Cold Hearted, Cold Blooded

A Match Made in Hell

Prompt: Breaking a rule

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I fidgeted in my seat on the floor, anxious. I glanced at the giant red pentagram in the middle of the floor, surrounded by unlit white candles, and up at my friends.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked Rose uncertainly. "We'd be in serious trouble if we get found out. I don't want you two to get in trouble because you're trying to do this for me."

Rose grinned at me. "Of course we're sure. Besides, if we don't, who'll help you get a boyfriend, hm? It's not like you can get one without some divine intervention."

"Thanks for that," I commented dryly.

"No problem," she replied, smirking. "It's no biggie."

"Yeah, we're only breaking about a hundred school rules," Victoria muttered sarcastically. "No biggie."

"Oh, don't be like that, Vicky," Rose chastised playfully. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"We're at the school grounds at midnight trying to raise a demon to trade Sophie' soul for a boyfriend," Victoria deadpanned. "How fun."

"Don't be such a killjoy, Vicky!"

"We're out after curfew, we broke into this empty classroom, we vandalised the floors when we drew the pentagram. And we're definitely not supposed to be summoning a demon."

"If you don't want to do it..." I began.

Victoria's expression softened. "I do. I'm just pointing out all the rules that we're breaking, and all the things that might go wrong. I'm just saying, are you sure about this? You don't need a boyfriend. You have us."

"Yes, I'm sure. You guys are great and all, but I really want a boyfriend and..." I faltered at the flash of hurt on Victoria's face, gone as quickly as it came. "I didn't mean..."

"It's fine," Victoria said, not looking at me. "Let's hurry up and get started."

"If push comes to shove, we can always sacrifice Sophie's future boyfriend's soul instead of hers. That way, the demon will still get a soul, but Sophie will still get a boyfriend. Like a debt, you know," Rose said with disturbing cheerfulness.

"Er... we'll keep that in mind," I told her.

We gathered around the pentagram on the floor and lit the candles around it. Victoria took out a scroll—copied from the dark recesses of the internet—and began reading the Latin incantation. I listened to her lilting voice, focusing on the blazing flames of the candles, and prayed to all that was holy—and damned—that this would work.

Victoria's chanting came to a head and all of a sudden, a white-hot ball of flame erupted in the middle of the pentagram. A deformed figure slid out of the growing flames.

The first thing I noticed about him—don't ask me how I knew he was male, I just did—was his eyes. Soulless pools of darkness staring out at me from a sunken face, drawing me in mercilessly. His skin was pale and cracked, his sharp teeth bared and fanged. From the waist down however, his body was a misshapen pile of...something. He was oozing black slime all over the floor, the slime dripping down his body like sweat (though it was confined to the pentagram). He snarled at me ferociously.

He was beautiful.

"This one," I breathed in awe. "He's the one."

My friends gaped at me in disbelief.

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