“What do you think you’re doing?!”

Satan grunts, abruptly shoved back inside the women’s restroom before he can even take a second step into the hallway, distraught hands pressing him into a wall. He gives an unappreciative sneer at the wide-eyed teenager gawking up at him.

“Remove your hands this instant. When did I ever give you permission to touch me, pitiful girl?”

Natalie steps away, flinching at the repulsion in his eyes, and winds her fingers together. She glances towards the door in paranoia, praying no one decides to interrupt this very bizarre, life changing moment without warning. How would she be able to explain why there’s a huge man with horns in the biology building’s restroom?

She runs her fingers through her bangs, wincing as they get caught on a knot. This is a lot of information to take in; she’s out of tampons, he’s the Devil, and she somehow sold her soul? And it’s not even second period!

“Well you can’t just go out there like that. You’re completely out of place. You’ll get noticed in a heartbeat and hauled away in a bacon mobile,” Natalie whispers vehemently, trying her hardest to keep the tremors out of her voice. She pauses, something occurring to her. “Actually . . .”

That doesn’t sound too bad. If strolling around like a ghoul at school will cause a lockdown and get him arrested, he’d be out of her hair and she can get back to her normal, average, everyday life. And all before lunch, to boot!

Satan narrows his eyes, as if he can clearly see her scheming thoughts written across her face. Natalie subdues the urge to suddenly hide her face from him.

“Then what would you propose?” he carefully asks, his tone light, but very much losing patience.

Natalie takes a moment to look him up and down, sparing the door another glance. “You, uh. You need to look like you go here. If you look like a student, you’ll blend in. But as you are right now . . .” Natalie meets his eyes.

Satan raises an eyebrow.

“Right now you look like an old bodybuilder about to perform in a production of Dante’s Inferno. You’ll instantly cause problems.”

Wow, I’m not sure I’m ever going to get used to all that glaring, Natalie thinks, shrinking away with a nervous smile from the irritation radiating off of him in waves.

“If you had any sense of self-preservation you’d choose your words more carefully.”

“Oh, what do you want me to say? You look scary! I can’t take you in public like that!” Natalie buries her face in her hands with a withered groan. “Why am I even considering taking you in public at all?”

Satan purses his lips, silently watching this teenager mumble and whine into her hands, turning away from him to pace. After a long moment, fabric begins to unfurl over the taught curve of his shoulders, draping down his torso just as the tattered fringe of his robe folds upwards. Ears shrink, the gnarled arches of horns recede into the skin of his forehead, a complete transformation all in the span of seconds.

Natalie feels a strange warmth beside her, compelling her to look up from the safety of her palms. She’s nearly speechless when she sees the same man, but in proper attire, no traces of the fire and brimstone she’d just been in the presence of moments ago.

Satan folds the sleeves of his black dress shirt up his forearms, bored of this senseless exchange. “I clean up nice, don’t I?” he drolls monotonously. “Shall we go now?”

Natalie blinks, shattering her amazement at what she’d just witnessed, allowing her senses to come back to her. She soundlessly shakes her head, eliciting a sharp growl from him through his bared teeth.

“And what’s wrong now? I look like I blend in!” he roars.

Natalie winces, putting up her hands in a gesture to keep his voice down. “Yeah, you look human, but you also look like a shady old guy who wandered on campus to sell drugs. You still stand way out.” Natalie frowns when that vein in his temple begins to throb again, his shoulders trembling in his frustration. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m just being honest.”

When he finally speaks, his voice is calm and slow, but condescendingly airy, belying the rage consuming him. “Fine. Clearly you want baby-faced and non-threatening. I shall deliver. I’m nothing if not accommodating.”

Natalie stares in awe as his form begins to shrink, the once jagged cheekbones and jawline smoothing out to soft mounds of flesh, an almost childlike innocence watching her with round eyes shielded by the gentle flutter of long eyelashes. When the process is finished, a boy no older than fourteen is before her, dawned in a sweatshirt and faded sneakers. He spits at her feet, holding his arms open as if to say “Ta-da!”

“Is this form acceptable, your majesty?”

Despite the gravity of their current predicament, Natalie can’t help but bite her nail in an attempt to hold back a smile. Perhaps she’s still in shock, or even disbelief. But something about watching quite possibly the scariest looking individual she’s ever seen now glaring at her with the face of some character out of a Disney movie has a snort leaving her nose without permission.

“That’s pretty cute.”

Satan remains silent, slowly drawing his head back as the recognition of what she just said sinks in. His face scrunches in a mixture of nausea and loathing.

“May we go now?”

She can’t believe she’s about to really play hooky with the Devil, but Natalie finds herself nodding in agreement. She holds the door open for him, leading the way.

                                                             ~ . ~

“Are you alright?” Natalie inquires, uncertain at her companions sudden change in demeanor. She almost reaches out on instinct to place a comforting hand against his back before she thinks better of it.

As per his demand, she’d taken him to the exact supermarket where she’d purchased the pads. On a Wednesday afternoon there weren’t many people shopping, so she felt a little of her worry ease. If someone spotted her here during school hours, there’d be no telling what would happen if her father found out she was ditching classes not even two weeks into the school year.

They’d taken the bus here, a long and torturous ride of silence. Satan had refused to sit by her, preferring to brood and scowl out the window two aisles in front of her. She caught his expression in the reflection once before deciding against saying anything. The anxiety he had successfully masked in the restroom was starting to unravel. He looked miserable, forehead pressed against the glass with a tight lipped grimace.

Once inside the store, he’d hardly given her a chance to show him what aisle they were looking for before he’d bolted, frantic and antsy, darting down the store and looking up at the signs. He’d found the feminine hygiene aisle fairly quickly.

Natalie trailed after him, in no rush. When she turned the corner, however, she physically had to pause.

Satan, as if in a trance, continues to stare at the wall of products before him. He doesn’t notice nor acknowledge Natalie’s hovering presence beside him. All he can focus on is the weight sinking in his stomach, making him nearly queasy enough to retch onto the tiles at his feet. Had he needed to breathe, he’d be breathless about now.

“Do you need to put your head between your knees?” Natalie awkwardly suggests, knowing that as pale as he is, something must be wrong.

Why’s he so upset? She thinks, peering at the pads on the shelves.

“Why are they all like this?” Satan utters, his once booming voice now shriveled and fragile in disbelief.

He reaches a trembling hand out, holding a soft, pliable package in his hands. He wants to deny it, but he can’t. It’s staring right back at him. It’s on all of these boxes. All of these packages. The plastic in his hands gives instantly into the pressure he applies to it in his quivering confusion.

“Why is my summoning symbol on all of these packages?” he breathes through clenched teeth. Satan turns his sharp eyes to Natalie, who jumps at the intensity there. It’s with great effort that he retains this form in his distress. Natalie can feel that same warmth threaten to consume her while she’s regarded with a turbulence of fury.

“H-How the heck should I know?” she answers. “I just bought them. I didn’t know that these designs were important to you.”

Satan continues to stare, unblinking, shredded plastic shaking in his grip.

“I thought the swirls were cute.”

“Cute?!” he parrots. The package in his hands is ripped open, pads falling out around his sneakers. Even with his prepubescent voice, Satan still sounds menacing. “There you go again with that word! There is nothing about me or my Kingdom of the Damned that is cute. You stupid monkeys have tread where you never should have ventured, and now you’ve invoked my wrath. Do you think this is funny?! Do you not know the consequences of trying to humiliate me in this way?!”

Natalie shushes the seething boy, her head zipping around at the few sets of eyes now watching his tantrum. She attempts to smother his mouth with her hand, hoping to God he won’t try to bite her as she drags him towards the exit.

“It’s OK! He’s just having a bad day. It’s nice to see someone showing some anger over that darn pink tax, am I right ladies?”

Natalie shoves him against the shopping carts, the forced laughter dying in her throat. “You can’t just scream like that in public. I know it was only in front of a couple of soccer moms, but still. I’m supposed to be in school. I’m a regular at this store. Do you want them to tell my dad?”

"Screw you and your father," he spits, his words poisonous in his outrage.

Satan clenches his fists, abstaining from demolishing this entire building by a mere thread of self-control. Accusatory eyes still linger on her face, causing Natalie to falter.

“I’m just some kid, OK? I didn’t do this to make fun of you. Even if I had the power to do that, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Satan remains silent, blowing a terse puff of air through his nostrils like a bull.

Natalie uncomfortably rubs her arm, looking anywhere but at the fuming demonic being who keeps watching her as if this was all her idea. He may be a victim, but she’s a victim, too. It’s not like she knew what those designs really were. Had she known, she never would have bought them in the first place.

And now, what? Because of someone’s idea of a joke, he now owns her soul? Ugh, and in the most mortifying way.

“We can figure this out,” she offers after a tense beat. “I’ll help you figure this out.”

Satan’s lips stay firmly pursed.

“I mean, we’re kinda stuck together at the moment. Just you and me. Heh. Satan and me,” Natalie laughs uncomfortably, but the sound comes out more like a deflating balloon.

“This isn’t humorous.”

“No, absolutely not,” she quickly amends. “Want some ice cream?”

Satan flinches, his nose wrinkling. Natalie gives him her best reassuring smile, noticing the confusion in his gaze. “It won’t fix anything, but it’s a little treat that might make you feel better. It always works for me. Come on, I’ll buy and we can talk more about our crappy morning together.”

It’s with great satisfaction that Natalie feels some relief when he finally reluctantly relaxes his hands, taking a hesitant step towards her. He does not smile, nor does he accept her extended hand, but somehow she feels like she’s accomplished something big as he walks beside her in silence.

They’ll figure this out. She’s sure they will.