Did the Devil Make Him do It? A Halloween Collection
What would the hallowing season of the year be without a bit of devilment? In these ten short stories, the devil appears—or doesn’t appear or, scary thought, appears to not be the most evil force that can visit earth. And he comes in all, or at least some aspect, of his glory. The young male protagonists of these stories learn not only what a deal with the devil can get you but also what selling your soul entails. Many (but not all) of these strapping young men find that it’s a more tolerable, pleasurable even, price than they had imagined.
The devil comes in many forms, both externally and internally, but everything devilish in DevilMENt comes with the purpose to possess young men—and their souls—fully.
This is an expanded relaunch of the eXcessica anthology of the same title.
From “The Devil Made Me Do It”:
“Are you OK? Do you need a lift somewhere?” The voice was rich and silky and, for some reason, filled Aaron with relief. He looked up. He’d been so worked up that he hadn’t seen the sleek, black limousine glide up beside him and stop. The rear passenger door was open, and the voice reached out from the interior to enfold and caress him.
But Aaron couldn’t reply. He was on the verge of tears again, whether it was from frustration and anger and hopelessness or from relief he couldn’t say.
“You need help, I can see. And you need to get home. You should not be out here like this at night. And you’re hurt. You need comfort. Come into the car, and I will take care of you.”
Aaron felt his feet move, and he was climbing into the backseat of the limousine. As soon as he clicked the door shut, the limousine’s engine purred and the vehicle slid out onto the road. It was only a short distance up the road that they came to a crossover, and the vehicle did a smooth, almost floating, U-turn onto the other side of the road and moved back toward where they’d come from.
“Uh. I need to go to the college. To Milbank.”
“Milbank is in this direction,” the voice purred. “Don’t worry. We will see you home.”
Aaron turned and looked across the seat into the darkness. His traveling companion was wrapped in a cloak and the dark shadows. Aaron only had the sensation of sharp features, dark complexion, a black goatee of a beard, and piercing eyes. He looked away from the eyes. He had the sensation that when they made eye contact, the figure in the corner held him in thrall. Hands appeared from inside the cloak—moving as the figure spoke in a soothing, melodic baritone. The fingers of the hands were slender and long, the nails well manicured and especially long for a man—and seemed to be filed into points.
The fingers were feminine, but the voice masculine. Aaron was confused.
“How did you . . . ?”
“How did I what, Aaron?”
Aaron was nonplused. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s enough now that I understand, Aaron. I understand all about you. I know you as no other person knows you. And I know what has happened to you this night.”
“You know?” Aaron asked in a hushed whisper. “Who? How? Why are you here?”
“I am here because you summoned me, Aaron. I did not know you were capable of it. I’d never thought you might be one.”