blueeyes
Refugee
Hi guys...
Umm, I wrote this a couple days back just kind of between classes. It's about Mr Macphisto, and it's not a funny sort of story ... it's more serious and uh, thoughtfull I guess.
I was always interested in how Mr Macphisto's character transforms in the performance of Zoo Tv... He goes from this very cynical, slick devil to the guy who sing the most moving and sad love songs at the end ... and that's where he is left.
I thought that there was a story there and I tried to write it.
Ummm, you all know that it takes a lot to make me shy .. and I feel like hiding under my table right now!!! SO ....be gentle and here goes nothing...
_Bluey
Stay
He traced wings into the haze of smoke left on the gold-rimmed mirror. ?Quiet, quiet, get a hold on things?. He sighed. ?Get a hold?? A pale hand ran through waxy black hair. He noticed it was shaking. He nearly swore, but knew better. They were listening. He knew that now, and soon, they would deal with him. He sat, watching wax drip on feathers until the lights were gone.
She was a strange little girl to begin with.
A senior tempter, Macphisto had a very bright future ahead of him. He was a particular favorite of undersecretary Screwtape, and had even been awarded for his achievements several times by the Principal of the academy of tempters himself. Hell, however, was hardly a luxurious place. It was not unusual to be praised and framed by the same coworker in the same day. That was the point. You don?t make friends in Hell. You don?t eat, you don?t sleep, you don?t stop working and you don?t fuck up.
Hell was not the carnal, warm opium den that humans envisioned. It was dusty and gray and filled with the noise of rustling papers as bodiless demons such as Macphisto manipulated the minds and surroundings of their ?patients? to win them over to the side of the ?Father Below? who had an insatiable appetite for human souls, and very little patience with tempters who denied him a meal through their incompetence. Therefore, spirits like Macphisto just kept plotting, thinking, strategizing, stalking, and grabbing from one millennium to the next, not because they were interested in evil, but because they were hungry: for victory, for souls, for more.
Tempting and winning souls became so commonplace for Macphisto that it was boring. Humans were such a predictable lot, for no other reason than that they wanted to win too. They wanted more. The trick was convincing them that they want the ?more? that you are selling.
Macphisto had just closed his last case, a pathetic bank teller who prayed for his wife before he beat her. Sure enough, as soon as he returned to his well-appointed office, another black file lay on his desktop. With a sigh, he opened it.
Patient: 22 years old, Isobel Andrews. No religion. ?Hmm, those agnostics can be tricky?, he thought.
A history of service for the enemy. Poorly handled by former unskilled tempters. He would have to observe his new charge. He was instantly whisked to the terra.
A young red haired woman stood alone in an empty parking lot at night. She looked around furtively and kicked a stone. His interest perked, she was probably waiting to buy drugs, or perhaps to offer her services for money to a stranger. He smirked; perhaps this patient would be easier to win over than the file made out. She uncrossed her arms and grabbed a nearby shopping cart. Her eyes darted left and right before she broke into a sprint. ?Was she going to steal the cart?? She ran until the wheels were barely kissing the pavement and then with a great whoop, threw herself into the cart. Red hair blew in the wind and twisted through the silver mesh of the basket as she traversed the parking lot in her bizarre chariot. Giggling echoed off of the steel of the abandoned supermarket. When the shopping cart drifted to a stop she jumped out, and snickering, looked around and began to run again. She once again vaulted into the cart and squealed as the cart rumbled over the pavement. After about fifteen minutes of this, she climbed out and scampered to a small green house not half a block from the store and let herself in with a key from under the mailbox.
For all his experience and omniscience, Macphisto hesitated in the parking lot before following her. Humans did strange things left to themselves, but that was exceptional. He mentally reviewed her file for any note of psychiatric instability, but there was none mentioned. When he found her in the house she was sitting in her pajamas in front of a smoky mirror, holding candles up to the glass and watching dark gray lines undulate up the surface. He watched her, curious, her eyes were so intently focused on the flames and the smoke that they seemed almost made of stone. She was so still and so focused that when she turned her head towards him, Macphisto jumped. She blew out the candles and skipped to her bathroom. Macphisto listened to her thoughts,
?Ooooh yeah, bathroom really needs a scrub! Good lord! Ow! Stupid brush, I need one that won?t pull all the hair out of my freakin? head. Hmmm, I wonder if I should stop by the store tomorrow?I hope creepy cashier guy isn?t working, what an ass. Do, do, do, Hmmm. I feel so ? watched. Are the curtains ? no they are closed?how strange. Oh well, must be the guardian angels, they are always hangin? around.? Suddenly, she yelled to the empty bathroom with the toothbrush hanging out of her mouth:
?Hello up there!? Macphisto cringed, he knew she couldn?t see him there but the coincidence was a little unnerving. ?I know you want my soul and everything,? she continued ?but can?t you let a girl brush her teeth in peace?? Macphisto chuckled to himself, fine, a coincidence like that deserved some respect. He hovered near her bookshelves in her bedroom until Isobel wandered in, took a running leap at her bed, flung the covers over herself, and turned off the light by throwing a shoe at the switch with a ferocity that surprised Macphisto.
?Goodnight!? she yelled to no body.
?This could be entertaining?, he thought to himself with a diabolical smirk.
A purple apron circled her waist, standing out from the starched white ones worn by the other waitresses. Isobel rushed from table to table, pouring coffee and taking orders until her fingers were red and raw. Macphisto worked just as hard, suggesting to her that the old man in the corner spilled his tea on purpose, and the family in the middle of the floor were indecisive just to vex her. He could sense her building mental fatigue, which surged every time she passed a certain smoky booth in the corner.
Macphisto had been watching her for months, and she proved ? fascinating. She was more erratic, more spontaneous and unpredictable than any patient he had ever supervised before. Her forces of habit, a tempter?s bread and butter, were almost non-existent. As a result, she required almost constant attention. Not that he minded, after millennia of supervising the same old personality over and over, it was refreshing to watch someone so ? odd. She had, one night, decided that she didn?t want to eat a pizza alone and took her pizza downtown to sit on the curb and eat with five homeless men. She talked to her ?angels? almost constantly (he wondered how much she really knew about them!). She took a camera with her on walks to photograph colors that she liked which she would later tack up on her wall. That sort of thing. Isobel defied logic; she was nearly a force of chaos, ?albeit?, he admitted ?a charming one?.
His attention was snapped back to the present when he sensed her tense when the man in the smoky booth demanded to know the total liquor sales for the day while she was carrying two trays at once.
?I don?t know sir, I?ll check for you.?
?Make it fast? her boss hissed. ? For God?s sake what do I pay you for??
?Of course sir?
He could sense her fear, a sensation so familiar in Hell, usually precipitated by the scrutiny of a senior tempter or worst of all, the wrath of ?The Father Below?. Macphisto had seen more than a few tempters go, before the great lord himself. It was highly unpleasant to witness, and he worked very hard not to incur the wrath of such a volatile and powerful being.
?Damn,? she cursed softly as the till beeped at her. ?Come out you stupid report!? The machine was not being co operative. An older waitress looked over her shoulder and asked:
?And he wants a sales report??
?Yeah? her hands were shaking a little. The older waitress smirked and raised an eyebrow,
?Well good luck with that.? Isobel thumped the machine one last time and swallowed.
?Well, here comes a bad day at work? Macphisto snickered. He could use this to his advantage later on; he could let her wallow in that sickening cowardly feeling that one always got when-
?What did you do to my machine!?? The owner blared at her.
?Nothing, it was broken when I-?
?Shut up you stupid girl!?
Macphisto couldn?t help feeling pity for her. It was always hard to fail in front of one?s superiors, as he well knew from a memorable scolding he had the misfortune to witness before his most recent departure, which was directed at a trembling novice tempter.
Then, the wind changed.
?No, you shut up!? Isobel demanded hoarsely. Everything in the restaurant stopped.
?You fat, miserable son of a bitch! I work my ass off for you, and you just sit there in your booth and pick it all apart!? A hot tear ran down her red cheek, and her fists shook.
?I do everything I can to please you because you scare me! You scare all of us! You try to intimidate and abuse us into staying here. But you know what? You couldn?t do the job I do if you tried you incompetent, ungrateful ass! You know what else?? She undid the apron and flung it in his stunned face. ?You are a coward. I wouldn?t help you up if I saw you under a bus, and what?s more?. I quit!?. She stormed out of the restaurant, and slammed the large, metal door behind her.
When Macphisto finished reveling in the older man?s embarrassment and horror, he found Isobel sitting alone, crying in a pub. ?Crying!?? he thought, ?after a performance like that??. He felt like congratulating her on her remarkable finesse. She decided to order a glass of wine.
?A glass?? he whispered into her mind ? You deserve a bottle daaahrling!? She downed the bottle in fifteen minutes and left her tip money on the table to pay for it. Macphisto beamed to think of her tirade, which had to be the gutsiest, funniest thing he had ever seen a human do! He sensed the whole time how intimidated she was and she still gave her boss what for. ?Not many humans could do that?, he mused, ?nor could many demons?.
Isobel got up and staggered out of the pub, traveling at a painfully slow pace across the street towards her house. Her walk was a slow, unsteady march, of one heeled foot barely in front of the other. Suddenly, headlights pinned her like crosshairs, and she hadn?t even turned her fuzzy head to see the car bearing down on her when Macphisto shouted into her brain:
?MOVE NOW!?
Isobel stepped back just in time, and fell back from the wind of the car brushing past her. As she caught her breath and moved shakily to a near by sidewalk, Macphisto?s mind reeled:
?What did I do? What did I do? I could have taken her right then, she would have been a closed case! She was in my grasp and I told her to move? Why? ? He felt sick. He thought of his superiors in Hell and wondered if they were watching all this. ?Do they know? Why did I just ? what just ? is she okay?? The poor girl was sitting on a bench, shocked and white. Macphisto examined her and felt her racing heart and frantic breathing. ?The poor darling, I?ve never seen her this scared before.? He whispered into her mind: ?It?s okay; you?ll be all right darling. Just take a deep breath, that?s a good girl, see? You?re okay, don?t be afraid.? There, she seemed to be calming down now, he?d just make sure she got a warm bath and a good sleep tonight. Her hair looked like caramel in the streetlights. Macphisto smiled, which wore away with the shock of his realization:
?No?. Oh no.? It hit him like a train. ?No, no, no this can?t be happening! Am I really? Have I fallen? That?s ridiculous, I?m just glad that she?Well what I mean is?I, I can?t be! Can I?? Macphisto felt a presence beside him that he recognized instantly as one of the enemy?s angels. He shuddered and moved away from the shimmering undefined shape. Then the presence spoke to him.
?We can help you.?
?Are you talking to me?? he hissed.
?Yes. We can help you.?
?No, I don?t need your help!?
? You can be with her??
?That?s NOT what I want! Are you crazy? Now leave me alone!?
The presence vanished, and he watched the color return to Isobel?s cheeks.
?I?m not in love! I mean how ridiculous, a devil in love! I?m not in love? I really don?t think that this sort of thing has ever happened before, I?ve never heard of a tempter in love with a patient. What do I mean this sort of thing? There is no this sort of thing. Nothing has ever happened? I admit, she is so beautiful under the streetlights. No, no you?re just overworked; you are too into this case?She looks so peaceful when she is sleeping. I wonder what it?s like to sleep. She looks so happy. Maybe she?s cold, I could just pull the blanket up a bit ? What am I doing!? I CAN?T love! I am incapable of it! It doesn?t matter. I mean I can admire a patient, right? It doesn?t mean I love her. I don?t really care that her eyes are the color of brandy. It?s no big deal. I?m not in love, obviously. Obviously??
Things started to go very well for Isobel. She started to get up without an alarm clock every morning, streetlights seemed to change just for her, they always had what she wanted to eat at the cafeteria, the creepy guy at the store stopped bothering her all of a sudden, she had never slept as well in her whole life, she could find anything she needed around the house, and she was acing all her midterms without studying very much. It was almost as though someone was telling her the answers.
?Just a lucky streak I guess? she told her envious friends.
Macphisto was hopeless. He gave up trying to understand it. It was impossible now for him to go back to his ?work?. Management didn?t seem to know, they had even congratulated him on his dedication and hard work on this case.
?We expect you will deliver her soul quickly. Rarely has a tempter shown such enthusiasm for his work?.
He tried not to think of the future, of what he would do when he had to take her back into hell as a trophy and present her to the Father Below to be consumed. What would they do when they discovered he was just here to watch her sleep, or burn candles, or eat? This was insane. But every time he tried to return to Hell to gain some perspective, she started talking aloud, or singing in her car, or something equally endearing. He felt drunk when she talked aloud to her ?angels?; he imagined she was talking to him. But nothing prepared him for Halloween.
He had watched her make her costume all month. He knew what she was going as and fully appreciated the irony, but when she walked out of her room dressed like an angel?an angel. Macphisto had never seen an angel up close. They were always unclear to him; they always looked far away and obscure. She was the most beautiful sight he had witnessed in all the millennia of his career, and yet he had never felt so far away from her. Those white wings ? an angel could never love a devil. She had never been so enchanting and yet so frightening to him.
?How do I look?? she asked her angels, spinning before her smoky mirror.
?You look beautiful? he whispered. She brightened unbearably, grabbed her coat and left the house to meet her friends at a nearby club.
The club was packed to capacity. Witches in bustiers, pop stars, muscle men, and can-can girls danced shoulder to shoulder in the humid, smoky light show. Isobel danced near the edge of the floor, with her friends. She was a small oasis of white in the dark shiny crowd.
Macphisto had never felt so miserable. ?Who am I fooling? Just look at her. This is a sign. Just leave, just get out of here. Take some time off. She will never even know you exist until you drag her under and then she will hate you.? He sneered at the crowd of people pretending to be evil for one night. One man in particular dancing on a speaker near Isobel was making a spectacular ass of himself dressed in a gold suit, red tuxedo shirt, horns, and outrageous geisha like makeup. ?You idiot? Macphisto thought, ?you wouldn?t know a devil if I came up and-?. The man started to fall from the speaker towards Isobel.
The presence was there again, shimmery and unintelligible, and then ?
Macphisto felt pressure, the floor beneath him, the weight of gravity, air rushing into his lungs, the fabric of a suit on his skin? She was looking at him.
?Are you okay?? Isobel leaned over the devil at her feet. He just stared at her with his jaw open. Macphisto was in shock, he felt his heart beat in his chest for the first time, and put his hand over the tremendous pounding.
?Oh my God! You?re hurt!? Isobel crouched down at his side. He stared at her with newly human eyes and breathed. This was too much! He had become the young man in the gold suit on the speaker, who was now on the ground.
?Do you speak English?? Isobel asked, her pale brown eyes full of concern. Macphisto made his lips work.
?Yes. Yes I do.? He laughed at the sound of his own voice.
?Oh okay, are you all right? You had quite a fall!?
?Yes? he swallowed and rose to his feet. ?I?m just fine thank you.?
Isobel and Macphisto sat in a booth and ordered drinks.
?So, Macphisto? Isobel giggled. ?Where are you from??
?Hmm?? Macphisto paused. ?Down south?.
?Really? Your accent sounds like you are from Britain or something?.
Macphisto grinned,
?Well? he purred, ?I have moved around quite a bit. There is hardly a place on earth I haven?t been I suppose?. Isobel smiled, and exclaimed:
?Wow. That must be fascinating?
?It has its moments,? he said looking at her face, which was so familiar and yet so much more astounding seen with human eyes. She blushed, closed her eyes for a second, and asked:
?What?s the best thing you?ve ever seen?? Macphisto thought back over the centuries of corruption and war, blood and betrayal he had witnessed.
?The best thing I have ever seen?? he began slowly. ? The best thing, and I think the only really good thing I have ever seen is an angel bending over me after I had taken a tumble?. Isobel burst out laughing, and Macphisto turned his head to look at the dance floor. The shadows gathered under his cheekbones, but the blue of his eyes was almost ultraviolet. Isobel stopped laughing and stared.
?Really? That?s the only good thing? Wow, I would love to go where you have gone.?
He turned his gaze to meet hers,
?I can assure you,? he chuckled, ?You aren?t missing much, darling?.
She shifted in her seat and reached across the table to touch his hand,
?Well maybe we could find other, better places to go.?
Macphisto?s mouth went dry, and he felt like he might collapse. He slowly ran his thumb over her hand. Her skin was so smooth.
?I?m, I?m sorry that I fell on you? He looked up, she was smiling at him and her amber eyes crinkled. His skin felt hot and he looked down?he had never felt shyness before, ?I mean, I?m not that sorry. I did after all, get to come and sit here with you.?
?That?s so sweet. Thank you. I?m not sorry at all you fell on me?. She squeezed his hand tighter and drew it to her as she confessed,
?You might think I?m crazy, but I really think that I?ve met you before, but I know that I?ve never seen you before. I would have remembered seeing you before! But you know, I think that you are someone that I know. I mean, I feel like I know you? and I?I really like you. I hope that?s not too sudden. I don?t mean to scare you away. But I?ve never had this feeling before about anyone?and I?m not just saying this. I?m not like that?Oh God. Now you think I?m a psycho!? She was as red as the day she yelled at her boss and Macphisto just reached over and brushed a strand of her hair out of her face, and slowly touched her cheek, she looked up at him with an expression he had never seen on her face before. She brushed a hand against his neck. An old slow song started to play. Wise men say, only fools rush in?Macphisto somehow managed to speak,
?Would you like to dance with me?? She gave him a brilliant smile.
?Yes, of course, I would love to?. She didn?t let go of his hand as they walked to the dance floor.
Isobel stepped close to him, put her head on his chest, and wrapped her arms around his waist. He held her very gently, with one arm around her wings and his hand resting on her shoulder. Her hair smelled like apples and her skin was so soft. He had never held anyone, or been held before, and as her arms tightened around him under the gold coat, he felt his eyes sting and rain a little. They barely moved to the music in the background: Shall I stay, would it be a sin? Macphisto hoped this would never end. If I can?t help falling in love with you? They stayed in their embrace long after the song finished.
?Would you like to go for a walk?? Isobel asked.
?Yes.?
They walked for hours holding hands. Macphisto stared down at her adoringly as she told him all the stories that he already knew. He knew what she would say and how she would say it, but he was enraptured. They ended up in the street outside of what he knew was her little green house.
?I don?t usually invite strange men in, but??
?Oh am I really that strange?? he grinned mischievously. Isobel giggled,
?Umm, yes! But in a good way. Would you like to come inside? I mean I wouldn?t ask you but we?ve been having so much fun and it?s getting cold out and I?d like to show you my place, and it?s right there.? She couldn?t look away from his cobalt blue eyes, ? And I really really like you?I hope that doesn?t scare you away because I want to spend time with you? Isobel brushed his chalk white cheek with her fingers, and watched as he closed his smoky, darkened eyes. Then it happened. She curled her arm around his neck and pulled his face down to hers and kissed him. When their lips parted, Macphisto couldn?t even think of words to say. He just stared, and she stared back and somehow, as the sun began to rise, he knew that she somehow knew who he was. She smiled and kissed him again. His heart nearly burst. He took her hands in his,
?Isobel, there?s something I want to tell you-?
They didn?t even see the car. The roar of the drunk?s engine was upon them before they would turn their heads. Macphisto felt Isobel?s hands push him back, and then saw the car?s taillights screech away.
Isobel lay in a bloody mess on the pavement. Red soaked the white of her wings and her dress. Macphisto lunged to her and gathered her to his chest and shook. Her brown eyes were still open, but glazed over and dilated.
? I can?t move,? she whispered in a frightened voice.
?It?s okay? It?s okay darling, just take a deep breath, you?ll be okay? she stared at him and smiled, she had heard him say that before. He ripped his gold jacket off and wrapped her in it, trying to stop the blood. But it still came. He knew that her body was too broken to survive.
?Take me inside, I want to go home?please,? she whispered through white lips. Macphisto picked her up and carried her inside, using her spare mailbox key to open the door. He put her gingerly on the couch under the mirror where she liked to burn candles.
?I can?t see?, she rasped. Her breathing was getting fainter. Macphisto lit a candle under the mirror and knelt over her, trembling and cold. He stroked her hair, and after a moment, spoke to her in a slow, ragged voice:
?Isobel, I have to tell you something. I have to tell this to you darling.? She took one of his hands with her fingers. He continued, ?You do know me. I?ve been watching over you, and I know you, and I wasn?t supposed to but I fell in love with you. I?m sorry. I do,? His tears fell on her skin, ? I love you and I?ve never loved anyone before. I know you can?t love me back. But you are the only thing, the only person I have ever loved?and I don?t know how to say goodbye now. Please, please don?t go.? Isobel?s eyes crinkled as she smiled and reached for his cheek,
?I know who you are,? she said with complete lucidity. ?I know you. I?ve heard you before, I knew your voice. I?m so glad I got to see you?. you?re my good angel? He looked away.
?No, no Isobel. I?m not. I?m not an angel?? She turned his face and looked into his eyes.
?Yes, you are. I love you. You always have been.? He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, and held her until he felt her lighten and stiffen.
She was gone.
He sat with her like that for what seemed like an eternity, and then laid her back and closed her eyes with his hand, and stood at the foot of her couch, tracing wings into the smoke that still covered the glass. His hands were shaking.
Had they found out? Had they done this to him?
?Quiet, quiet, get a hold on things, get a hold?? He could think of no other explanation.
He sighed to try and stop crying, and sat on the couch beside Isobel.
They were probably watching him right now.
He felt the presence again. The shimmer materialized in the corner of the room and seemed to hesitate. Macphisto stood between the cloud and her couch ? he could still take her soul with him into hell and they could be together forever? but she would suffer. Hell was no place for her. He covered his eyes with his hands and turned his back.
?Go on, take her,? he muttered. ?Just please take her with you.?
When they were gone, he sunk into a chair. He would never be with her again now, she was really really gone. He put down his head and wept.
He never told anyone about her. Ever. Not even the supervisors. He filed a report claiming that he had failed to win her soul, and he was punished accordingly. To all outside eyes, he became even more cynical and pompous. But when no one was looking, he would sit and think of her, and wonder if she could hear him singing the old slow song to himself ?Shall I stay, would it be a sin if I can?t help falling in love with you??
-The End.
Umm, I wrote this a couple days back just kind of between classes. It's about Mr Macphisto, and it's not a funny sort of story ... it's more serious and uh, thoughtfull I guess.
I was always interested in how Mr Macphisto's character transforms in the performance of Zoo Tv... He goes from this very cynical, slick devil to the guy who sing the most moving and sad love songs at the end ... and that's where he is left.
I thought that there was a story there and I tried to write it.
Ummm, you all know that it takes a lot to make me shy .. and I feel like hiding under my table right now!!! SO ....be gentle and here goes nothing...
_Bluey
Stay
He traced wings into the haze of smoke left on the gold-rimmed mirror. ?Quiet, quiet, get a hold on things?. He sighed. ?Get a hold?? A pale hand ran through waxy black hair. He noticed it was shaking. He nearly swore, but knew better. They were listening. He knew that now, and soon, they would deal with him. He sat, watching wax drip on feathers until the lights were gone.
She was a strange little girl to begin with.
A senior tempter, Macphisto had a very bright future ahead of him. He was a particular favorite of undersecretary Screwtape, and had even been awarded for his achievements several times by the Principal of the academy of tempters himself. Hell, however, was hardly a luxurious place. It was not unusual to be praised and framed by the same coworker in the same day. That was the point. You don?t make friends in Hell. You don?t eat, you don?t sleep, you don?t stop working and you don?t fuck up.
Hell was not the carnal, warm opium den that humans envisioned. It was dusty and gray and filled with the noise of rustling papers as bodiless demons such as Macphisto manipulated the minds and surroundings of their ?patients? to win them over to the side of the ?Father Below? who had an insatiable appetite for human souls, and very little patience with tempters who denied him a meal through their incompetence. Therefore, spirits like Macphisto just kept plotting, thinking, strategizing, stalking, and grabbing from one millennium to the next, not because they were interested in evil, but because they were hungry: for victory, for souls, for more.
Tempting and winning souls became so commonplace for Macphisto that it was boring. Humans were such a predictable lot, for no other reason than that they wanted to win too. They wanted more. The trick was convincing them that they want the ?more? that you are selling.
Macphisto had just closed his last case, a pathetic bank teller who prayed for his wife before he beat her. Sure enough, as soon as he returned to his well-appointed office, another black file lay on his desktop. With a sigh, he opened it.
Patient: 22 years old, Isobel Andrews. No religion. ?Hmm, those agnostics can be tricky?, he thought.
A history of service for the enemy. Poorly handled by former unskilled tempters. He would have to observe his new charge. He was instantly whisked to the terra.
A young red haired woman stood alone in an empty parking lot at night. She looked around furtively and kicked a stone. His interest perked, she was probably waiting to buy drugs, or perhaps to offer her services for money to a stranger. He smirked; perhaps this patient would be easier to win over than the file made out. She uncrossed her arms and grabbed a nearby shopping cart. Her eyes darted left and right before she broke into a sprint. ?Was she going to steal the cart?? She ran until the wheels were barely kissing the pavement and then with a great whoop, threw herself into the cart. Red hair blew in the wind and twisted through the silver mesh of the basket as she traversed the parking lot in her bizarre chariot. Giggling echoed off of the steel of the abandoned supermarket. When the shopping cart drifted to a stop she jumped out, and snickering, looked around and began to run again. She once again vaulted into the cart and squealed as the cart rumbled over the pavement. After about fifteen minutes of this, she climbed out and scampered to a small green house not half a block from the store and let herself in with a key from under the mailbox.
For all his experience and omniscience, Macphisto hesitated in the parking lot before following her. Humans did strange things left to themselves, but that was exceptional. He mentally reviewed her file for any note of psychiatric instability, but there was none mentioned. When he found her in the house she was sitting in her pajamas in front of a smoky mirror, holding candles up to the glass and watching dark gray lines undulate up the surface. He watched her, curious, her eyes were so intently focused on the flames and the smoke that they seemed almost made of stone. She was so still and so focused that when she turned her head towards him, Macphisto jumped. She blew out the candles and skipped to her bathroom. Macphisto listened to her thoughts,
?Ooooh yeah, bathroom really needs a scrub! Good lord! Ow! Stupid brush, I need one that won?t pull all the hair out of my freakin? head. Hmmm, I wonder if I should stop by the store tomorrow?I hope creepy cashier guy isn?t working, what an ass. Do, do, do, Hmmm. I feel so ? watched. Are the curtains ? no they are closed?how strange. Oh well, must be the guardian angels, they are always hangin? around.? Suddenly, she yelled to the empty bathroom with the toothbrush hanging out of her mouth:
?Hello up there!? Macphisto cringed, he knew she couldn?t see him there but the coincidence was a little unnerving. ?I know you want my soul and everything,? she continued ?but can?t you let a girl brush her teeth in peace?? Macphisto chuckled to himself, fine, a coincidence like that deserved some respect. He hovered near her bookshelves in her bedroom until Isobel wandered in, took a running leap at her bed, flung the covers over herself, and turned off the light by throwing a shoe at the switch with a ferocity that surprised Macphisto.
?Goodnight!? she yelled to no body.
?This could be entertaining?, he thought to himself with a diabolical smirk.
A purple apron circled her waist, standing out from the starched white ones worn by the other waitresses. Isobel rushed from table to table, pouring coffee and taking orders until her fingers were red and raw. Macphisto worked just as hard, suggesting to her that the old man in the corner spilled his tea on purpose, and the family in the middle of the floor were indecisive just to vex her. He could sense her building mental fatigue, which surged every time she passed a certain smoky booth in the corner.
Macphisto had been watching her for months, and she proved ? fascinating. She was more erratic, more spontaneous and unpredictable than any patient he had ever supervised before. Her forces of habit, a tempter?s bread and butter, were almost non-existent. As a result, she required almost constant attention. Not that he minded, after millennia of supervising the same old personality over and over, it was refreshing to watch someone so ? odd. She had, one night, decided that she didn?t want to eat a pizza alone and took her pizza downtown to sit on the curb and eat with five homeless men. She talked to her ?angels? almost constantly (he wondered how much she really knew about them!). She took a camera with her on walks to photograph colors that she liked which she would later tack up on her wall. That sort of thing. Isobel defied logic; she was nearly a force of chaos, ?albeit?, he admitted ?a charming one?.
His attention was snapped back to the present when he sensed her tense when the man in the smoky booth demanded to know the total liquor sales for the day while she was carrying two trays at once.
?I don?t know sir, I?ll check for you.?
?Make it fast? her boss hissed. ? For God?s sake what do I pay you for??
?Of course sir?
He could sense her fear, a sensation so familiar in Hell, usually precipitated by the scrutiny of a senior tempter or worst of all, the wrath of ?The Father Below?. Macphisto had seen more than a few tempters go, before the great lord himself. It was highly unpleasant to witness, and he worked very hard not to incur the wrath of such a volatile and powerful being.
?Damn,? she cursed softly as the till beeped at her. ?Come out you stupid report!? The machine was not being co operative. An older waitress looked over her shoulder and asked:
?And he wants a sales report??
?Yeah? her hands were shaking a little. The older waitress smirked and raised an eyebrow,
?Well good luck with that.? Isobel thumped the machine one last time and swallowed.
?Well, here comes a bad day at work? Macphisto snickered. He could use this to his advantage later on; he could let her wallow in that sickening cowardly feeling that one always got when-
?What did you do to my machine!?? The owner blared at her.
?Nothing, it was broken when I-?
?Shut up you stupid girl!?
Macphisto couldn?t help feeling pity for her. It was always hard to fail in front of one?s superiors, as he well knew from a memorable scolding he had the misfortune to witness before his most recent departure, which was directed at a trembling novice tempter.
Then, the wind changed.
?No, you shut up!? Isobel demanded hoarsely. Everything in the restaurant stopped.
?You fat, miserable son of a bitch! I work my ass off for you, and you just sit there in your booth and pick it all apart!? A hot tear ran down her red cheek, and her fists shook.
?I do everything I can to please you because you scare me! You scare all of us! You try to intimidate and abuse us into staying here. But you know what? You couldn?t do the job I do if you tried you incompetent, ungrateful ass! You know what else?? She undid the apron and flung it in his stunned face. ?You are a coward. I wouldn?t help you up if I saw you under a bus, and what?s more?. I quit!?. She stormed out of the restaurant, and slammed the large, metal door behind her.
When Macphisto finished reveling in the older man?s embarrassment and horror, he found Isobel sitting alone, crying in a pub. ?Crying!?? he thought, ?after a performance like that??. He felt like congratulating her on her remarkable finesse. She decided to order a glass of wine.
?A glass?? he whispered into her mind ? You deserve a bottle daaahrling!? She downed the bottle in fifteen minutes and left her tip money on the table to pay for it. Macphisto beamed to think of her tirade, which had to be the gutsiest, funniest thing he had ever seen a human do! He sensed the whole time how intimidated she was and she still gave her boss what for. ?Not many humans could do that?, he mused, ?nor could many demons?.
Isobel got up and staggered out of the pub, traveling at a painfully slow pace across the street towards her house. Her walk was a slow, unsteady march, of one heeled foot barely in front of the other. Suddenly, headlights pinned her like crosshairs, and she hadn?t even turned her fuzzy head to see the car bearing down on her when Macphisto shouted into her brain:
?MOVE NOW!?
Isobel stepped back just in time, and fell back from the wind of the car brushing past her. As she caught her breath and moved shakily to a near by sidewalk, Macphisto?s mind reeled:
?What did I do? What did I do? I could have taken her right then, she would have been a closed case! She was in my grasp and I told her to move? Why? ? He felt sick. He thought of his superiors in Hell and wondered if they were watching all this. ?Do they know? Why did I just ? what just ? is she okay?? The poor girl was sitting on a bench, shocked and white. Macphisto examined her and felt her racing heart and frantic breathing. ?The poor darling, I?ve never seen her this scared before.? He whispered into her mind: ?It?s okay; you?ll be all right darling. Just take a deep breath, that?s a good girl, see? You?re okay, don?t be afraid.? There, she seemed to be calming down now, he?d just make sure she got a warm bath and a good sleep tonight. Her hair looked like caramel in the streetlights. Macphisto smiled, which wore away with the shock of his realization:
?No?. Oh no.? It hit him like a train. ?No, no, no this can?t be happening! Am I really? Have I fallen? That?s ridiculous, I?m just glad that she?Well what I mean is?I, I can?t be! Can I?? Macphisto felt a presence beside him that he recognized instantly as one of the enemy?s angels. He shuddered and moved away from the shimmering undefined shape. Then the presence spoke to him.
?We can help you.?
?Are you talking to me?? he hissed.
?Yes. We can help you.?
?No, I don?t need your help!?
? You can be with her??
?That?s NOT what I want! Are you crazy? Now leave me alone!?
The presence vanished, and he watched the color return to Isobel?s cheeks.
?I?m not in love! I mean how ridiculous, a devil in love! I?m not in love? I really don?t think that this sort of thing has ever happened before, I?ve never heard of a tempter in love with a patient. What do I mean this sort of thing? There is no this sort of thing. Nothing has ever happened? I admit, she is so beautiful under the streetlights. No, no you?re just overworked; you are too into this case?She looks so peaceful when she is sleeping. I wonder what it?s like to sleep. She looks so happy. Maybe she?s cold, I could just pull the blanket up a bit ? What am I doing!? I CAN?T love! I am incapable of it! It doesn?t matter. I mean I can admire a patient, right? It doesn?t mean I love her. I don?t really care that her eyes are the color of brandy. It?s no big deal. I?m not in love, obviously. Obviously??
Things started to go very well for Isobel. She started to get up without an alarm clock every morning, streetlights seemed to change just for her, they always had what she wanted to eat at the cafeteria, the creepy guy at the store stopped bothering her all of a sudden, she had never slept as well in her whole life, she could find anything she needed around the house, and she was acing all her midterms without studying very much. It was almost as though someone was telling her the answers.
?Just a lucky streak I guess? she told her envious friends.
Macphisto was hopeless. He gave up trying to understand it. It was impossible now for him to go back to his ?work?. Management didn?t seem to know, they had even congratulated him on his dedication and hard work on this case.
?We expect you will deliver her soul quickly. Rarely has a tempter shown such enthusiasm for his work?.
He tried not to think of the future, of what he would do when he had to take her back into hell as a trophy and present her to the Father Below to be consumed. What would they do when they discovered he was just here to watch her sleep, or burn candles, or eat? This was insane. But every time he tried to return to Hell to gain some perspective, she started talking aloud, or singing in her car, or something equally endearing. He felt drunk when she talked aloud to her ?angels?; he imagined she was talking to him. But nothing prepared him for Halloween.
He had watched her make her costume all month. He knew what she was going as and fully appreciated the irony, but when she walked out of her room dressed like an angel?an angel. Macphisto had never seen an angel up close. They were always unclear to him; they always looked far away and obscure. She was the most beautiful sight he had witnessed in all the millennia of his career, and yet he had never felt so far away from her. Those white wings ? an angel could never love a devil. She had never been so enchanting and yet so frightening to him.
?How do I look?? she asked her angels, spinning before her smoky mirror.
?You look beautiful? he whispered. She brightened unbearably, grabbed her coat and left the house to meet her friends at a nearby club.
The club was packed to capacity. Witches in bustiers, pop stars, muscle men, and can-can girls danced shoulder to shoulder in the humid, smoky light show. Isobel danced near the edge of the floor, with her friends. She was a small oasis of white in the dark shiny crowd.
Macphisto had never felt so miserable. ?Who am I fooling? Just look at her. This is a sign. Just leave, just get out of here. Take some time off. She will never even know you exist until you drag her under and then she will hate you.? He sneered at the crowd of people pretending to be evil for one night. One man in particular dancing on a speaker near Isobel was making a spectacular ass of himself dressed in a gold suit, red tuxedo shirt, horns, and outrageous geisha like makeup. ?You idiot? Macphisto thought, ?you wouldn?t know a devil if I came up and-?. The man started to fall from the speaker towards Isobel.
The presence was there again, shimmery and unintelligible, and then ?
Macphisto felt pressure, the floor beneath him, the weight of gravity, air rushing into his lungs, the fabric of a suit on his skin? She was looking at him.
?Are you okay?? Isobel leaned over the devil at her feet. He just stared at her with his jaw open. Macphisto was in shock, he felt his heart beat in his chest for the first time, and put his hand over the tremendous pounding.
?Oh my God! You?re hurt!? Isobel crouched down at his side. He stared at her with newly human eyes and breathed. This was too much! He had become the young man in the gold suit on the speaker, who was now on the ground.
?Do you speak English?? Isobel asked, her pale brown eyes full of concern. Macphisto made his lips work.
?Yes. Yes I do.? He laughed at the sound of his own voice.
?Oh okay, are you all right? You had quite a fall!?
?Yes? he swallowed and rose to his feet. ?I?m just fine thank you.?
Isobel and Macphisto sat in a booth and ordered drinks.
?So, Macphisto? Isobel giggled. ?Where are you from??
?Hmm?? Macphisto paused. ?Down south?.
?Really? Your accent sounds like you are from Britain or something?.
Macphisto grinned,
?Well? he purred, ?I have moved around quite a bit. There is hardly a place on earth I haven?t been I suppose?. Isobel smiled, and exclaimed:
?Wow. That must be fascinating?
?It has its moments,? he said looking at her face, which was so familiar and yet so much more astounding seen with human eyes. She blushed, closed her eyes for a second, and asked:
?What?s the best thing you?ve ever seen?? Macphisto thought back over the centuries of corruption and war, blood and betrayal he had witnessed.
?The best thing I have ever seen?? he began slowly. ? The best thing, and I think the only really good thing I have ever seen is an angel bending over me after I had taken a tumble?. Isobel burst out laughing, and Macphisto turned his head to look at the dance floor. The shadows gathered under his cheekbones, but the blue of his eyes was almost ultraviolet. Isobel stopped laughing and stared.
?Really? That?s the only good thing? Wow, I would love to go where you have gone.?
He turned his gaze to meet hers,
?I can assure you,? he chuckled, ?You aren?t missing much, darling?.
She shifted in her seat and reached across the table to touch his hand,
?Well maybe we could find other, better places to go.?
Macphisto?s mouth went dry, and he felt like he might collapse. He slowly ran his thumb over her hand. Her skin was so smooth.
?I?m, I?m sorry that I fell on you? He looked up, she was smiling at him and her amber eyes crinkled. His skin felt hot and he looked down?he had never felt shyness before, ?I mean, I?m not that sorry. I did after all, get to come and sit here with you.?
?That?s so sweet. Thank you. I?m not sorry at all you fell on me?. She squeezed his hand tighter and drew it to her as she confessed,
?You might think I?m crazy, but I really think that I?ve met you before, but I know that I?ve never seen you before. I would have remembered seeing you before! But you know, I think that you are someone that I know. I mean, I feel like I know you? and I?I really like you. I hope that?s not too sudden. I don?t mean to scare you away. But I?ve never had this feeling before about anyone?and I?m not just saying this. I?m not like that?Oh God. Now you think I?m a psycho!? She was as red as the day she yelled at her boss and Macphisto just reached over and brushed a strand of her hair out of her face, and slowly touched her cheek, she looked up at him with an expression he had never seen on her face before. She brushed a hand against his neck. An old slow song started to play. Wise men say, only fools rush in?Macphisto somehow managed to speak,
?Would you like to dance with me?? She gave him a brilliant smile.
?Yes, of course, I would love to?. She didn?t let go of his hand as they walked to the dance floor.
Isobel stepped close to him, put her head on his chest, and wrapped her arms around his waist. He held her very gently, with one arm around her wings and his hand resting on her shoulder. Her hair smelled like apples and her skin was so soft. He had never held anyone, or been held before, and as her arms tightened around him under the gold coat, he felt his eyes sting and rain a little. They barely moved to the music in the background: Shall I stay, would it be a sin? Macphisto hoped this would never end. If I can?t help falling in love with you? They stayed in their embrace long after the song finished.
?Would you like to go for a walk?? Isobel asked.
?Yes.?
They walked for hours holding hands. Macphisto stared down at her adoringly as she told him all the stories that he already knew. He knew what she would say and how she would say it, but he was enraptured. They ended up in the street outside of what he knew was her little green house.
?I don?t usually invite strange men in, but??
?Oh am I really that strange?? he grinned mischievously. Isobel giggled,
?Umm, yes! But in a good way. Would you like to come inside? I mean I wouldn?t ask you but we?ve been having so much fun and it?s getting cold out and I?d like to show you my place, and it?s right there.? She couldn?t look away from his cobalt blue eyes, ? And I really really like you?I hope that doesn?t scare you away because I want to spend time with you? Isobel brushed his chalk white cheek with her fingers, and watched as he closed his smoky, darkened eyes. Then it happened. She curled her arm around his neck and pulled his face down to hers and kissed him. When their lips parted, Macphisto couldn?t even think of words to say. He just stared, and she stared back and somehow, as the sun began to rise, he knew that she somehow knew who he was. She smiled and kissed him again. His heart nearly burst. He took her hands in his,
?Isobel, there?s something I want to tell you-?
They didn?t even see the car. The roar of the drunk?s engine was upon them before they would turn their heads. Macphisto felt Isobel?s hands push him back, and then saw the car?s taillights screech away.
Isobel lay in a bloody mess on the pavement. Red soaked the white of her wings and her dress. Macphisto lunged to her and gathered her to his chest and shook. Her brown eyes were still open, but glazed over and dilated.
? I can?t move,? she whispered in a frightened voice.
?It?s okay? It?s okay darling, just take a deep breath, you?ll be okay? she stared at him and smiled, she had heard him say that before. He ripped his gold jacket off and wrapped her in it, trying to stop the blood. But it still came. He knew that her body was too broken to survive.
?Take me inside, I want to go home?please,? she whispered through white lips. Macphisto picked her up and carried her inside, using her spare mailbox key to open the door. He put her gingerly on the couch under the mirror where she liked to burn candles.
?I can?t see?, she rasped. Her breathing was getting fainter. Macphisto lit a candle under the mirror and knelt over her, trembling and cold. He stroked her hair, and after a moment, spoke to her in a slow, ragged voice:
?Isobel, I have to tell you something. I have to tell this to you darling.? She took one of his hands with her fingers. He continued, ?You do know me. I?ve been watching over you, and I know you, and I wasn?t supposed to but I fell in love with you. I?m sorry. I do,? His tears fell on her skin, ? I love you and I?ve never loved anyone before. I know you can?t love me back. But you are the only thing, the only person I have ever loved?and I don?t know how to say goodbye now. Please, please don?t go.? Isobel?s eyes crinkled as she smiled and reached for his cheek,
?I know who you are,? she said with complete lucidity. ?I know you. I?ve heard you before, I knew your voice. I?m so glad I got to see you?. you?re my good angel? He looked away.
?No, no Isobel. I?m not. I?m not an angel?? She turned his face and looked into his eyes.
?Yes, you are. I love you. You always have been.? He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, and held her until he felt her lighten and stiffen.
She was gone.
He sat with her like that for what seemed like an eternity, and then laid her back and closed her eyes with his hand, and stood at the foot of her couch, tracing wings into the smoke that still covered the glass. His hands were shaking.
Had they found out? Had they done this to him?
?Quiet, quiet, get a hold on things, get a hold?? He could think of no other explanation.
He sighed to try and stop crying, and sat on the couch beside Isobel.
They were probably watching him right now.
He felt the presence again. The shimmer materialized in the corner of the room and seemed to hesitate. Macphisto stood between the cloud and her couch ? he could still take her soul with him into hell and they could be together forever? but she would suffer. Hell was no place for her. He covered his eyes with his hands and turned his back.
?Go on, take her,? he muttered. ?Just please take her with you.?
When they were gone, he sunk into a chair. He would never be with her again now, she was really really gone. He put down his head and wept.
He never told anyone about her. Ever. Not even the supervisors. He filed a report claiming that he had failed to win her soul, and he was punished accordingly. To all outside eyes, he became even more cynical and pompous. But when no one was looking, he would sit and think of her, and wonder if she could hear him singing the old slow song to himself ?Shall I stay, would it be a sin if I can?t help falling in love with you??
-The End.
