Page 8 of As Many Souls as Stars
Miriam stepped forward and made to tap him on the shoulder—but her hand rebounded inches from him, as if hitting an invisible barrier. She glanced down to see a thick line of salt surrounding her feet, and she sneered.
At the sound of her footstep, the man spun around. Seeing Miriam’s face, he cried out, flinching away from her with such violence that he fell to the ground.
‘Well?’ she said, looking down at him.
He crossed himself, which looked rather ridiculous; he had used charcoal, for some reason, to paint the shape of eyes on the backs of his hands. He stuttered, ‘I— What— Who are you?’
She raised a brow. ‘Who do you think?’
‘You are a woman.’
‘Not particularly,’ Miriam replied. ‘But close enough.’
His eyes widened, and he barked in laughter. ‘Of course. Of course. The Seed of Eve. Just as the curse… I should have known.’
‘The curse?’
‘If the first seed is that of Eve, ruin shall take root,’ the man babbled. ‘The branches of the House of Harding shall wither and fall.’
The man’s pupils were pinpoints, and his fingers trembled and twitched as he spoke, clawing at the air. A half-empty bottle was standing on the table. He had taken something, clearly. Miriam stared at him, frowning, as he continued to mutter to himself, scrambling to stand. He was slightly built, fair-haired, mayhap attractive by human standards, quite ugly by hers: desperation and rancour seeped from his face as ichor stains a bandage.
The man cleared his throat, interrupting his own mutterings. ‘I—if—I—’ He ceased speaking, and he wrung his hands, as if to cleanse himself of the stutter. ‘You are Mephistopheles, yes?’ he asked, finally. ‘The demon of legend?’
Miriam grinned, amused. She had been called many names, and she could not remember all of them; she was as likely to be Mephistopheles, she supposed, as anyone else.
The man took her smile as agreement. ‘I wish to make a deal,’ he said. ‘I require a familiar. You must lend your power to mine.’
Miriam sighed. Howdull. ‘You already have power.’
‘Not enough to accomplish what I desire. But were I to useyourmagic…’
‘And in exchange? I traffic not in pieces. I would want your soul entirely.’
The man squared his shoulders; he raised his head high upon his neck. There was a new righteousness to his expression, a blazing sort of certainty. ‘I am a Harding, chosen and blessed by God. I have tamed you, foul demon, and entrapped you in my circle. If you ever wish for freedom, you must follow my command.’
Miriam glanced down at the salt circle once more. She was trapped, but hubris of this calibre made men gullible. And his zealotry, amusingly, seemed entirely without foundation: his soul was somewhat exceptional, yes, but it had no touch of the divine.
She was not particularly hungry—she had just eaten, after all—but a meal was a meal. And Miriam could amuse herself, could she not? What use was immortality without a little fun?
She widened her eyes, affected awe. ‘God and all His saints,’ she whispered. ‘I see it now—their heavenly presence.’
His answering smile was triumphant. He was obviously deranged. ‘I shall not be conquered.’
‘Indeed, your soul cannot be mine to reap,’ Miriam said, ‘as long as the angels enfold you within their arms. Even my Lord, Lucifer, could not defeat such power.’
‘You are mine, then? To command as I wish?’
‘I swear it,’ Miriam replied. ‘I shall not take your soul, as long as God protects you. While that is so, I am your servant, sir. These are the laws by which I am bound. Is this amenable to you?’
‘It is,’ he said. It was enough that Miriam felt the deal slide into place, slither down her spine, and hiss expectantly for its fulfilment. It was curious that people made pacts on such uncertain terms, but they did so constantly.
She stretched out a hand to him. Above her palm, the shadows formed a quill, its tip sharp as a blade.
‘You must break the circle to release me,’ she said. ‘Otherwise, you cannot sign.’
He hesitated for only a moment. The contract was before him, his dream in reach: Miriam knew well the power of pageantry.
Trembling with excitement, the man kicked a section of the salt away. Miriam felt the pressure around her release, and she swallowed a smile.
