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//-->HELL’S ANGELRobert Bloch“I’ve always wanted to ask you why it’s so hard for a man toget to see you,” said Paul Hastings.The Devil smiled blandly. At least, the smile would haveappeared bland enough on any other face. In this case it wasslightly disturbing to see.“My dear fellow,” said the Devil, leaning forward in aconfidential manner and anchoring his tail to the chair leg. “Mydear fellow, the answer must be obvious to a man of yourintelligence. After all, with due modesty, I must admit I’m ratheran important personage. You will agree?”Paul Hastings nodded.“Naturally, if you understand my position, you can easily see Icannot be bothered with every Tom, Dick and Harry—orHarriet—who gets the notion of communicating with me. If I didthere would be no time left to myself. And aside from temptingmortals, you know, I have other souls to fry.”The Devil shook his head to accentuate his point. “And soyou see, my dear sir, I’ve had to make it difficult to reach me. Mychief detractors—members of the clergy and the like—would haveit that I am continually in search of souls to snare. Why, badnessme, nothing could be further from the truth!”The Devil laughed heartily until sparks flew out of his mouth.“Matter of fact, I have souls aplenty—souls to burn, you might say.No need to tempt most mortals. They pave their own road toperdition without the need of assistance from me, I assure you.“The only cases that interest me personally any more arechaps like you—men and women clever enough to dig throughtangled and abstruse spells, and wise enough to interpret them. Ifthey are intelligent enough and eager enough to go to all the botherof summoning me, then I am happy to appear. Besides, it is asimple matter to do business in such cases. Obviously such personsare eager to sell their souls to me. I don’t have to haggle andpersuade and coax, like a used car salesman.”“What do you know about used car salesmen?” asked theyoung man.“Why, everything,” said the Devil. “You might have guessedthat I get them all, sooner or later.”Satan sat back and stroked his spade beard, while PaulHastings marveled once again at his appearance. For the Devillooked exactly the way the Devil had always looked in pictures. Hewas the Devil of song and story and laxative bottle labels, to thelife. And now he was sitting here in Paul Hastings’ little garret, justas comfortable as you please, purring and beaming and pulling hisbeard.“Speaking of selling souls,” the Devil murmured, “we mightas well get down to business right away. I presume you hadsomething of the sort in mind when you evoked me?”Paul Hastings blushed and hung his head. “Well, yes,” hemurmured. “You know how it is. Times are tough, a fellow has toget along, and the finance company won’t loan me anythingwithout security. So I was wondering if—”The Devil raised a delicate hand so that the black clawsgleamed in the light of the tallow candles Hastings had set on thefloor.“No need to go into embarrassing details,” he said, kindly. “Iquite understand. I’ve been handling cases like yours for years.Once made a deal with a chap by the name of Faust who—but Idigress. What I mean to say is, I’m prepared to make a handsomeoffer for your soul. A clean-cut intelligent chap like you doesn’toften come my way. I’d be happy to place my resources at yourdisposal if only you’d tell me what it is you have in mind.”Paul Hastings shrugged. It wasn’t much of a gesture, butsomehow it managed to include his shock of unruly, uncut blondehair, his wrinkled, shabby suit, his frayed shoelaces, his scuffedshoes, and the floor of the Bourbon Street garret in which theshoes and their owner stood.“I see very well what you have in mind,” said the Devil. “It’ssomething like the letter ‘S’ with two lines drawn through it. Am Icorrect?”“Right,” answered the young man.“You don’t want eternal life, or three wishes, or any of thatnonsense?”“Certainly not. I’ve figured it all out. I have youth, and goodhealth, and I needn’t ask for such things.”“Hmm.” The Devil stroked his beard until it almost purred.“Think it over carefully before you make your decision, though.What about power? Lots of men like power, you know. And thensome chaps have a fondness for feminine companionship. Withoutappearing to boast, I think I could arrange anything you mightwant along those lines—or curves.”“I’m way ahead of you,” Hastings answered. “Give me themoney and the power and the women will take care of themselves.”“Very true.” The Devil nodded and exhaled softly, so that afaint reek of sulphur filled the room. He extended a claw andpulled a parchment out of the air, then extended his tail andproffered the point wrapped around a fountain pen. “Here we are,”he murmured. “Think I remembered to fill this pen before Ileft—nice, fresh blood, everything legal—so if you’ll just sign here,we’ll have our contract.”“Uh-uh.” Paul Hastings shook his head.“What’s the matter? You aren’t—what is the currentphrase?—chicken, are you?” The Devil pouted and bit a struck hiscloven hoof against the floorboards.“No. But the point is, I have no intention whatsoever ofselling you my soul.”The cloven hoof stamped sharply, and the ancient boardsgave off a shower of dust and sparks. “Then why, might I ask, didyou summon me in the first place?”“Well, it’s like this.” Hastings explained. “I moved in hereabout two weeks ago. Came to New Orleans expecting to get ajob—I’m a public-relations man, you know—”“Press agent!” snapped the Devil. “Don’t tell me, we getplenty of your kind where I come from.”“All right, press agent,” Hastings agreed. “But I’m not thekind you’d get. That’s probably my trouble. I was, and am, anhonest one. And my job fell through. Moved out of the hotel tothis attic in the French Quarter and spent the days pounding thepavement looking for a job.”“Get on with it,” urged the Devil. “I want to go out for somefresh air—stuffy as hell in here.”“Well, to make it simple, I couldn’t find any job. But I didfind something else, right here in this room.”“What?”“These books, under the bed,” Hastings produced a handfulof tattered, battered old volumes. “Latin, you can see. Turned outto be textbooks of demonology—old books on sorcery, with spellsand incantations. Must have belonged to whoever lived here yearsago. I asked the landlady and she didn’t know; thinks sheremembered an old man who owned the house once in the daysbefore the war—he was interested in voodoo or some suchthing—and when they took him away to the asylum and turned thisplace into a rooming-house he must have left his books behind.”“I know who you’re speaking of,” muttered the Devil. “Theman’s name was Red—Red Grimoire, I think, a Frenchman. He’sboarding with me, now.”“So I read the books,” Hastings continued, “and decided totry out some of the spells. Naturally, I decided to try and call youup.”“Which you did. And quite a lot of trouble you went to,”commented the Devil, glancing around the tiny room. “All thisblue chalk, and chicken-blood, and candles in pentagrams, and therest of the mess—but why did you go to such bother when you hadno intention of selling your soul to me?”“Because I still had hopes we might do business.” [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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//-->HELL’S ANGELRobert Bloch“I’ve always wanted to ask you why it’s so hard for a man toget to see you,” said Paul Hastings.The Devil smiled blandly. At least, the smile would haveappeared bland enough on any other face. In this case it wasslightly disturbing to see.“My dear fellow,” said the Devil, leaning forward in aconfidential manner and anchoring his tail to the chair leg. “Mydear fellow, the answer must be obvious to a man of yourintelligence. After all, with due modesty, I must admit I’m ratheran important personage. You will agree?”Paul Hastings nodded.“Naturally, if you understand my position, you can easily see Icannot be bothered with every Tom, Dick and Harry—orHarriet—who gets the notion of communicating with me. If I didthere would be no time left to myself. And aside from temptingmortals, you know, I have other souls to fry.”The Devil shook his head to accentuate his point. “And soyou see, my dear sir, I’ve had to make it difficult to reach me. Mychief detractors—members of the clergy and the like—would haveit that I am continually in search of souls to snare. Why, badnessme, nothing could be further from the truth!”The Devil laughed heartily until sparks flew out of his mouth.“Matter of fact, I have souls aplenty—souls to burn, you might say.No need to tempt most mortals. They pave their own road toperdition without the need of assistance from me, I assure you.“The only cases that interest me personally any more arechaps like you—men and women clever enough to dig throughtangled and abstruse spells, and wise enough to interpret them. Ifthey are intelligent enough and eager enough to go to all the botherof summoning me, then I am happy to appear. Besides, it is asimple matter to do business in such cases. Obviously such personsare eager to sell their souls to me. I don’t have to haggle andpersuade and coax, like a used car salesman.”“What do you know about used car salesmen?” asked theyoung man.“Why, everything,” said the Devil. “You might have guessedthat I get them all, sooner or later.”Satan sat back and stroked his spade beard, while PaulHastings marveled once again at his appearance. For the Devillooked exactly the way the Devil had always looked in pictures. Hewas the Devil of song and story and laxative bottle labels, to thelife. And now he was sitting here in Paul Hastings’ little garret, justas comfortable as you please, purring and beaming and pulling hisbeard.“Speaking of selling souls,” the Devil murmured, “we mightas well get down to business right away. I presume you hadsomething of the sort in mind when you evoked me?”Paul Hastings blushed and hung his head. “Well, yes,” hemurmured. “You know how it is. Times are tough, a fellow has toget along, and the finance company won’t loan me anythingwithout security. So I was wondering if—”The Devil raised a delicate hand so that the black clawsgleamed in the light of the tallow candles Hastings had set on thefloor.“No need to go into embarrassing details,” he said, kindly. “Iquite understand. I’ve been handling cases like yours for years.Once made a deal with a chap by the name of Faust who—but Idigress. What I mean to say is, I’m prepared to make a handsomeoffer for your soul. A clean-cut intelligent chap like you doesn’toften come my way. I’d be happy to place my resources at yourdisposal if only you’d tell me what it is you have in mind.”Paul Hastings shrugged. It wasn’t much of a gesture, butsomehow it managed to include his shock of unruly, uncut blondehair, his wrinkled, shabby suit, his frayed shoelaces, his scuffedshoes, and the floor of the Bourbon Street garret in which theshoes and their owner stood.“I see very well what you have in mind,” said the Devil. “It’ssomething like the letter ‘S’ with two lines drawn through it. Am Icorrect?”“Right,” answered the young man.“You don’t want eternal life, or three wishes, or any of thatnonsense?”“Certainly not. I’ve figured it all out. I have youth, and goodhealth, and I needn’t ask for such things.”“Hmm.” The Devil stroked his beard until it almost purred.“Think it over carefully before you make your decision, though.What about power? Lots of men like power, you know. And thensome chaps have a fondness for feminine companionship. Withoutappearing to boast, I think I could arrange anything you mightwant along those lines—or curves.”“I’m way ahead of you,” Hastings answered. “Give me themoney and the power and the women will take care of themselves.”“Very true.” The Devil nodded and exhaled softly, so that afaint reek of sulphur filled the room. He extended a claw andpulled a parchment out of the air, then extended his tail andproffered the point wrapped around a fountain pen. “Here we are,”he murmured. “Think I remembered to fill this pen before Ileft—nice, fresh blood, everything legal—so if you’ll just sign here,we’ll have our contract.”“Uh-uh.” Paul Hastings shook his head.“What’s the matter? You aren’t—what is the currentphrase?—chicken, are you?” The Devil pouted and bit a struck hiscloven hoof against the floorboards.“No. But the point is, I have no intention whatsoever ofselling you my soul.”The cloven hoof stamped sharply, and the ancient boardsgave off a shower of dust and sparks. “Then why, might I ask, didyou summon me in the first place?”“Well, it’s like this.” Hastings explained. “I moved in hereabout two weeks ago. Came to New Orleans expecting to get ajob—I’m a public-relations man, you know—”“Press agent!” snapped the Devil. “Don’t tell me, we getplenty of your kind where I come from.”“All right, press agent,” Hastings agreed. “But I’m not thekind you’d get. That’s probably my trouble. I was, and am, anhonest one. And my job fell through. Moved out of the hotel tothis attic in the French Quarter and spent the days pounding thepavement looking for a job.”“Get on with it,” urged the Devil. “I want to go out for somefresh air—stuffy as hell in here.”“Well, to make it simple, I couldn’t find any job. But I didfind something else, right here in this room.”“What?”“These books, under the bed,” Hastings produced a handfulof tattered, battered old volumes. “Latin, you can see. Turned outto be textbooks of demonology—old books on sorcery, with spellsand incantations. Must have belonged to whoever lived here yearsago. I asked the landlady and she didn’t know; thinks sheremembered an old man who owned the house once in the daysbefore the war—he was interested in voodoo or some suchthing—and when they took him away to the asylum and turned thisplace into a rooming-house he must have left his books behind.”“I know who you’re speaking of,” muttered the Devil. “Theman’s name was Red—Red Grimoire, I think, a Frenchman. He’sboarding with me, now.”“So I read the books,” Hastings continued, “and decided totry out some of the spells. Naturally, I decided to try and call youup.”“Which you did. And quite a lot of trouble you went to,”commented the Devil, glancing around the tiny room. “All thisblue chalk, and chicken-blood, and candles in pentagrams, and therest of the mess—but why did you go to such bother when you hadno intention of selling your soul to me?”“Because I still had hopes we might do business.” [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]