The Contract

“What’s in it for you?” Tom asked, “Because I am not in any way willing to give up my soul or the souls of anyone I love.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” said the well groomed man in the expensive suit, with a nonchalant wave of his hand, “I have no interest in your soul. While torturing your soul for all of eternity may amuse me slightly, how would it really benefit me? No, I will merely be doing you a favor. In return, there will come a time when I will be needing a favor from you. Nothing so cliché as a soul.”

“What kind of favor?”

“Well that remains to be seen doesn’t it?”

“What do you want? I will not give you my unborn child and I will not perform any kind of crazy sacrifice.”

The man waved his hand again. “Ritualistic sacrifice is so old school.” he said, “honestly, I never had a taste for it myself. People think the offering of unnecessary violence upon others appeals to me, but it’s actually the opposite. I frown upon it. But sacrifice in and of itself is a part of everyday life.” 

Tom raised an eyebrow.

“You sacrifice time with your wife every day when you go to work,” said the man, “you sacrifice some of the money you earn to the bank so you can continue to live in your chosen home, you sacrifice your health when you eat junk food.”

Tom thought about this. It was a fair point, but he wasn’t going to agree to anything.

“I’m not going to do anything that will cause harm to my family or anyone else. And I won’t do anything illegal. Or immoral.”

“Listen Mr Johnson, you are a businessman and this is simply a business transaction,” the man said, “you want success and I am prepared to give it to you. What you should be asking is what it is worth to you. How much do you want it?”

Tom’s jaw clenched.

“Take some time to think it over. When you are ready, I’ll be here.”

“How will I reach you if I am ready?”

“No need. When you are ready, I’ll be here.”

With that, the man disappeared, leaving Tom staring into the empty space across the desk.

This had to be a prank of some kind. There was no way it could be true. Tom was desperate, but was he really this desperate?

He had been losing clients steadily for the past 6 months, and now he had lost the firm’s biggest client. There was no coming back from that. His job was on the line. The stress of it had spilled over into his home life and his wife was threatening to leave, even with the baby on the way. He needed a miracle, and he needed it now. When the man walked into his office, introduced himself as Lucifer Morningstar and stated that he had a proposal that would change his life,Tom thought for sure it was some kind of joke, but the man knew things. Personal things. Things no one else knew. Things Tom had never spoken of aloud.

 Tom had been raised Catholic and though he had never considered himself a particularly religious man, he knew enough to recognize the name and the connotation. If the stories he remembered had any truth to them, Mr Morningstar was cunning, very cunning, and very manipulative, but Tom was a contract man. Surely he could draft a contract that would benefit himself without too much obligation. Something that could not be twisted and used against him. He was smart, but could he really outsmart the devil himself? He recalled a song from his childhood in which a man beat the devil in a fiddle playing contest. This would be much more complicated. He shook his head and decided to push this insane proposition from his mind.

He picked up his briefcase and prepared to head out for the day when he noticed a voicemail notification on his phone. He hadn’t even heard it ring.

“Tom, it’s Barton. I was hoping to catch you before you left for the day. We need to discuss what happened with the Wells account. The other partners and I have scheduled a meeting at 9 am tomorrow. Please make it a priority. Your attendance is mandatory.”

Tom swallowed. Barton was the head honcho at the firm. The managing partner, who was currently on his way back from Tokyo. If he took the time to call Tom directly to notify him of a meeting and demand that it take priority, a meeting about the client he just lost, it could not be good. He thought about Priscilla and the baby. He had some funds put away for emergencies, but if he lost his job now, how long would it take to find another? Especially if word got out that he was fired. He swore at his ineptitude. How could he have screwed up the Wells account? Wells and Company had been clients of Barton and Chambers for over twenty years, five of which Tom had managed them.

Thunder roared as he left the office. Today of all days. Normally he parked inside the large covered parking garage, but as he was running late this morning, he had parked on the street. The forecast had not predicted rain, so of course he was without an umbrella as he ran through the downpour. Cursing again, he remembered that he was supposed to replace his worn out windshield wipers. He sat for a few minutes, gazing at the opaque water, hoping the rain would subside, but he knew better than to expect such luck, so he started the car and began to drive very slowly down the street. The wipers were on the highest setting but still proved useless. After about 10 minutes of going nowhere, he pulled back to the side of the road to wait it out as long as he could. Priscilla would have to understand why he was late for dinner. Again.

He tried to push away all thoughts of the strange man who visited his office earlier and focus on what he would say to defend himself in the meeting the next morning, but the idea of the contract kept creeping its way back into his mind. Could he cleverly insert a loophole? One that would negate any promise made on his part? But this was the devil we were talking about. Lucifer. Satan. The Great Deceiver. The Adversary. He shuddered at the thought.

By the time he got home, Priscilla had already gone to bed. In the guest room. He sighed and ate his cold spaghetti dinner alone.

He hardly slept that night. Tossing and turning with thoughts of his looming meeting and the odd proposal he had received fighting for his attention. All his problems could be solved by one simple contract, but at what cost? He wasn’t a greedy man. All he wanted was his family and the means to care for and support them. As dawn approached he began to draft the contract in his mind.

When Tom reached his office the following day, he desperately hoped the events of the previous day had all been a bad dream, however, he was not surprised to find Mr Morningstar sitting at his desk. 

“Right then,” said Tom as he opened his briefcase and pulled out the lengthy contract he had typed up before leaving the house.

“My you have been busy,” said Lucifer, looking amused.

“I have set forth some very specific terms if we are to enter into an agreement,” said Tom.

The Devil raised an eyebrow and reached for the document. He skimmed through it and handed it back to Tiom.

“All seems to be in order,” he said.

Tom blinked. He had expected a thorough evaluation of the contract and perhaps some disagreement and negotiation. It couldn’t really be so simple, could it. He reached for a pen and hesitated.

“Um, so do I need to sign in blood or something?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” replied the devil, “but not just any old blood. Only the blood of a blind, three legged goat, born in a cemetery under a full moon will do.”

Tom’s jaw dropped and he gaped at the man before him.

“I’m joking of course,” waved Lucifer, “don’t be so silly, of course you don’t need to sign in blood. That would be highly unhygienic. Nothing quite so formal is necessary. Give me your wrist.”

Tom looked down at his hand.

“Come, come, I haven’t got all day.”

Tom stuck his left hand out, palm up. Lucifer placed his fingertip on the inside of Tom’s wrist. Tom flinched, expecting pain, or perhaps burning, but none came. Lucifer’s fingertip was soft and warm. When he removed his finger, Tom looked down at a tiny dot the size of a mere freckle.

“This will serve as a binding contract,” said Lucifer, a flash of red in his eyes, “from this moment forth, you will owe me a debt.”

And then he was gone, and Tom was once again left staring into the empty space across the desk.

When Tom entered the conference room for his meeting, he was met with applause. Taken aback, he glanced around the room to see all the the firm’s partners seated around the large table. Barton walked over and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Well done my boy,” he said, “well done.”

Unsure of what to say, Tom smiled a rather awkward smile and took a seat. Apparently the Wells account had not been lost afterall. Not only that, but Tom had somehow landed 5 new high profile clients on the recommendation of Wells.

There was talk of making Tom a senior parner. A promotion and a raise. 

“And take all the time you need when that baby of yours comes, with pay of course.”

He blinked in astonishment and returned to his office. The contract has disappeared from his desk.

He stopped to buy Priscilla flowers on the way home, and with no traffic and not a single red light, he actually arrived home early to find his wife singing in the kitchen.  She smiled when she saw the flowers and asked “what’s the occasion?”

“I got a promotion,” said Tom, “but the flowers are just for you because you are amazing and beautiful and I’m sorry if I don’t always tell you so.”

She threw her arms around him and kissed him sweetly. 

Their lovemaking that night apparently induced labor, and they arrived at the hospital at 8 am. The child came as children do. The doctor and nurse raved about how wonderful Priscilla did and deemed it the best and easiest labor and delivery experience of their combined careers. The baby, a perfect little girl, was named Lucy Fernanda, after both her grandmothers. Tom had argued the name at first, not wanting to be reminded of the fateful day in his office with the man in the expensive suit, but in the end Priscilla won out, having been the one who had carried and birthed the child.

As time went by, Tom stopped looking over his shoulder, and began to think of that day as a distant memory or even perhaps a dream. Hadn’t he always had that freckle on the inside of his wrist?

The day before Lucy’s 3rd birthday, Tom answered a knock on the door to find Lucifer Morningstar standing on his doorstep holding what appeared to be a large gift basket. His heart sinking, Tom looked up and down the street to see if any neighbors were watching.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, “you can’t come to my home.”

“On the contrary,” said the Devil, “the terms of the contract, as written by yourself, failed to specify when or where I may choose to collect on my favor.”

Tom swallowed a lump in his throat that felt like a boulder.

“What do you want?” he asked, stepping out on to the porch.

“I see you and your family are doing well. You have a lovely new home, everyone is in good health, you have recieved, I believe, 3 promotions, a partnership at your firm and a very generous benefits package.”

Tom nodded, his jaw tensing. 

“Do you consider yourself to be a man of great empathy Mr Johnson?” Lucifer asked.

“Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?” asked Tom. Then he heard a sound that made him look down at the basket. But no, not a basket. What he had mistaken as a large basket, he now realized was a small bassinet,

“What is this?” he asked.

“I think what you mean to say is who is this?” said Lucifer.

Tom’s eyes widened. Had Lucifer kidnapped a bay and planned to place the blame on Tom if he didn’t comply?

“This,” said Lucifer fondly, “is my son.”

“Your……what?”

“My son. I am his father. His mother, an angel whose name I shall reserve the right to keep to myself, is the most beautiful and loving creature in all of Heaven.”

Tom noticed a far away gleam in Lucifer’s eyes.

“But… why are you both here?” he asked.

“It’s time for you to return your favor Mr Johnson. In return for all of your success and happiness, you will raise my son as your own.”

“I…. what? No…I can’t…”

“You can and you will.”

“But the terms-”

“The terms of our contract, as written by yourself,  stated that you would never be asked to do anything harmful or untoward. There was no mention of providing a loving and stable home and family to another living creature.” 

“But what happens when the day comes that little Damian decides to blow up the world?” asked Tom.

Lucifer rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Damian? No, his name is Kyran. He is a child of love and light. Honestly, you humans and your stereotypes. It’s no wonder you can’t all get along. He will never desire to blow up the world. Not so long as he is loved and cared for. Love him as your own and he will never bring you anything but happiness.”

“But, his mother-”

“His mother shines brighter than all the stars in the night sky, and her love knows no limits, but this child was brought about by an unholy union and therefore cannot reside in her presence. He must never know his true origins. No one can ever know where he came from or who and what he is. Things are often not what you expect. You must let go of any preconceived notions and expectations of hidden agendas. I simply want a good home for my son.”

“But what will I tell people when they ask where he came from? What about my wife?”

“You will tell them he came from love.”

Lucifer placed the bassinet in Tom’s arms and looked down at the tiny baby within, a sad smile on his face. Tom could swear he saw a tear drop from the devil’s eye before he disappeared.

“Tom,” called Priscilla, as Tom turned and walked back into the house,  “what on earth are you doing out there with Kyran?”

“You know his name?” asked Tom.

“Of course I know his name,” laughed Priscilla, “he’s my son.”

She took the baby from the bassinet and kissed his head. The door opened again and Tom’s parents came inside.

“Oh there’s my handsome grandson,” said his mother as she reached for the baby.

Tom was hit with a wave of nostalgia, once again thinking he may be the butt of some elaborate prank. He looked inside the empty bassinet, then at the freckle on the inside of his left wrist. His daughter came bounding from the other room, demanding to hold her baby brother. No one seemed to think anything was out of sorts about this sudden appearance of the strange baby. It was as if he had already been there all along. 

Things are often not what you expect.

A child of love and light.

A loving and stable home and family.

Wasn’t that all anyone really wanted?

Tom set the bassinet on the table and joined his family in the living room, cooing over the bright eyed baby. He took the boy in his arms and looked into that warm face. He smiled as he hugged his son to his chest, silently welcoming him to the family.