The Devil's Apprentice Patrick Stewart (suggested reading TXT) 📖

truth? Had Andrew really made a deal with the devil? What deal had he made? She said she’d take good care for you… she’s coming for you too… Alex shuddered. That didn’t sound good.

“...holy fuck… she does have red skin!”

Alex turned his head to look down the corridor. “You can… you can see her red skin?”

Lucy glanced back at him. The colour had left her face. She nodded before swallowing uncomfortably. “She looks like the fucking devil.”

“Oh, thank god,” Alex muttered. “I thought I was going crazy.”

Lucy stared at him with wide eyes. She shook her head. “We’ll have that conversation another time,” she muttered as she hurried towards him. “What is she doing here?” Lucy hissed. “Is she the devil? Is she here to collect your soul?”

“My- what? Why would you say that?”

“What else could it be? Your shitty dad said he sold your soul to the devil!”

She had a point. One Alex hadn’t considered. But now that he thought about it, what else could it be? His dad had sold his soul to the devil. And now the devil was here to collect it. It all made sense.

Did it?

There was still a part of Alex that didn’t believe any of this to be true. This had to be a dream, right? He was tempted to slap himself, but… Did that ever work? Had anyone ever actually woken up from a dream by slapping themselves? And if they didn’t wake up, then the dream continued, so how did that work? Could you still be in a dream if you knew it was a dream?

“Hello?” Lucy waved a hand before his eyes. “You look like you’re having a stroke.”

“I’m not having a stroke,” Alex muttered. “I was just wondering if I should slap myself.”

“You think it’s a dream? Shall I hit you?”

Lucy said the words far too eagerly. Which Alex felt was a little uncalled for. She barely knew him. Why did she want to hit him? Not the time to be offended, a voice in his head screamed at him. If the devil really had come to collect his soul, this was most definitely not good for him.

“We need to get out of here,” Alex said.

“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Lucy muttered. “Let me get dressed.”

She walked back into the living room and towards the corner in the boxed space between the two sofas. She reached down and grabbed her clothes and a Gucci bag. Alex turned away as she began to get dressed. A strange thing really. He was looking away now that she was putting clothes on.

Once dressed, Lucy came to stand before him. She was wearing a short black leather skirt, a white crop top with her midriff exposed, and a leather jacket. The skirt was so short, Alex was sure the slightest movement and her panties would be visible for all to see… if she was wearing any, of course.

“High heels?” Alex asked.

“Yes, high heels,” Lucy snapped. “I’m sorry I didn’t come prepared to run away from the fucking devil, but that’s all I have.”

“You could wear my dad’s shoes?” Alex suggested helpfully.

“I am not wearing your disgusting dad’s-”

The doorbell rang once more. It sounded different this time, as if it were impatient, as if it were tired of waiting. Alex stepped out into the corridor and ran the other way. Once in the kitchen, he paused, glancing around.

“Your dad is a slob,” Lucy observed.

She was not wrong. The bin in the corner wasn’t just overflowing, it was surrounded by enough garbage to fill another three bins. Dishes piled in the sink and takeaway bags crowded the kitchen table. Ignoring the mess, Alex pulled open the draws one after the other, searching frantically.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for a weapon,” Alex said just as he spotted the wooden knife block beside the sink. It was partially covered by a Nando’s bag. He knew it wasn’t going to be great when he had to hold the knife block down while he pulled out the first knife. It was rusty and completely blunt.

“I’ve got a knife,” Lucy said. “Let’s go.”

He turned to see her holding a dagger that looked like it came out from a Rambo movie. “You just carry that with you then?”

“Course I do. I’m a prostitute, Alex. Do you know how many weird fuckers I meet on a regular basis?”

It was a fair point, Alex supposed. He imagined he would do the same were he in a similar line of work. Lucy held the blade out for him to take, but as Alex reached for it, her hand dropped, and she stared at him with suspicious eyes.

“What?”

“Do you know how to use it?”

“The knife?” Alex asked. “It’s not fucking rocket science,” he muttered.

Lucy opened her mouth, possible to argue otherwise. But she was interrupted by the loud thud. It sounded like the front door had just been blown off its hinges. Which was exactly what had happened. They both dashed towards the kitchen door. Alex got there first. He pulled at the handle. It was locked. Deciding there wasn’t enough time to look for the key, he took a step back and slammed his shoulder into the top glass.

“Fuck,” Alex cursed. “That really fucking hurt.”

Worst of all, there was just a single crack on the glass to show for his efforts. Bracing himself, Alex was about to charge into it once more when Lucy tapped him on the shoulder. She was pointing at the door that led into the kitchen from the corridor.

The demon with the red skin stood buy the door.

Her skin was red but a shade lighter than Jamie’s. She was six and a half foot tall and dressed like a hot secretary - black skirt, silky white shirt, black sunglasses, long brown