‘Belle’ and ‘Cirin’
Image by Jonny Lindner from Pixabay“It’s just… Cirin, it’s not because I couldn’t get a date. I can,” Belle said.
“Belle, a woman as gorgeous as you could probably get any man in this room. But that’s not all you’re after…” Cirin said, chasing an olive around his martini glass.
Her eyes burned and she stopped fidgeting with her wine
glass. “This is my opportunity to get ahead in the company, and I can only do
that by snagging the perfect date.”
“Devilishly handsome, quick with the humor, not too controversial, and always willing to celebrate your big win afterward in the most debauched manner possible?”
She shifted in her seat when he mentioned celebrating. “Exactly,”
she said in a voice two octaves lower than previous. “So, how does this work?”
Ciriatto looked around the crowded restaurant, pulling the
ancient parchment from his pocket. “I’m afraid there’s the formality. You
understand what you lose in exchange for this guaranteed promotion? Hmm?” He
produced a fountain pen from seemingly nowhere.
Her fingers shook as she reached for the pen. “I never
really thought about my soul. I guess I didn’t believe I had one.” Her elbow
collided with her glass, sending wine streaming across the table. “Oh!” She
whipped the contract out of the way, further upsetting the table.
Appetizers ended up all over Ciriatto, and she followed, napkin in hand, wiping down his pants.
“It’s alright, just sign.” Ciriatto waved off the approaching waiters.
Belle breathed deeply, took the pen and signed her name.
Ciriatto took the pen back and signed his own, only then seeing her signature. “Jezebel?”
Belle smiled. “Didn’t notice when I switched contracts, hmm?”
The ground around them caught fire as
burning wings extended from her back. “Seems you’ve been skimming off the top,
Ciriatto. Management can’t have that. This contract gives me your job, and you’re
getting… well…” She looked down as the floorboards fell away and distant
screams echoed upward.
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