The Devil Who Cared

Chapter 1-2

Three shoved and pushed the essence of his being through Earth’s crust, surfacing in Anchorage, Alaska. This part of the job he could exist without. Fortunately a devil doesn’t take the form of flesh and blood until after arrival on the surface, so the scratches and bruises of his tiresome ascension were entirely theoretical—he didn’t have a body, yet.

He chose a male one, which was a custom he had adopted over time. This way he didn’t have to look down at himself every few minutes to make sure the way he acted suited the gender he had taken on. He looked at the memo he had taken with him. “Tsk, Angel White, what sort of a disguise is that supposed to be? Who is this one trying to fool?”

He tsk-ed once more, then walked into downtown Anchorage, where Angel White worked. As a waiter. At an ice cream parlour. Go figure. At least the ice cream was good news. Three enjoyed the taste of it. He could spend days eating cone after cone, trying out all the flavours and combinations. The annoying thing was, once he was back and had transformed into his normal form, he couldn’t remember it anymore. All the tastes and sensations were gone and all that was left was a vague feeling of something he had liked. And that was a sensation he didn’t like at all.

The ice cream parlour in question was in a strip mall, somewhat obscured to drivers-by by a huge decorated tree in the parking lot. Fairy lights and glittery things that hurt Three’s eyes were no doubt an attempt at cheerfulness all along the mall. The parlour looked fresh and clean and comparatively non-festive. No ‘Happy New Year’ banners, no fake snow, and none of those annoying, glittery giant snow stars.

Three peeked in through the window: There were a lot of customers, sitting and standing, eating, drinking, chatting, laughing. A general feeling of gayness wafted from inside out onto the warm, sunlit street. There were three waitresses, two waited on the tables and one was at the counter serving the to-go customers.

Angel White seemed to be absent today—probably pining away in his bathroom, these ex-angels were all alike—and for a moment Three hesitated to go inside. He knew where the ex-angel lived; he could march right up to the house. But just then the waitress handed an ice cream cone over the counter, all gooey and drippy, with whipped cream and fudge and it wasn’t in a devil’s nature to resist temptation.

The door gave a cheerful jingle when he opened it. He noticed a drain of gaiety in the room upon entering, and was satisfied with himself and the dark aura he cast. Yes, he thought to himself like an orator on a roll, I am evil, and worthless humans should fear me.

He lined up and waited for his turn, pondering the choices presented before his eyes: chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, melon, walnut, peach…he decided to go alphabetically and start with almond.

“Two scoops.”

The curvy waitress smiled while she served him. To make small talk he asked, “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know where I could find Mister Angel White?”

“Sure. The boss is back there.” The waitress waved her hand in a direction behind her. Three recognized a small door labelled ‘office’. “Are you a friend of his?”

“Yes,” he lied smoothly.

“Why don’t you go over and knock—I’m sure he’ll be happy to see a friend.” Another grin. Three forced a smile on his own face and took the cone. He didn’t pay and the girl didn’t make him. The ice cream was delicious.

He let himself be distracted by the rich creamy flavour and the roasted pieces of almond in the ice cream. Hell hath no greater bliss than this, he thought, rather amused by his little poetical outburst. Then he knocked on the door. A voice that sounded vaguely familiar—but didn’t all human voices?—told him to come in. He turned the knob and entered.