I stood in front of an expensive café, peering through the window for the man I was supposed to meet. He wasn't there yet. I was afraid, because today, on my birthday, I was supposed to sit at a table with Lucifer himself, to make a murderous transaction. I clutched a briefcase in my hand. Inside, enclosed in a sheaf of scribbled pages, was my greatest treasure.
My soul.
***
The sun burned the back of my neck. I felt someone was watching me. Suppressing this feeling, I quickly grabbed the doorknob and entered the restaurant. It was probably one of the most expensive I knew. Besides, he paid for everything. I took the reserved table and ordered wine. Sipping the drink, I began to remember what had brought me here.
I loved a certain man. But I began to doubt his feelings. I felt cheated. And I killed. In cold blood, I killed the one who had been waiting only for me. I wasn't afraid of the police; in those days, no one would accuse me. But from then on, an emptiness settled inside me. I was constantly plagued by remorse. I couldn't find the strength to live.
One day, I opened the newspaper and read an ad: My existence for the life of the man I killed. I called the number provided and arranged a meeting.
So here I am, sitting in a café. I clutched my suitcase tighter. I had to run quite a bit to retrieve its contents. None of the priests wanted to write down my soul. They considered it a pact with the devil. I didn't go to the city's branch of hell. I can't stand the stuffiness, the heat, and the redness. Finally, in some remote village, I found a priest so poor that he ate tree bark in the spring. I paid him a large sum of money. The poor man agreed, to eternal damnation by his church. A few days later, after collecting the money, the priest handed me a sheaf of papers written in shaky Latin. I locked my soul in a suitcase and came here.
I waited, sipping wine.
Suddenly, the door opened. I knew He was standing there. I would have recognized Him anywhere, even though I didn't know His appearance. Don't ask, you know these things. It's irrational.
I was told He would come barefoot because He had goat hooves. I was warned about His treacherous tail and sharp horns peeking out from His red fur.
Everyone was wrong. An exceptionally handsome man was walking toward me. He wore a perfectly tailored suit, the darkest black. His eyes were obscured by dark glasses. Despite his youth, his bald patches gleamed.
He held a briefcase in his hand.
"Ms. Nina Najdenowicz?" he asked, smiling at me.
I only nodded. He sat down and called the waiter over.
"Wine for me. Red. And for you?" he had an engaging voice.
"The same.
" "I'm glad you didn't change your mind," he said, placing his briefcase on the chair next to him. We were sitting at a table for four.
"That was close. Your... hmm... company doesn't encourage customers and disguises itself well, Mr...?" I didn't know how to address him. Mr. Archdevil...?
"People don't like my name," he twisted his lips, though he tried to smile. I think. "Call me Luck, Nino."
I nodded. A pleasant diminutive. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the waiter who had served us. He was talking quickly to the owner, gesturing nervously. I hoped it wasn't about me and Luck. Then there would be trouble.
So I smiled devilishly and focused on my glass of wine.
"You're beautiful, Mrs. Nino."
He had a wonderful voice. I lowered my head. "HE'S A DEMON!" I thought, but he's still an attractive demon. Just as I was about to add my comment, I heard another voice. Equally captivating. Two Lucifers?
" "May I join you?" A man stood next to our table. He wore a long black coat (Guys! It's summer!) and dark glasses. His short black hair contrasted with his incredibly pale complexion.
He was smiling.
I immediately recognized him as a guardian angel. Don't ask how, you know these things.
I looked into Luck's eyes. He sat stiffly. However, his stony face expressed determination. He quickly regained his composure, took his suitcase from the chair, and gestured to the newcomer.
"Here you go. We're just taking care of business. "
The angel sat down. His coat danced behind him in the wind. He took off his glasses and put them in his pocket.
"So, Miss Nina, I'm in a hurry," Luck said, squinting at the guardian. He didn't even move, and the glass of wine he'd ordered didn't make the slightest sound in his hand. The devil took a piece of paper from his pocket and placed it in front of me. It had three numbers on it, 666. "Here's my business card. We'll be in touch soon. Goodbye, sir."
He nodded to the angel. He stood up. The suitcase remained where it was. Had Lucifer chickened out before the guardian, had he stopped caring about my beloved's soul?
I began to observe the briefcase.
"Do you really have to go?" The angel remained seated, staring at Luck with genuine disappointment. "But I don't think you'll succeed."
His pale lips stretched into a vengeful smile. Men began to enter the restaurant, looking perfectly like the angel.
The other customers seemed oblivious to the dozen or so guardians surrounding Lucifer.
Bodyguards. Secret agents involved in the illegal trade of souls.
Luck just smiled. He was immortal. They couldn't do anything to him. Any lawyer could defend him. The
only one who would have trouble would be me.
A hand-to-hand fight broke out. The angel's lances charged at the devil. He was fast. Inhumanly fast. He parried every attack. He danced, throwing punches in all directions. The agents, despite their numerical superiority, couldn't defeat him.
A professional.
The people visiting the café knew nothing, saw nothing of the ongoing battle. They ate and laughed.
When a flying angel flew past me and took a sharp blow from Lucifer, without thinking, I grabbed my suitcase and the devil's briefcase containing my beloved's soul. Burdened, I rushed up the stairs and ran to the café's roof.
No one noticed my disappearance. I no longer heard the sounds of the fighting. The wind whipped across my face. I felt refreshed. I sat down on the concrete. I wanted to check the contents of Luck's suitcase. It had a combination lock. Without hesitation, I dialed 666. The lock clicked softly.
And he let go.
With trembling hands, I opened it. I understood why the devil had lost interest in the briefcase. I didn't find the bundle of papers with the soul inside.
I didn't have the strength to cry.
I slowly stood up and stood on the edge of the roof. Below, Lucifer was leaving the café. The wind ruffled my red hair.
My angel's smile, saying nothing. Or everything.
The dark gaze of the Archdevil.
A man running across the waves.
Unimaginable emptiness. Pain.
Lips moving in silent prayer and...
a jump.
***
As people gathered and gathered over the body of the flame-haired girl lying in a pool of blood on the sidewalk, the wind, with its frosty gusts, blew away the contents of a small black suitcase on the roof of the café.
Cut-up newspaper fragments.
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