The Company

Pact With the Devil

Oberon.

Why does that name sound so familiar?

I sit down, feeling a little woozy. Probably the wine.

"Have we met before?" I ask.

Oberon's lips twitch, as though he's struggling to keep up the smile, and a ghost of a memory glazes over his eyes for a moment before he regains himself. "We have never met."

I nod, but that was not at all convincing. "So you're a Demon."

He spreads his arms. "A shell of a Demon. However, I plan on remedying that as quickly as possible."

His sinister tone makes my stomach twist, but I nod once more, hiding my discomfort. "How will you be doing that?"

"Miss Clarke, those are not the questions to be addressed at this point," the Mediator interjects.

"Right," I say, lowering my head.

Oberon... Oberon... where have I heard that name? It lodges a flutter of nerves up into my throat. I swallow.

And then it hits me.

I jump out of my chair, knocking it over loudly.

"You. You're..." I whisper, my trembling hands curling into fists.

"Miss Clarke!" The Mediator says firmly, giving me a look. "This is very unprofessional!"

Oberon raises a hand to quiet him. "It's fine... it's... I was hoping you wouldn't realize, since this would make it much easier on me."

"Why did you choose me to be your Attendant, then?" I growl.

His smile slides from his white lips, and they are as silent and calm as a first snowfall. His ethereal eyes bore into mine. "Because you were hers."

I start moving around the table to get the fuck out of there.

"Miss Clarke, if you do not sit down and shut up, I will report your actions to The Company, and I'm not sure you can afford one more infraction," the Mediator yells after me.

I'm moving on drunken legs, and the room sways as if I am on choppy seas. I stumble into the curtain, my feet tripping up, sending me to the floor.

I hear Oberon snickering behind me.

"Lord, I'm so sorry for this embarassment. She is not representative of The Company's dedication and effectiveness towards our client's needs. We will find you anoth--"

"I do not want anyone else. She will do. It has to be her." The Demon's deep voice booms out, all traces of humor gone from his tone.

I pick myself up from the floor, staring back at the monster sunk into the wheelchair.

He doesn't look so powerful. I could kill him.

I should. He was the cause of Rumor's death.

But tool's don't have emotions, and we aren't supposed to care for our clients the way I cared for Rumor.

The Mediator looks at me with disgust, but gestures for me to come back and sit down. When I only stare, he says evenly, "It's not a request."

The anger burns inside me, it courses through every pathway of my vines, straight to my heart, but I quench the fire the way I always do and submit.

I walk back around the table, set my chair to rights, and sit down.

Oberon studies me, and I glare at him right back.

Isn't this fucking hilarious? This is all someone's messed up idea of a joke. Here I am, making a pact with the same devil who killed my former client. The one I was helping to fight is the one I will now serve. What I do on either side changes nothing, I realize. When all is said and done, it's just an exhange of money, nothing else... What a fucking joke. 

"Now," the Mediator clears his throat, taking out some papers from his briefcase. "Wages and hours..."