A Deal With The Devil

The act of raising the dead is not a simple task but not impossible for a professional like Celeste Douab, Contracted Communicator and Specialist of the Dark Arts; her official title (though may need a bit of renovating). However, an impressive trade requires an impressive title and Celeste was risking her life by abiding to the needs of her clients. The Dark Arts were outlawed ten years ago in all the Seven Regions, rendering it more dangerous than it was already by nature. Just walking into a graveyard, a client by her side, with the intent of resurrecting a corpse was enough to see the electric chair. But the profits reaped were enough for any active consumerist in this economy to submit to.

           Even more so, with the amount of experience Celeste had under her robe, she also could accept the requests from Devils who promised more to her than anything the material world could provide her. This time, a young Uni student came to her, pleading to bring her high school friend back from the dead. Celeste could do it of course but the current devil’s request was to bring back the student but put a spell on her where she would be driven to suicide at the end of the week. In return, the Devil promised her a future of endless traction for her underground business, which was slow currently. Celeste was more than ready to be done with this request.

           Celeste pulled open the unlocked gate of the cemetery.

           “After you,” she said, gesturing for her client, Manila Green, to enter the bleak yard.

           It was in the calm of midnight in the Fourth Region. Their only source of light was the full moon which stood witness to the illegal deed they were going to commit that night. The air was chilly, but the wind was still.

           Manila Green stepped into the cemetery without a word and the Witch followed behind her, closing the gate as she did so. All around them were graves cascading in shadow.

           Without giving any warning to Celeste, Manila turned left and went down the path of overgrown weeds towards the site of her dead friend. Manila was calm for an average person about to commit a crime against the law of nature itself. Celeste recalled the pitiful state she was in when she first turned up at her office, pleading she couldn’t live with the death of a friend haunting her. A complete one-eighty from the stoic stature she walked with now, as if she was just out on a nighttime stroll.

           Leaves crunched beneath her feet as Celeste rushed to catch up with her client, impressed by her enthusiasm. 

           “You’re in a hurry,” Celeste commented. “If you’re worried about peacekeepers, don’t be. You’ll be safe if you stick with me.”

           Manila grunted in response. She was deep in her thoughts. Most likely, steeling herself to see her dead friend again.

           “Not much of a talker, are you?” Celeste shrugged. “Fine by me. I don’t mind being the one who does the talking.” Celeste chuckled to herself.

           No response. Her head was focused on the ground as she powerwalked through the yard, hands in pockets and the hood of her black raincoat pulled up. She was clutching to something long in her pocket. Most likely, her phone.

           “Why the raincoat, dear Manila?” Celeste asked. “It’s not going to rain for another week, you know.”

           “I was worried about getting dirt from digging up the grave on my clothes,” She said in a raspy voice. “Raincoat material is easier to clean, so…”

           “Oh, don’t worry about that my dear,” Celeste reassured.

           Celeste didn’t elaborate. She didn’t have a shovel with her, only her gold and black robes.

            “Tell me about your friend,” Celeste said instead.

           “Benvla? Um,” Manila began. “She was very pretty, popular and talkative. Really talkative. Everyone loved her in my school. It was like a superpower of how she managed to enamour people, I suppose…”

           Manila’s face was tilted downwards, in a sombre stance, but her eyes had a sparkle of admiration when she spoke of her dead friend.

           “She sounds like a very impressive person,” Celeste commented. “I suppose it came as quite a surprise when she ended her life.”

           “Yeah…” Manila murmured. “She had a difficult mother, so…”

           “How’s Uni going?” Celeste said, changing the subject. “You just started, haven’t you?”

           “Terrible.”

           Celeste waited for more but the subsequent silence dragged on.

           “What are you studying?” She added.

           “Forensic Science.”

           “That’s quite interesting. You want to become a detective?”

           “Something like that.”

            Celeste frowned. It was her personal protocol to engage with clients before the resurrection, just to ease their nervousness and such. Manila clearly didn’t need easing, but awkward silence was worse than death in Celeste’s eyes.

           “Have you made any friends?” Celeste asked.

           “How can I?” Manila snorted. “I’m surrounded by dimwits who are bigger losers than me. I have no intention of making an effort for maggots at the bottom of the social food chain.”

           Celeste wondered if that was meant to be a joke. She concluded yes. Better to think that Manila just had a lousy sense of humour. Manila Green was definitely one of the more interesting living people that Celeste had dealt with; a woman of few words but many thoughts, most of which don’t seem to be pleasant.

           “You know, Manila,” Celeste said. “I think it would be good for you to try and make new friends. Even when Benvla is back, there’s no telling what she will do afterwards. If she killed herself once, she could do it again.”

       A latent warning of her friend dying again wouldn’t hurt. Not like it would matter if she was warned or not. Once Benvla had died again, Manila wouldn’t be able to hurt Celeste. She’d also be on the chopping board if the peacekeepers found out that she had paid for Dark Arts services. 

           “This is it.” Manila stopped walking abruptly and Celeste almost broke her heel trying to slow down.

           Manila pointed to a modest grave, the words ‘Benvla Wred’ already beginning to fade. Celeste smiled. Now for the fun part.

           “Please stand back, Manila dear,” she said, gesturing behind herself.

           Manila did as she was asked as Celeste bowed down to the lump of soil. She pressed her palms to the edge and closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she began to chant quietly words of gibberish. Clients could never tell the difference. 

           Celeste tried to find the door within her soul. The black door that sealed away her power among the energy of her vitality. Once she found it, she bashed through it and vigour flowed through her body from her brain down to her toes. She focused it on her hands, guiding it through her nervous system, sparks of electricity rewarding her brain as it passed through her cells. Once most of it was centred in her palms, she opened her eyes, the cold air becoming unpleasant against her sclera. She lifted her hands slowly and the ground before her shook. Gradually and gradually, she raised them until the soil diverted away from the centre to let through the edges of a wooden coffin.

           Her hands were now above her head and the full coffin was floating above a six-feet deep hole. She moved her hands and the coffin moved with it until finally, she set it to the side on top of the adjacent grave.

           She released; the power being shut behind that black door once more. Her body whined at the strenuous use of magic and the emptiness of no longer having endless power coursing through it.

           “There we are,” Celeste huffed inwardly in an attempt to hide how tired that made her.

           Manila’s eyes were wide, the only hint that she was surprised.

           “Well, would you like to peek inside?” Celeste offered.

           Manila shook her head and took a step back instead.

           The coffin lid jostled which earned a jump from Manila. “Well, it seems like you won’t have to. She’s already ready to go.”

           The lid slapped open and a young, blonde girl in a ceremonial dress sat up from within. If she had been dead for a year, it didn’t show on her skin at all. She looked like she had just woken up from a simple nightmare. Blue eyes darted side to side, up and down until finally resting on the two grave desecraters.

           “Where am I?” Benvla said.

           Celeste turned toward Manila to see her reaction. Would it be bliss, joy, tears? No, instead, Manila was glaring at the newly resurrected highschooler, her expression completely blank and unreadable.

           “Hello Benvla,” she muttered.

           “Manila?” Benvla responded. “Are you dead too… or am I alive again?”

           A smile broke out from Benvla’s frightened expression. She laughed, her eyes twitching as if she might cry. “I’m alive! I’m alive!... But why?”

           “Allow me to explain,” Celeste said. “I, Contracted Communicator and Specialist of the Dark Arts have been hired to bring you back from the dead by your beloved ex-classmate. A pleasure to meet you.” Celeste curtsied.

           What should have been a beautiful reunion was instead an awkward silence as the two girls stared at each other. Celeste skirted herself slightly into the background of the scene, realising she had completely misunderstood the relationship between these two.

           “I don—I don’t understand, Manila,” Benvla murmured.

           Manila sighed, turning her eyes to the pile of discarded soil that had made up the highschooler’s grave. “When I heard the news that you had committed suicide, I wasn’t happy. All I could feel was shock. I never would have imagined that someone like you who had the world at her fingertips would do something like that…”

           “Well…” Benvla began. “I- A lot was going on and… My mother was being… I wasn’t really in the right state of mind at all, really… She was just being really—”

           “I don’t care!” Manila snapped. “It doesn’t matter. You still chose to die without even saying goodbye to anyone. Your little clique of sheep-brained friends didn’t know what to do with themselves after their shepherd was gone. It was rather amusing really. Not like you would care about their feelings… or mine…”

           “Manila…” Benvla said, standing up in her coffin. “I didn’t know you cared so much.”

           “I don’t!” Manila shouted. On instinct, Celeste swerved her head around to see if they were catching the attention of anyone but the graveyard was as void of life as when they entered it. “That Voodoo witch over there warned me you might try to end your life again if I resurrected you. I won’t let that happen. Not until we talk.”

           Benvla frowned. “I know I teased you a little every now and then. If this is about that then—”

           “You call this teasing?” For the first time that night, Manila removed her hands from her pockets. She pulled up the sleeve on her right arm to reveal faded scars left by sharp objects and most likely the end of cigarette butts. “For four years, I was your personal trash can, your punching bag, your human-sized toy you could play with when you were bored. You call that teasing?”

           “They were just jokes, Manila. We were just joking around!” Benvla retorted. “But… you’re right. We didn’t treat you the best… I didn’t treat you the best. I’m sorry. Let’s move past this.”

           “What?” Manila murmured.

           “The other side is nothing like the real world, but you can still grow as a person there – or as a soul rather. I was… putting a lot on you because that’s what I thought was acceptable… that was what I grew up with. You’ve given me another chance at life, I’m not going to waste it!”

           To be honest, it was a little awkward watching this as an outsider. Celeste was debating whether to leave and collect the rest of the money tomorrow. The only problem was she had to clean up the area and remove her magical handprints from the grave. Invisible to the naked eye but the peacekeepers had that kind of technology on par with magic.

           “I was not happy when you died…” Manila said quietly. She stuffed her hands in her pockets again. “But only because I didn’t have the chance to kill you first…” She said with a smile.

           Celeste could always come back in an hour or so.

           “So, what?” Benvla said, frowning. “You brought me back from the dead just to kill me again? You can go ahead if you want to, but I have people that I want to say goodbye to first and apologise to as well. At least grant me that much…”

           Manila sighed. 

           “I’m not actually planning on killing you, you idiot,” Manila said in a weak voice. “I just wanted – I just…” Her voice croaked and one by one tears started flooding her gloomy face. “I just wanted to tell you that. I just wanted to finally tell you my piece of mind. I really hated you, you know? I really wanted to kill you, you know? Why did you have to go and say all that?”

           Manila sunk to her knees and her body shuddered as the tears kept pouring. “I couldn’t move on after you died. Even now in Uni, I’m still haunted by your mocking voice, telling me I’m weird, that I’m ugly, that I’m better off dead.” She sniffed. “Fuck you, Benvla for finally deciding to be nice to me. Goddamn it, you’ve humiliated me once again.” Manila was smiling. It wasn’t a nasty, unnatural smile she had earlier. She seemed happy behind the tears that were falling.

           “That wasn’t my intention, idiot,” Benvla said, a tear rolling down her face as well. “If it means anything at this point, you’re not any of those things I said you were, OK? So please don’t cry.”

           Manila stood up and looked up to her high school bully. She took a hand out of a pocket and offered it to Benvla to let her out of the coffin. Benvla took it and hopped out…

           … only to be stabbed in the chest.

           Celeste didn’t see where the knife had come from, but the handle was in Manila’s right hand, the blade fully inserted into Bevla’s chest. Celeste rushed over but it was too late.

           Manila tugged it out, pushing a bleeding Bevla into the coffin. She coughed out a copious amount of blood, her eyes rising to the back of her head. Manila stood at the foot, looking down at a dying girl.

           “Why…?” She choked before her body went still.

           “Why indeed?” Celeste commented, more to herself than to anyone else present.

           Manila held out the knife and inspected the blood dripping down the blade.

           “There was less blood than I inspected,” She said. “I guess I didn’t need to raincoat, after all.”

           Well, that was definitely a development. Celeste scratched her braided hair, pondering what to do next. She supposed she still did her part. Maybe it was alright to ask for the rest of the payment now just in case Manila ran off. She could also charge more because now she had to clean up the blood as well.

           When she turned to face her murderous client, she saw a girl with a maniac expression painted on her face, small uncontrolled chuckles escaping her lips. Manila was laughing, not a single hint of remorse on her face.

           “Is this what you felt, Bevla?” She said to the corpse in between giggles. “This high, this sensation from tormenting someone who can’t fight back. You know what? I do forgive you. Now that I know how it feels, how could I possibly be mad at you? Now I’m in control. You’ve shown me the light, Bevla! Now I get to decide who feels pleasure and pain from the top of the social food chain.”

           “Um, sorry to interrupt your wonderous realisation or whatever,” Celeste said. “About the details of follow-up payment.”

           “What payment?” Manila snarled. “I know how you Witches work. Bevla was going to die anyway. What was it going to be? An unusual accident, a sudden illness or was another maniac going to come and stab her for me? Haha!”

           “We had a contract!” Celeste insisted.

           “And what if I break it?”

           Panic began to bubble within Celeste. “I’ll report you to the peacekeepers!”

           “For what? Killing an already dead person.” Manila bowed down to clean the blood off her knife with the cloth of Bevla’s gown.

           “For grave desecration. You can’t put this coffin back into its grave yourself, can you?”

           “And what would happen to you when the peacekeepers find your magical fingerprints on the ground?” Manila responded calmly.

           Celeste’s voice hitched in her throat, surprised that Manila knew they could do that. She supposed she was a forensic science student, wasn’t she?

           “Face it, Witch,” Manila said, putting the knife back into her pocket. “I’m the one who holds all the power in this negotiation. Don’t worry I’ll still pay you, we can even discuss friendly discounts. There are a few more people I want to kill, after all.”

           Celeste pinched her lips into a thin line. She had nothing to say. Nothing she could do. She was essentially at the mercy of this young woman. Would the devil still grant her fortune of more potential clients with how the events went? No, he must have known how this would have gone. Perhaps, this girl is meant to be the source of her future business.

           Celeste sighed.

           “Anyway, I need to leave. I have lectures first thing in the morning. Have fun cleaning up.” Manila waved before leaving Celeste alone with the body.

           Celeste might need a new devil to make deals with if she was going to be tricked like this, or rather maybe she unwillingly already had one.