Family is. . .

Matilda glanced nervously back at her car. Maybe she should just go home?

She had driven as far out of the city as she could, twisting through country roads until she found what she was looking for. Now she was here, and all she felt was heavy embarrassment.

She was a sensible adult human, attending a sensible college to finish a sensible bachelor's degree. Sensible women did not dabble in the occult.

Yet, she took the box from the right pocket of her oversized coat.

"This is stupid," she said, as she knelt in the center of the crossroads, lit by her car's headlights. "It won't work."

But, if it didn't work, what did she have to lose?

She scrabbled at the dirt, digging a shallow hole. Once the hole was big enough, she opened the box to double-check its contents. A picture of herself. A handful of dirt from the graveyard next to the local church. A bone from a black cat, retrieved from her own mother's pet cemetery.

Everything the almighty Internet said was needed.

She tucked the box into the hole and scraped dirt over it.

Absolutely nothing happened.

"Stupid," she said to herself, scrambling to her feet. "Of course, it didn't work-"

"Good evening, mortal," a deep, sonorous voice intoned. Matilda spun round in shock.

A tall, attractive man with dark hair and dark eyes stood behind her, at the exact point in the road where there was the least amount of light from the car. He had a small goatee that he managed to pull off, despite it being rather old-fashioned, and he wore a well-tailored suit that accentuated his muscular frame.

He also had horns and goat legs.

Matilda screamed.

"Rude," said the man, snapping his fingers.

Matilda's voice vanished.

Fear flooded Matilda's veins. She tried to run, but her legs were glued in place.

"I know, it's a shock, but can we just get on with it? I’m rather busy, you know."

The man's officious, vaguely British accent detracted slightly from his unusual appearance and Matilda found her mouth closing, her heart beat slowing, and her mind clearing.

It had worked.

A smile crept across her face.

"Good," said the man, snapping his fingers again. Matilda stumbled as she regained control of her legs. A clipboard appeared in the man's hands. "As for today's specials." He cleared his throat rather self-consciously. "First, the usual terms of your soul in exchange for ten years of life before being dragged to hell by ravenous hellhounds can be exchanged for thirty years of life and a peaceful journey to hell, no hell hounds required. Would you like to redeem this one-day-only offer?"

"Um. Yes?" said Matilda.

"Excellent," said the man, using his fingernail to sear an X onto the page on his clipboard. " Next, deals are usually sealed with a handshake, but for today ONLY, you can seal it with a kiss."

"Uh," said Matilda, but he was very handsome, goat legs aside, so, "Sure," she said.

The man blinked.

"Oh," he said.

"I mean, if you want to, an all that," said Matilda. "We can do the handshake thing too, if you prefer…"

"No, no, I'd be happy to, no need to apologize, none at all." The man coughed nervously as he seared another X.

"Any other specials..?" Matilda asked, to fill the awkward silence.

" Oh yes, one more. Today, and today only, you, Matilda, are honored to have your request processed by the Devil, the King of Hell, none other than Satan himself, ME!"

He bowed dramatically.

"Oh," said Matilda, politely. "Cool."

The Devil straightened and patted his hair uncomfortably. "It's just that, you know, it's quite a big deal-"

"Of course,” said Matilda, to smooth the awkwardness. "You can't have management popping up here for any old thing."

"Quite, it’s just such a special day, I like to do something to mark it.”

"That's a lovely idea, the personal touch is so rare these days."

Another awkward silence.

"Is this a special satanic holiday or some-"

"Black Friday," snapped the Devil. "It's not the dark ages. Hell is capable of aligning with modern trends."

"That explains the traffic on my way here, anyway," said Matilda.

"Probably."

"So... do I just ask for my thing, or...?"

"Yes, yes, my apologies, go right ahead, I'm all ears." The Devil flipped to the next page of his clipboard and looked at Matilda expectantly, fingernail poised to take notes.

Matilda took a deep breath. "My little sister...There was an accident, she's in a coma, they don't know if..." tears choked her voice. "I just want her to wake up, to be completely alright, to have a long, normal, happy life, that's all."

"Ah, yes, very usual, very normal, yes, um," the Devil stammered. He fiddled with his clipboard and then asked, rather suddenly, "But are you sure you want to spend your deal on this?"

For a moment, Matilda was too surprised to answer, but then she said, "Of course. I wouldn't be here for anything else."

"The Devil looked at his clipboard, a confused frown on his face, "It says here that the child is a step-sister and we usually don't see these sorts of requests for anything short of a blood relative or lover, and-"

"Family is what we say it is," said Matilda, her voice cold.

"I can see you're determined-"

"I am," said Matilda.

"Very well. In exchange for the peaceful harvesting of your soul in exactly thirty years, your sister will wake from her coma and live a long happy life."

Matilda would be nearly fifty when the time came. It was an easy decision to make. "Correct," she said.

"Good," said the Devil stepping closer. "To seal the deal..."

Matilda snorted and looked away.

"It's on the clipboard, we can't really walk it back..."

Matilda strode towards the Devil, grabbed him by the lapels of his suit, and drew him towards her. As his mouth neared hers, the Devil muttered, "Terms and conditions apply."

Despite everything, the kiss was not entirely unpleasant.

*

"To the world's best sister!" Matilda finished, holding her glass high.

Glasses clinked, guests cheered, and Emma, now a young student at university, smiled happily at the other end of the long table.

Matilda smiled back. It was a relief to feel a real smile on her lips, after a full day of pretending, always on the lookout for danger.

She had no reason to doubt the Devil. She still had twenty years left. Everything else had played out according to plan. After the kiss, the Devil had vanished in a puff of smoke, and Matilda had jumped in her car and returned home to find her phone, which she had forgotten there, filled with calls and texts about Emma's miraculous recovery. He had kept his side of the deal.

Someone let off a confetti canon with a bang and Matilda's smile slipped.

"You're right to be worried," said a voice in her ear.

Time stopped. Confetti hung motionless in the air. No one moved, except for Matilda.

Carefully, she composed herself, then said, "So, you're breaking our deal." She took a slow, long sip of wine. "I still think it was worth it."

This was met with the sound of a chair being dragged across the restaurant floor. She felt rather than saw the Devil sit down next to her.

"Terms and conditions," he said. "Remember?"

Matilda had thought of little else all day, but what she said was, "No."

"Basically," said the Devil, "every ten years until your time is up you have to visit hell to fully understand what your fate will be. It was the only way I could get my thirty-year plan past the board, I’m afraid."

Matilda downed the rest of her wine in one gulp. She slammed the glass down on the table and wiped her mouth. "Could be worse," she said. "Let's get it over with."

She turned to the Devil.

He looked exactly the same as she remembered him, and she was suddenly very conscious of how nearly thirty was different to nearly twenty and that she was practically halfway dead.

"Will it hurt?" she asked, before she could stop herself.

"Not at all, it's merely a visual experience."

The Devil laid a hand on Matilda's arm. He caught her gaze and stared deeply into her eyes.

Then, he blinked.

Matilda's ears filled with screams.

The restaurant was gone. She stood in an enormous, smoke-filled cavern, lit only by the light from the lava pits that seeped below and the flaming pitchforks carried by stereotypical little red demons, pointy tales and red horns all in place.

"What do you think?" the Devil asked.

Matilda surveyed the scene. She watched a naked woman fall screaming into a pit of lava, her skin melting from her bones until she could scream no more, only to be pulled from the pit to repeat the task over and over again. She watched a man being eaten alive by a group of ravenous demons, only for each of his body parts to regrow a moment later to be eaten all over again. She watched a conveyor belt of meat hooks stream by, each with a screaming mortal trapped upon it. As they passed, demon's whipped their naked backs.

"I've seen worse," she said, automatically. It wasn't true, but neither had it been true half of the other times she'd said the words either in all her time as a Workplace Morale and Efficiency Consultant.

That’s what a vague bachelor’s degree got you.

"What?" said the Devil.

"Look, I'm not saying it's the best I've seen either," she continued, allowing her brain to slide gratefully into autopilot. "Take this lava pit right here. In the time it takes for this lady to fully deconstruct, your employees could be preparing this gentleman over here for the next spike to go up his rear end. Are you following?"

"I think so-"

"And why do you have two whipping stations?" she asked, pointing at the meat hook conveyor belt with one hand and waving at a pit of general savagery with the other. "Don't waste time and resources by doubling up on work."

She was basically babbling, but the Devil was listening, so she kept going.

"Of course, these are all just surface-level details," she added airily. "The real problem you have here, my friend, is severely low staff morale. Not a smile in the place. And look how they have to run from one task to the next without pause because of the inefficiencies in the overall system. If we conducted a survey-"

"No more surveys," said the Devil with a shudder.

Matilda glanced at the Devil, but let it slide. "Survey or no survey," she said, "You've got to make some changes, or else you're going to lose your people to the competition."

"The other mythologies have nothing on us," the Devil barked.

"Nevertheless, your people are well within their rights to leave-"

"We are?" squeaked a small voice next to Matilda's ear but she kept talking as if she hadn't been interrupted. Demons had begun to draw closer to listen.

"Regular breaks, fair compensation, asking your people what they think their futures should look like, these are all small and free ways to begin fixing your culture problem..." A susurration that grew quickly into an uproar soon made it pointless to continue speaking. The Devil grabbed Matilda's arm and a moment later they were back in the blissfully quiet restaurant.

The Devil was panting as if he had just run a marathon.

“See you in ten years?” Matilda asked.

With a snort, the Devil vanished.

*

"It's fine, really," said Matilda into the phone. "I know it's difficult for you to get away. Enjoy it... yes, and do your research, if you want to be boring." Matilda giggled. "I just want you to know that I am so, so proud of you! I'll see you at Christmas. Okay, yes, love you too, bye!"

She hung up.

"It's rude to listen to other people's conversations you know," she said to the shadow in the corner of the living room.

The Devil stepped out of the shadows. "She seems happy?" he asked, tentatively.

"She is happy, and I regret nothing," said Matilda. "Should we be on our way?" she added, hooking her arm into the Devil’s.

With an enormous sigh, the Devil snapped his fingers.

Screams filled the air, but there was something different about them this time. They were more regular, almost as if they were being timed.

She surveyed the scene. "Well, you seem at least partially open to feedback, so that's something, I suppose."

There was very little smoke in the cavern. The lava pits had safety railing around the edges, and in the nearest one a group of demons were splashing with every sign of enjoyment.

Matilda strode towards them, stopping when her feet began to feel uncomfortably warm. "Good day," she said. "I'm conducting a review of working conditions at this facility. Would you say that opportunities for fun, such as what you are currently experiencing are a) regular, b) infrequent, or c) only happening right now because of this pre-planned spot-check?"

A synchronized scream ripped through the air. Matilda ignored it.

"Oh, regular," said one demon. "The union sees to that."

"When was this union established?" Matilda asked.

"Almost exactly ten years ago," said another demon, grinning broadly.

Another scream shook the air and the three demons grimaced.

"And what would you say are your top complaints about your current work environment?"

"Well... that," said the third demon who hadn't spoken yet as it pointed up at the ceiling.

Matilda looked up.

Rows of naked humans stood in line on and endless array of narrow platforms. They were talking quietly among themselves. As Matilda watched, a troop of demons approached, one demon to each human. All of the demons were looking in the same direction, towards an enormous clock that hung in midair. It had no numbers and only one hand that clicked sonorously around the dial.

When the hand hit the apex, the demons, as one, stabbed the humans in the back with flaming pitchforks. A scream ripped through the air.

Then, the humans returned to the conversations.

"We asked the board for a 96% reduction in torture due to the emotional strain it was putting on staff," a demon explained. "They eventually agreed, but they insisted that the 4% be spread evenly over all 1440 minutes in the day..."

"And the shifts are ridiculous," said another demon.

"I see," said Matilda, making another note.

"Are you quite finished," said the Devil at her side.

"No, I'd like to speak to-"

"We're leaving," he said, grabbing her elbow.

A moment later the oppressive heat of the underworld had dissipated, and Matilda was back in her apartment.

"You've made some good adjustments I see," she said, examining her clipboard and pretending like she hadn't just been ripped through space and time. " Have you considered-"

"Enough," snapped the Devil. "The place is supposed to be hellish, that's the whole point."

"Why?" said Matilda. "What do you get out of it?"

"It's just the way things are!"

"The way things are isn't the way they have to stay," said Matilda.

The Devil paused. "You said that in the same way you said, 'Family is who we say it is,'" he said. "Are you in some weird cult, or something?"

Matilda surprised herself by laughing out loud. "Nope," she said in reply. "It's just one of the healthy maxims for a happy life our mother taught us."

The Devil Frowned thoughtfully.

And then he was gone.

"See you next time," whispered Matilda.

*

"You're being weird," said Emma as Matilda hugged her hard.

"You're being weird,” said Matilda. "I'm just so happy to see you."

"We have all week together, sis," said Emma, pushing her away. "You don't need to get so soppy."

"Fine, be like that," said Matilda, throwing her nose in the air and pretending offense, but she had seen the tears at the corners of Emma's eyes as they'd ended the hug. Emma didn't know the reason for Matilda's sadness, but that didn't mean that she felt it any less.

Emma gave her another squeeze and disappeared into the B&B's kitchen to pour another round of drinks to celebrate the thirtieth anniversary of Emma’s recovery.

Behind Matilda, the Devil coughed discreetly. "Would you like another moment?" he asked.

"No," said Matilda, grabbing her handbag (for what good it would do her) and standing. "Let's just go."

She couldn't look at him, unchanged as he no doubt was, and anyway the tears were flowing freely now. Pretending fearlessness was too difficult.

This time, the air didn't fill with screams. It filled instead with a bright, radiant light.

Matilda looked around suspiciously. "Where's the torture hiding?" she demanded.

They stood in the middle of an open field, filled with flowers and picnicking couples. In the distance an enormous bounce house wobbled, the sound of laughing children pouring from within. A bright purple bird flew past followed by a happily laughing woman whose hair streamed behind her.

"I couldn't stop thinking about what you said," said the Devil, quietly. "What was I getting out of any of it? So, I set my sights on upstairs and instigated a bit of a merger..." He trailed off, nervously. "Do you like it now?" he asked.

Matilda let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Yes,” she said.

"I'm still understanding the whole family thing," said the Devil. "I think I get it. I'm sorry you’ll have to wait for your sister, but then there will be eternity and-"

Matilda squeezed his hand, bringing his babbling to an end. Then she said in a low, soft voice, "Family is what we say it is."