The One That Got Away (Patreon)

Hello! Would you be interested in writing a story where the protagonist outwits a demon deal (or some supernatural equivalent), causing the demon to become obsessed with them?

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“I’ve been thinking about your soul a lot, you know, since we last saw each other. Or, well, since you last saw me.”

The protagonist froze at the sound of the demon’s voice, resisting the urge to whip around and face the creature. They couldn’t really be there, could they? It had been months.

“How it felt in my hands,” the demon continued, with a tone of wistful hunger. “Really, I should have known the second I felt it, that you would surprise me. Get it back. You were exquisite. You are…”

The protagonist had made the deal, as one might expect, and told the demon they could have their soul in exchange for the demon granting their wish. They simply hadn’t told the demon that they could keep their soul for the rest of eternity. Such things were assumed, weren’t they? So written into the history books of demon deals that a demon might not think to specify.

As they’d told the demon at the time, a creature that made a living in cruel loopholes and blood-bound dealings should know better than anyone not to make assumptions. No matter how old the game.

So the demon had their soul for all of ten terrifying seconds, before the protagonist took it back in one exhilarating rush of victory. The demon vanished, banished away in a cloud of smoke and guttering candles, with an expression of satisfying shock. That was supposed to be the end of it, because the protagonist was most certainly not dumb enough to try the same trick twice.

They shouldn’t have ever heard the demon’s voice again.

“You are,” the demon sighed, “quite something.”

The protagonist allowed themselves to turn, slowly, examining the demon (who was really there, weren’t they? God help them) across the reading room of the library. It was empty aside from the two of them. The hour was late. The demon was between them and the door, leaning against it with a casual elegance.

They looked more humanoid than when the protagonist had seen them last, but their eyes were exactly the same. Unmistakable. The protagonist didn’t think they could have forgotten those eyes for so long as they existed; molten red, beautiful deadly embers that still held some internal glow of hellfire. Eyes that were fixed unblinking on the protagonist’s face.

The protagonist exhaled a steadying breath and, when they spoke, they did so with a calm confidence at odds with the deliberate stuttering nerves they had affected last time to make sure the demon underestimated them.

“You can’t take it off me again,” the protagonist said, folding their arms across their chest. “If that’s what you’re here for. Demons can’t just take souls. Or are you planning to kill me purely out of spite? Because, you know, killing me wouldn’t give you my soul either. Not without a valid, existing deal. Which you don’t have.”

“How are you enjoying your wish?” the demon asked. “Is it as…consuming as you?”

The protagonist faltered, thrown. Consuming. Quite something. Exquisite. Was the demon mocking them? They didn’t look anywhere near as furious as the protagonist had expected, on the dread possibility that the two of them should somehow ever meet again. They didn’t sound like they meant it as mockery either. They looked…

The protagonist’s mouth dried.

It was important with a demon wish was to keep it somewhat small, and to be specific, to avoid any nasty catches. The protagonist had wished to be able to understand, read and speak every language without any negative consequence. No immediate onset blindness, deafness, or having their tongue ripped out thank you. No demon or divine languages that would melt their brain.

The demon’s head tilted when the protagonist didn’t reply, and they straightened away from the door. Between one dizzying blink and the next they were standing right in front of the protagonist, peering over the protagonist’s shoulder to glance at the ancient text they had been studying.

“Ah, I see you are making good use,” the demon murmured, switching languages. Switching into their mother tongue. “I always liked Latin, you know. It’s not my favourite, but…you know. Solid.”

The demon placed their hands to rest casually on the table, on either side of the protagonist’s waist, blocking them in. The protagonist wondered if the demon could hear their heart racing. Probably. It roared in the protagonist’s ears. The demon definitely smiled at whatever expression they could see on the protagonist’s face. The protagonist couldn’t read the smile.

“Yes,” they managed, then. “I’m enjoying my wish. Do I need to fill out a customer service survey for you, is that what this is?”

The demon laughed. “Customer service. That’s so cute. Ten out of then, would outwit again?”

The protagonist pressed themselves a little further against the table’s edge. Demons, as a general rule, needed to be summoned. When they were summoned, most people at least knew to include some form of summoning circle, so an infernal creature couldn’t simply rip their guts out or wander about the city as they pleased.

Had someone else summoned the demon? If so, why were they in the reading room? Could it be coincidence, in all of the places, spaces and times of the world? Or had some dumbass used chalk which was hardly going to stop a greater demon?

Wait. Had the demon said ‘since you last saw me’ earlier?

The protagonist met their eyes again at the realisation, a jolt going through them.

“I went to that talk you gave on language and the supernatural,” the demon said, with a little shrug, smile broadening to reveal perfect white teeth that didn’t appear to be able to rend flesh from bone with the brutal efficiency of a piranha, and yet... “It was very good. For a mortal. We spoke briefly after – I looked different then.”

The protagonist’s head swam with something like vertigo. Their thoughts reeled.

“Flattery won’t get me to make another deal with you.”

The demon laughed again, softly.

The human cleared their throat, decided to screw it, and knock the demon’s hand out of the way. Get some distance. Think straight. They’d outwitted the demon before, so really –

Despite the fact that the demon looked like a slightly eerily lovely human, it felt more like trying to shove a statue. Or, well, like trying to move the creature they’d first summoned who was double the size of any normal tall human. All that to say, really, that unless they managed to duck with swift indignity beneath the demon’s arm, they were going nowhere until the demon wanted them to.

“So,” the demon said. “You’re the linguist, human, by my power. What does me thinking a lot about your soul translate to?”

“That you’re a sore loser?” It slipped out. But, really, with no summoning circle or ritual or any bond of magic between them, what could they possibly do to stop a demon at this stage? It wasn’t like they’d wished to be the greatest sorcerer that ever lived. They’d just wanted to understand. To mediate. To be able to help.

The demon wasn’t smiling anymore.

“That I can’t.” The demon’s hands finally moved off the table, but only to take hold of the protagonist’s hips. “Seem to stop thinking about you.”

The protagonist swallowed.

“I’ve claimed some really quite VIP souls since you,” the demon’s fingers trailed up their side, delicate and soft, and the hero’s brain flashed to the wicked claws they’d seen the first time. “Bonus with head office kinds of souls, you know? I am very good at what I do. An expert in my field. Bit like you are now.”

“Sorry if I got you in trouble at work.”

The demon caught their chin in one quick flash.

“Work?” They looked incredulous, with a shake of their head as if the protagonist was missing the very obvious point of it all. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Work has nothing to do with it, you aggravating, intriguing little fool. You have devoured me. I cannot remember the last time a human held my interest for longer than five minutes but you…” their grip gentled. “You.”

“I mean, I’m sure if you got to know me—”

“I have. In a dozen different guises and faces. Never mind that I have held your soul as mine, for one glorious moment, and your soul is everything you are. I know you.”

Right. Right, right, right.

The demon raised their other hand, to cup the human’s face, thumbs caressing the line of their jaw.

“I will know no peace until you leave me be,” the demon said. “I have tried everything. So you shall not have peace from me until you get out of my head.”

“I didn’t do it deliberately!” the protagonist yelped. “I didn’t – I mean – you – surely someone has outwitted you before. What did you do then?”

“No.”

“What?”

“You are the one. The only one.”

The protagonist stared at them, wide-eyed.

“Of course,” the demon said. “If you were no longer the one who got away, if you gave me your soul—”

“I’m not giving you my soul.”

“I could make your every wish come true,” the demon said, fervent. “No catches. No cruel loopholes, not for you. If you want riches, or great fame, or the wisdom of-“

“I’m not giving you my soul.”

The demon’s eyes narrowed.

“Killing or torturing me or threatening me will not make me give you my soul either,” the protagonist added quickly. “My little human lifetime does not really compare to yours, does it? You say you knew my soul, am I lying?”

The demon let go, but still didn’t step back.

“No,” the protagonist said. “You know I’m not. Or you would have done something before today.”

The realisation drained some of the fear away, leaving behind – something giddy. The same unparalleled rush they’d felt outwitting the demon the first time. Freedom, triumph, against all impossible odds.

The demon had come because the demon was desperate, perhaps because they couldn’t stay away, but they had not come to cause harm. However satisfying the vengeance might be, it wouldn’t give them what they wanted most.

“I’m not giving you my soul,” the protagonist said. “And you’re just going to have to suck it up. Find a hobby, maybe?”

The demon stayed silent for a long, long moment.

“You do not desire immortality,” the demon said. “But, until you give me my heart’s desire or get out of my thoughts, that is what you will have. I’ll be seeing you, then.”

“Excuse me?”

The demon stepped back, the smile back on their face, expression even brighter than before with their new apparent game to indulge in. They dipped their head in something like a courteous bow, ancient and strange, and the next words rushed through the protagonist’s brain in every conceivable language they now knew.

I can wait, human. And for you, I can wait forever. Can you?

Then they were gone.