Time’s Up
Dr. Faustus had made a deal with the Devil, and now his time was running out. He was to die in an hour. He had known this for a long time, yet it had seemed like this day was never going to come. But now, sitting in his living room, with his opulent leather chairs, small hors d’oeuvres on the table, and crowded bookshelf sitting behind him, it seemed all too real.
The doctor stared at his watch intently, focusing on the slim hand that marked the seconds as it slid smoothly over the numbers in the circle. Eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve.
He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
He stared at the chair across from him, empty. He wondered when he would arrive.
Tick…
Tick…
Tick…
A chill went up Dr. Faustus’s spine, and his fingers froze mid-air.
He was here.
The Devil came into Dr. Faustus’s house not through a portal, nor through the shadows, but through the front door. He walked into the room wearing the same thing he had worn when he first met Dr. Faustus, all those years ago: an elegantly tailored black suit and a big fur coat. Dr. Faustus couldn’t really tell what kind of creatures made up the coat, only that their blood, dripping evermore, gave the coat a reddish hue and left a mess on his carpet.
Last time, he had asked the Devil why he wore that coat. Satan had merely replied, “Hell is cold.”
“You still hate the coat, don’t you?” Lucifer asked, smirking. He was sitting down gracefully on the chair, as if it were a throne.
“No,” Dr. Faustus replied. “I… actually really like it.”
“Is that why you’re staring?”
“You just look different from the last time I saw you, sir, that’s all.”
“Oh?” the Devil said, leaning dangerously forward. Dr. Faustus could smell the death radiating off his coat. “Who do I look like this time? A killer you saw on the news? A terrorist? Your father?”
The corner of Dr. Faustus’s lip twitched.
The Devil grinned. “Keeping secrets, I see?”
Dr. Faustus looked down, muttering something under his breath, then motioned at the table that separated both of them, in which two bottles of wine, a cheeseboard, and a small, sharp knife lay. “Wine or cheese, sir?”
Satan chuckled. “You’re too polite of a sinner.”
Dr. Faustus’s eyes flashed. He bit his lip and said nothing. He merely extended his arm and made the bottle float in the air and pour wine into both cups.
The Devil lifted a single brow. “Telekinesis?”
Dr. Faustus nodded. “The deal was that the wishes you gave me could break all laws holy and unholy. Summoning objects with your mind at will breaks some laws.”
“You humans are so boring,” Satan said, sipping his wine. “I hope you used one of the other three wishes for creativity.”
“I only used two of them.”
The Devil stiffened. “What?”
“I only used two of the four wishes,” Dr. Faustus said. “I want to break the contract. I want to keep my soul.”
Dr. Faustus didn’t know where the pain came from, only that it made him fall to the ground and let out a blood-curdling scream.
He heard the sound of the Devil putting his wine glass down, and then watched as his perfectly polished shoes walked calmly towards him, a crimson path trailing behind them.
Lucifer clicked his tongue. “Naughty, naughty. A man your age shouldn’t put himself in such situations. You could have a heart attack, a stroke… you shouldn’t risk it.”
Dr. Faustus was shaking on the floor. “Please…” he sobbed. “Please… I just want my soul…”
The Devil lifted a finger, and Dr. Faustus yelled as he was tossed up the air like a ragdoll and thrown into his chair. He tried to move, yet couldn’t.
“You know, there’s a saying about me,” the Devil said. “‘The devil knows more from being old than from being the devil.’ Have you heard it?”
“No, sir,” Dr. Faustus croaked.
“Even so,” the Devil continued. “You would think that humans would still be smarter than to try to trick the Devil.”
“I—”
“Yet they always do,” Satan growled, ignoring Dr. Faustus. “I don’t know who I hate the most: the clever ones or the fools. The fools always ask for mercy, thinking I’m God. The clever ones always lie to me, forgetting that I’m the origin of all lies. I can smell their sins off them like a bloodhound.”
“Sir, if I may— my soul—”
Lucifer spun around and grabbed Dr. Faustus by the collar. “I am Mephistopheles, Lord of Hell,” he spat. “Do you know what that means? I am a rogue angel, the first to reject his God. I am the general whose bloodlust is never satisfied, the thief whose greed never ends, the terrorist who craves power, the con artist that always has one more trick up his sleeve. I take pleasure in pain, for I invented it. I am every arson, every murder, every rape, every crime that’s ever been committed and will be commited. I am sin,” he snarled, getting so close to Dr. Faustus that blood oozed off his coat and fell into the latter’s lap. Dr. Faustus, who had been biting his lip, screamed in agony as his skin sizzled and burned.
The Devil gave a low chuckle. “Only I can wear this coat,” he said softly. “If only one drop that fell off of it burnt your leg, you can imagine what would happen if you tried to put it on.” He gave Dr. Faustus a maniacal grin. “People sometimes forget the extent of my power,” he drawled. “But this coat reminds them that I have fought every single creature that has tried to take over my throne and won. It shows my strength, my cunning, my ruthlessness. It is my crown, my trophy. It is made out of the skin and blood of all of those who have tried to defy me. Soon, it will be made out of your blood too, Faustus.”
Dr. Faustus grew pale. “But— my soul— you have to let me bargain—”
Lucifer let go of Dr. Faustus in disgust and stepped back. “According to the contract, which you signed with your blood so many years ago, the only thing I have to do is kill you and take your soul in a couple of minutes,” the Devil growled. “It’s true, I used to hear what humans had to say before, but I quickly learned that they are fools. And those that bargained and lost were never good servants in Hell. I don’t bargain anymore, nor do I take hellish servants. Now, I simply snap my fingers and break your souls into a million pieces, erasing you from existence.”
“Please—” Dr. Faustus cried. “Please— please—”
“It was in the contract, human,” the Devil said. “Sign with blood, pay with blood.”
He snapped his fingers.
Dr. Faustus opened his mouth, as if to yell, and then fell to the floor. Lucifer watched as his body shook violently for a couple of seconds, then stopped.
He smiled.
Dr. Faustus was dead.
The Devil’s mouth curled into a smirk, then a smile. He began to laugh, first softly, then louder. He grabbed his ribs and tilted his head back and howled, filled with joy. He laughed so loudly his voice boomed throughout the house and seeped into every corner, every small nook and cranny in the room.
He stopped laughing, however, when he heard someone else laughing with him.
Dr. Faustus rose slowly from the floor, a crooked grin on his face. Although he had no broken bones, his face looked somehow stilted and perverse, as if Picasso had attempted to paint a serial killer, or a monster.
“Your years may teach you much, but you’ve grown senile, old man,” he said quietly.
The Devil snapped his fingers once, twice, thrice.
Nothing happened.
Dr. Faustus clicked his tongue. “That doesn’t work on me anymore, Lucy,” he said. “Remember? I’m soulless now.”
“Impossible,” the Devil breathed.
“Oh Lucy, everything’s possible when you use your gifts with more creativity,” Dr. Faustus said with a chuckle, extending his arm towards the Devil. The Devil yelped as an invisible force drew him towards Dr. Faustus.
“So, did you like my performance?” Dr. Faustus asked, grabbing Satan by the collar. “‘Would you like some wine or cheese, sir?’ ‘Please, sir, I want to keep my soul! I want to bargain!’” Dr. Faustus smirked. “I hope you did. It was what I used my second wish for: the ability to deceive anyone, even the Devil. Yet even with the wish, there were still times when I almost burst out laughing. Like, ‘I am sin?’” Dr. Faustus said with a cackle. “Please. You’re nothing but a boy with daddy issues.”
“Foolish human,” Lucifer said. “You may think you have the upper hand, but you are yet to feel my wrath.”
Dr. Faustus’s eyes widened.
Then he began to laugh.
“I’ve already seen your wrath, and it’s pathetic,” he spat. “Like something straight out of Hamlet. Only monologues and threats, and a little bit of pain. Meanwhile, I’ve dreamt for years about all the things I’m going to do to you. Shall we begin now?” Dr. Faustus said, throwing Satan on the ground. He then extended his arm and started to break every single bone of his body, one by one, slowly savoring the pain in the Devil’s eyes .
“I’ve got to say, I’m a bit disappointed,” Dr. Faustus said, ignoring Lucifer’s screams. “I thought my opponent would be cruler, smarter. But you’ve grown careless. You came here unarmed. You didn’t even notice the knife I left you on the table, which you could have used to defend yourself. It was so remarkably easy to get you on your knees, Lucy. You hand out wishes and secrets without batting an eye. Did you know I first learned about the Devil’s Crown when I was a boy? Everyone talked about it, that mysterious evil object which, if stolen, could grant you all the power in the world. Some speculated that it was a necklace, a bracelet, a shoelace. Yet from the moment I first saw you, all those years ago, I knew it was your coat. We’re alike, you and I: we love power, but what we crave the most is fear.”
Dr. Faustus knelt down and grabbed Lucifer’s face, which was now broken, bruised, and bleeding. He watched with a perverse enrapture as the bones in his face broke over and over again, all in different directions and every time into tinier and tinier pieces.
“You asked me earlier, so I’ll answer now,” Dr. Faustus crooned. “When I looked at you today, I didn’t see a serial killer, a terrorist, or my father. I saw myself. And that’s when I made my third wish: to be able to live without a soul. After all, the Devil is soulless, is he not?”
The Devil started trembling as understanding filled his eyes. He began to struggle, lashing out weakly against Dr. Faustus. Dr. Faustus simply clenched Lucifer’s face tighter and drew his lips to the Devil’s ear, gently.
“You’ve helped me so much,” he whispered, “by destroying my soul. But now I need you to do one last thing for me.”
The Devil was clawing at Dr. Faustus’s chest, screaming, pleading. He knew what Dr. Faustus was going to say next.
“You see, I need you to die,” Dr. Faustus purred. “Because my fourth wish is to be you.”
The Devil opened his mouth to scream.
Yet by the time sound could come out of his mouth, the knife Dr. Faustus had summoned from the table was already in his hand, bloody.
Dr. Faustus smiled. He licked Lucifer’s blood off of the knife. It was bitter. He chucked it on the table and sat down, taking Satan’s cup of wine in his hand. He drank it all slowly, savoring every drop. It was sweet.
When he had finished, Dr. Faustus looked down at Lucifer’s corpse. With a flick of his wrist, the coat flew off of the Devil’s body and into his hand.
Dr. Faustus looked at his watch. An hour had passed. He chuckled.
“Time’s up,” he said, then put on the coat.
