Hell's Waiting Room

There are many reasons that one makes a deal with the devil.

Power. Fame. Wealth.

It’s usually a variation of those three.

And Mr. Le Bail he’s fastidious about who he offers his bargains to, selecting only the most interesting candidates to become part of his… organisation. The Lawyer, he doesn’t use the word cult. Mr. Le Bail finds the terminology demeaning and the last person who did… he’d had to throw away a perfectly good, tailored suit because he couldn’t get the brain matter out of it.

Which is why The Lawyer doesn’t understand why he’s here today, standing in an Oncology ward in New York with a contract tucked inside his leather folio at his employer’s request.

Normally there’s a summoning ceremony, a ritual or two followed by a blood sacrifice. That’s how the last two hundred of these have gone but instead he’s making an inhouse call with very little drama, theatrics or fanfare.

It’s unprecedented.

When he enters the hospital room, his gaze lingering on your hospital bed it’s clear you’re at death’s door. Your head is tilted away towards the window, the last golden rays of sunlight playing over your skin as the machine beats a low steady thrum throughout the room.

Dying is not new to The Lawyer but its usually done with violence and bloodshed.

This…

This is pitiful…

His handstitched Italian dress shoes clack on the tiles underneath his feet, drawing your attention as he steps over the threshold. Even in your dilapidated state, you’re beautiful. Your body may be broken but your soul, it burns so fucking brightly it almost blinds him.

That is what the devil wants, he thinks. This rare precious jewel to add to his collection.

But he’s wrong…

He doesn’t realise how wrong until after he’s sat down at your bedside and given you the amended spiel. Instead of riches and wealth it’s a cure for your illness, and you agree because the morphine it doesn’t touch the pain, not really.

He takes your hand gently in his, turning your palm upwards so he can prick your forefinger with the nib of the gold fountain pen. His thumb inadvertently traces along your heart line and that’s when he feels it, the slight sizzle of hellfire, the ruinous pull of the netherworld. He frowns tilting his head up to meet your gaze but those eyes, they just stare back at him, barely comprehending anything more than the parting of skin as he slices the pad of your finger. With the ink wetted, he curls your fingers around the pen. Your hand trembles with exertion but this part… it’s all on you. It has to be your choice, your signature.

Your arm falls back onto the matress once the paperwork is completed, the pen slipping from your grasp. He collects it from the sheets, a few droplets of blood staining them before he reviews the documentation.

It isn’t until he studies your signature that he puts the pieces together.

Lucille Cifer, a human rights lawyer.

Lu for short.

Lu Cifer.

Oh.

There have always been rumours that Mr. Le Bail had fathered a child. Too much coke during the eighties, his sources say. It had happened before throughout millennia but those children, they never survived the pregnancy. Devil’s blood, it corrupts everything it touches, eating away at the essence of innocence like… well exactly like cancer.

He raises to his feet, picking up the chart that hangs at the bottom of your bed.

Leukaemia.

A rare form they’ve never seen before.

This is why he was sent here, the devil’s daughter is finally coming home to her father. Mr. Le Bail just needed you to sign your humanity away first before he could claim the rest of you.

He sets the chart back onto the end of the bed, before gathering up his things in preparation for a hasty exit. He doesn’t need to stick around for the next part, the inevitable passing…

But he looks at you, eyes closed, breath rattling in the final throes and for some reason he just can’t bring himself to leave. He sets down his folio and takes up residence at your bedside one more. You tilt your head towards him, sensing his presence and for some obscene reason that even he can’t fathom, he reaches out, his fingers combing through your hair, tucking it behind your ear.

“Just let it happen.” He whispers, his thumb chasing over the apple of your cheek. “You don’t need to keep fighting.”

Your chest stops moving.

The machine flatlines.

And no one comes.

That’s the saddest part of this whole thing. You’ve spent your entire life fighting for other people but there’s no one there but him in the aftermath to lend you comfort.

There’s a deep inhale of breath.

Abrupt, sudden, the sound of someone starving for air.

His palm stays fixed to the side of your face, guiding your wild, roving eyes back to his. The panic subsides, your breathing evens and then something happens, something that even The Lawyer didn’t see coming.

A kiss…

The sweet tender brush of lips.

He pulls away, flinging himself away from you but the taste of brimstone is on his tongue and that need, it crackles inside of him like a wildfire as he stares at you, his fingertips tracing over his mouth.

His own bargain flashes before his eyes, the promise he made eons ago when Mr. Le Bail swept into his office and offered him the world.

“When the time comes, they’ll be a marriage. One you’ll be an integral part of. All I ask is that you fulfil your duties, nothing more, nothing less.”

It was such a small thing, such a trivial thing.

Stand in front of two people, have them recite their vows.

Now he realises just how ambiguous those words really are.

The truth behind what they really mean.

“I don’t know why I did that…” You whisper, echoing his motion bringing your own fingertips to your lips.

But he does…

It’s destiny, fate, the orchestrations of a being far more powerful than anyone on this earth could even imagine.

“It’s fine.” He says, stepping towards you, his heart beating like a jackhammer in his chest. His palms encompass your face, cradling it between his hands as he looks into your eyes. They burn with hellfire, the very flames of hell licking at his skin as you relax into him. “You don’t know me yet, but you will and I promise you, it’s all going to be fine.”

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