Goetic Justice

When his turn came, he stepped up to the counter, and his stomach knotted as he saw Becky standing behind the register. Her dark hair was tied back in a bun, and she was wearing green overalls with the company logo emblazoned on her breast. Of course. She worked as a barista at this chain. Her shift didn't usually begin until after he had already set off for work, so he had never encountered her on the job before. Her eyes widened as she recognized him, then narrowed. Ryan had been radio silent since they had broken up -- he hadn't contacted her in over a month.

"Hey...Becky..."

"Ryan," she answered dismissively.

"I'll have a...uh...a macchiato and a cruller."

Her eyes flashed with fury, and she spun her head around to make sure that her manager wasn't in earshot before leaning over the counter to whisper angrily to him.

"That's all you've got to say to me?" she hissed. "You don't speak to me for a month, and then you show up here asking for coffee?"

"Well, you work at a coffee shop," he replied apologetically with a gesture to her overalls. She fumed, her expression suggesting that she wanted to vault over the counter and lay into him, but it wasn't worth her job. "Besides, you made your feelings pretty clear. Why would I care what you had to say about it after you stormed out?"

"Three years, and you don't even try to contact me? You don't reply to my messages on social media, you never answer your phone! A real man wouldn't just let me go like that without a fight."

"Why on Earth would I want to get back together with you after what you did?" he scoffed.

"Hey, I broke up with you," she spat.

"Yeah, if you consider getting caught sleeping around breaking up with someone."

She was about ready to go off on another rant, no doubt full of expletives and derogatory statements about his manhood and his financial situation, but Ryan remembered what Nahash had told him.

Whatever happens, do not argue with her.

This was it -- this was what she had been talking about. The vague and cryptic instructions that had been relayed to him were already falling into place. It was like struggling with a puzzle before finally understanding how it fit together -- that click of realization when you got your head around the problem.

"You're such a pussy Ryan, you didn't even-"

He held up a hand to cut her off, and her face contorted with rage.

"A macchiato and a cruller, please."

"How dare you," she began, but he silenced her again with another wave of his hand.

"I have places to be, Becky. Don't make me talk to your manager."

She slunk off to fetch his order and returned after a minute, sliding the paper bag across the counter begrudgingly, then slamming his coffee down on the polished wood. She shot him a dirty look, then rang him up, foisting the crumpled receipt into his waiting hand.

"Enjoy your beverage, sir," she spat with that same venom she had shown him in their apartment. Ryan turned and left without another word, feeling her eyes burning holes into his back as he stepped out onto the street. He set off towards the mall again, a spring in his step as he sipped his coffee, the cool wind blowing his hair and rustling his paper bag. He had to admit that it had felt pretty good to shut Becky down like that. Had she cheated on him for attention, then? As some kind of punishment for him failing to keep her entertained? Oh, what did it matter? He wouldn't be able to forgive her either way. There was still a knot in his stomach when he thought about her, like someone was twisting a hot knife in his gut, but he already felt a little better. It was nice to be outside again, feeling the breeze on his face and the crisp air in his lungs, getting some exercise rather than sitting in front of a screen and trying to block reality from his mind.

The hot coffee warmed his belly, and he fished inside the bag for his donut as he walked, taking a bite of the twisted dough before sucking the sweet glaze from his fingers. As Nahash had instructed, his pace was brisk, but he wasn't hurrying. The city was coming to life all around him, traffic crawling to a standstill as cars blocked the road, bicyclists weaving between them in their mad dash to make it to work on time. Pedestrians carrying briefcases and umbrellas emerged from subway stairwells, crowds of them milling about like ants clad in overcoats, the bustle and cacophony oddly soothing to him.

He walked for another ten minutes or so, dropping his empty styrofoam cup and the paper bag into a trash can once he had finished his breakfast, the smells of exhaust fumes and the sounds of angry motorists doing little to dampen his mood. He knew that something good was going to happen today, something positive. It was an odd and welcome feeling to be assured that luck would be on your side.

As he rounded a street corner and the mall came into view, he felt a tug on his pants leg. He stumbled, turning around to see what had grabbed him. There was a homeless man lying prone on the street, clad in tattered wool clothing and sporting fingerless gloves, his weather-beaten face obscured behind a wiry beard. He stank of booze, and he was clearly drunk. Ryan shook him off in annoyance as the man propped himself up against the wall of the building behind him, sitting upright. He took off his moth-eaten beanie and held it out like a collection plate, revealing hair that was long and matted.

"Hey, fella," he slurred drunkenly. "Can ya spare a penny for...for the poor?"

Ryan brushed himself off and turned to leave, but paused when he remembered what Nahash had said. You will be accosted by a drunken vagrant. Be generous with him, and treat him as you would a friend, but see him on his way. She had been right about Becky at the coffee shop -- there was no reason to doubt her now. He opened his coat and started to fish inside one of the inner pockets for his wallet, the homeless man waiting expectantly as Ryan produced a twenty-dollar bill. The demon had advised him to be generous, and it wasn't as if twenty bucks was going to prevent him from losing his apartment if he didn't find a job in time.

Ryan handed it to him, and the vagrant held the bill up to the light. When he was satisfied that it was real, he struggled to his feet, reaching out to embrace his new benefactor. Ryan grimaced as the filthy stranger hugged him tightly, the smell of body odor and alcohol washing over him, but he endured it. Treat him as you would a friend, that's what Nahash had said. He gave the man a tentative pat on the back through his layers of heavy coats, trying to reassure him.

"Yer a real pal," the stranger mumbled as Ryan eased himself out of his arms. "Whas yer name?"

"Ryan, and it's no trouble, really."

"Ryan," the vagrant mused. "Ah'll keep an eye out for ya."

Send him on his way, he thought as he turned the man around and gave him a gentle nudge to send him doddering off down the sidewalk. He muttered incoherently to himself, wealthier and more handsomely dressed city folk avoiding him like the plague as he passed by them. Ryan watched him stumble along for a moment, then continued on towards the mall, pushing his way through the glass doors and into the food court near the entrance.

He had never visited a mall so early in the day before, and he was surprised to see it relatively empty. Many of the stores were just now opening for business. The aromas of breakfast food greeted him as he made his way past the tables and glass counters, unsure of why he was there or what he was supposed to do next. Doubt was already nagging at him, and he wondered whether Nahash might have forgotten to relay the rest of her instructions to him. Morning sunlight beamed down through the windows in the domed roof as he emerged into the mall proper, and he wandered past clothing outlets and videogame stores, searching for some clue that might set him on the right path.

"You, sir!"

Ryan turned his head in the direction of the voice, spotting a man in a dark suit who was standing beside a car. It was in the middle of the walkway on a raised podium, cordoned off by a red velvet rope, a white sedan with a silver grill and gleaming hubcaps. The man who had called to him waved him over, and he approached slowly.

"Enter the raffle and win a car! Just fill out your information on this form for a chance to take it home."

Ryan was handed a sheet of paper, and he glanced over it. They wanted his personal information, things like his home address and his phone number. He felt a surge of excitement welling in him. This must be what Orobas had foreseen! He needed a car for work, and so Orobas had used his powers of prescience to put him in exactly the right place at exactly the right time to fill out the winning form. The stop at the coffee shop, his encounter with the homeless man, all links in the chain that would delay his arrival until precisely this moment in time.

He asked for a pen and filled out the sheet of paper, handing it back and starting to walk around the podium to get a better look at the car. It was a four-door sedan, a luxury model with all the accessories, probably sponsored by some local auto dealership.

"She's a beauty," the crier said, slipping the form that Ryan had filled out into a box that was sitting atop a short podium beside him. "This year's model, five-year warranty, comes with all the bells and whistles. You got here just in the nick of time, you know. You're one of the last people to hand in your form, and the registration ends today."

"You don't say," Ryan mused, playing his eyes over the snow-white finish as he circled the vehicle. It was shiny enough that he could see his reflection in the bodywork, distorted like a funhouse mirror. While he didn't know much about cars, this was as nice a vehicle as he could imagine owning. Well, besides something like a sports car, of course. But, like Nahash had said, he had to keep his expectations reasonable if their relationship was to bear fruit. "So, how do I win?"

"Your information will be entered into a raffle, and the winner will be randomly decided by the luck of the draw. If you're the lucky winner, then you'll receive a phone call with further instructions."

"I'm feeling pretty lucky today," he said, suppressing a grin.

***

"You were right about everything," Ryan said excitedly, gesturing wildly as he paced around the living room. Nahash had appeared again shortly after he had returned from the mall, and she was sitting on his couch as he circled it, her oddly goat-like head turning to track him. Her long legs leaned to the left like a woman riding side-saddle, the couch too low for her to sit normally. She looked large enough to crush the wooden frame into splinters, and yet the cushions beneath her ample rump barely sagged, as if her weight and mass were not as her appearance suggested. Did she grow tired, and did she need rest? Was she relaxing, or was this some illusion for his benefit? Orobas had not even taken form until he had been compelled to do so by the sigil.

"The coffee shop, the homeless guy, everything that you said came true. What's next?" he asked as he leaned on the back of the couch, her long ears flicking as if to bat away invisible flies. "When do I get the car?"

"Soon," she replied. "For now, you must widen your search. Look farther afield to find work that pleases you. Once you have made a decision, my master will be able to see into the future with greater clarity, and he will advise your next course of action."

"This is great!" Ryan exclaimed with a chuckle. "I didn't understand your methods at first, but this is like having a strategy guide for life itself."

"Now, do you understand the way that magick works?" she asked as she glanced back at him. Even sitting down, she was still as tall as he was.

"Yeah, yeah, I do. The applications are limitless. I could win the lottery and become a millionaire, I could..."

He noticed that her expression had darkened, and her amber eyes were peering at him with what almost looked like disdain.

"I remember, don't worry," he said in an attempt to reassure her. "I have to keep my requests humble for the best results. In any case, that wasn't part of my contract with Orobas. A job that I enjoy will work out better for me than a winning lottery ticket anyway. Most people who win eventually go broke, you know."

Her expression softened again, and she seemed satisfied. Demons must really hate greed. As beings who were described as the embodiment of sin and evil, they sure seemed to get pissed off with him when he talked about things that he didn't need. Did they just want to avoid the extra workload?

"Something doesn't add up," Ryan said, walking around to the front of the couch to stand before the entity. "You guys are demons, right? You're bound by contract not to do me any harm, at least not directly, but isn't your whole shtick trying to tempt people into self-ruination?"

Nahash crossed her long legs, still distractingly naked, her cloven hoof dangling as it protruded from feathery fur that bore an uncanny resemblance to a woolen knee sock. The more time she spent in his apartment, the more her demeanor seemed to change. It was odd. She had gone from an imposing and terrifying figure who stood stoically as she advised him, to someone who made herself at home on his couch. She was lingering for longer and longer upon each visit, too, becoming more comfortable around him.

"What do you think of when you hear the word demon?" Nahash asked. Ryan had to take a moment to think about his reply.

"Red guy with a beard and a pitchfork, embodiment of evil, takes your soul in exchange for a monkey-paw contract that eventually fucks you over in some cruel and ironic way."

"Have you found that to be the case?"

"No," he replied, a little sheepish now. "I don't mean to be like...insensitive or anything."

"Biblical lore talks of fallen angels, of good versus evil. In reality, there is an entire world of spirits and entities that exists beyond your perception. There is no more good or evil in a spirit than there is in a mortal. We follow our whims and our fancies just as you do, and we are bound by the laws of our society much as you are bound by those of yours."

"So, you won't try to corrupt me or anything like that?" he asked warily. "You won't steal my soul?"

"My master is loyal to his exorcist, and no lies pass his lips," she replied as she leaned back into the cushions. "Is that not why you chose to summon him above all others?"

"In part, yeah."

"I am bound to him, and to you. Treat my words as if they came from his mouth. There is much that you do not yet understand, Ryan, and much that I cannot teach you. Arcane knowledge that is forbidden to mortals, ancient histories that I do not know myself. It is not my master's place to teach you the secret history of the world, nor is it mine. That is the domain of other demons who you might learn to summon in time. But what you must understand is that our history pre-dates yours by eons, and that many of the entities that you refer to as demons are simply old gods who fell out of favor and lost their power as a result. Most have no interest in your immortal soul and seek only to fulfill their contracts."

"So, what's the deal with the sigils?" Ryan asked. "Why does Orobas treat engraved metal plates as currency?"

"As I said, many are gods who lost their power. Their worshipers are long dead, and their icons have been reduced to dust by time and neglect. Worship and tribute invigorates them, strengthens them. Without it, they would fade and cease to be."

"So..." Ryan hesitated, wanting to ask more questions but unsure of whether he really wanted to know the answers.

"I sense uncertainty in you," she said, watching him with those horizontal pupils. "You wonder if the religion that you know is true, and you fear that you will be judged poorly for what you have done. The surviving texts contain fragments of the truth, though none have accurately recorded the full account of what happened before the deluge. So much has been lost to your people."

She shuffled aside and patted the cushion beside her with her clawed hand, an oddly friendly gesture that contrasted starkly with her demonic appearance.

"Come. Sit with me."

Her hips were so wide that there would barely be room for him, and he was a little apprehensive about getting so close to her. He wasn't as fearful of her as he had been when she had first appeared, but she still had a fearsome look about her. Those horns could have skewered a sizable cow.

"Do not be afraid," she said in a reassuring tone. "I am your familiar. My purpose here is to serve you on behalf of my master."

Still skeptical, he slid down into the narrow gap between her hip and the armrest, his leg pressing against the soft meat of her thigh. Nahash had as much of a physical presence as he did. She wasn't ghostly or ethereal, and he could even smell her. Far from the stench of sulfur when she manifested, her scent was more earthy up close, but in a pleasant way. It reminded him of grass and soil after a rainstorm.

Despite her exaggerated stature and her oppressive size, the couch didn't sag under her weight. Her thighs were almost as thick around as his torso, tapering into thinner and more goat-like limbs below the knee, the transition masked by her white fur. Ryan found himself staring intently at the far wall in an attempt to keep his eyes off her impressive bust, his proximity to her putting her chest mere inches from his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught scant glimpses of her pale breasts as they hung free, fighting against gravity in the absence of any support. They were the size of his head, large enough that he would have struggled to cup one with both hands, shaped like perfect teardrops. Despite their obvious mass, she carried them easily on her massive frame. Whatever she weighed, it wasn't right. Perhaps she had more control over her form than he thought.

"I am here to help you in the full scope of your contract with Orobas," she began. "It is my job to aid him in his understanding of what it is that you actually want. It will not do to see you so worried."

"You don't think that I'm going to hell for consorting with demons, then?"

"Even my master cannot see that which has not yet been decided, but a man's life is long and fraught with challenges. I sincerely doubt that one act can doom him. Besides, as you now know, good and evil are relative."

"Were you ever...alive?" he asked hesitantly. "Were you a person once?"

"Did I go to hell, you mean? No, I am of the Seirim, the progeny of the demon Azazel. I was never human. We were spirits who inhabited the plains and forests of the ancient world, also known as Satyrs, or Djinn. It is best not to dwell on such questions, Ryan. As I have explained, my purpose here is not to recant secret histories to you, but you may learn in time if you continue your magickal pursuits."

"But, hell is real?" he pressed.

"Hell is just one realm amongst many. Heed my words, Ryan," she insisted. "It is best not to fret over such things. Your time on Earth is so fleeting, you cannot waste it worrying about what will come after. Live your life here, and in time, the truth will reveal itself to you."

"I suppose..."

He flinched as he felt her heavy arm on his shoulder, those hard nails scraping against his clothing. Was she trying to reassure him? For a moment, he wanted to break away from her, to leap from the couch and flee. Something deep in his subconscious mind still screamed that she was an aberration. It was as if he sensed that she wasn't supposed to be on some instinctual level. It wasn't fear, exactly, more like some kind of immuno-response from reality itself.