It always happened in a frenzy. I would go at her with great passion, and she would always evade me with the very same passion. In that one moment, that one time where there was only us two, we were siblings, bonded in blood and soul. But every time the two us became one, in the midst of the passion, the frenzy, the ecstacy, another emotion would be born, and this feeling would soon usurp the others, becoming the only thing I could feel. This emotion was fear. We became one, and along with her soul, I also absorbed her pure, ruthless feeling of fear. Disgusted, I would always end our intercourse at this moment. The second I felt that great pang of distress, she would be no more, and I would be one again.

This had been enough. For years upon years upon years, this brief, fleeting bonding was all I needed to feel alive. But, one day, I no longer felt the fear. I took her, and she resisted, as they always do, but we didn’t become one. My feelings of pure glee simply evaporated, leaving me cold and empty. I took her life only out of pity. It was sex without orgasm. Was there something with her? Was she not a virgin, like the others? Can’t be. I am always assured of that one quality. Then, could it have been me?... No. I felt just as empty and lifeless as I always do.

I tried again the next Friday, but it was the same. Kidnap a young virgin(I have a list for times like these), drive her out to some abandoned building, chase her through the dark, yada yada yada. But the same thing happened. She was a prime example, too. She was lush and young and strong. She could run, too, but that had never been an issue, and neither would it be now. But when I took her, she became just a slab of meat with a hole. I killed her in disgust and frustration.

It was the same with the next one, and the one after that. It just wasn't how it used to be.

The night was cool and dark and I was driving home from my latest rendezvous. Her name had been Sandra Barkley, she came out of town to stay with a friend. Had gone out to party. She was lucky I was there to stop her from being tainted by some young hoodlum. At least, that’s what she thought. I’m not much for having my way with drunk ones, but something is better than nothing. I still hadn’t kicked the habit.

The wind was strong as I pulled my Ford into the driveway of my suburban home. Opening the door, I was greeted with a hug and a kiss from my wife, Josey. My little girl, Patty, didn’t hug and kiss me anymore. For the better, if you ask me. Josey was holding Morgan, our new little arrival, in her cradling arms. I walked inside with her, and ate a soothing, warm dinner. Josey wasn’t much, but at least she could cook. My other son, Seth, stubbornly heaved the pasta carbonara into his gritty teenaged mouth before storming off, as he always does. Patty was sitting across the table, only occasionally passing me a reproachful, disgusted look. She thinks I’m a serial killer. Kids these days, am I right?

“Steve, dear, could you pass me the ketchup?” Josey asked in her quaint little voice, like a startled bird. “Of course,” I said, passing it over to her. She knows I don’t like being bothered on Friday nights, when the wind is as pleasant as it only is after a rendezvous. But I forgive her. It was only ketchup, after all. I finish my plate rather quickly, as I always do, before heading to the bedroom, saying my goodnights to the family as I always do on Fridays in particular.

The bedroom was dark and pleasantly chilly. I plopped down on the king-sized, well kept bed with a sigh of disappointment, something that has become a tragic routine ever since I stopped becoming one with them. But as my gaze nonchalantly wandered the room, uncertain of whether to take a shower or sleep immediately, I could feel something was amiss. There. In the corner. Something seemed to be staring at me, but I couldn’t see a thing. My instinct was rarely wrong. “Speak,” I said calmly, trying to neither make a ruckus so that Josey might come to check on me nor to make conversation with myself over a feeling.

“Ah, sorry, am I that visible?” a voice called out from within the shadows. I knit my brows. So this is how schizophrenia rears its ugly head?... “No, I could simply feel your gaze,” I replied to the shadows in a hushed tone. “...I see. Well, I’m sorry to intrude, so I’ll just…” the voice said. And just as it finished saying that, a strange noise was heard, and a figure stepped out of the shadows. It looked like an ordinary man, with short black hair, a pale complexion and a kind disposition, wearing a matching derby and three-piece suit, all grey with a herringbone pattern. The odd thing was that just as I started wondering what this strangely well-kept man was doing in my house, he removed his hat and brought it to his chest apologetically, revealing a pair of small, bony horns protruding from his head. And now that I give his face a closer look, every part of it seemed vaguely inhuman. His eyes were red and slitted, glowing slightly in the deep darkness of my bedroom. His ears were sharp and long, like that of an elf. And from his mouth, a pair of bat-like fangs protruded ominously. He really would have made for a good vampire.

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“I-, uh-, well, I saw what you did earlier this evening, and considering how well you did it, I was wondering if you would like to make a contract with me?” the horned man asked, a little embarrassed from his request. Earlier this evening… “You… saw?” I asked, my eyes narrowing. Whoever this man was, if he knew, he was a danger. My right hand slid silently under the mattress, easily grabbing the hilt of a large knife I kept for situations just like these. “Yes, and, well, I couldn’t help but respect what you do, sir. See, I’ve been tasked with doing exactly what you do, but when I tried, I failed miserably, so I figured getting someone’s help would be for the best, and, well… please?...” the horned man said, his whole face going red like a tomato as he constantly averted his gaze like a school-girl confessing her crush.

Let’s think this over. A strange man has barged into my house, expressed extensive knowledge over my nocturnal habits, and instead of taking this intel to the police like a sane man, has expressed his admiration for me, and wishes to co-operate in murder(supposedly). Sounds like a madman to me. But killing him in my own house would rouse great suspicion. There are no signs of a break-in, and the very fact that I keep a knife under my mattress might come into suspicion, so… My best bet is to go along with whatever he wants me to do for the moment, take him to an undisclosed location, and bury him along with the others. Yup, sounds like a plan.

“What do you need me to do?” I asked matter-of-factly. His face shone up like a star, and I think I could see tears of happiness welling up in his demonic eyes. Okay… “R-, really!? Oh lord satan below I can’t believe my luck~” he exclaimed in pure joy. “Get on with it,” I said in annoyance. “R-, Right! All you’ve gotta do is sign this contract, and then I’ll sign it as well, and then we just have to exchange a little blood, and the contract is sealed!” the horned madman said, fishing a piece of ancient-looking paper out of some satchel I hadn’t noticed before on his hip. He handed the paper over, and I read it thoroughly, as you always should with contracts.

It began with a short introduction that the human(me?) would do the following(: ), after which, in an erratic hand, “I will help Arthur(demon) kill bad guys and send them to hell until Arthur doesn’t want to anymore” was scribbled thoughtlessly. Below, “the demon(Arthur) will do this in return(: )” was written with a stable, orderly hand. Below this, the erratic hand continued with “whatever the human(me.) wants me to do”.

Is this a template of some sort he just filled in?... And what’s with these requirements, there are no rules or anything so to speak of! This is the worst contract I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’ve seen quite a few! At the very bottom, two lines were drawn, probably to write names on. I was just about to grab my pen when the horned madman, presumably this “demon” that’s referred to, stopped me. “App app app, stop right there! I’m not sure if that’s a real pen, Earth is real weird, but if it isn’t, you can’t use it! Only pens like these,” he said, fishing out a pen from his satchel, “work with demonic contracts like these!” He handed me the pen.

The pen stung a bit as I held it. Hm?... is there a needle, sticking into me?... There sure is. The inside of the pen quickly filled up with a red liquid(what is my blood doing in there?) and I could feel my index-finger getting numb from the sudden blood-loss. I looked over the contract again, sighed, and signed my name, Steve Smith, in cursive, gorgeous letters on the line marked “human” with my own blood. The demon(?) sighed and smiled a big, bright smile. I handed the pen to him.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” he said before grabbing the pen carefully, holding it above his face, and emptying the little blood-tank into his mouth. WhAT. “Hm? What is it, why are you staring at me like that?” he said, looking like a confused lamb. Nothing, nothing. I hand him the contract. He gripped the pen firmly, squirmed a bit when the pen drained his blood, before writing “Arthur” on the “demon” line in big, clumsy letters. Arthur, huh.

“Alright, just one more step!” Arthur said, putting the pen back in his satchel and fishing something else out of there. A fancy little ball-head needle. It was purple and red, the two colours separated by criss-crossing golden lines. Hm. Extremely fancy. Without hesitation, Arthur stabbed his thumb on the fancy needle. Blood started seeping out, and just as I was about to question his self-harming tendencies, he grabbed my right hand out of the blue, stabbed my thumb, and pressed his own bleeding thumb against mine. Our faces came close. I could feel my cold blood exiting and his warm, burning blood flooding into me.

“What are you-,” I managed to force out, but he had already put the contract beneath our merging thumbs, and let our mixed blood, hot and cold, seep together and trickle down on it. A single drop of blood splattered onto the contract, and the whole thing lit up in a glorious violet, basking the bedroom in it’s awe-inducing hues.

“Alright! It’s done!” Arthur said, pulling his thumb away from mine. Blood flowed from it and I instinctively brought it to my face to suckle the bad away. “The contract is sealed! Now you’ll help me, and I’ll help you!” Arthur almost shouted with glee. “Hey, keep it down, I got a wife and three kids, you know,” I said calmly, despite burning up inside. What in the world just happened?... “Oh, you do? Sorry, I’m just so excited! My time has come, Lord Satan will finally acknowledge me, and I’ll be renowned for my accomplishments!~” Arthur said, flashing a smile. “Oh, right! I’ll be on my way now, but if you need me during the night, just call me, alright? I promise I’ll always hear you~!” Arthur said, once more merging with the shadows and disappearing into the darkness.

Huh.

Curious.