Friday, 18 December 2015
“Is that you?” Jac felt behind him for the comfort of the signpost's metal rod. Despite his greased hair and man-about-village laissez faire, the bravado he generally displayed was severely lacking when it came to meeting a strange man at the only crossroads in Polroun in the middle of the night.
“That rather depends upon who you were expecting.” Ebon skin all but vanished under the starlight. In addition to the other stipulations, Mr Asfou had specified the night of the new moon.
Jag swallowed his fear and left the comfort of cold iron. “Are you really the devil?”
“The devil? No. Merely an associate with Power of Infernery.”
“But you can grant my wishes?”
“A wish, I think we established. Singular.”
“Yes.” Jac wiped his hand over his hair. A nervous gesture, he knew, and he wiped the Brylcream off on his trousers. “All right, then, I'm game.”
“Excellent.” The man produced a sheaf of paperwork and held out a pen. “Just sign here.”
“Where? I can't see anything. Have you got a torch?”
“Does a witch need burning?” White teeth flashed and Jac felt his hand guided to the paper. He signed his name, hoping his pen was in the right spot.”
“Excellent.” The paperwork was tucked away and the stranger turned to leave.
“What... What about my wish.”
“Go home to your wife, sir. She'll be pregnant by morning.”