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 IX – The Little Girl

“To Dr Eden Ginsberg,

“Thank you for your correspondence about your patient, Tara Epsom. As our department understands very little about the psychological development of a six year old girl, it was very informative to see your progress reports on little Tara’s growth.

“It was, however, disturbing to hear your concerns about the recent passing of Tara’s mother and we do send our sincerest apologies.

“Getting to the matter at hand, I am writing to inform you that your recommendation that Tara be moved into State Managed Custody will be denied. Although we take allegations of sexual predation of children very seriously, we have, at your request, launched an investigation into your claims and they have, fortunately, returned with no evidence that Tara is in any danger of abuse, either sexual or otherwise.

“I think the ‘monsters’ that Tara refers to during her counselling sessions with you are simply manifestations of the grief from which she, and no doubt her father, is suffering.

“Before you send us another letter of contention I would like to remind you that Ellis Epsom is, and has always been, a fine, upstanding citizen and the co-founder of ‘Orphans of Ontario’, a charity that address the needs of children without parents in major cities across both Canada and the United States. In fact, were it not for his generous contributions to this department, many wards of the state would be living in dilapidated and unacceptable conditions. 

Sincerely,

Joyce Gregory

Case Manager for the Department of Human Services.

Little Tara Epsom shivered as a cold, Canadian wind blew through the swing set on which she sat. It was a late summer night in her small suburban house on the outskirts of Toronto and she was unsure of what she expected, but she had to try; she had no other choice.

The young girl stared at her tattered, black, buckled school shoes as she swung herself on her play set. They were the last pair her mother had bought for her; young Tara remembered how annoyed she was with her mother for making her sit in the shop and trying on different pairs of shoes. She hated those shoes, but now she could not take them off.

Tara started sniffing, not from the chill, but from the cold reminder that her mother was not coming back and she was alone.

She started to sing, softly, the song that her mother used to sing to her after learning the lyrics from her favourite cartoon, ‘Adventure Time’.

‘Don’t be weepy sleepy puppies. Slip your slippers on your footies. In the morning you’ll get goodies; puppy hats and puppy hoodies.’

She began to weep and no sooner had one of her tears hit the grass beneath her, she felt a rush of warm air breathe past her ear. Young Tara looked up from her school shoes and could see the watery wisp of a crimson-red trench coat fluttering towards her.

She stemmed her crying and stared at the tall, strange man approaching her and she locked her eyes onto his own, blood-red pupils.

‘Are you the man I called?’ She asked bravely.

The crimson stranger stood steadfast and stared at the little six year old before him.

‘Yes and no,’ he said casually, ‘you did call me, but I’m no man. I’m the Contractor, Faust.’

‘You can help me with my problem?’ Tara asked, her voice firm and courteous.

Faust folded his arms and narrowed his eyes cautiously at the little girl. ‘How did you hear about me?’ He asked. ‘I don’t exactly advertise in the Yellow Pages.’

Tara tilted her head as though questioning the trustworthiness of someone who had just walked out of Hell. ‘A boy at school told me,’ she said plainly, ‘he’s an exchange student from Germany. He said that he met you once before.’

Faust shrugged. ‘I meet a lot of people. Now what’s this problem of yours?’

Tara stared down at her tattered school shoes. ‘I want you to bring back my mommy.’ She said innocently. ‘She died a few months ago.’

Faust snorted derisively. ‘Yeah, can’t do that for you kid.’ He said bluntly.

Tara’s face contorted into an angry pout. ‘Why not? Allie said that you can make anything happen!’

‘I can, but what you’re asking is against the rules.’

She folded her arm defensively, accentuating the childishness of her age. ‘You’re a demon, you don’t follow the rules.’

The Contractor took offence to the girl’s remark and rubbed his hand through his ebon hair in annoyance. ‘Okay, you mortals need to stop calling me a demon. I’m not; I’m the fucking Contractor, alright?’

‘I want my mommy back!’ She demanded childishly.

‘Well I can’t give that to you.’

‘Gimme my mommy!’

‘I told you I can’t!’

‘I want my mommy! I need her!’

‘Why!’

‘So that daddy will stop hurting me!’

A cold breeze whipped through the night air, dancing through the Contractor’s crimson trench coat. Tara paid little mind to the freezing winds, she simply stared at her tattered shoes bitterly.

‘Your… your father abu -’

‘All the time.’ Tara said quickly.

Faust could not explain the sudden anger that washed over his body like a searing hot bath. Normally the injustices of the mortal realm mattered very little to the Contractor, but there was something about the little girl’s plight, something about her being sexually abused, that tested his patience.

‘I don’t think the engines of Hell should play a part in fixing this Tara,’ he said, doing his best to compose himself, ‘I think you need to go through the proper human channels.’

‘I have.’ She said quickly. ‘But Dr Eden can’t help me.’

Faust could not understand the sympathy he was feeling for Tara. He knelt down so that his blood-red eyes were level with her hazel ones.

‘I can’t bring back your mother,’ he said softly, making sure that she understood what he was saying, ‘and I don’t think you wanna throw away your soul so early in life. You’re still young Tara, you’ll need your soul when you grow up.’

The young six year old stared at her shoes again. ‘Maybe I can wish for something else.’

‘No… you’re not hearing me. You shouldn’t -’

‘Can I make another wish?’ She asked earnestly.

Faust did not like the look in Tara’s eyes. She stared at him with a fierce determination that he had never before seen in a human. ‘What’s your wish?’ He asked slowly and cautiously.

‘Don’t let my daddy into Heaven.’ She declared forcefully. ‘I want to give you my soul so he can’t go to Heaven with mommy.’

‘You would forfeit your soul, your ticket to a better afterlife, your one chance to see your mother again, just so that your father can’t?’

‘He’s a bad man. He shouldn’t be allowed into Heaven.’

‘He might not even get to Heaven when he dies kid,’ Faust reasoned, ‘you don’t have to nail his coffin.’

‘I don’t want him in Heaven with mommy!’ She shouted. ‘You have to make my wish come true!’

Faust stood up and shook his head. ‘No, I’m not doing it.’

‘You have to! Allie said that you have to!’

‘I don’t have to make deals with anyone, kid, least of all you!’ He seethed.

‘Good thing you’re only the Contractor, not the Pact Maker.’

Tara’s head moved over to the fence. ‘Who are you?’

Faust spun around quickly to see a very serious looking man with a rough expression on his face, wearing a pitch-black suit and tie. ‘Satan,’ Faust hissed, ‘you shouldn’t be here.’

The Throne of Wrath, Satan, stepped into the porch light and swaggered confidently towards Tara, sitting himself onto the spare swing next to her.

‘Who are you?’ She asked again carefully.

‘I am the man who can make your dreams come true,’ he said boisterously in a manner befitting the Wrath Prince, ‘the name’s Satan.’

‘You’re… the Devil?’

‘In the flesh.’ The Throne of Wrath jerked his head towards Faust. ‘You can leave us now, Contractor.’

‘You can’t take her soul, Satan,’ Faust defended, planting his feet firmly into the ground, ‘she’s only six!’

‘You can’t stop her,’ Satan replied coldly, ‘if she wants to give up her soul, then it’s entirely her decision; the Law, Faust.’ His eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘Not even you are above the Law. Now leave us.’

‘I won’t let -’ He stopped midsentence as he heard the skies grumble with thunder. ‘Fine,’ he conceded, ‘I’ll go. But Tara, listen to me: I know it seems terrible now, but your dad will keep making bad decisions after bad decisions. He will never make his way into Heaven. You can. This suffering you’re going through, is a sacrifice of a mortal’s life.’ He ran over to her and placed his hands onto her shoulder, making sure that she could see into his blood-red eyes. ‘If you want to see your mother again, hold onto your soul.’

Tara quickly looked away defiantly and Faust felt the same, unfamiliar burning of anger magnify within him. He quickly turned away and strode towards the fence and through the alley. As he rounded the corner, he could hear Satan’s snide voice negotiating with the little girl.

‘So tell me about this wish of yours…’

Sitting in his well-furnished study in a large, excessive, leather high chair was a handsome, middle-aged man. He had his foot up on the accompanying leather chaise, warming his feet by the open fireplace with an ‘iPad’ on his lap and an expensive glass of ‘Dalmore 62’ scotch resting on the small table next to him.

He flicked his toes uncomfortably as he felt the warmth of the flames intensify and readjusted the chaise closer towards himself but to no avail, the heat was too much. He withdrew his feet behind the chaise, feeling the shadow of his leather upholstery cool is tingly feet before smelling the distinct smell of leather burning.

Looking up from his tablet, he could see the corners of his brown, leather chaise singe in the flame light and felt the heat in the room strengthen.

‘Hello Ellis.’

The middle-aged man jumped off his seat and retreated behind his high chair as he saw the features of a long, thin face poke out from his fireplace.

The head emerged, bringing forth the long, slender body of a black-haired man donning a crimson trench coat; the Contractor, Faust.

The cowering human let out a loud cry for help but the wind was taken out of him by a swift blow to the stomach from the crimson stranger.

Faust mercilessly lifted the man up from the ground and held him by the neck, letting the coward, Ellis Epsom, feel the weight of his heavy breath upon his cheek before flinging him effortlessly across the garish study. The mortal crashed into his liquor cabinet, sending a marvellous array of expensive alcohol crashing onto the floor around him.

Faust was not satisfied. He picked up Epsom, again by the neck, and lifted him off the ground, his blood red eyes boring through the human’s skull.

‘What… do you want… from me…’ Epsom choked, feeling the strong, willowy fingers of the Contractor digging into his windpipe.

A loud crash of thunder boomed through the night as Faust opened his mouth, letting the pathetic human in his clutch feel his agonising hatred.

‘You… filthy… shitbag.’ Faust spat angrily. ‘Your daughter has suffered enough under your care and now she’s about to lose her soul to demons!’ Thunder and lightning echoed angrily through the windows of the study, illuminating Faust’s indignant face. ‘You don’t deserve to live!’

He threw Epsom onto the ground heavily, hearing a satisfying thud as the despicable human bounced off the floor like a limp ragdoll. The enraged Contractor reached into his coat pocket and produced a small, silver bible. Quickly, he flicked through the pages and found what he was looking for, laying his free hand on the page, he read the passage aloud.

‘Telum iudicium meum educet: falce messoreum!’

 The pages of the infernal bible erupted with fire and Faust reached into the small flames. His arm dove deep through the bible, almost as though he was reaching through a portal of some kind, until he stopped.

He withdrew his arm from the fire portal and there, clutched in his hand, was a small, silver scythe. The Contractor then snapped the bible shut and placed it back into his pocket quickly, brandishing the edged weapon menacingly as more thunder and lightning bellowed through the night.

He picked up the injured and wheezing human from off the floor by the neck of his monogramed robe and threw him against the wall, pinning the human onto the wall and holding the scythe against Epsom’s throat.

‘All your selfishness,’ he whispered with an unholy loathing, ‘all her misery… All of it undone as your blood sheds onto the carpet.’ He raised the scythe into the air. ‘I’ll see you in Hell.’ He spat as he brought the scythe down onto him.

Another loud crashing of thunder and lightning followed as a bright light erupted, illuminating the room and blinding its inhabitants.

Faust covered his face as the painful light burst through the room, growing brighter and brighter and he heard the body of Epsom fall to his feet.

The Contractor felt the light dim and his stinging eyes began to focus painfully as he saw the bright light retreating into the body of a tall, slender man with platinum-blonde hair, donning an ivory white suit and a look of indignation.

‘That’s enough Faust.’ The bright stranger said, looking over concernedly at the cowering and shaking human on the ground.

‘Stay the fuck outta my way, Azrael!’ Faust shouted angrily. ‘I don’t need you Angels messing around in my business!’

‘I am the Ward of Patience, Contractor,’ the Angel, Azrael, said calmly ‘by my virtue alone, your act of aggression towards mortals in their own realm makes this my business.’

Faust pointed his silver scythe at Epsom, lying limp on the ground. ‘This filthy piece of shit doesn’t deserve a shot at forgiveness or redemption Angel! He doesn’t deserve Heaven!’

‘That is not for you to decide Contractor,’ Azrael stated discomfortingly, ‘it is the Law of Man; they are to make their own decision, left to their own devices.’ The Ward of Patience raised his hands into the air zealously. ‘As designated by the Creator and all His engines.’

‘Fuck the Creator! An innocent girl is about to lose her soul because of this fuckstain!’ He gave Epsom a swift kick into the ribs bitterly.

Azrael closed his eyes as a bright light enveloped him momentarily and faded quickly. ‘Please do not do that again, Contractor.’ Azrael asked politely. ‘We do not need any more violence here tonight.’

‘What the fuck are you gonna do Ward?’ Faust shouted obscenely at the bright, white Angel. ‘If I have to take you out, then I will. I’ll fuck up your shit, Azrael!’

‘I am one of the Seven Wards of Heaven, Contractor, fuelled by Righteousness and Law. We govern the Laws laid down by the Creator and with every infraction that is committed by outsiders to the mortal realm, we grow a stronger resolve to mete out Justice…’ He cast a serious gaze at Faust. ‘… By force if necessary. Now what this means is -’

‘Fuck off prick!’ Faust opened his palm and launched a strong gust of wind at the Ward of Patience, sending him flying out the window. He turned his attention back to Epsom, lying bloodied and bruised on the floor. ‘And now back to you.’ He said in a low, dangerous husky whisper. He picked up the human roughly by the collar and gave him a swift punch to the jaw as Epsom tried to protest breathlessly.

The Contractor raised his scythe and Epsom closed his eyes, preparing for death as Faust brought the gleaming scythe down through the air.

There was crash of lightning and thunder more intense before and Faust felt his arm stop in mid-air, the point of his scythe only centimetres from Epsom’s face. He stared angrily over his shoulder, seeing the long, white sleeve of a well-cut suit and Azrael, the Ward of Patience, holding his wrists, staring at Faust punitively.

‘It means that with each Law you break here on Earth, I get stronger.’ Azrael twisted the Contractor’s wrist behind his back and kicked the back of Faust’s knee, causing him to kneel painfully onto the floor.

The Ward of Patience placed two fingers on the back of Faust’s head and whispered an Angelic prayer as Faust let out a scream of cold-white hatred into the air, his last act of defiance as the last Angelic words left Azrael’s lips, banishing the Contractor back to Hell.

The fiery gates of Hell were marred with a long, loud string of obscenities as Nyxanoth Faust, the Contractor, was flung through its flaming walls, landing heavily onto his back on the brimstone path. ‘Fucking Angels!’ He shouted to the flaming gate.

The fiery walls flickered and parted as a tall human wearing a pitch black suit hopped merrily through the threshold and into Hell itself. As he swaggered cockily towards the Contractor, he reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small, glowing, golden orb, throwing the sphere into the air and catching it nonchalantly.

Faust’s nostrils flared and his eyes seethed with loathing as Satan, the Wrath Prince, walked past him, kicking up ash and small chunks of brimstone behind him and onto the Contractor as he strode boldly towards the First Ring of Hell and the Black Palace of Hell.

The Contractor sat alone and bitter on the charred path, shaking his head slowly at his failure.

And so ends the tale of the Little Girl… and the Contractor.