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😈 The devil is in the details

by Sarina Dorie

“I assume you want to make a deal,” the devil said to me.

“Um...” I stared in disbelief at the apparition that appeared before me in my cramped craft room. 

The devil wasn’t red with horns and a pitchfork. She looked a bit like my Aunt Susy, plump and motherly.

“You used the magic words,” she prompted with her friendly smile. “You said, ‘I would give anything to be Miss Belly Dance USA.’ ” Then she reached into the pocket of her apron and withdrew a ticket to California where the competition was happening.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Am I dreaming?”

The devil walked over to my sewing machine, scrutinizing the green metallic fabric. Stretch satin had been a struggle to work with; I had somehow sewn the waist closed. It was going to take more than a seam ripper to undo what I’d destroyed. It was expensive fabric too.

The devil’s lips stretched tight across her face. “You also said, ‘I would make a deal with the devil if only I could win the Belly Dance World competition.’”

“So you’re the devil?”

She puffed herself up to her full five feet. “Of course, dear. But just between you and me, that costume isn’t even going to get you to the semi-finals.”

“My costume?” My mind was still reeling from the appearance of the devil.

She removed a wand from her apron pocket and waved it over the green fabric dotted with blood from when I’d accidentally sewn my hand two days before. I still had the bandages over my thumb. As the devil worked her magic, my costume transformed into the vision I imagined, a mermaid-like skirt with rhinestones and beadwork covering the belt. The bustier on the table beside it looked like a completed costume from Egypt that would have cost at least a thousand dollars. Just as I hoped, the green fishnet and spiky headpiece gave the ensemble a hint of tribal fusion aesthetics.

I gazed at the perfect tribaret costume in wonder. “You’re kind of like a fairy godmother.”

“That’s right. And I really don’t ask for much in return.” She batted her eyelashes innocently. “It’s nothing more than what I charged Cinderella.”

“Wait? Like the fairy tale Cinderella?” I was suddenly rewriting the entire fairy tale in my head. Had that fairy godmother actually been the devil?

She waved me off like it was nothing. “Do you really think I would give that girl a Prada dress and turn a pumpkin into a coach without asking for something in return?”

“What did that cost her?”

“The usual,” she said with a shrug. “Just her immortal soul.”

Dread settled in my belly like a lump of ice. That was what being an award-winning belly dancer was going to cost me if I took the easy way to live my dream. Or I could slave away and work myself to the bone at the local competitions until I had enough prize money and titles—and still I might not reach my dreams.

A crash came from the living room. I hesitated for a moment, not wanting to leave a supernatural being unattended, but when I heard cursing, I ran to see what had caused the commotion. The nightstand I was using as an end table, and the potted vase on top, had been overturned. A guy in a leather jacket had fallen onto the wooden floor. It looked like he might have tripped over the sword I accidentally stabbed into the couch earlier and hadn’t been able to free.

Just another one of my epic failures. Those barrel turns with swords could be lethal. At least it was only my couch that suffered a casualty this time. Last week, my fan veils had somehow managed to wrap around someone’s neck in the restaurant where I’d been performing.

“Who are you?” I asked.

The man lifted himself to his feet and dusted himself off. “I’m a devil here to make your wishes come true—for a price.” He was tall and slender, his hair and leather jacket reminiscent of James Dean—but the piercings on his face gave him a modern appearance.

I looked to the fairy godmother devil who ran into the room behind me. “But I thought she was the devil.”

“A devil,” the man corrected. “We’re from the same agency.”

She lied to me. Not a good sign for someone I intended to make a bargain with.

“Curse you, Brutus!” the she-devil said.

“Excuse me. This is my client,” Brutus said with a British accent. “How dare you try to claim this prospective soul before me.”

“You snooze, you lose,” my fairy godmother-devil said. “I already told the agency I was taking on this client to help her become Miss Belly Dance USA—assuming she agrees to sign my little black book with her blood.”

My stomach churned at the weight of what that meant. Did I really want to sell my soul to the devil—or a devil?

Brutus turned to me, his voice cloying. “Forget about Miss Belly Dance USA. You could be Miss Belly Dance World, right? I can do that for you. With my help, I can give you the fame you deserve. Only I can ensure you have the best shimmies and belly rolls you need to win.”

I considered his offer. “I can already dance. I just can’t afford the ticket, costume, time off work, or the entrance fees. Also, I don’t have the cleavage to fill out my costume.” Or the time to practice. I would give anything to become a professional belly dancer.

“I see the problem.” He rubbed his chin knowingly. “You need a boost of confidence.” He crossed in front of the first devil, looking like he was attempting to casually block her from view.

The she-devil grabbed my sword from where it was wedged in the couch and yanked it out. She aimed it at Brutus, who edged away from her. 

“Back off. This soul is mine.” She turned to me and smiled sweetly. “We’ve already established I have the ticket and can assist with the costume. I can also help you with your cleavage and confidence.” She cast a dirty glance at her rival. “And she doesn’t need your help with her skills. She’s already an incredible dancer.”

“Is that the spin you’re going to try to sell her on?” He snorted. “You’re going to claim I don’t appreciate her natural ability, and I want to change her style and skills, so I’m the bad guy? Did you already give her that cheesy fairy godmother spiel? Now you just want to give her money, breast implants, and a costume—and pretend that’s all she needs to win.”

A third devil exited from my coat closet and strode into the room. They wore a pink feather boa, bangles, harem pants, a sequin-covered bustier and a beard covered in glitter. “Did someone say they would give anything to become a professional belly dancer?” They winked at me.

“No! Get out of here, Yamil!” Brutus said.

Yamil sauntered over to me. “Honey, we need to go studio hunting so you can open up your own business. You want to teach classes each night instead of working in a stuffy ad agency during the day. Am I right? Plus, I have a list of restaurants and events where you can get paid to dance.”

“No, she doesn’t want that,” the she-devil said, brandishing my sword. “Back off!”

“We can’t divide her soul into thirds.” Brutus crossed his arms, his leather jacket creaking. “I got her wish from the agency first. This soul is mine.” 

They all started shouting at once. I had made three wishes—but gotten three different devils to bargain with. I was pretty attached to my soul, but if I did sell it, I had no idea how to tell who was offering the best service. 

“I’ll make you rich!” Yamil said.

“I’ll make you famous!” Brutus said.

My fairy godmother shouted over them both. “You’ll win the most awards by signing my little black book!”

With all their bickering and attempts to impress me, I could see I was the one with the advantage. I fully planned to exploit that, and I didn’t feel bad about it either. These devils took advantage of people’s desperation and longing to give them a fleeting wish—that would end when their life did.

“If I’m going to sell my soul to the devil—or a devil—I want to make sure I’m getting the biggest bang for my buck. I need to get a sample of each of your services and test your powers out at the local competitions to see who I want to make this bargain with.”

It obviously was a seller’s market, so I was the one with the power. Just because I asked for a sample, didn’t mean I needed to sign a contract.