The Devil's Assistant

The Man with the Green Eyes

Does this chapter really need an accompanying note? I think not. I just wanted to add one. Enjoy this first chapter. It will change your life forever. Jk. Enjoy~

C.H.A.P.T.E.R. 1

      I've been the Devil's assistant for three years now. Ever since that day; exactly two weeks after my fourteenth birthday....

      Buses, I think to myself with a scowl. They never seem to come on time. I sit on the edge of the cold seat and wait for one to arrive, all the while kicking my new Converse against the ground. Suddenly a man comes up to the bus stop and stands, waiting with me. I feel eyes on me, but it's a moment before I take a quick glance at him and confirm what I already knew -- he's watching me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand straight when he gives me an amused smile.

      The man must be in his late twenties, or very early thirties. His hair is thick and dark, jet black. Even from where I'm sitting I can tell he has piercing green eyes. His beauty is breath-taking, but in a way that makes my insides feel like I've swallowed ten pounds of ice. I scootch to the far edge of my seat -- handsome men make me nervous.

      "Little girl," he says to me in a tone that suggests he knows very well I am not a little girl. I try to ignore him by staring straight down at the scuffs on my right shoe. "There's an ice cream truck. Wouldn't you like a cone?"

      My first thought is: Holy crap! This guy's trying to kidnap me! Stranger danger! Stranger danger!

      And the second: Oh please. If you're going to try to abduct me, a least be a little more mature. Seriously, ice cream? I'm fourteen, not four.

      I turn my head to decline and possibly kick him where the sun doesn't shine if necessary when my gaze locks with his. I find myself unable to look away, no matter how hard I try. It isn't because his eyes are extremely beautiful, no; I literally cannot look away, and believe me I try. I try to twist my head, move my eyes, but I can't. I finally give up with a small grunt of frustration. The mysterious man, who I am convinced will now kidnap me and take me to his house to cook up for Thanksgiving dinner, is still staring at me in that amused way.

      He straightens and I with him. Unwillingly, I stand and follow him as he leaves the bus stop, heading across the street. However much I mentally scream at my feet to stay, they up and follow the man, like I'm under some sort of spell. I desperately look around for someone to help me. There is no one. 

      I keep following him until he comes to an alley between an old-looking butcher shop and a store selling women's undergarments. Both are closed for the night, offering no help. My head is screaming and my heart is hammering, but my feet won't stop, can't stop. I'm positive I will explode.

   Finally he stops in the mouth of the alley and turns around, staring at me with those chilling green eyes.

     "Tiffany." This wrenches a gasp from chest.

      "How do you know my name?"

      He only smiles; not a friendly one, but a bone-chilling smirk.

      "I know a lot of things about you, Tiffany. Possibly even more than you know about yourself," he muses. My eyes widen. "Would you like to know how?"

      I don't answer, frozen still as he begins to circle slowly around me, possibly for suspense. It's clear he's amused by my fear. He stops and leans forward, whispers in my ear:

      "I'm the Devil." 

      He pulls back to see my reaction, clearly anticipating shock. But I'm not a fool. There must be something, something "magical," for lack of a better word, about the man. Normal human beings tend not to put spells on people them to keep them from running away.