Back | Next
Contents

Chapter 29

Hell's recruiter arrived in a cloud of sulphur and brimstone, with a thunderclap to announce his presence. He stood at the foot of her bed glowing a dull and evil red in the dark room. "I heard you were looking for me," he said.

Janna hadn't been asleep, but she'd been sleepy. Not anymore. Her heart pounded and her mouth dried out. This was an altogether different order of devil than Puck; this monster stood more than eight feet tall—she knew this because her bedroom had an eight-foot ceiling, and the devil had to crouch to stand there. Its wings swept to either side of her bed like curtains, and it leered at her, twisting its nightmare of a face into a grin.

"Ah . . ." she said, staring up at it. "I . . . ah . . ."

"You want to be a resounding success, no matter what the cost. You want to be a brilliant actress, a renowned director, a producer of films both critically acclaimed and commercially successful."

She stared up at it. "Yes."

"You want to be a legend now as well as a legend after you're gone."

She straightened a little. "Yes. That's what I want."

"And you want this success to be guaranteed—you want the guarantee that no matter what you do, you cannot fail."

She had regained her composure. "That's exactly what I want."

"I'm Scumslag. Usually I don't waste my time with recruitment, but we think you have the potential to do a great deal for our organization. We think you are, in fact, potentially one of the most extraordinary candidates we've ever had the pleasure to recruit. So in spite of the fact that I'm in charge of the whole Earthside operation, I've decided to talk with you personally. I've come to discuss terms with you."

Janna smiled. She'd expected when she talked to that spineless excuse for a devil, Puck, that Hell would be interested in her. She felt gratified to discover that Hell shared the high opinion she held of herself. She got out of bed and said, "Yes. Let's discuss terms."

She started out to the kitchen, wearing only the lacy negligee in which she'd gone to bed—she didn't see a need for a housecoat. She'd appeared topless on screen in Raging Moon, and doubted that the devil would take much interest in her physical body in any case. Scumslag vanished from behind her and reappeared in front of her, considerably smaller but still frightening in appearance. He had, however, ditched his wings for an elegant black silk suit, a tailored European-cut shirt, and black patent leather wingtipped shoes. His red silk tie had an understated flame pattern woven into the cloth, and his slim leather briefcase looked both expensive and tasteful.

Once again Janna was pleased. Nice to know Hell went first class.

The devil pulled out a chair for her at the kitchen table, then took one for himself. "I'll hit the high points," he said, smiling, "and if you have any questions, just stop me and ask. Since you expressed interest in Satco, I don't feel it's necessary to give you the full recruitment pitch, but . . ." He shrugged and his smile grew broader. She was, for a moment, fascinated by his teeth, which were all tremendously long and pointed. Her first acting job had been as an extra in a horror flick, and she'd had a mouth full of teeth rather like those. She wondered if the devil's were more comfortable than the ones she'd worn.

He pulled out a contract, and she got a good look at his hands. The black, needle-sharp talons were as long as his fingers, and wickedly curved. He was hairless, with batlike ears, curling horns, and eyes as flat and deadly as those of a rattlesnake—pale gold, with square pupils. Those eyes were the only thing he shared in common with Puck, her only other close encounter with deviltry. She imagined that Scumslag would despise Puck for willingly giving up the power and fear that being a devil would confer.

"As far as your Hell-terms," Scumslag said, "we're offering an initial seven-year postmortem hitch. You'll go in as a Demon First Class. If you've made Devil Junior Grade or better by the end of the seven years, you'll be allowed to re-up. Or, of course, you can repent, but I'll be honest with you. Hell has excellent terms of advancement, whereas in Heaven, you stay where you are."

Janna nodded. "So if I fail to make grade, I'll end up in Heaven."

Scumslag raised an eyebrow. "You'll end up in Heaven if you repent. If you fail to make grade, you'll end up as a damnedsoul, and you'll have to work your way up through the ranks from imp. But if you were that sort of a slacker, we wouldn't be interested in you in the first place."

"I see."

"We expect big things from you, Janna, both here and below. If you decide to take our offer, you'll get a signing bonus, and start off with a salary commensurate with your rank as a human operative, brevetted Demon First Class. That salary, paid to you annually on the first day of the new year, will be in addition to any money you make on your own."

"How much?"

"Seven hundred fifty thousand dollars."

"That's not so much."

"No. It isn't. But if you manage to earn promotions while you're a human agent, you'll get increases in your pay. And of course that doesn't take into account the fact that we're guaranteeing you enormous career success."

Right. She'd forgotten that. She wasn't looking at a salary. She was looking at gravy on top of the millions she'd make as an actress, director, and producer.

"Fine," she said.

She took the contract and looked it over. She would be a major big-budget motion picture star. Hell guaranteed her top billing or equal billing on every project she starred in, and guaranteed, too, that when she chose to move behind the camera, she would continue to have the golden touch. Her entire life would be remarkable; the body of her work would endure in popularity long after her death; she would be a legend.

In return, Hell claimed her soul.

"So how do I go about earning promotions and raises?"

Scumslag smiled. "I can't tell you that."

"Excuse me?"

"I literally can't tell you that. God has prohibited us from saying or doing certain things while we're on Earth, and if I were to tell you what you had to do to earn promotions, I would be breaking that rule."

"So break it."

Scumslag laughed. "You have the right attitude for Hell. Unfortunately for me, I am physically incapable of doing what you ask me. But I've included a copy of God's orders to the Hellraised. If you look at those and see the things we can't do, you'll figure out quickly enough what you'll need to do to earn your wings."

Janna smiled. "I'll be brilliant, hmmm?"

"Brilliant."

"Give me a pen."

Scumslag handed her a beautiful, heavy, enameled fountain pen. "Just sign on the bottom."

As Janna wrote her name, a pin in the side of the pen popped out and stabbed her in the finger. Blood poured across the contract.

"Just write through it," the devil said.

Janna kept on writing.

Back | Next
Framed