Tim Pratt - Sympathy for the Devil

He nodded. “I sure am.”

The ’scuse-me woman looked in their direction, blinked, then plopped her fat ass right on Nikki’s lap. Nikki yelped and the woman got up, red-faced.

“What are you doing there?” the ’scuse-me lady gasped.

The old pervert started laughing so hard that spit flew out of his mouth.

“Sitting,” Nikki said. “What the hell are you doing?”

The woman turned away from Nikki, muttering to herself.

“You’re very fortunate to be sitting next to me,” the pervert said.

“How do you figure that?”

He laughed again, hard and long. “I gave you what you wanted. I’ll give you the next thing you want too.” He winked a rheumy eye. “For a price.”

“Whatever,” Nikki muttered.

“You know where to find me.”

Mercifully, the next stop was Nikki’s. She shoved the ’scuse-me woman hard as she pushed her way off the bus.

The rain had let up. Doug sat on the steps of the trailer, his hair frizzy with drizzle. He looked grim.

“What’s going on?” Nikki asked. “Only managed to eat half your body weight?

“Boo’s been hit,” he said, voice rough. “Trevor hit your dog.”

For a moment, Nikki couldn’t breathe. The world seemed to speed up around her, cars streaking along the highway, the wind tossing wet leaves across the lot.

She thought about the raven tattoo on Trevor’s back and wished someone would rip it off along with his skin. She wanted to tear him into a thousand pieces.

She thought about the old pervert on the bus.

I’ll give you the next thing you want too.

You know where to find me.

“Where’s Boo now?” Nikki asked.

“At the vet. Mom wanted me to drive you over as soon as you got home.”

“Why was he outside? Who let him out?”

“Mom came home with groceries. He slipped past her.”

“Is he oka-?”

Doug shook his head. “They’re waiting for you before they put him down. They wanted to give you a chance to say goodbye.”

She wanted to throw up or scream or cry, but when she spoke, her voice sounded so calm that it unnerved her. “Why? Isn’t there anything they can do?”

“Listen, the doctor said they could operate, but it’s a couple thousand dollars and you know we can’t afford it.” Doug’s voice was soft, like he was sorry, but she wanted to hit him anyway.

Nikki looked across the lot, but the truck wasn’t in front of Trevor’s trailer and his windows were dark. “We could make Trevor pay.”

Doug sighed. “Not going to happen.”

Now she felt tears well in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She wouldn’t grieve over Boo. She’d save him. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“You have to, Nikki. Mom’s waiting for you.”

“Call her. Tell her I’ll be there in an hour. I’m taking the bus.” Nikki grabbed the sleeve of Doug’s jacket, gripping it as hard as she could. “She better not do anything to Boo until I get there.” Tears slid down her cheek. She ignored them, concentrating on looking as fierce as possible. “You better not either.”

“Calm down. I’m not going to-” Doug said, but she was already walking away.

Nikki got on the next bus that stopped and scanned the aisles for the old pervert. A woman with two bags of groceries cradled on her lap looked up at Nikki, then abruptly turned away. A man stretched out on the long back seat shifted in his sleep, his fingers curled tightly around a bottle of beer. Three men in green coveralls conversed softly. There was no one else.

Nikki slid into her seat, wrapping her arms around her body as though she could hold in her sobs with sheer pressure. She had no idea what to do. Looking for a weird old guy that could grant wishes was pathetic. It was sad and stupid.

If there was some way to get the money, things might be different. She thought of all the stuff in the trailer that could be sold, but it didn’t add up to a thousand dollars. Even sticking her hand into the till at The Sweet Tooth was unlikely to net more than a few hundred.

Outside the window, the strip malls and motels slid together in her tear-blurred vision. Nikki thought of the day she’d found Boo by the side of the road, dehydrated and bloody. With all those bite marks, she figured his owners had been fighting him against other dogs, but when he saw her he bounded up as dumb and sweet and trusting as if he’d been pampered since he was a puppy. If he died, nothing would ever be fair again.

The bus stopped in front of a churchyard, the doors opened, and the old guy got on. He wore a suit of shiny sharkskin and carried a cane with a silver greyhound instead of a knob. He still stank of rotten eggs, though. Worse than ever.

Nikki sat up straight, wiping her face with her sleeve. “Hey.”

He looked over at her as though he didn’t know her. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve been looking for you. I need your help.”

Sitting down in the seat across the aisle, he unbuttoned the bottom button on his jacket. “That’s magic to my ears.”

“My dog.” Nikki sank her fingernails into the flesh of her palm to keep herself calm. “Someone hit my dog and he’s going to die…”

His face broke into a wrinkled grin. “And you want him to live. Like I’ve never heard that one before.”

He was making fun of her, but she forced a smile. “So you’ll do it.”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“What do you mean? Why not?”

A long sigh escaped his lips, like he was already tired of the conversation. “Let’s just say that it’s not in my nature.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He shifted the cane in his lap and she noticed that what she had thought of as a greyhound appeared to have three silver heads. He scowled at her, like a teacher when you missed an obvious answer and he knew you hadn’t done the reading. “You have to give me something to get something.”

“I’ve got forty bucks,” she said, biting her lip. “I don’t want to do any sex stuff.”

“I am not entirely without sympathy.” He shrugged his thin shoulders. “How about this-I will wager my services against something of yours. If you can beat me at any contest of your choosing, your dog will be well and you’ll owe me nothing.”

“Really? Any contest?” she asked.

He held out his hand. “Shake on it and we’ve got a deal.”

His skin was warm and dry in her grip.

“So, what is it going to be?” he asked. “You play the fiddle? Or maybe you’d like to try your hand at jump rope?”

She took a long look at him. He was slender and his clothes hung on him a bit, as though he’d been bigger when he’d bought them. He didn’t look like a big eater. “An eating contest,” she said. “I’m wagering that I can eat more than you can.”

He laughed so hard she thought for a moment he was having a seizure. “That’s a new one. Fine. I’m all appetite.”

His reaction made her nervous. “Wait-” she said. “You never told me what you wanted if I lost.”

“Just a little thing. You won’t miss it.” He indicated the door of the bus with his cane. “Next stop is yours. I’ll be by tomorrow. Don’t worry about your dog for tonight.”

She stood. “First tell me what I’m going to lose.”

“You’ll over-react,” he said, shaking his head.

“I won’t,” Nikki said, but she wasn’t sure what she would do. What could he want? She’d said “no sex,” but he hadn’t made any promises.

The old guy held out his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Your soul.”

“What? Why would you want that?”

“I’m a collector. I have to have the whole set-complete. All souls. They’re going to look spectacular all lined up. There was a time when I was close, but then there were all these special releases and I got behind. And forget about having them mint-in-box. I have to settle for what I can get these days.”