The Devil Eats Here (Multi-Author Short Story Collection) Read Online Free PDF Page A

frightened, and she takes hold of his hand with both of hers. ‘The Devil got him Daddy, because he didn’t pass the test.’
     
     
    This story has been previously published in Twisted: Four Paranormal Stories.

MEAN DICK SKYLER
    by John Blackport
     
    Even with his eyes closed, Dick knew he wasn’t alone.
    He’d passed out drunk on the docks.
    Waves lapped under the wood he was stretched out on. Filthy sailcloth chafed the bloody scrapes on his forearms.
    The tingling wasn’t out of him yet, having only progressed from his shoulders down to his elbows. The familiar pain in his empty eyesocket hammered away, like a tiny coal-miner trapped inside.
    Dick rolled over to face the sky, too leery of sunlight to open his eyes. He flinched when his outstretched left wrist brushed someone’s boot.
    “Are you Mean Dick Skyler?” came the genteel question.
    Dick grinned, eyes still shut. “The same.”
    Dick didn’t move. Neither did the boot’s owner. Dick’s eyelids rose, revealing a haze the sun was taking its time about burning off. The docks weren’t busy.
    Dick rose with a lethargy calculated to try his visitor’s patience. “I’m not going to ask who you are. Stop waiting for me to talk. State your business.”
    “Weren’t you once an initiate of the Unmaker, Mr. Skyler? Long ago, on your first Gift?”
    “That’s right. First of the five lives. But you wouldn’t ask me that if you didn’t already know the answer.” He rasped out a cough, heavy with bile. “Or at least, thought ya did.”
    Dick’s indignation rose at the dapper appearance of the man who’d awakened him. The offender wore a cape over a green silk doublet and purple stockings. He had high cheekbones and a broad forehead. His amulet looked like gold. “You’re dangerously close to invading my privacy. Tell me what you want, quick. Or I toss you in the drink with your dancing shoes.”
    “I’ve an offer for you.”
    “That’s a start.”
    “My sources tell me you marched in the demonic horde of Glabzu the Damned. Three hundred desperate thugs, twisting their minds and souls in devotion to the Unmaker.”
    “You’re wasting my time!” Dick yanked a dirk from his raggedy coat. He feinted a stab for the stranger’s ample gut, then went to grab the right elbow and yank him around. He planned to kick out the stranger’s knee, press blade to the stranger’s throat, and demand the stranger’s amulet.
    That plan didn’t work out. Dick unaccountably moved three feet to the right, and made an about-face. He grimaced in confusion, under a sunrise struggling to come to life. “You ain’t mortal, that’s for sure! Wait, you’ve got an offer, and you know all about the Unmaker? You’re a sodden devil!”
    “I’m only an agent, sir. The party I represent ---”
    “Save it. I’ve heard the stories. Barterin’ in souls for the Unmaker. Can’t hurt, nor be hurt. Can’t disguise your appearance, nor tell a lie. Always makin’ deals. You’ll be wantin’ my soul, then. So when next I die, I’ll lose not one life, but two. Well I got news for you: two lives is all I got left to me.”
    “I understand you’re running low, Mr. Skyler. And yes, when next you die, your fourth Gift will go to wherever the gods determine it should go, while your fifth and final Gift shall be reserved to belong to my master.”
    “You’re asking a lot of me, devil. I warrant you’ve a task for me as well?”
    The devil’s manicured hand wheeled up and out from its dove-white sleeve. “As you suspect, I negotiate many contracts. I’ve seen it all, Mr. Skyler. I sometimes seek out people to aid me in fulfilling contracts I’ve made with other people. A common scenario is revenge, desired by someone whose moral reputation is too sterling to be regarded as trustworthy by mortal criminals. A certain person... a good person...wishes a certain Grumachian murdered, to avenge the murder of a loved one harmed by that same Grumachian.”
    “That’s