--Fetter--
The summoner lies prone for a few moments.
I can wait. My patience is infinite.
It is easy to wait here. Comfortable. No whaling screams of the damned. No tortured souls begging for clemency. This home is quite and pleasant to my senses.
So that I may experience it better, I make a human form. Leaning into the summoners mind, teasing out her preferences, I make myself male. Dark hair, dark eyes, stocky build that is solid and strong.
I like it, I enjoy her preferences.
Inhaling deeply and running my hand over my soft belly then through my hair. Nice.
“It’s you! The shadow from my dream!”
A child speaks this from the stairs. Yes, I did meet this one on my way to the summoning. She pulled me into her dream for just a moment before I could escape.
“Why is mom asleep on the floor?”
I look down at the summoner again and her eyelids are starting to flutter.
Adopting a masculine voice to match this form I answer, “She fainted from fright.”
“Oh, well don’t scare her next time.”
I nod because that was my plan. She is already stirring and waking anyway.
“Jessie—what—?”
“Mom, I think we might be dreaming. The shadow person turned into a guy.”
The summoner looks from the child to myself then back to the child. “We’re dreaming together?”
The kid nods. “That happens sometimes.”
“Oh—okay. I feel awake though.”
“I don’t think we are.”
The summoner clambers to her feet, turns around once, looks down at her hands then back up at me.
“What would you ask of me?” I demand. We need to get the negotiation out of the way.
She shakes her hands and hops once. “What do people usually ask for?”
“Wealth, fame, revenge, love—” She looks into my face at that, so I hurry to explain. “I cannot force someone to love you, but I could look into their minds and make you more attractive and lovable to them.”
I am proud of these skills. Not every spawn of hell is so talented. She is lucky it was I who answered her summoning.
“They’re probably all tricky right? And I end up miserable in the end no matter what I wish for right?” She laughs, then brushes her hands against her thighs and says, “I feel awake.”
“I am not a granter of wishes. This is not a trick. You have demanded a favor of me and offered your soul with that summoning ritual. Lucky you, I have accepted. Now tell me what favor you ask of me?”
She smirks, “A favor huh? How about babysitting?”
She must see that I am confused because she goes on to explain, “Childcare. Supervise these kids after school and on the weekends. Keep them safe. Help them do homework and school projects. Cook healthy dinners, pack lunches, do laundry, clean house, and tuck them in at night. That would be worth my soul I think. I’m not doing anything with it.”
“Agreed.”
Her body floats up into the air a few feet as everything around us blinks in and out of existence for a sliver of a moment. She probably doesn’t notice it, but when it is over, I have her eternal soul safely tucked away.
She is back on her feet touching her chest and looking confused.
The child slides their hands together, “Mom, let’s go to bed. I don’t want this dream anymore.”
“Okay, baby.”
The two slowly walk up the stairs, the summoner glancing over her shoulder at me every few seconds until she disappears into a room up there.
Wonderful. I have to congratulate myself on a deal well struck.
It is not always so easy. And now I get to stay here, in this realm, in this house until these children are grown. What good fortune. And how easy.
Let’s see, so the next task I must do to fulfill the bargain is get the little humans to school in five hours’ time. By gently tapping into each young mind for a moment I gather all of the information I need.
Clothes, backpacks, lunches—this is trivial. I am beginning to feel like my summoner may be stupid. Why would she sell her soul for such a small price? It is really the only bargaining chip humans have, the only thing of value to survive their short lives on this plane and she gave it away for this menial labor?
Stupid.
But then humans are not known for their intellect.
Assembling each lunch for these children is mildly entertaining. Building sandwiches, cutting crusts. Grapes, carrot spears. I know that each youngling would like to find a ‘treat’ in their lunch containers and when I search the cupboard I find no such thing. What manner of injustice is this? My human charges deserve the very best of lunches and that means a treat!
Discorporating into a cloud of smoke, I move out over a large area and hunt for treats. It does not take long, there is a merchant selling fuel and food in a small building nearby.
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Taking my preferred, humanish form, I enter the shop. And grab many snacks that I know are favorites.
The shopkeeper is watching me in startlement, so I touch upon her mind and realize that my state of nakedness is alarming. Realizing this, I make an outfit for myself, willing my form covered in the same manner of clothing the shopkeeper is wearing.
This upsets her further.
Bah. This jumpy shop-keep’s sensitive feelings are not my concern.
Holding the snacks close to myself I partially discorporate and fly these looted treats home.
I place the lunches in the fridge and get to work putting together all of the pieces required for the school outfits.
Here is another puzzle with many parts that must fit together in appropriate cohesiveness. Socks, underwear, pants, tank-top, shirt, jacket, hat, gloves. Everything must coordinate and I am careful not to offend the individual stylistic taste of each child in my selections. When I am satisfied, I hang each outfit on each respective door so that these children will find them when they awaken.
It is all set.
A warm satisfaction fills my being as I discorporate and wait for the children to awaken. My side of the bargain is fulfilled this night and I hold the soul I have gained close. This is what success feels like. I have witnessed demons who failed in their endeavors return to the under-realm empty-handed. Some cannot locate a summoner, some do not negotiate successfully. They are to be pitied. Hungry, unfulfilled, wasting away. That will not be me. I am clever and resourceful. I will succeed in all my endeavors and be sustained by this soul that I have already gained in my first night on this plane.
When the family wakes, I am tempted to reveal myself so they can thank me in person for all of my work, but one child yells, “The bus!” and both go sprinting out the door.
The woman, the one who summoned me stands there for a moment, hair disheveled, robe askew as she fills a carafe, making herself a hot drink.
“Call Fiona.”
At first I think she has given me an order, but she is contacting someone. A device on her counter projects a voice not hers.
“Good morning beautiful.”
“Hey Fiona, are you busy?”
“Never too busy for you Dar.”
“Well aren’t you a treat this morning?” My summoner stirs a few things into her concoction then takes a careful sip. The cup is steaming, and it smells vaguely of dirt.
“If you promise not to judge me, I’ll tell you why I’m in a spectacular mood.”
“I would never judge you and you know this.”
“I fucked the uber driver!”
“YOU WHAT?!” Hot dirt drink sloshes onto the counter as the cup is carelessly set down.
“You’re judging!”
“No. Not judging.”
“Listen, if you were me you would have done the same thing. Because this guy—he smelled so good. Like a delicious lumberjack. And you know when a guy has a sharp haircut, and he smells good—? And he had these dark eyes that were seeing right into my soul. I was hypnotized.”
“Is that what you call it?”
“Then I was dick-matized.”
The summoner snorts and picks her cup up again as the voice goes on and on.
“He was really confident, and you know how hot it is, when a guy knows what he’s doing and just—does it. I was aghast. I was like ‘Sir! How dare you play my body like an instrument and make me come three times after we just met?’”
“Three?!”
“On god! Three times!”
“Wow, no wonder you’re in a good mood.”
“For sure. And now that my dry spell of six months is over I feel like things are really looking up for me. I did a reading for myself this morning and I got the wheel of fortune in present and ace of pentacles in future so—”
“Nice.”
“Yeah, so what were you calling about?”
“Oh, I was just wondering, can you take a few pictures of that ritual we did and send it to me? I want to research its origins and—”
“I can, but the eBay listing said it was all unique. That this one witch in the seventies came up with all these secret spells and rituals then bound them together in this book then bespelled the book so—”
“Yeah, I just want to look into some of the words, I couldn’t tell what the language was in the middle part.”
“Alright. Well, I have it in my bag. I’m on my way to work, so I’ll swing by in a sec. Hey, do you think it worked? Did the ritual get me laid?”
“No, Hun, you got yourself laid. That guy stood no chance.”
“Heh. He didn’t. I’ll be out front in a minute.”
After she leaves out the front door and comes back clutching a book, I consider coalescing. I should regain my human form and talk with her. I cannot keep touching her mind to learn things. It happens sometimes that a human will go mad if their mind is touched too often. Better be safe and start communicating with her.
She is leaning over the counter looking back and forth between the book and her phone.
She purses he lips then mumbles, “Feh—? Feeha? Feth—?”
“It reads ‘Furfur,’” I say as I take form behind her.
“Iye-eeeeee!” She turns, hair flying around her head and holds a hand out in front of her.
“You must have said ‘Fetter’ when you did the ritual though. That is me. I am Fetter.”
Her hand jerks to the sink where she grabs a knife and then starts slashing it at me. She hits my left shoulder and slashes down my chest.
“Ah! How could you?” I hold the cut and look to her accusingly. “You have harmed me!”
She looks to the knife, then back to me. Her hand falls to her side. “I—I—you—!”
“It is a joke, I am joking with you.” I move my hand so she can see that I am not harmed at all.
“What?”
“I am a demon, a supernatural being. I cannot be harmed by your cutlery.”
“Oh. A—demon?”
“Yes. You summoned me last night. Sold me your soul in exchange for menial household labor. Do you not recall?”
“I thought that was—” She audibly swallows. “I thought I was dreaming—my soul?”
“Yes. I have it here.” I touch my chest and allow that area to discorporate enough for her to see the bright flicker of her soul.
“I think I need that back,” she says, voice trembling.
“We struck a bargain. I already assembled two lunches and two outfits. You cannot say that I—”
“You what? Lunches?!”
I nod my head.
“I traded my soul for lunches?”
I nod again.
She looks very upset, so I explain. “You do not actually need your soul you know. It is just the spark used to make you. You do not require it. Nothing has changed for you in this life.”
“What about the next life?”
I sigh. This is a heavy conversation. Why did she not ask these questions first, during negotiation?
“The afterlife is complicated. You do not technically need a soul. You can go to heaven or hell or purgatory and the soul—it just follows along. Unless you have bargained it away—”
“So all of that is real? The afterlife?”
“Yes.”
“And—what about my soul again?”
“The soul is a spark. It is an ignition used to spark your spirit and consciousness into being. So picture the creator, God as you would call them, they are an infinite towering inferno of light. They give just the tiniest speck of that light to you, to jump-start you into being. But now, years afterward, you do not strictly need it. You go on living just the same without it.”
Everything I have said is the truth. I have just left a few things out.
“Okay, and you are a demon?”
Standing a bit taller, I proudly explain, “I am Fetter, of the Fifth Circle. You summoned me and I am here.”
“Oh-okay, yeah. I guess that’s what this spell does. Fiona thought it would enhance our love-lives or something—” She is calming down now. Good. I find it agitating when she is upset.
“The person who made this book used that spell to summon a demon and bind it to her, to do her bidding.”
“Ah,” she says, leaning back against the counter.
“That demon’s name is Furfur. He is obnoxious, just really unpleasant. You are lucky you misspoke and got me instead,” I inform her.
“Oh, so you’re a better demon than them?”
“I can discorporate. And I can change my appearance quickly, Furfur is restricted to their true form which is very distressing to humans. They have hooves, horns, and an animalistic face that—”
“I don’t mind hooves or horns,” she murmurs. And I feel the truth in her words.
Without conscious intention from me, horns sprout from my head and my soft human feet transform into hooves.
She giggles, a smile transforming her face. I have seen her smile, but this one is for me, and it is another success. I have put her at ease. Furfur could never.