps forward, into the ring of candle light.

"Oh, that?" the man said. "That's just for show. It's so much more fun to watch when you get to make all the rules."

He picked up the old-looking leather-bound book laying open next the Adam and turned to the front page.

"Brother Athanasius, I see. Quality reading. He was quite mad, really, but he could write." He flipped a few pages and, taking a Shakespearean pose, read, "And thou having writ the sigils of the beast, three and twenty, and scribed the..." he trailed off with a look of disappointment. "I suppose this isn't his best work. You should have seen some of it, though; poetic genius." He tossed the book unceremoniously back onto the floor. "Personally I always preferred Crowley anyway."

The man looked down at Adam's hand, who also looked, and he realized his cut was starting to sting.

"You are a desperate one, aren't you?" the man asked. "The man upstairs not looking out for you? He does that, from time to time. Gets bored, I suppose, or really just never cared that much in the first place. 'His is a grander vision,' the say." His tone dropped into a more business-like quality. "But you didn't call me here for my conversation. You have a request."

Adam swallowed hard; his throat had gone suddenly dry, and his hand was throbbing with pain now. When he spoke, his voice cracked.

"I-it's Evelyn..." he choked out. "She says she's met someone else, that I shou--" but the man held up a hand as though to halt him.

"Please, mine is not a business of vulgar details. That is the work of lawyers; mine is a much finer art." The smile that spread across his face never touched his eyes. "I give you the choice to do what you will."

He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a charcoal-gray folder, offering it to Adam.

"By all means, feel free to read through it. But when you're ready, sign on the last page and she will be yours."

Adam and Evelyn married a few short months later. It was a beautiful ceremony, sunny and bright and everything Evelyn ever hoped for. Aside from Adam's cousin getting drunk and making a scene near the end of the reception, it all went off without a hitch. They honeymooned in Hawaii for two weeks, and then back to Adam's apartment, where Evelyn began moving her things in.

Unfortunately, even before they had settled in, there was an electrical fire in the building which decimated three floors, including Adam's. A small but legally valid whole in Adam's insurance policy saw a good amount of the damage was unrecoverable, and the management of the building was not bound to provide a new place for them. They were able to find another apartment in the city, but Adam had to miss significant time from his job. His work piled up in the meantime, which just lead to extra stress when he was able to return. He spent long hours in the office trying to keep up, leaving Evelyn to sleep alone most nights, and still he wasn't making significant headway. His boss came to him one day and said that the quality of his work had declined, and that management had decided to shift certain high-profile contracts to other more-efficient employees. A few weeks later his boss came by with a notice that Adam was to clear out his desk and be gone before the end of the week.

Adam spent several weeks looking for work and finding none, and eventually traded long nights at the office for long nights at the bar. Evelyn still went to bed alone, and when she confronted Adam, he yelled at her. And then he slammed doors. And then he hit her. And he hit her. And he hit her. And Evelyn got scared, and he got angry, and there was still no work, and soon no money. Evelyn went looking for work, and Adam got angry and hit her. Then she went to borrow money from her parents, and Adam got angry and hit her. And then she would cry, and Adam would get angry and hit her.

He staggered through the door one night, unsure of the time, and saw his wife through bleary eyes. She was saying something, something about a baby. They were going to have a baby. There was no money to have a baby, Adam thought. How could she be so selfish and stupid? How could they afford a baby? And he got angry. And he hit her. And she cried. And her hit her. And she ran, and he threw things at her, and yelled, and slammed his fists against the bathroom door when she locked herself in. She was sobbing uncontrollably now, unreasoningly, but he didn't hear her. He yelled, and he hammered at the door, and there was ever and always rage.

And then silence. Sickening silence. He whispered her name. He asked if she was alright. Only silence. He called louder, and then he yelled, and he pounded on the door and demanded to be let in, not angry now but desperate. She had to let him in, she had to.

Only silence.

And from the corner behind him, a smooth voice asked:

"Which is worse, Adam? To not have that which you adore, or to know you are the one who destroyed it?"