Everything in Creation is governed and bound by Laws;

Heaven and Hell are no exception.

In times when Demons refuse to comply,

When the actions of the rogues jeopardise the balance,

Hell sends their ancient and most dangerous spawn;

The Contractor…

Act VII – The Lovebird

“No one knows whether death is really the greatest blessing a man can have, but they fear it is the greatest curse, as if they know it well.

“Plato said that. My father, Andrew John Anderson, as y’all know, was a strong man; a brave man. He didn’t fear death like we regular folks would; y’all could say he’d charge Hell with a bucket of ice water. But he wasn’t without his fears. He feared change; he feared differences.

“When I was younger, my daddy used to take me to baseball games and drive me all the way to Austin for the rodeo shows. He used to sit me down on his lap and tell me ‘Jessie, days like these make me the happiest daddy in the world; don’t you ever change darlin’.’ But I did change daddy; I found my life partner and I love her. And you loved her too! She was our neighbour, daddy; she was the Jenna that grew up with us. You treated her like your own daughter too! You loved us… so why couldn’t you love us… as us?

“I prefer to remember my father for what he used to be, not for what he did to himself in spite of me. My father taught me to love, he taught me to be strong and I will miss the father that loved me before he became a homophobic dictator who eventually took his own life.

“Thank y’all for coming today. May God be with y’all…”

He stood in the darkened parking lot of the ‘First Christian Church’ on the corner of West 6^th Street and North Lee Avenue in the sleepy town of Odessa, Texas. Stretching lazily and letting out a long, pained sigh, he reached into his crimson red trench coat and produced a small cigarette, putting it to his lips and letting it rest in the corner of his mouth.

Reaching inside his crimson coat once again, he extracted a small, silver bible and leafed through its pages, eager to kill the agonisingly slow time. The weathered, brown pages flicked beneath his thumb before he suddenly pressed his fingers down on the page. The text was written in his own messy scrawl but he could not recall having ever written a passage into his own bible.

‘The first time was the hardest, but you will be, for the second time in your life, Nyxanoth Faust, the Devil’s Contractor. AVG -’

The crimson-clad man, Nyxanoth Faust, the Contractor, scratched his head confusedly. ‘The first time,’ he thought to himself, furrowing his eyebrows for answers, ‘why can’t I remember writing this.’ He studied the last three letters of his note. ‘AVG… A signature? Someone’s initials?’

His thoughts immediately ceased at the sound of a small chime from his coat pocket. Faust shook off the creeping curiosity in the back of his mind and pocketed his bible only to replace the book with a jet-black pocket watch. He clicked it open and stared at the two hands, one red and one black, both sitting motionless at the 12 o’clock position.

Faust stood up and dusted the back of his crimson trench coat staring down the night’s road and awaiting his mark.

Down the road, two women were walking holding hands and talking to one another in hushed voices.

‘I don’t know baby, I think mama’s really coming around,’ said one, ‘Leviathan really came through.’

‘Well... okay, I guess I should be happy for you then.’ Said the other.

‘You should be happy for us baby; we’re changing the world one person at a time.’

‘But selling your soul to a Black Prince of Hell?’

‘I don’t know what it is, but he’s making the world better. I mean, mom hated that we were both in love, but look at her now; she’s asking us what our plans for the future are and she even wants us to go to Canada to get married. Can you bel -’

Both girls stopped in their tracks and stared at the curious man that appeared before them. He wore a long, flowing, crimson trench coat that fell beneath his knees. Unbuttoned and perfectly straight, the coat accentuated his long slender body, culminating in a messy head of ebon-black hair, flourishing over a pair of glowing, blood red eyes.

‘Good evening ladies,’ he said, walking towards them, ‘I believe you know who I am.’

The shorter one let go of her partner’s hand and stared at her expectantly. ‘Jessie,’ she asked, ‘is this man… one of them?’

The taller woman, Jessie, placed her arms around her partner’s shoulders and looked down at her, smiling reassuringly. ‘No Jenna, he’s the Contractor.’ She turned her head to him. ‘Mr Frost… right?’

‘It’s Faust.’ He corrected sharply. ‘You know why I’m here right?’

Jessie let go of Jenna and stepped towards him. ‘But it’s only just happened, Contractor,’ she said softly, ‘he said that you’d be here after the deal is done.’

‘I’m not here for it yet,’ he said offhandedly, ‘I’m here to tell you what’s gonna happen after your soul gets reaped.’

Jessie shook her head. ‘That’s not necessary Faust; I know exactly what’s going to happen,’ she quickly hushed him, ‘my soul will remain the property of Hell and its Dark Lord, Leviathan: the Throne of Envy.’ Her eyes narrowed as if to caution Faust not to say anything further. ‘That’s it.’

Faust lifted an eyebrow sceptically. ‘Whatever.’

‘Umm… excuse me, Mr Contractor?’ Jenna interjected meekly, raising her hand slightly in the air.

‘Seriously?’ Faust replied sardonically, ‘serious with the hand raising?’ He sighed. ‘Fine, what do you want?’

‘Umm… didn’t Leviathan say that a… a demon would be bringing back Jessie’s soul?’

Faust ran his hand tiredly through his hair. ‘Usually they would but I’ve become very… wary of fire demons recently. I’m just here to make sure everything goes smoothly.’

‘But umm… what can go -’

‘You’re very short on time here lady,’ Faust cut in impatiently, ‘I suggest you both go and wrap up your affairs before time’s up.’

Jenna and Jessie exchanged looks and nodded, making their way back home with the tall, slender, crimson-clad Contractor in tow.

They entered a small, two-storey townhouse and Jenna threw her keys into the red Chinese-style porcelain bowl that sat on a small table next to the doorway.

‘Is that mah baby girl?’ Came a high-pitched voice from the sitting room nearby. ‘Did ya bring Jessie with ya?’

‘It’s me, mama,’ Jenna replied politely, ‘what are you still doing up? It’s almost three.’

A middle-aged blonde lady came into the hallway holding a white ‘Texan and Proud’ mug in her hands. ‘Oh sweet pea, ah couldn’t get me a wink o’ sleep. Must’ve been missin’ ya lots.’ She said in a thick, Texan accent. Her eyes darted over to Jessie. ‘Ah, there’s mah other baby girl!’ She walked over and planted kisses on both Jenna and Jessie’s foreheads before turning to Faust and staring at him curiously. ‘Ain’t ya gon’ introduce me to yer friend here?’

‘Oh, mama this is umm… Mr Faust. He is -’

‘I’m their attorney ma’am,’ Faust interrupted, ‘I’m here to settle some property disputes with Miss Anderson and her father’s estate next door.’

‘Well ain’t that nice. Ah’ll be in the sittin’ room if y’all need me. It was nice meetin’ ya Mr Faust.’

He nodded and she turned back into the sitting room to resume watching her programs.

Jenna smiled at Jessie. ‘Mama’s been like that all day, baby,’ she told her, ‘and it’s all thanks to you… I love you so much Jess.’

Jessie returned the smile and kissed her partner tenderly on the lips. ‘I’m glad your mom’s coming around to us.’

‘I’m glad baby,’ Jessie replied with tears of joy welling in her eyes, ‘I’m glad that your house is free from intolerance. I wish I could have done this earlier before daddy…’ She trailed off and Jenna gave her a reassuring hug. ‘I’m glad you live next door baby,’ Jessie said longingly, ‘I can’t stand being in that house. Too many bad memories of living with a daddy that is always angry at you for being who you are.’

‘But look at us now, baby; we’ve risen from the ashes and now we’re actually making a difference in the world.’

Faust let out a sarcastic snort of derision and rolled his eyes.

‘Excuse me?’ Jenna piped up, seeing the look on Faust’s face.

‘Nothing, I just think you’re both full of shit.’ He said rudely.

Both women stared at each other in shock and looked back at him. ‘We’re idealists Mr Faust,’ Jessie defended, ‘we’re trying to rid the world of intolerance. We’re encouraging people to live how they want and not be hated because of how they are.’

‘So you’re encouraging people to feel and think the way they want by forcibly removing your girlfriend’s mother’s hatred towards gay people?’ He shook his head disapprovingly. ‘You see the fucking irony in what you just said right?

‘This is different!’ Jessie protested loudly. ‘We’re removing intolerance so that she can now make decisions free from her own hatred.’

‘Mama’s been happier since we removed her homophobia and now she can look forward to having a daughter-in-law that she can love and not look at what we are like we’re some kind of lepers.’ Jenna added.

‘Exactly,’ Jessie agreed, ‘it doesn’t matter that we had to change her mind with force; it’s just a stepping stone to making her life and our lives… Hell, even the lives of the gay and lesbian community in Texas better for everyone. We’re promoting and encouraging freedom and equality in all of America, Contractor.’

‘By taking away someone’s right to their own belief?’ He replied curtly.

‘Are you a homophobe, Mr Faust?’ Jenna asked angrily. ‘Do you hate homosexuals?’

‘Of course I hate homosexuals!’ Faust answered with the same amount of heat in his voice. ‘The same way I hate heterosexuals, metrosexuals, pansexuals, transsexuals, bisexuals, biracials, multiracials, interracials, republicans, democrats, Christians, Buddhists, Muslims, blacks, whites, yellows, greens, oranges…’ Faust took a deep, heavy breath. ‘And the Kardashians! I hate everyone on this breathless, husk of a plane. So don’t flatter yourselves and don’t impugn my honour by limiting my hatred to the small minority to which you fucking belong!’

‘See?’ It’s attitude like that that makes us desperate for a change in the world.’ Jessie snapped. ‘We’re only trying to make the world a better place!’

‘Do you have any idea how hard it is for us to walk down the street?’ Jenna asked outrageously. ‘People look at us like we’re different; like we’re mutants! Me and Jess, we’re practically the same people; we talk the same as them, we eat the same foods, we even have the same coloured eyes! Everyone but us sees us differently; we only want them to see the world through our eyes; through the eyes of equals, Mr Faust. It doesn’t make us bad people.’

Faust growled angrily. 'How many of you naive idealists will sell your soul just for a shot at world peace? So long as differences exist, prejudice exists. If you can't make peace with that, then sell your soul for a condo in the mountains so that you don't have to give a shit about the rest of the world.'

Jenna and Jessie were speechless. All three stood in the landing, saying nothing through the uncomfortable cloud of silence until finally, Jenna spoke. ‘We should…’ she began meekly, ‘we should have chat with mama before you…’ Her voice trailed off.

‘That was an awful lot of noise yer making there sweet pea,’ Jenna’s mother remarked concernedly as they walked into the sitting room, ‘what’s this about ya tryin’ to change the world?’

‘It’s nothing mama,’ Jenna said softly, avoiding eye contact with her mother, ‘we were just having a… a difference of opinion.’

Jessie walked over and sat next to Jenna’s mother. ‘Marlene,’ Jessie said softly, ‘how are you feeling?’

Jenna’s mother, Marlene, placed her hand on Jessie’s and grasped it tightly. ‘Ah am really lookin’ forward to our trip up to Canada next week darlin’,’ she said comfortingly, ‘you have always been the apple of mah other eye and now yer gonna be mah daughter for real. I love ya both a tonne and ah can’t wait to see mah two angels walk down the aisle together.’

Jessie wiped a tear of joy from her eye and laid her head against Marlene’s shoulders, sobbing slightly and beaming widely.

‘You see that Mr Faust?’ Jenna stated, also rubbing a tear from her eye. ‘Do you see what we have achieved here? This is love; love for a family, love for one another; harmony. My own mama can now see past her hatred towards homosexuals and love us for who we truly are on the inside.’

Faust folded his arms and stared at Jenna, unimpressed at her childish idealism. He opened his mouth to retaliate but was interrupted by Marlene.

‘What’s this now? Hatin’ ya for bein’ gay?’ She said, furrowing her eyebrows angrily. ‘Baby girl, what nonsense are ya spoutin’?’

Jessie lifted her head from her soon-to-be mother-in-law’s shoulders. ‘It’s nothing Marlene,’ she said, slowly getting a hold over her soft sniffling, ‘it’s just we knew you didn’t approve of us.’

Marlene shook her head fervently. ‘That’s true child; ah didn’t approve of yer union. In mah ignorant eyes, it was unholy and blasphemous and somethin’ the good Lord would frown upon. But it weren’t because you were gay.’

Jessie and Jenna exchanged confused looks before Jenna walked over and kneeled before her mother, dropping down so that her eyes were perfectly level. ‘Then why, mama,’ she said slowly and cautiously, ‘why did you hate us being together so much?’

‘Oh child,’ Marlene began sympathetically, ‘ah’m sorry for causin’ ya such anguish but at the tahm, ah thought it was unholy for two siblin’s to be marryin’ one another and sleepin’ with one another. But y’know, ah can see the light now; y’all are in love and there ain’t nothin’ unholy ‘bout that.’

There was a deafening silence in the air as the last few words escaped Marlene’s mouth. Jenna’s mouth opened and closed mutely as she struggled to process what she had heard. ‘S-siblings?’ She stammered. ‘You… you said siblings?’

‘Yes sweet pea,’ she said innocently, clearly not understanding the gravity of her words, ‘but it doesn’t matter baby girl; ah just realised recently that there’s nothin’ more beautiful in this world than the love of two human beings; gay or no.’

‘We’re… siblings? We’re related!’ Jenna shouted fearfully.

‘My daddy… you had an affair… w-with my daddy?’ Jessie stammered.

‘After yer mama died givin’ birth to ya, sweet pea, yer daddy dad needed some consolin’. He used to climb the fence and come over and we’d chat an-’

‘So my daddy didn’t kill himself because I was gay.’

‘No darlin’. We discussed this at length and he always loved ya for who y’were.’ Marlene finally noticed the distraught look upon Jessie and her daughter. ‘But none of this matters, Jessie,’ she said reassuringly, ‘y’all love each other, ya found each other an’ next week, we’re all gon’ be a family together.’

‘But that’s not what’s wrong here,’ Jessie shouted, ‘what’s wrong is -’

She stopped suddenly and fell out of her chair, dropping onto the floor and clutching her chest painfully. Jessie let out a loud, excruciating moan as she rolled around the sitting room floor writhing.

Jenna stood up and turned to Faust, shaking his arms. ‘What’s happening to her? What’s going on Faust?’

Faust stared back into Jenna’s eyes with cold indifference. ‘We’re out of time.’ He stated simply.

‘What’s going on baby girl,’ Marlene cried, rising out of her sagging couch, ‘do we need to get an ambulance?’

None replied as they watched Jessie’s chest heave up and down as she lay on the floor. With both hands, she grabbed her shirt and tore off the material desperately, revealing a large red, circular sigil glowing on her bare and sweaty chest. She stared down at her torso in horror as a darkened, decaying, red demon poked its cackling head through the glowing symbol between her naked breasts. Before long, the demon emerged fully from Jessie’s body, its gory talons clutching onto a small, golden orb as it stepped over the unconscious form of its former host.

The fire demon let out a satisfied snicker as it heard the whimper of a middle-aged Texas woman collapsing from shock in front of it as it surveyed the room with its black, hollow eyes. The demon, however, had little time to react; as soon as it had made eye contact with the Contractor, Faust had already had his strong hand around the demons neck. 

With a maddening glint in his eyes, Faust wasted no time in reciting the exorcism rites that he memorised from his silver bible. ‘Mors ultima linea rerum est! In morte requiesces!’ No sooner had he finished his incantations, he could feel the flesh of the demons neck char and crumble under his skin until all he was holding onto was a handful of ash.

He patted his hands indifferently and bent down to retrieve the golden sphere from the pile of grey dust that sat on the sitting room floor, pocketing the small orb triumphantly.

He stood up and straightened his crimson trench coat, before about-facing and heading for the door. Faust took a quick glance back at the sitting room, spotting Jenna sitting on the ground in front of Jessie, rocking back and forth on her heels and looking absolutely stupefied.

Against his better judgement, Faust walked to her and stood above her, pondering what to say to her. He hesitated and opened his mouth mutely before finally deciding on his approach.

‘When making deals with devils,’ he began, ‘you should always remember that there’s some ironic consequence behind what they do; kind of like a monkey’s paw. Their sole goal for this world is to make it as chaotic as the shitstorm that is the fiery pit. Do you understand?’

Jenna sat catatonically on the floor and simply nodded her head in acknowledgement. ‘What… what should I do now?’

Faust tilted his head left and right, cracking his neck and demonstrating his annoyance towards her. ‘All you have now is, ironically, a choice.’

‘Choice?’

‘Yes, mortal, a choice,’ he folded his arms defiantly, ‘that’s more than what she got.’ He jerked his head, indicating Marlene lying on the floor.

Jenna lowered her head shamefully. ‘It seems like Jessie wasted her soul… for nothing.’

‘Because striking deals with demon princes always worked out well for everyone right? Ever heard of “Dorian Gray”?’

‘I… I don’t know how I should be feeling.’

‘You know what, and this is hard for me to say because I’m fucking arrogant as Hell, but you were right: in this instance, having a choice is a curse. Stay with your half-sister and get married or leave and be heartbroken?’ He turned back around and headed for the door once again, leaving Jenna sitting on the floor. Her face pale and gaunt, her eyes darted incessantly towards Jessie and then back to her mother and as she heard the door latch click shut, she whispered the last words of the Contractor: ‘choice is a curse’.

Faust’s feet landed on the dusty wooden patio, clopping loudly as his mighty strides carried him down the broken, red-brick path and towards the corrugated-iron fence. As he stepped through the chicken-wire gate, he noticed a man wearing an impossibly-dark suit and vest with pitch-black hair and black, hungering eyes walk towards him.

‘Greetings Faust,’ the stranger said familiarly, ‘had a good night?’

Faust stopped in his tracks and nodded in acknowledgement. ‘Leviathan.’ He replied solidly as the Black Prince of Hell swaggered towards him. ‘What do you want with me?’

To Faust’s surprise, the Throne of Envy walked past him and said only one, off-handed word in passing; ‘nothing’.

Faust’s eyes widened in shock; he wheeled around on his heels and saw Leviathan close the chicken-wire fence behind him as he entered the property. Infuriated, the Contractor turned tail and marched away breathing heavily at the futility of his teachings.

‘Fucking mortals.’ He hissed angrily. His blood red eyes burned into the darkened horizon and his crimson trench coat whipped madly behind him as he stormed down the road and off into the cold Texan night.

And so ends the tale of the Lovebird… and the Contractor.

Interim II - Thrones

Interim II - Thrones

“Ye whom found’d mine work are accurs’d to know the atrocities that mine hands have wrought across the lands. Knowest, thou, that mine actions were to benefit humanity again’st creatures most afoul and through my benediction, I have rid’d the world of countless numbers of those beasts thou knowest as ‘demons’.

“I write withinest my journal to document the peculiarities that befell mine soul this eve; a chance encounter with an unsavoury band of cohorts whom ambush’d me in attempts to quell my blade.

 “Princes they didst claim but I paid ne’er mind to their self-indulgent rank but rather an O mysterious creature; the Princes refer’d to him as ‘The Contractor’.

“A peculiar being, clad in a long, crimson garb of unknownst origin, he didst say little, but his presence was O felt in the deep mounts of Eifel even in the black hearts of the ‘Princes’ so called.

“I write in’st mine journal for the finality of my life has been seal’d and the ‘Black Princes’ cometh for me and they shall take me, and take mine life.

“Ye whom read’st mine journal, fear not the Princes of Hell, for they are nought but trifling siblings; fear’st thou, the crimson man, fear’st the Damn’d Contractor, fear’st the man named Faust.”

From the Journal of Bishop Peter Binsfeld

Cir. 1603.

In the centre of Saint Peter’s Square in the heart of Rome with his back against the monolithic Egyptian-built obelisk was a middle-aged bishop, hunched over and gasping for breath. ‘Hunting, thou art a young man’s game,’ he thought to himself as he coughed and wheezed into the night air.

The aging bishop reached up his maroon vestment sleeves and pulled off the ring that sat on the middle finger of his left hand, laying it on his palm gently and inspecting it carefully. It looked like any ordinary silver ring; large and bulky, it seemed very plain were it not for the large sigil at rested on top: an eight-pointed star riddled with tiny symbols and illegible, time-worn writing.

He picked the ring up carefully and thought to himself; ‘how much more power can it hold?’ before a low growling alerted his senses. He quickly re-equipped his ring and focused his strained eyes through the darkened square, searching for the source of the disturbance. The bishop spun around, carefully checking his surroundings for an ambush before he heard a low and raspy voice address him menacingly;

‘I te invenimus, sacerdos!’ The voice said through the night.

The bishop raised his head to the tip of the obelisk and through the black, starry backdrop of Rome’s night sky, he saw a pair of hungering, fire-red eyes stare back at him. His vision sharpened and he could see the shadowed outline of a florid, gory-red demon dangling off the peak of the obelisk, swinging impatiently around its tip.

‘Thou has’d no business in this realm, demon,’ the bishop shouted angrily, ‘leavest now lest thou shall be smite’d in the name of the Holy Lord!’

The demon let out a defiant cackle. ‘Videbimus.’ It retorted and with a mighty leap into the air, it disappeared into a puff of black smoke before appearing on the ground right in front of the bishop instantaneously. It tackled the bishop to the ground with its outreached talons, biting and clawing at his flesh.

The panicked cleric struggled with the demon vehemently before he managed to throw off the thrashing Hellion and delivered a sharp kick to its hungry and salivating jaw. The demon whimpered and ran around confusedly before it shook its head and began yet another onslaught.

The bishop, better prepared this time, dodged the lunging demon and, with his left hand exposed, jumped onto its putrid back, pinning it to the ground and digging his silver ring into its decaying, red flesh.

The demon froze, stunned, as a bright, red light emanated from its skin. The bishop’s ring appeared to be drawing in the light, the demon’s life force, out of it as its formerly gore-red skin started to turn an ashen shade of grey. The bishop’s holy seal ceased and the he took a few cautious steps back and watch as the body of the once-dangerous fire demon crumbled into a pile of dust before being blown away by the night’s light breeze.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he inspected his sacred ring once again; the sigil on the ring’s face seemed to be pulsating with a faint, white light running across the engraved paths.

‘Well isn’t that a nice toy,’ said a snide, cocky voice behind him, ‘something like that is sure to look good on my elegant hand wouldn’t you say, Bishop Peter Binsfeld?’

 ‘Who doth go’est there?’ The bishop, Peter Binsfeld, asked, staring around wildly for another Hellion. ‘Who doth speaketh mine name?’

‘Down here.’

Binsfeld leapt out of the way quickly as the ground beneath him erupted into a large circle of flames. He watched in astonishment as, through the fire and the flames, a smirking young man wearing an unusual black suit with a matching black vest and black tie stepped through the inferno. The stranger dusted himself nonchalantly as he walked, swaggering, towards Binsfeld, extinguishing the roaring fires behind him with a simple snap of his fingers.

‘I… I had’st been expecting thou, Lucifer,’ Binsfeld said bravely, ‘thou art done sending imps to disposeth of me?’

Lucifer stood before Binsfeld upon the sacred grounds of Saint Peter’s Square and chuckled softly to himself. ‘I thought I’d test your mettle against my lesser-demons,’ he answered, ‘and you, good padre, do not disappoint.’

‘The Proudest, Deceiver, Angel of the Bottomless Pit –‘

‘Oh God,’ Lucifer chortled, ‘I haven’t heard these old nicknames in eons.’

‘I shall smite thee,’ Binsfeld stated boldly, raising his ring to the Black Prince, ‘in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy spi-‘

‘Oh one moment,’ Lucifer interjected offhandedly, ‘you have more visitors.’

Binsfeld turned around as slowly, more and more circles of fire began appearing on the grounds of the Square, surrounding him and alighting the dark night in a demonic red hue.

As Lucifer did, many more young men wearing identical dark, pitch-black suits came walking through the fire until there were seven suited men standing around Binsfeld, each looking more formidable and punitive than the next.

‘The Seven Thrones.’ Binsfeld gasped.

‘Is this him?’ said the angriest looking man, ‘is this the shitsack whose been slowing down the flow of souls?’

‘His soul looks tasty,’ said the largest of the group, ‘I want to eat him.’

‘Do what you want,’ said the most bored looking, ‘I just want to be done here and go back to my throne.’

 ‘W-what,’ Binsfeld began as he trembled before the Seven Black Princes of Hell, ‘what dost thou want from me?’

‘I wanna crack open your skull and drink your brain!’ The angriest threatened. ‘Have you any idea how much you’ve set me back?’

‘Now, now Satan,’ Lucifer said, raising his hand calmly, ‘let’s not scare the old relic.’

‘S-Satan? The Wrathful?’

The angriest, Satan the Wrathful Prince, folded his arms angrily. ‘The one and only.’ He sneered.

‘You know,’ Lucifer said, smirking at the trembling bishop, ‘we haven’t had a chance to introduce ourselves have we brothers?’

Binsfeld watched as one by one the Demon Lords of Hell stepped forward and spoke.

‘I am Beelzebub,’ said the fattest of the Hell Princes, his deep and powerful voice shaking his many, wobbling chins, ‘Lord of the Flies.’

Binsfeld studied the Black Prince and thought to himself; ‘gluttony.’

A large crashing sound echoed loudly behind him as he turned to see the angriest with his fist deep into the pavement.

‘I am Satan,’ he said boisterously, ‘the Accuser!’

‘Wrath.’ Binsfeld thought again.

The most attractive of the young men stepped forward and in a charming and flirtatious voice announced himself to the bishop; ‘Asmodeus,’ he winked and blew a kiss to Binsfeld, ‘I bet you like what you see.’

‘Lust.’

Binsfeld’s attention was drawn to a loud yawn; he turned and faced the most bored of the young men as he spoke. ‘Belphegor,’ he said, yawning again, ‘look fellas I don’t need to be here; just kill him and bring me back a limb.’

‘Sloth.’

‘Such power,’ said the man with a judgemental look on his face, ‘this human possess such power. Why can’t I have such a trinket; it would help against those pesky angels.’

‘Envy.’

‘Quiet Leviathan,’ said the young man with a hungry look in his eyes, ‘I will have that ring for my collection of Holy Relics.’ The greedy man bowed before Binsfeld. ‘I am Mammon.’ He declared proudly.

‘Greed.’

‘And I,’ said Lucifer proudly, holding his hand towards the heavens grandly, ‘as you all know, am Lucifer; the strongest and most feared.’

‘Pride.’

Lucifer leered at his brothers as they all sneered and jeered at his introduction before turning back to Binsfeld and smirking brashly. ‘We are the Seven Black Princes of Hell,’ he announced proudly, ‘and you have angered all of us.’

‘W-what had’st I done to earn the ire of all seven Thrones?’ He asked meekly.

‘It’s your fucking demon-slaying,’ Satan growled, ‘you didn’t think we’d let you get away with killing all of our Hellspawns did you?’

‘I’m taking his soul,’ said Mammon, ‘it looks like it’s worth quite a bit.’

‘I’m not letting you take his soul back to be hoarded, Mammon,’ said Beelzebub hungrily, ‘I’m taking his soul; it looks delicious.’

‘No you won’t fat-ass!’ Leviathan protested. ‘I want that power… I need that power!’

The Seven Black Princes of Hell converged onto Binsfeld who stood his ground with his eyes closed; he whispered his last rites as he stood before them, awaiting death.

Satan was closest as he lunged forward, his sharpened fingernails racing forward eagerly towards the bishops chest. ‘You are mine!’

In a whip of a red shadow, Binsfeld disappeared and Satan stood where Binsfeld once was with his arms raised foolishly into the air. He looked around angrily, growling and snarling before his eyes fell upon a crimson trench coat standing up against the obelisk and beside it, the Bishop, Binsfeld.

Binsfeld opened his eyes and found himself staring at the chest pocket of an unusual crimson-red coat, one of which he had never seen before. He looked up at its owner; another young man with blood red eyes and a head of impossibly-black, spikey hair. The stranger said nothing as he stepped in front of Binsfeld, placing himself between the bishop and the Seven Black Princes.

‘Get out of here now Faust!’ Satan shouted furiously across Saint Peter’s Square. ‘That meatsack is mine to kill!’

The crimson-cloaked man, Faust, lifted his left arm, displaying a large gash in his coat and pointing defiantly at the Wrathful Prince.

‘You owe me a new trench coat, Satan,’ he replied, ‘and it’s not gonna be cheap!’

‘Thou… thou save’d me,’ Binsfeld said quietly, ‘pray tell; what is thy name?’

‘I’m Faust,’ he replied curtly, ‘and don’t mention it. Now just stand there and shut up.’ He walked towards the group of angered Hell Lords casually and announced in a loud voice; ‘You are all in violation of the Balance; the very Laws set down by the Creator. Leave now before the angels get wind that you’ve left Hell without a ruler.’

The cohort of princes exchanged glances to one another.

‘This human is responsible for the annulment of many Pacts to Hell, Contractor,’ said Lucifer smugly, ‘it is only natural that we see to why our souls have not been entering the Fiery Gates.’

Faust raised a finger and waved it from side to side condescendingly. ‘Your silver tongue does jackshit to me Lucy; you’re free to walk amongst the humans, but while here, you will abide by their laws.’

Lucifer lowered his head and glared at Faust. ‘Don’t call me “Lucy”.’ He hissed angrily. ‘And don’t you dare defend this human; you live in our dominion, you work for us!’

‘Which is why you should listen to me when I tell you that if any harm befalls this human by your blackened hands, you’ll have the archangels down here faster than the next apocalypse.’ Faust sniggered at Lucifer. ‘Now are you sure you want to contend against your big brother again, Little Horn?’

Lucifer growled dangerously at Faust for a short moment before he composed himself and brushed his suit carefully. ‘You know,’ he said with a hint of malice, ‘you are absolutely right Faust; who are we to violate the Laws set down by the Creator. We will take our leave now and the bishop will remain unmolested.’

Faust looked around carefully at the Black Princes; each and every one of them had a disturbingly arrogant look on their faces and it made him feel uneasy.

‘However,’ Lucifer sneered, ‘I cannot guarantee that our pets will be so obliging; after all, demons are a fickle bunch. Wouldn’t you say, Faust?’

Faust’s head whipped around wildly as he heard what sounded like multiple low, rumblings surrounding Saint Peter’s Square.

He turned to Lucifer. ‘Don’t do this, Lucifer,’ he said in an angered tone, ‘you are violating so many laws here.’

‘That would be true,’ Lucifer replied coldly, ‘if we gave them the order to attack, not if they did so of their own volition.’

‘Well then call them off! You summoned the beasts in the first place!’

The Black Prince of Pride ignored him and smirked conceitedly at Faust’s loud booming voice.

The Contractor let out a frustrated sigh and ordered the bishop not to move as he sensed the surrounding pack of Hell beasts move in closer around them.

Binsfeld stood with his back against the obelisk as the Contractor reached into his crimson trench coat and produced a small bible encased in a silver cover adorned with runes. He flipped through the passages quickly and muttered something incomprehensible before he laid his free hand on the pages quickly.

‘No matter what you see,’ Faust ordered to Binsfeld gravely, ‘do not move from that spot.’

The bishop nodded his head firmly as Faust raised his hand to the air; from his fingertips eradiated a bright light that illuminated the entire Square, blinding the Black Princes and their menacing demons.

The light faded and all that was left was darkness. Binsfeld rubbed his eyes furiously and stood completely still against the cold obelisk as he felt the chilling, rotting breath of demons breathing down his neck. The beasts seemed to be oblivious of him being there as they sniffed the air around where he stood confusedly.

‘Find them!’ Binsfeld heard Satan command. ‘Search the entire city!’

The demon closest to Binsfeld did not move and continued walking around the obelisk, brushing past the bishop. He twitched nervously and stared at his sacred ring underneath his sleeves. Suddenly, he heard the voice of the Contractor echoing in his mind;

‘No matter what you see, do not move from that spot.’

His heart began racing as the demon circled back around towards him, still sniffing the air and pawing at the ground in front of Binsfeld, hungrily searching for the frightened mortal.

Against the Contractor’s orders, Binsfeld leapt forward and dug his ring into the demon’s side drawing from it the light of its life and watching its ashes disperse into the wind.

His victory was short lived as he became fearfully aware that all the creatures of Hell had become attuned to his presence once again. Time seemed to have slowed down as Binsfeld saw the pack of demons pounce all at once onto him; he felt the weight of an earth demon upon him, knocking him to the ground as the others converged.

‘Fuck!’ Faust shouted as he leapt towards the hungry Hellions, swatting them off with his impressive strength while avoiding the fangs and claws of the rest. He fought with all his might towards the fallen Bishop and found him huddled over, shielding his mortal face against the thrashing demons. Faust, with great difficulty, removed his crimson trench coat and draped it with much effort over Binsfeld before standing up from beneath the pile of demons and pointing a single finger to the heavens, ignoring the Hellions tearing through his flesh.

‘Messorem iudicium!’ He shouted.

At the sound of those words, the demons stopped their chaotic onslaught and arched their fetid heads towards the heavens as the sky let out a wrathful rumble.

‘Inferna mortem!’

The sky cracked opened with thunder, sending a giant bolt of lightning towards the ground and impacting Faust’s raised hand, creating a massive explosion of light where he stood and vanquishing all the demons within Saint Peter’s Square until all that was left were ash and smoke.

The Contractor stood, with his finger still raised in the air, glaring angrily at the Seven Black Princes of Hell as they watched him interestedly. His body swayed left and right and his legs gave way. Faust collapsed to the ground, drenched in cold sweat and slowly losing consciousness. He could see the collective footsteps of the Thrones of Hell walking towards him with a victorious swagger.

His blurred vision focused onto the nearest shape and he heard the mocking voice of Lucifer echo into his ears; ‘My, my, you are a curious one aren’t you.’

Lucifer stood up and dusted himself off before turning around and walking off into the night, his brothers walking closely behind him.

Before Faust’s vision blacked out completely, he could hear the covetous voice of Mammon behind him as the Greedy Prince stepped over Faust’s motionless body.

‘And to the victor, the spoils of war,’ he said victoriously, ‘consider it payment for all you’ve costed us preacher.’

Faust could hear him walk off towards the others and could only whisper two words back in a wheezy and heavy breath before his head fell to the ground, completely unconscious;

‘Fuck… you…’

‘Faust? Arest thou well?’

Faust awoke from his cold sleep to see the blurred outline of Binsfeld standing over him. ‘Yeah, I’m fan-fucking-tastic.’ He replied angrily. ‘Where’s my damn jacket?’

Binsfeld carefully handed Faust his crimson trench coat and, as Faust’s vision sharpened, he saw his favourite jacket torn and ripped to shreds. ‘Those demon assholes owe me a fucking jacket!’ He shouted into the night.

‘Pray,’ Binsfeld consoled, ‘let mine tailor repair’est the damage to thine garb. The man is’t of well renown; he hails of the western lands… Johann Swift.’

Faust spat on the ground angrily. ‘I know that guy; Tailor Swift is a no talent hack! He is useless!’

‘Good Heavens!’ Binsfeld exclaimed.

‘Oh come on, everyone knows this; Tailor Swift is shit at his job. Big deal!’

‘Nary, Contractor,’ Binsfeld replied in panic, ‘mine ring, it has’d been taken.’

Faust turned his head to the direction in which the Seven Demon Lords left; staring madly into the night.

‘They have it,’ he growled in a quiet and infuriated voice, ‘they have the Seal of Solomon.’ He stood up and cloaked himself with the tattered remains of his crimson trench coat, walking west towards the Tyrrhenian Sea.

‘Pray tell me,’ Binsfeld pleaded to Faust’s exiting back, ‘what would’st thou do?’

Faust turned around and in a cold, indifferent voice replied to the confused and panicked bishop;

‘There’s nothing we can do, Binsfeld; they have the Seal of Solomon and you have no means of which to defend yourself.’ He turned back towards his direction and continued walking. ‘It looks like you’re fucked.’

‘Wait,’ Binsfeld shouted as Faust’s silhouette shrunk into the night, ‘what should’st I do?’

‘Write a book about it!’ He replied before completely disappearing from sight.

Binsfeld dropped to his knees and stared at his ring-less hand ashamedly, chanting the last words that came out of the Contractor’s mouth;

‘Write a book… write a book… write a book.’

And so ends the Second Interim…