Promised to Hell

"Everything worthwhile, everything of any value, has its price. Everything anyone has ever wanted has come neatly wrapped in its penalties." -Loretta Young

“Dear God, please grant me a child,”

Those were the words whispered into the wind, on a shooting star, under a full moon.

But they weren’t heard by God. They weren’t answered by a heavenly being at all.

The dark man that stepped out of the shadows, was just the opposite.

The silent footsteps approached the woman, catching her breath when she looked up from her prayer.

“Who-who are you?” She studded as she moved back, pressing herself into the seat.

“Someone who can grant your wish,” he smiled, sharp teeth the only thing noticeable under his hood.

“You can?” The woman’s brown eyes brightened despite the worried loomed on her face.

“I can,” the man’s smile grew as he stepped closer to her.

“Are you some kind of...” the woman’s eyes widened at the closeness of the man, “genie?” the man laughed, throwing his head back with a throaty chuckle that sent a chill through her.

“No,”

“A...an angel?” the woman asked, her voice quivering as a dark aura seemed to secrete from the figure before her.

“the quite opposite actually,” the smirk that settled on his face sent a cold chill to her bones. She sat frozen as he lifted his head to revile the glowing eyes, the color of the mood shadowing him from above.

“your the Devil!” the woman screeched, hiding her face from the looming figure.

“Bingo,” he said, his sharp teeth parting in a soft hiss as he leaned down, leveling his face to hers. He waited, feeling a dark pleasure as she twitched with his every breath.

“Go away, Satan,” the woman said through her hands, “I did not call you here,” the figure chuckled as he righted himself and stepped back.

“I have come to offer you my services,” the woman stilled, froze as she lowered her hands.

“I don’t want anything from you,” she stated firmly, seeming more determined.

“Ah, but I can grant your wish,” the smile on his shadowed face reminding her so much of the Cheshire cat.

“God will grant my wish,“the man laughed darkly.

“Do you think he really cares? That he is really listening?“he shook his head, “oh, you humans... God doesn’t care, you all are just toys he has grown board with,”

“That can’t be true,” fear seemed to shake her voice, he confidence faltering, the mans smile grew.

“Oh, but it is,” he nodded once, “I, though, have decided to help you,”

“Why?” the question seemed to hang in the air for a moment before the man continued.

“I will grant you the ability to have a child,” he paused for a moment, turning his head slightly, “for a price,”

“What price?” the woman seemed to perk up and he knew he had got her, hooked her, and she was right where he wanted her.

“A birth of a child and twenty-one years with the child, before I will come to collect. A life for a life, is the deal I offer you,” she paused, as if contemplating the offer. It was a logical offer after all, one of balance.

“My life for the child’s... and twenty-one years...” she whispered to herself and he knew he had got her, snared her in his words.

“Yes, twenty-one years of being a mother,” he held his hand out to her. It looked normal, but she knew it wasn’t, knew that touching it, shaking it, would seal a deal for her soul.

Her hand shook as she lifted it, the only thought spinning in her mind was of being a mother.

“We have a deal?” the man purred, it wasn’t a question though, when he knew the answer.He had snagged her, drawn her into the deal. He knew it, she knew it, but the deal was too sweet for her to turn down.

“Yes,” she whispered, a small part of her screaming as her palm touched his. At first, nothing happened.

“Good,” his smile grew wicked as his grip on hers tightened. A searing pain followed as he held her hand tight, to prevent her from breaking the bond.

Blood dripped between their palms as he watched her cry, the pain, he knew wasn’t just that of blood and bone, the bond was to her soul.

Releasing her hand he smirked as he watched her sob, gripping her wrist in pain, blood dripping from the soul deep burn.

“Twenty-one years,” he whispered as he melted back into the shadows as if they were greeting him like an old friend. Leaving her with only the mark of their bond. A scar of a small circle inside of a larger one.