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A Deal With The Devil

The Devil took a slow drag on his cigarette, glancing around the room in vague amusement. He was a man of medium height and build, with curly black hair and eyes as dark as oilslicks, though without that rainbow glimmer. He wore an expensive suit, possibly Armani, of dark indeterminate color, with a subtle shimmer of green, and snakeskin boots. The silver ring on the first finger of his left hand bore a grinning skull.

"So..." he said, smoke exiting his mouth on the syllable, since he hadn't bothered to exhale beforehand. "How are tricks, Emberick?" The slow drawl emphasized the rhyme, which I.D. seemed to find hilarious.

The throne room was a mess of contrasting ideas. Some of it was pure cruel regime, pure sadistic spectacle. There were cages and torture devices and pools of fresh blood, even out here in what was presumably a public arena. Now, it had been cleared but for the three of them.

The lights were not dim, however, as one might expect. Brilliant, warm rays of sunlight filled the white marble of the hall. It gleamed on the beautiful faces of carven angels and saints, a display of wealth and artistry that could have been religious in its intensity of effect. The juxtaposition made many visitors wish they could cover the angels' eyes.

The third bit of incongruity was the lack of a throne. Instead of one, a great black grand piano and a beautiful bronze-and-ebony harp sat upon the raised dais. Emberick sat at the harp's stool, his large, powerful hands resting upon his knees. Black curls cascaded around his shoulders, his cleanshaven face. A single vertical scar bisected one eyebrow, the only mitigating force to almost oppressive beauty. His eyes were the color of spilled blood, and the sunlight danced in them, seeming to take capricious joy in highlighting this simple fact.

Emberick smiled. So did the slender, leather-clad boy lounging over the grand piano. "Daddy Lucifer, tricks are boring the hell out of me."

"In that case..." Old Nick rose, his movements characterized more by a swaggering confidence than anything that might be called grace, placed a cigarette between the king's lips, and lit it with his small black lighter, snapping the lid closed in an overly flashy way. "Maybe it's time for a treat. Drac and the band want to deal... You interested?"

Emberick raised an eyebrow, taking a slow drag off the cigarette. "I'd have to hear the deal."

"I guess deal is an overstatement," Il Diavolo admitted. "It amounts to this: We've got a hell of a lot of power, and we can make good things happen for you or we can make your world into a Tartarus which you would no longer rule. The best thing for all of us would be if you'd commit to us now, be La Conta's friend... and, hell, I don't know, ask for favors when you want them and give them when we ask. A mutual friendship. How's that sound, mijo?"

Emberick pursed his lips. "It sounds like your rhetoric could be used to lay bricks. The gist of your message is 'we're powerful and you better support us'?" He shook his head, rose from behind the harp and walked coolly toward an ornate archway.

"Offer me something," Emberick whispered, turning back over his shoulder, "or quit wasting my time."

"Now you're boring me," said the Devil, chuckling. "What do you offer the man who has everything except the chance to continue to have everything?"

Emberick shrugged. "Let me show you my library. Maybe we'll think of something."

"Sounds like a plan," Il Diavolo said, taking another slow drag on his cigarette and then flicking it into a small pool of blood, where it went out.

The King smiled. It was a good smile, arresting and charismatic. Emberick led I.D. through the caparisoned archway into a huge vaulted room. It was filled with crystal-topped cabinets filled with books of this and that, but mostly it seemed a library of morbid paintings and mummified, carefully labeled animals and insects.

Emberick flipped through a heavy volume that looked as if it contained astronomical charts. "I still hold my alliance with the pompous snobs in the Star of Order,- ghastly name, but it explains why. Order. I need something to remain. Sometimes what you people are doing seems awfully haphazard. It's not going to do anyone any good if we all go to Chaos."

"And you really think you could stop us if that was La Conta's plan?" Il Diavolo looked at the King for a long time, sizing up the strength behind the red eyes. Then he barked out a quick laugh. "But it isn't. He has no great love for Chaos either - what he wants is a new Order, and for that we have got to wipe out the old one. But that's as much justification as you're going to get, caromio, and now you've got to choose: Dracula or the coffin. The Devil or the nails."

Emberick's eyes narrowed. "Don't threaten a vampire with a coffin, my dear man. Know your audience. If you are speaking to a person who would sooner see the world end in one simple red burst than to have his pride bruised by blatant ultimatums..." He smiled again. "But then, the Count sent you when he could have sent someone more diplomatic, so the threat was implicit. What exactly do you want from me? Why don't you be as blunt with that as with your rhetoric?"

"Because it isn't as straightforward a thing," Lucifer chuckled. "Don't get your panties in a twist, Emberick, it was a metaphor. Mostly. We want you to be our friend, our ally. We don't have any specific action in mind for you perform, if that's what you want. Although I can think of a few I'd appreciate if you really want a concrete exchange."

"Do tell," Emberick turned away slightly, thumbing through what appeared to be a particularly gruesome art book.

"The blood of Amber's fun," Il Diavolo said lightly, "You know I'm always on the lookout for that. Or... you could kill some Blood Guard... the few I'm not so sure I'd like to take from the front... Or if you've got information about Pattern ghosts - new ones... that'd be appreciated too."

"Mm, and in return?" Emberick's smile was dark but charismatic. "You'll just let me live?"

"We've got things to offer... What do you want, mijo?"

"Emperor of the Star of Order sounds good."

The Devil laughed. "A tall order, but not an impossible one. Shake?"

He extended his right hand.

Emberick clasped it with his large, beringed hand and shook sharply, his gaze piercing and untrusting in its search of Id's as he did so.

Il Diavolo's shake was not what one would expect - it was almost limp, and his hands were very cold. "Now... fancy a game?"

Emberick chuckled darkly. "What game?"

"Don't suppose you play Risk," I.D. suggested.

"I'm not familiar with the game..." the King mused, "but the name sounds intriguing."

"It's a strategy game," El Diablo shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I should be on my way, regardless. I've got some things to arrange for you."

Emberick nodded and turned toward one of the walls full of books. "Take care," he said distantly. It was an obvious dismissal.

The Gentleman in Black (currently in dark green) chuckled and let himself out.

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