The Trouble With Jack (A Devilish Short Story)

THE TROUBLE WITH JACK: A DEVILISH SHORT STORY

Copyright John Marshall 2008

Part One

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Happy New Year!” In the cold winter sky, all over the city, countless fireworks illuminated the darkness. In that great metropolis, people were joyful, laughing and singing. Relationships were being made, some permanent and some not so. It was a time of happiness and of relaxation: for most, but not for all. In the center of it all, in the rooftop garden of a penthouse apartment, a figure leant casually against the wall, pondering. He lit his first cigar of the year and breathed in, contentedly, the sulphur which rained down all around him. Nathaniel, as he was known, loved the new year. It was always a very … enriching … time for him. In the street far below the apartment, a stray dog barked. Nathaniel tipped his head back and laughed at the dumb animal. In so doing, he accidentally swallowed his cigar. He choked and curls of smoke began to drift slowly from his ears. Pausing only to curse the dog, he searched the pockets of his dinner jacket for another Havana.

The french door behind him swung open violently and the balcony was flooded with the soft colours of party lights and the sound of drunken people intent on getting drunker. Nathaniel made a small hissing sound and instinctively backed away from the light, sitting quietly on a carved metal chair in the shadows. At that moment, a smartly-dressed young man rushed onto the balcony, tripped on Nathaniel’s extended left leg and careered towards the railings of the tenth-storey flat, from where he proceeded to relieve his body of an unholy mixture of alcohols and expensive party snacks, carefully selected, prepared and presented on little wooden sticks not three hours earlier by the host’s beautiful yet neurotic wife. Somewhere in the street below, a slightly soiled and surprised dog had finally stopped barking and began to slope off home, a little sadder and a little wiser.

“Feel better now?”, called a voice from behind. With difficulty, the young man slowly lifted his head, and, fighting both sickness and vertigo, turned to the voice. In the shadows, a cigarette lighter flared up, dazzling him. He stumbled forward, caught the back of a chair and found a face, hovering, it seemed, in the darkness. “You look a little pale”, said the face. “If you don’t mind me saying. Won’t you sit for a moment – with me?” Nathaniel pushed forward a seat with his foot. At the same time, he shot a gaze at the open french door, which slammed instantly shut. He allowed himself a brief devilish smile before rearranging his features into what people seemed to think a ‘friendly’ look. It wasn’t easy and it took a moment of his time.

The young man smiled a stupid, drunken smile. Nathaniel smiled back and, doing so, coughed politely, and nodded faintly in the direction of the young man’s trousers. The owner of the trousers looked down and, embarrassed, scrabbled about to do up his trouser zip.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure nobody noticed … Mr …?” There was something about the older man which made the young man suddenly very wary. Was it something in the eyes, a little too dark; the man’s general demeanour, at once controlled yet nervous; or was it the fact that he had just smoked a whole cigar in five puffs and was on his way to lighting another?

Whatever it was, the young man decided to ignore it. He was on his best behaviour tonight. He was keen to impress himself upon his girlfriend’s parents, the hosts of the New Year’s Eve party, so he was determined to be sociable - no matter how strange the company. Besides, he needed to sober up. He took a deep breath of the cold January night air.

“Jack Ashton”, he smiled, offering his hand to the man. Nathaniel merely stared back at him, his eyes flickering red in the light of the fireworks overhead. A moment later, he offered his hand.

“Nathaniel Hopkinson. My mother’s little joke. You smoke, don’t you, Jack?” The question was more of a confirmation than a question.

“Yes. I mean, no. It’s my New Year’s Resolution. I told Jenny …”

“Oh, come on, Jack. One little cigar? I won’t tell if you won’t.” From nowhere, it seemed, Nathaniel was holding out a cigar before Jack’s hungry eyes. “Tempted, Jack?”

For a moment - just a moment - Jack hesitated. But then his body – his whole lower nature - betrayed him. His index finger twitched and a moment later, he was sat back in the chair, smoking contentedly. He coughed. “It’s my first”, he explained. “First of the year.”

Nathaniel nodded his head slowly, his eyes softly closed.

Jack felt comforted by this small shared secret between the two men. He shook his head violently, and sniffed, like a wet dog, trying to move the alcohol lower down his body. He looked up at his new confidante. “So who do you know. Nathaniel, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, everybody. Nobody. You know how it is at these things.”

“Keeping a low profile, huh?”

“I don’t do families. Like you, hey, Jack?”

“It depends.”

“On?”

“The family. You know Mister Tyler? The guy throwing this bash?”

“We’ve done some business together”, said Nathaniel, knocking back a glass of champagne. “A long time ago. Just before he met his wife, if memory serves.”

“Whoa. That must be about twentyf –“

“You in business, Jack?”, said Nathaniel.

“Me? Hell, no! I hate business! Wouldn’t know where to start!”

“Then you must be family.”

“Me - with all this?” Jack cast a quick look around. “No. ’Like to be”, he said.

“Pardon me?”

“I’m Jenny’s boyfriend. Sorry, ‘partner’. Mister Tyler’s daughter. Jenny.”

“Yes, I know her. Very pretty young woman. You’ve done well for yourself, Jack. I congratulate you.”

“Thanks. Listen, I don’t want to be rude, but who did you say you were again?”

“Just an old friend of the family. That’s all.”

“Right”, said Jack. He looked closely at Nathaniel, wondering. “’Bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here, right? Guy like me in a fancy place like this?”

“Not at all”, Nathaniel replied. He held out a fresh handkerchief. “You’ve got caviar - on your chin.” Jack took the handkerchief, mopped up the caviar from his chin and put it in his mouth. Nathaniel smiled politely and poured two glasses of champagne.

“Thanks”, said Jack, taking the glass. “I’m Jenny’s bit of rough, you see.”

In all his many, many years dealing with the human race, Nathaniel had never heard that particular phrase before. “Excuse me?”, he asked.

“Wrong side of the tracks”, said Jack. “She’ll get bored soon enough. Nice girl, though. I shall miss her.”

‘Really?’, thought Nathaniel, ‘The girl or the money?’

“You know what I mean, Nat?” Nathaniel raised a very bushy eyebrow at this last remark. He’d never been called Nat before. He searched for an appropriate response, something sympathetic.

“Women”, he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Can’t live ‘em, can’t live with – “

“Be different if I had money, Nat. Like this.” Jack waved his arm, unsteadily, across the full-length of the balcony, taking in the swimming pool, the fountain and a thousand city lights below. “Even this suit’s borrowed! She’ll never marry me without some serious money and that’s the end of it!”

Nathaniel’s unnaturally-pointed ears twitched at this last remark. Unlike Jack, he was a businessman and this sounded rather like a business opportunity. He didn’t waste a second.

“What if you could have both?” he asked the young man, leaning forward. There was a glint in his eye.

“What?”

“What if you could get the girl and the money - together?”

Jack leaned back in his chair and put his glass down clumsily on the table. “Now that would be the ideal scenario, my friend”, he said. “But this is reality, right? And you ain’t no Father Christmas, Nat!”

Nathaniel smiled, leaned back and refilled their glasses. Jack had a great capacity for alcohol, especially the free and expensive sort. With a speed most unbecoming to the quality of the crystal and the champagne, he took the glass, tipped back his head, shut his eyes and drained the glass in one loud gulp. As he set the glass back down on the table, something caught his eye. A square, dark piece of card. “A business card? Don’t you guys ever rest? It’s New Years’ Eve, Nat!”

“Pick it up, Jack. Take a look”.

Jack picked up the card. “This you? Nathaniel Z. Hopkinson? What’s the ‘Z’ for?”

“Zachary. It’s from the Bible. Old Testament. Check the other side.”

Jack turned the card over. It was black, completely black.

“There’s nothing there”.

“Look again”, Nathaniel said. Jack held the card closer as a firework exploded noisily above. A thousand points of fiery red light lit up the sky as, on the card, tiny red letters appeared in a flowing script:

“Demon, 2nd class: For all your nefarious needs, short or
long-term, individual or group rates. No time-wasters.
(Card not transferable for cash or part-relief from pergatory).

As the letters glowed, the card grew hot between Jack’s fingers.

“Cute”, he said, dropping the card. “Where d’you get it? A fancy Christmas cracker?”

Nathaniel smiled politely, as to a child. Jack looked back at him, trying to figure out if he was mad, dangerous or both. However, whilst he had told Nathaniel the truth that he was no businessman, he was streetwise and smart enough never to let an opportunity, however strange, pass him by. This stranger had, as Jenny would no doubt say, piqued his interest. So, when another guest then tried to open the french door, Jack quickly jammed his foot against it. “Does this help at all?”, asked Nathaniel, fetching a key from his pocket. Jack quickly locked the door.

“Skeleton key, huh?”, said Jack. “Not sure what old Tyler would think of that.”

“Like I said, we go back a long way”, said Nathaniel. He stared at Jack, who was sobering up quickly. He felt a little nervous and looked again at the card laying on the table, whose letters still glowed faintly.

Jack decided to humour the man. “So you’re a demon, Nathaniel?” Nathaniel tipped his head a little, by way of introduction. “But only 2nd class, huh?”, continued Jack sarcastically. “Don’t I deserve a 1st class demon, then?” As the last words fell out of his mouth, Jack knew it was a mistake. Nathaniel slapped a heavy hand upon the thick metal table. He leaned forward and fixed his gaze upon the young man in the borrowed suit as the red-hot metal beneath his fingers smoked and cracked.

“If, Mister Ashton, I was a 1st class demon, you would be dead by now”. He spoke calmly, but through sharp, gritted teeth. His gaze felt like cold steel and, for a moment, Jack’s blood turned to ice. But, a moment later, the storm seemed to pass, the gaze softened and the older man leaned back in his chair, smiling. “Think of this as your lucky night, Jack”. He placed his hand on Jack’s. It was as cold as ice.

“What do you want?” he asked, the sarcasm all gone from his voice.

“I want to help you, Jack. With your situation.”

“Oh, my situation!” said Jack. “And who says I need any help?”

“’Course you do, Jack, it’s as plain as that chip on your shoulder. Besides, I’ve got to be a very good judge of human character over the years. I like you. You see, there’s something not quite right about you, Jack. Dishonest, even. And I respect you for it.”

“Do you? Well, I’m Sorry that I can’t return the compliment, Nat”, said Jack. “In fact, I think if you’ll excuse me, I should go back to the party with the real people.” Jack stood up and walked towards the french door. “Demon”, he muttered contemptuously, shaking his head. He reached out to the door handle. Someone tried the door from the other side. As they touched the handle, they let out a sharp cry of pain. Through the glass, Jack could see the handle glowing red-hot. He looked back at Nathaniel.

“I should leave it to cool for a minute, if I were you”, said Nathaniel. Jack looked at him. Nathaniel was used to the good life, that was clear enough: he was out of condition and at least twenty years older than Jack. But Jack had had too much champagne and, after all, that trick with the door-handle, and those eyes ... He sat down again.

“How long do you want her for, Jack?”

“What?”

“Your beautiful girlfriend, Jack – and her money. How long do you want them for?”

A chill ran through Jack’s body and his throat felt suddenly dry. With difficulty, he forced himself to say the word, “Forever?”

“Sorry, we don’t do ‘forever’. Like the card says, ‘Short or long-term’ only.”

Jack took a drink and then a deep breath. “If this is what I think it is, and you are a real demon – which I’m still not convinced about, even though that was a clever trick with the door - then we’re talking about my soul, right? You give me the girl and the money and you get my soul when I die. Forever. Am I right?”

Nathaniel hit his bony knuckles against his forehead. “No!”, he shouted, his leathery flesh sizzling. “Why does everybody think that?” All that eternal damnation crap! That’s just the church trying to scare you. They don’t like the competition. Look, Jack, nothing’s eternal, nothing. Except possibly … him”, he said, his voice and his anger dropping, looking up through stiff bushy eyebrows to the heavens above.

“You’re afraid of God?”, Jack asked, doubtfully.

“You haven’t seen him! You think I’m scary? He makes me look like the tooth fairy! You got a cigarette?”

“Why? No more cigars? What about your magic pockets?”

“Too many keys, too few cigars. Technical stuff.” Jack reached across and gave him an unlit cigarette. Nathaniel put it in his mouth and sucked, fire appearing immediately at the tip.

“I bet you’re great at parties”, said Jack.

But Nathaniel wasn’t listening. Instead, he was gazing up at the clear night sky. It was brilliant with thousands of glittering stars. He breathed out a long trail of cigarette smoke, tracing perfectly the long, lazy arc of the Milky Way. He snorted, turned away from the wonder of infinity and spat horribly into a nearby plant pot. “Like I said, Jack, we’re not interested in keeping souls for all eternity. We just don’t have the space any more. No, you should think of it more as a lease arrangement - like renting a house or a car. Just tell me what you want, how long you want it for and we agree the terms.”

“No catch?”

“Nothing.”

“No penalty clauses? First-born child, that sort of thing?”

“That’s him, Jack, not us. It was a good one, though, first-born child, I’ll give him that. Beat the hell out of the locusts! Whatever happened to God, hey, Jack? He was a lot more fun in the old days.” Nathaniel chuckled quietly to himself. “Ah well, we all get old, I suppose.”

“The contract?”, asked Jack.

“Oh, yes. The contract. Actually, there is one thing. It’s not a catch, exactly, but, er, if you exceed the terms of the rental we are fully entitled to call into effect Clause 66.”

“Clause 66?”

“Yes, that’s the bit everybody always thinks about. You know, keeping your soul in everlasting torment and all that. But, like I say, Jack, that’s only in very extreme circumstances. We always prefer to work out some kind of deal first. Now how about it? Are we gonna do some business here tonight or what?”

“Are you for real, Nat? I mean, you look the part an’ all. Not that I ever met a real-live demon before, but …”

“So I’m a champagne hallucination! OK. But what if I’m not? Then I make sure that the beautiful Jenny falls – what is it you people say? – ah, yes, head over heels in love with you, you marry into more wealth than you ever dreamed of and you live happily ever after. And, in return, once you die, you spend one day with us –“

“In hell.”

“Please, Jack! That is where I live! I do wish people wouldn’t call it that. Makes it sound so negative. Spend one day with us for every day you spent with the girl. No more, no less. Then you’re free to go. Now how’s that for a deal?”

“Sounds fair enough. But what if I wake up one day and I don’t love her any more? What if she doesn’t love me?”

“Oh, she’ll always be in love with you, Jack. Don’t worry about that. But you’ll always have your free will. And if you want to end the contract at any time, just call me and tell me you wish to cease our business relationship there and then. ‘Number’s on the card.” He nodded towards Jack’s breast pocket from which, somehow, was protruding the demon’s business card. Jack’s eyes flicked towards it and back again to the smooth-talking, champagne and cigar-loving demon in front of him.

“And once the deal’s up, I get to go to Heaven, right?”

“You can go to the tenth dimension for all I care, Jack!”

Jack sat for a moment, thinking. It certainly seemed a good offer, even too good to be true. He stood up and looked through the french doors. Across the dancefloor, he could see Jenny. She was surrounded by several good-looking men, no doubt all very eligible and all very rich. He wanted what they had, what he had never had a chance to get. “Yes”, he said, almost under his breath. And then louder: “Do it! The girl and the money! I want it now, Nathaniel! Do it now!”

Nathaniel was standing right behind him. He smiled a devilish smile and cleared his throat as if about to make a speech. “An excellent decision, Jack. Jack, my boy, let me be the first to congratulate you! As of this moment, you now have a very beautiful and, if I may say, obscenely wealthy wife! Behold!” Slowly, the french door swung open. Jenny turned around and, across the room, saw Jack, smiled at him, and looked at the glittering diamond wedding ring on her finger. She blew a long and sexy kiss to her new husband. Jack straightened his tie, took a quick look at the wedding ring which had magically appeared on his finger and then walked out of the cold dark night and into the warmth and light of his new life to claim his new bride.

Part Two

“I hate you, Jack! You are the most boring, money-obsessed little man that I ever met in my life! God knows what I ever saw in you!”

“Well, there must have been something, darling, or you wouldn’t have married me!”

“Marrying you was the biggest mistake of my life! You know, Jack, I look back two years ago and I don’t understand myself. I really don’t! It must have been the drugs! That’s the only way I can explain it!”

“No, darling. You didn’t start the drugs until after we married. The Kenyan safari, remember? When that Masai warrior offered me half his ancestral homeland to sleep with you.”

“When you agreed, you mean!”

“Jenny, we’ve been through all this. That land is rich in minerals. I tell you, it’s one of the best deals we ever made!”

“You never used to care about money, Jack! Not like all the others! That was the thing I liked about you! I must have been brainwashed. Or hypnotism. I’d never have married you if I’d known what kind of mean little man - !”

“Jenny, I do wish you’d calm down! I know, why don’t we sit down and pray? You know, the family that prays together, stays together!”

“Don’t you ‘pray’ me, Jack! Do you think I’d have even looked at you if I’d known you were going to turn into a Jesus freak!”

“Well, the Lord moves in mysterious ways.”

“Yeah, as fast as this?”

Incensed, Jenny looked around for the nearest thing to throw at her husband, and found an antique vase, given to Jack, now a very successful businessman, by the Sultan Of Brunei.

“Jenny, put that down! That’s worth at least fifty thousand pounds!”

“Was, you mean!”

Jenny, tall and supple, used to play beach volleyball before she married Jack. With perfect poise, she calculated distance, angle and trajectory and then threw the vase with all her might straight at her husband’s head. He, however, had become an expert in dodging priceless antiques and the vase whistled an inch past his head, smashing against the full-length Louis XIV gold-framed mirror behind.

“You know, if this carries on, Jenny, the insurance company is bound to increase our premium again!”

This last remark was too much for Jenny. She stood up straight, put her shoulders back and took a deep breath. She was about to scream and Jack knew it. Before their marriage, she had been an excellent swimmer. She had a fine figure and excellent lung capacity. Jack knew what was coming. He put his fingers in his ears and closed his eyes as his wife opened her mouth wide and let out a great cry, somewhere between a scream and a wail. In the extensive gardens around the villa, several heavily coiffured pedigree dogs began to bark.

“I’m going out!”, she cried, storming across the room.

“Good!”, said Jack. “See how your boyfriend likes you in this mood!”

“It would serve you right if I was having an affair!”, she replied, flinging open the carved wooden doors before her. “At least I’d get some fun!”

Jack sighed and walked slowly over to the bookcase. Whilst not a particularly well-read man, he had one of the largest collections of bibles in any private collection. He had, after all, made a deal with a demon two years ago to spend time in hell in exchange for worldly wealth and a trophy wife. However, with his streetwise logic, Jack had figured that becoming a born-again Christian might just swing things in his favour come the day of reckoning. And so that’s why he found himself, not two months before, pledging one hundred thousand dollars and – not for the first time – his eternal soul, in the Los Angeles Pearly Gates Church Of The Really Rich And Famous. In the meantime, being a Christian had the added benefit of annoying the hell out of his beautiful, yet very neurotic, wife. He picked up a bible and opened it at random. Jesus was telling the guys that story about the prodigal son. Whilst not a true believer, Jack was up on all the stories, rules and creeds. He had an idea. A moment later, he was dialling his father-in-law’s Malibu beachhouse.

‘Hello?’

‘Harry’, said Jack. ‘It’s Jack’.

‘Not so loud!’, said Harry. ‘I’ve got you on speakerphone.’

‘Oh’, said Jack. And then, ‘Why, Harry?’

‘Sarah threw a rock at me yesterday. Caught me right on the ear. Blown up like a cabbage, it has.’

There was a pause. ‘Your wife threw a rock at you, Harry?’ said Jack.

‘Yeah, but it’s not really her fault, Jack. I’d hidden all her guns, you see. I wasn’t getting any sleep. Anyway, what can I do for you, buddy?’

‘Well, I was wondering if maybe perhaps Jenny could stay with you two for a while - just a little while. You know, things are a bit tight between us. I thought that if she spent some time with you, then maybe she’d relax a little and –‘

‘Oh, no you don’t! I mean, I’m sorry, Jack. I understand your situation. Of course I do. But you’ve only had two years of it. I’ve had to live with her mother for over twenty-seven and a half years now. Do you know, since I got married, I’ve lost four inches in height, Jack?’

‘Four inches?!’

‘And shoes! I can’t get anything to fit these days!’

‘Right’. The conversation was not going in exactly the direction Jack had envisaged.

‘Look, Jack, I’m sorry, boy, but it’s not just me. Believe it or not, Sarah’s been a lot better since Jenny left home. If she was to come back to us … no, no, it’s just too awful to contemplate.’ Harry gently pressed the bandage around his head. It was still very sore. ‘Listen’, he said, his voice dropping to a whisper: ‘Why don’t you get yourself a couple of girlfriends, Jack? You know, ease the pressure. That’s what I do!’

‘You do?’

‘Sure! If I had to spend every night with Sarah, I’d be as crazy as she is!’

‘I wish I could, Harry. But adultery is a sin!’

‘Yeah? Well so’s murder, Jack. And I gotta tell you: sometimes, when my little cherry-pie starts screaming and throwing things, like they do, well I just feel like doing something – Jack, I gotta go. Sarah’s just walked in. I’ll send you this month’s money. Bye’. He hung up.

Jack didn’t really mind the idea of adultery, or divorcing his wife for that matter, but all his bibles suggested that God, rather selfishly, objected to both. Unfortunately, so did Jenny, who, in a very smart move by her parents, stood to lose her inheritance should she ever file divorce papers. It now seemed to Jack that by making deals both with God and the devil, he had painted himself into a corner. If he spent another two years married to Jenny, he too would be covered in bandages and whispering on his own answerphone, like Harry. Try as he might, there was no other way out. ‘Though he hated to lose all the riches his pact with the demon had given him, sooner or later he would have to call Nathaniel and cancel their arrangement. Preferably sooner, while he still had his sanity. He flicked open a secret drawer in the Chippendale writing desk and, for the first time in two years, held a small black business card in his hand.

“Nathaniel Z. Hopkinson.
Demon, 2nd class: For all your nefarious needs, short or
long-term, individual or group rates. No time-wasters.
(Card not transferable for cash or part-relief from pergatory).

There was a phone number underneath. With a heavy heart, Jack took a long last look around him. Priceless antiques, statues, eight sports cars in the garage. All this was about to go. But then so was his crazy wife. He took a deep breath and dialled the demon.

‘Hello? said the demon.

‘Nathaniel?’, asked Jack. ‘Is that you?’

‘Last time I looked. It’s been a while! What can I, er, do for you?’ He sounded a little nervous somehow – nervous or distracted.

‘Who’s that, Nat?’, said a woman’s voice.

‘No-one, honey. Just business. You carry on.’

‘OK baby’.

‘Sorry, Jack, er, I’m a little busy right now, if you know what I mean. Can I call you back in an hour – or two?’

‘No, don’t do that! I might change my mind.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I want to cancel our arrangement, Nathaniel. I don’t want the money. I don’t want to be married to Jenny any more.’

‘You don’t? But she’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever, I mean, you’ve ever seen. Are you crazy?’

‘No, I’m not, but she is.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that’, said Nathaniel. ‘A little feisty perhaps, but once you get on top, she’s not so – ‘

‘Look, Nathaniel, you’re not married to her. Now, I’ve thought it all out. I can’t divorce her and I don’t want a mistress – ‘

‘Why not?’, asked Nathaniel.

‘Jenny hates the idea of infidelity’, said Jack. ‘It would kill her, I know it would.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that’, said the demon. And then, to his companion, ‘A little bit lower. Watch the gearstick. That’s it.’

‘Nathaniel, I want you to kill Jenny. I mean, I appreciate we’d have to work out some kind of contract. An extra clause. I spend a few extra months in hell perhaps – ‘

‘Sorry, friend. No can do. I’m not killing anyone.’

‘Why not? You’re a demon, aren’t you? And I bet you could get up to 1st class with a few murders, right?’

‘Why should I? I got your soul when we made the contract.’

‘Yes, but only part-time. One day in hell for each day of the contract, right?’

‘Oh, come now, Jack! You didn’t really take the word of a demon, did you? I own your soul, Jack. Eternal damnation. Just like the church says.’

‘Forever! You evil, lying - ’

‘My advice, Jack? Enjoy yourself while you can, and stop trying to get your wife killed. You know, women can be touchy about that kind of thing, can’t they, honey?’ A woman laughed in the background, before being drowned out by the sound of a dog barking.

‘Nathaniel!’, called Jack. ‘Nathaniel!’ But the line was dead. The demon had returned his attention back to his ladyfriend.

Jack stared out of the French doors, his eyes taking in the tennis court, croquet lawn, nine-hole golf course. So he was going to burn in hell, forever, for this, for his crazy wife. Even the nine sports cars in the garage. What use were they now? He looked over at the garage. Strange, the doors were open and Jenny’s awful yapping little dog was jumping around excitedly by the doors. Was he being burgled? He went to the writing desk and picked up his gun. In a few moments, he was out of the house and standing by the open garage door. As he looked inside, it seemed to Jack that there was someone inside one of the cars, the Maserati MC12. Whoever it was must have flicked one of the switches accidentally, because at that moment the roof on the convertible folded back. And, to Jack’s amazement, the head of one Nathaniel Zachary Hopkinson, demon 2nd class, popped up over the top.

‘Ah, Jack’, he said. ‘Long time, no see.’

‘Jack?’ said a woman’s voice. ‘Is that you, Jack?’

‘Yes, Jenny. It’s me.’

‘Ah’, said Jenny. She slowly, sheepishly, raised her head above the roofline. Her fingers were frantically trying to do up buttons on her dress. ‘This isn’t what it looks like, honey.’

‘Do you know who this is, Jenny?’, he asked his wife, gesturing to Nathaniel. ‘Or, rather, what he is?’ He took a step forward. Both Jenny and Nathaniel saw the gun in his right hand.

‘Look, Jack’, said Nathaniel, ‘I’m sure you’re feeling all kinds of things right now–‘

‘He’s a demon’, interrupted Jack. ‘A servant of hell. Aren’t you, Nathaniel? Go on, tell her.’

‘Well, yes, it’s true. I am. 2nd class’, said Nathaniel, also doing up the buttons of his shirt. Whilst immortal and thus immune to bullets, Nathaniel was feeling a little embarrassed at having being caught in such a compromising situation, especially with a client’s wife. Jack opened the driver door and Nathaniel fell out onto the floor, trousers flailing around his ankles.

‘Get up, Nathaniel.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’m going to shoot you. You lied to me about the contract and now I find you having sex with my wife in my favourite sports car. You don’t just take a Maserati to the dry cleaners, Nat.’

‘Yes, I’m sorry, Jack. Sorry. Most unprofessional’, said Nathaniel, staggering to his feet.

‘According to you, I’m going to spend eternity in hell, anyway, so I might as well kill you.’

‘Shoot Nathaniel and I’ll shoot you, Jack!’, said Jenny, peering out from behind Nathaniel. She was holding a gun, which she had hastily found in the glove compartment. Jack wished he hadn’t been so security-conscious.

‘What?’, he exclaimed. ‘I’m your husband, Jenny. This … thing … ‘s a demon!’

‘You’re telling me!’, she said, a broad grin on her face. ‘Besides, he’s promised to make me the richest woman in the world! Even you can’t offer me that, Jack!’

‘What you doing, Nathaniel? First Jenny’s father, then me, now Jenny. Who’s gonna be next? Little Flossy here?’ Jack turned his head and gestured to the cocker spaniel, who was yapping widely with all the excitement. This was Nathaniel’s chance: he ran at Jack and launched himself at him. But Jack caught a glimpse of this flying demon in the wing mirror of a 1958 Pontiac Firebird. He span around and fired his gun. This was followed by a second shot, but not from Jack’s, from Jenny’s. Jack’s bullet passed clean through the undead body of the demon and into his wife. Jenny’s bullet, equally, struck her husband right in the heart. They were both dead.

Nathaniel staggered to his feet. He was not hurt, except perhaps for his pride, and that only a little. He decided such a scene would be hard even for a demon to explain to the police. So he took the keys for the Maserati off the shelf, dumped Jenny’s body on the garage floor and drove into the night.

And that is where you might think the story ends. And I would agree with you, were it not for something strange I saw not long after that. I was drinking coffee in a diner one Saturday afternoon, waiting for the parade. I was a journalist on the county paper. Anyway, I noticed there was a funny-looking group at the table in the corner. They were very animated, all talking at once. I put on my glasses to see better. There was an old guy, a youngish fellah and a woman – a beautiful woman, at that. They were all desperately trying to get the attention of a young guy and his girlfriend in the next booth. I suppose they must have upset them, because, a moment later, the young couple left in a hurry, leaving their fries and coffees untouched behind them.

I called the waitress over. ‘Hey, Dorothy. Do you know those three?’

‘Sure, Ben’, she said. ‘Been coming in here for a couple of weeks now.’

‘Out-of-towners?’ I asked.

‘Crazies, more like’, said Dorothy, shaking her head. ’Get this. See the old one? Well, he thinks he’s a demon.’

‘A demon?’

‘Yeah. 3rd class, though. Demoted from 2nd, apparently, by the devil himself!’

‘The devil himself!’

‘That’s right!’

‘And the other two?’ I asked.

‘Well, it’s kinda complicated but, as far as I can tell, they were married once. But now he’s an angel sent by God as a punishment to keep an eye on the demon for some reason, and she’s a ghost.’

‘A ghost?’

‘As God’s my witness. She’s pissed at both of them, apparently, so she’s decided to haunt them both.’ Dorothy pursed her lips and looked at me with a ‘now-what-do-you-think-of-that’ expression on her face.

‘Surely you don’t believe that, do you?’ I asked.

Dorothy coughed and looked down at the ground. They trio passed between us: the second-rate demon, the reluctant angel and the angry ghost, squabbling and fighting like three cats in a bag. Just before they got to the door, the wind must have caught it and it whipped open, just like it’d been told to.

I watched them leave and then jumped up out of my seat. I decided that, whatever these guys were, there was a story there somewhere. And that’s how I got to be the best and most famous journalist in the world. But I suppose that’s a whole other story, isn’t it!