"Come on, Lucas, you ain't gonna stand all alone all night, are you?"
Lucas' eyes shot up from his mug of ale and he turned his attention forward to his loud colleague. Arthur was looking at him expectantly.
"I'm sorry man, I guess I'm not in much of a partying mood today."
Arthur huffed dramatically. "Well, if you wanna spend Christmas' eve glowering all by yourself, then be my fucking guest," he let out before going back to the festivities. Lucas finished his drink and then stepped outside to drown out the sounds of the loud jovial music.
Outside, the wind wasn't as cold as it had been in the previous week. Lucas had desperately wanted to go back home for the holidays, but a blizzard had completely blocked off all the roads between the mine and his hometown, leaving him stranded with a bunch of rowdy gold diggers.
His sister had had a kid a few months ago, and he was really looking forward to seeing his new nephew. He also missed his parents, his two brothers, and the housecat. He was slowly capitulating to the fact that he wouldn't see them for Christmas or for the new year.
He took out his pipe and went to grab his matches, but they weren't in any of his pockets. He was about to throw down his pipe in frustration when another man handed him a lit match.
"Thank you," Lucas said while grabbing the fire to light his tobacco. He glanced at the other man but didn't recognize him. However, he quickly noticed that this mysterious stranger was ruggedly handsome. Deep dark eyes, slick black hair, thick lips, clean shaven; He exuded an aura of elegance and refinement.
"Can you believe it?" The man said in a voice that exuded gravitas. "Spending Christmas in a mine, tsk. When we could be back home, enjoying a nice meal with our families instead of these rude louts."
"Yeah, it's dreadful." Lucas couldn't help but feel suspicious about this dashing gentleman. His clothes were much too classy, and he even had an expensive-looking top hat.
"What if I told you... I know of a way that you could see your folks-"
"Okay, I get it," Lucas interrupted.
"Excuse me?"
"You're Satan."
The mysterious stranger did a double take. "I'm sorry, what are you trying to insinuate?"
"That wasn't an insinuation. I was pretty blatantly calling you out as the Devil. Look man, I've read the Flying Canoe, I've read the Devil at the Dance. You're not that subtle, Mister Fancy-Dress-Suit offering deals."
"This is ridiculous, I have never heard such outlandish-"
"You're just wasting both of our time right now."
"I..." He looked at the sky and let out a deep sigh. Suddenly, the mysterious gentleman's demeanor changed entirely. "Mister Tessier. You believe me to be the Devil?"
"Yeah, I'd say I'm ninety-five percent sure."
"And yet, you aren't throwing crucifixes at me, or
praying the demon away
, or running for your life."
"That's because I'm smart enough to know I couldn't outrun a goddamned fallen angel."
"I suppose there is some wisdom to this."
"Not trying to deny it anymore?"
"What's the point? You've made up your mind."
"True."
"Then, why are you still standing beside me?"
"Curiosity, I'd say. I kinda want to hear what it is that you want to offer me."
The mysterious man snickered. "Then so be it. I want to challenge you to a fiddler's duel. The better player wins. If you win, you get to visit your family for the Holidays."
"And if you win?"
The well-dressed stranger gave him a wicked smile.
"If you win, you get my soul."
He shrugged in lieu of a response, for he didn't need to say more.
"Well, I disagree with those terms."
The man in black let out a powerful throaty laugh. "Oh, Mister Tessier... Trying to negotiate with the Devil? Really? What other prizes do you think I would ever be interested in? What could you ever hope to offer me that would be worth your soul? Your firstborn?"
"There's a misunderstanding here, Satan. I do not mind putting my soul on the line, as long as it is against a prize of equal value."
"And seeing your family is not worth your soul?"
Lucas placed himself in front of the gentleman, with his fists upon his hips. "A soul for a soul. If you win, you get my soul. But if I win, I get yours."
The other man's face twisted in an inhuman expression. It was as if rage, disgust, anguish, and utter shock were all fighting each other to be given rights over the man's visage. "I must have misheard you. Are you saying that
you
, a
mere mortal
, believe your soul to be of
equal
value to
mine
?"
"I know they are. We are both sons of God, aren't we not?"
"This is preposterous. I should smite you where you stand."
"So, you do not accept my offer?"
"No." His voice resonated through the open air, making the ground shake around them.
"I didn't know that Satan was a wimpy coward."
"
Excuse me
?"
"You refuse because you already know that you would lose. You must be a pretty lousy fiddler."
Despite the cold, trees around them were catching on fire. The snow melted at their feet and the distant wind filled with the horrendous sounds of lamentations and suffering.
"Just wait till I tell the guys that Lucifer is a big chicken."
"I AM NOT A COWARD!"
"Then prove it. Your soul against mine, may the best fiddler win."
"Deal," the Devil uttered, putting his hand out to shake Lucas'. "The winner shall own the loser's soul until the end of their life."
"Woah woah woah," Lucas said while closing his hand against his chest. "I wasn't born yesterday. You're just going to kill me right after losing the contest and then your soul will be yours again. I say, the winner owns the loser's soul for the rest of eternity."
"No. Not eternity. Let's say instead, for the rest of your potential life. Winner owns the loser's soul for the next sixty years."