(Story contains allusions to torture, but no actual depictions of it)

“So, what’s the catch?”

The demon hesitated. The sulfurous smoke billowing from his form dissipated slightly as his concentration wavered. His wings drooped. The arm he had been holding out lowered; the contract in hand, written in red ink on shining golden paper, dimmed.

“The…catch?” He rumbled, bemused. “I thought I had explained it well enough. At the hour of your departure from the earthly realm, you willingly forfeit your soul. Thenceforth it will be entrusted to the care of myself, and by extension my master, the Lord of the Infernal Realm.”

“Oh, yes, you did explain that.” The woman said, nodding politely.

“…Well then. That’s the catch.”

“I see.”

The demon frowned. Not wanting to linger on the negatives, though, he pressed on and proffered the contract to her again. The red ink ran slightly for dramatic effect (Blood was more traditional, but there were much better uses for blood in the long run. Still, people expected it, so red ink was the preferred substitute).

“So, do we have a deal?” he asked. A roll of thunder filled the room at his words, and the smoke increased.

The woman sitting across from him frowned, considering. She was older, almost fifty years of age. Her hair was just beginning to gray, and the wrinkles were adding up on her face. She had a pleasant demeanor, and a gentle smile. At a glance, she was a typical, unassuming grandmother. If you looked closely, though, there was a sadness underneath that smile, a pain behind her eyes. Her’s was the visage of one who had lost much, and although she still persevered, the losses had taken a toll on her.

The demon, who was well versed in the reading of human emotions, noticed all of this. Not that he cared, particularly.

The woman sat there solemnly for a few more seconds. Then she glanced up and asked, “Is that the only catch?”

The demon began to grow impatient with this line of questioning. “Yes.”

She tilted her head. “Are you sure?”

“Am I…Yes, that is all!” The demon boomed. His wings flared threateningly, and the room shook slightly from his thunderous tone. “Is that insufficient? You will be dragged down to the deepest depths of the nether realm and tortured for all eternity! Do you think making a mockery of the idea will lessen your torment? Because I assure you,” He said, low and menacing, leaning in to put his face level with the human woman's. “Your jests will make it no less painful when you’re down there.”

“Mm.” The woman said, rubbing her chin. “You’re not very good at selling the idea.”

The demon spluttered. “I didn’t…listen, you were the one who summoned me—”

“Also, you didn’t mention torture before…” She continued mildly.

The demon threw up his hands in exasperation.. “It was implied when I mentioned condemning you to hell!”

“Oh, Hell, now? No, no, you never mentioned that at all.”

The demon paused with his hands upraised. “Yes I…didn’t I? What did I say, you will be, uh, brought back to…”

“The nether realm, I believe.”

“Yes.” The demon said flatly. “That means Hell.”

“Ah, I see! Good to know.”

The demon leaned back on his tail, perplexed. “Are you entirely unfamiliar with the nature of the pact you are eliciting to make?”

“Oh, no, no, I’m passing familiar.” The woman said, with a reassuring smile. The demon ground his teeth. This mortal was insufferably. “I just think the suggested terms of the agreement are… How can I say this nicely? Poorly articulated, is all.”

The demon’s eyes widened, and his nostrils flared. “You dare—”

“I mean, I could probably guess that the nether realm means Hell, but this is a legally binding contract we’re talking about, isn’t it? Shouldn't the terms be clearly defined? And come to think of it, an ‘eternity of torment’ is incredibly ambiguous, in terms of the scope of the punishment. Will I be in constant agony, 24/7? Or is it a 40 hour workweek?” Her eyes lit up with a spark of mirth. “Do we get holidays off?”

The demon glared at her. “Amusing, mortal. Do you seek to waste my time then? Perhaps I’ll simply strike you down and collect your soul on my way out.”

The woman’s smile faded. “Hell has no claim on me, demon.”

Yet, the demon thought, but she continued.

“You won’t kill me until you get me to sign a contract, and I won’t sign anything until I’m assured that the terms are acceptable, so let’s stop pretending that you’re in a position of power here. I have what you want, not the other way around.”

The demon considered her words, then inclined his head. Of course, she wasn’t entirely correct. He did have what she wanted, otherwise she wouldn’t have called him. Mortals were so easily blinded to how their desires controlled them. But he had to acknowledge that she was at least partially correct. He had nothing to gain by killing her now; best to let a proper deal play out.

“Anyway, I’m surprised your conditions are so poorly defined, is all.”

The demon sighed. “The conditions are clearly spelled out in the contract, if you’re inclined to read it.” He shook the piece of parchment he held for good measure.

“Ah.” The woman said, squinting at the golden paper. “I thought that was just for show.”

The demon shrugged. “It kind of is. The paper itself is irrelevant, but the conditions laid out are quite binding.”

“Well, then, why didn’t you just say so in the first place?”

“It’s…not in our best interest for humans to be well informed when making pacts with us.” The demon said, Then he paused, wondering why he was explaining this to her.

“Well! That’s quite a policy. I imagine that’s going to get you some complaints.”

The demon gave her a quizzical look. “Yeesss?”

“…But at least you’ve been forthcoming in answering my questions, so I thank you for that.”

The demon blinked. So I have. Had this unassuming mortal disarmed him with her demeanor and caused him to reveal more than he should?

Goddamn it! He swore. Then he cringed and glanced downward. Sorry.

‘Satandamnit’ just didn’t have the same ring to it.

“Very clever, human.” He growled. “Shall I wait on you while you waste an eternity pouring over every legal clause?”

“Oh, yes, if you would. That would be very kind.” The woman agreed cheerfully.

The demon glowered at her, but eventually settled back and watched as she carefully scrutinized the piece of parchment. As she read, he pondered. She was…perplexed. Based on a very surface level judgment of her character (Which was all he needed, most of the time), she was headed nowhere near hell. Why would she be seeking a literal deal with the Devil? Not that he was complaining, mind.

Her fixation of loopholes and ‘catches’ was more familiar, though. Always the mortals hoped to outsmart the Devil, and always they failed. This woman would be no different, so long as he could successfully ensnare her.

At length, the woman glanced up from her reading. “Do you have to keep spewing that smoke?

The demon chuckled. He’d forgotten about the sulfuric fumes. “Not at all.” With a wicked grin, he morphed his form to more closely resemble a human.

This was a classic look for him. Tall, but not too tall, dignified features, white hair, neatly kept beard, dark skin. He found this look worked wonders on middle aged women. He smiled, recalling the number of flustered “Oh!”s he’d elicited from them over the years when their eyes fell upon his form.

When the woman before him saw his new form, her face…fell, slightly. She did utter a soft “Oh…”, but there was no fluster in her voice.

The demon paused, taken aback by her reaction. “Is this form…displeasing?” He found himself asking.

“Oh, no…” She said, “You just…reminded me of someone.”

She went back to her reading, leaving the demon more confused than ever.

Finally, she finished. “Well?” The demon prodded.

“Well, yes, it’s all well and good, but…the punishment still seems a bit vague to me.”

The demon rolled his eyes. “You cannot escape the cost of the deal, mortal. The price must be paid.”

“Yes, but how?”

The demon frowned. “Well…by torture.”

“What kind of torture.”

“Why do you want to know?” The demon asked, just a tiny bit weirded out by this mortal’s obsession.

“Well, I guess what I really want to know is what level of punishment is it. I mean, will I be put with the petty thieves, or the murderers? That kind of thing.”

“Murderer’s could be arranged.” He growled.

Of course, she remained undeterred. “Hm, yes, and I suppose that would be a bit better than the rapists.”

“…If you say so.”

“Well, let’s hash it out. I’m curious how the levels of hell are actually organized, incidentally…”

And so began the longest, most aggravating conversation the demon could remember having, in which he basically haggled with the mortal about where she would end up being punished. She was very specific, and before long he just started agreeing with her requests to get her to move on. It didn’t matter to him in the end, so long as she signed the Godda— sorry, Satandamned contract.

And in the end…she did. She signed the dotted line, took a shaky breath, thanked him, and walked out the door. The demon stared after her, baffled. She hadn’t even dismissed him. Technically, he could trash the place, then pursue and… not quite kill her, but get an early start on her eternity of torment. But…he just didn't’ have the energy, after all that

And again, he’d gotten what he came for. She’d signed away her soul. The night was a success.

Right?

Many years passed, and the demon continued his work. He didn’t have a lot to do. Actual demonic summonings, and the subsequent signing of infernal pacts, were becoming more and more rare these days. A more widespread disbelief in the supernatural was a primary cause, but the truth was that it just wasn’t the most popular way to sell your soul these days. Most humans found much more mundane ways of doing it.

One could sell their soul for anything, these days. For ‘love’, for greed, for some addiction. The demon had to admit, his master’s methods were truly inspired. Why do all the work of corrupting human souls by hand, when you can just automate the whole process?

Though years had gone by, he couldn’t get that woman out of his head. She’d been up to something. Plenty of mortals tried to abuse an infernal contract, but she was different, somehow but her motivation. The demon was a master at reading humans, but her motivation escaped him.

After a few years of trying to put it out of his head, he decided to look her up. It turned out that she had been using her newly discovered money-making skills (Yes, she asked to be financially savvy) as charitably as humanly possible. She’d done everything: Donated to healthcare programs, started schools in Africa, contributed to wildlife preservation funds. Still suspicious, he watched her on and off until the end of her life, and by the time she passed on, she’d given away every penny of the money she’d made in her entire life.

She went with him without complaint, and he left her to rot in hell for a while. One day, when the nagging sensation of being had got to him again, he checked in on her. She was definitely suffering and miserable, but… there was someone she was with. A younger soul, with a striking resemblance to her. A son, perhaps?

There was nothing that needed changing, so the demon left them to their suffering. Still, he never quite shook the sensation that he’d been had, somehow, by a woman that asked, very specifically, to go through hell.