It wasn't that bad, a bit chilly maybe, but the food was good and he was a better master than any of the lords of Hell.

I'm just trying to be clear about this - I had no complaints. Sure it was the time of year when the sweet smell of sulfur is particularly pungent and I was feeling a little homesick. Also I won't deny I was missing my natural form. The black cat schtick is a bit dated, also sorely lacking in the spiked plating and six-inch talon department, but hey, my master was a traditionalist.

That, eventually, was what caused all the trouble.

I said to him, "Master," I said, "You're doing all right with this whole sorcery racket, you've got power, money, women - what the Hell do you want to sell your soul for?"

He looked at me in that distracted way he'd had in the last few months. "Furiasta, are you familiar with Faust?"

"Tall guy, hairy nostrils, screams a lot?"

He looked piqued. "I'm talking about the protagonist of the book by Gothe."

"Yeah, me too."

He gave me an exasperated look like the one a parent gives a small child when they're being precocious at a bad time. Nice guy, but he had a tendency to condescend to anyone who hadn't had the questionable good fortune of being born a biped.

"The point I'm trying to make," He said rather pedantically, "is that Faust wasn't after worldly riches or pleasure, he bargained for a worthy goal; absolute knowledge and the answers to the mysteries of the universe."

And he got them," I said. "and right now he's standing up to his neck in boiling excrement - why don't you ask him if he thinks he made a good deal?"

He gave me a quirky, lopsided grin, "I'll probably get a chance to, whether I sell my soul or not, so why not..."

"Of course you will!" Now it was my turn to get exasperated - I could sense an inevitable outcome developing and like I said the guy was okay.

"Unless you make a perfect act of contrition, which considering your cynical nature I find rather unlikely, your magical career automatically damns you to Hell."

"Then what's the problem? If the Devil gets his due no matter what I do, than what's your objection to my getting something out of it?"

I almost sighed. He was doing that determined out-thrust thing with his chin and it looked like this was probably hopeless, also I'd already gone way beyond what was required by the binding spell he'd placed on me. I settled down on top of his red grimmoire with my tail tucked under my nose and gave it one more try.

"You don't get it, there's a difference between garden variety damnation and irredeemable damnation. Most of the souls in Hell could theoretically get out eventually. Souls are eternal and once they'd learned their lesson - metaphysically speaking - they get to move on to the next level. To be irredeemably damned requires such blackness of the soul that in the normal course of things we only get one every couple of centuries. Hitler, for example, didn't qualify because he was kind to puppies."

"This is all fascinating, but what..."

"The point is this," I interrupted. "The only really guaranteed way to get that kind of classification on your sheet is to sell your soul. What, did you think the boss would get involved in these deals if he was only getting something he'd get anyway?"

The master got a thoughtful look on his face and I got hopeful. It's not that I cared about the guy you understand, but there's no tuna in Hell and mice are... interesting. They're definitely more fun than souls.

While he was thinking it over, I caught myself licking the fur on my paw and stopped self-consciously. The morphogenic field of a cat body is a tough little son of a bitch. After a while, stuff like cleaning yourself with your tongue and purring when your ears are scratched starts to seem natural.

He looked up with a gleam in his eye. "What about a challenge?"

I actually did sigh this time. It was obvious that he was going to do it no matter what, but he was entitled to know the odds. "Look you discovered my name in some old manuscript and bound me to your service. Fair enough. A man discovers some information he's entitled to get something for it, but what's the point to keeping me around if you don't take the advice I give you - particularly on stuff I'm in a position to know?"

He looked at me shrewdly. "It never works?"

My ears flipped back in irritation. "No, sometimes it works. I can count the times it has on one paw and every time it does, the rules get changed and another loophole gets closed - but yeah, sometimes it works."

"Want to bet I could be one of the times it does?"

"And how do I collect if you're not? Look if you do beat him, and remember we're talking about the god of deceit here, if you did by some cosmic fluke win the challenge, you should know Satan is a lousy loser. Last time he lost a contest with a mortal was this punk street sorcerer in London, what happened to him, well you really don't want to know."

"Theoretically though, the deal could be set up in such a fashion that he couldn't renege or otherwise interfere with me and be forced to give up my soul?"

The tip of my tail twitched. Just once. Fine, on his own head be it, and who knew? He was smarter than most humans; it was just barely possible he could win. "Yeah, theoretically."

He stood up and rubbed his hands together "Good, that's settled then. Let's get started."

I stared at him. "You mean now?"

"Why not?"

I shrugged. Too bad, there were indications that a particularly suicidal mouse had taken up residence in the pantry and I'd been looking forward to some R&R.

"I can think of any number of good reasons, but none that will stop you."

He chuckled and gathering up some papers and supplies led the way to the lab. Reluctantly I padded after him.

I didn't like the lab and by nature I like places with unpleasant atmosphere, I guess you can get too much of a bad thing.

The place was dark and cold. The walls sweated clammy dew and the smells were... well use your imagination. The circle was permanently carved and painted into the stone floor, unpleasant stains occasionally covered but never obscured equally unpleasant symbols. Light was supplied by bubbling candles made of - put it this way: it wasn't bee's wax. There were empty frames where the master had put in track lighting at one point in a futile attempt to make the room a bit homier. I think he would have been happier in the field of interior decorating than black magic. It was a wasted effort unfortunately; technology wouldn't work in that room.

He put the pile of books and printouts on the obsidian altar sitting at the crown of the pentagram. He'd picked it up after divining where in the Bay of Mexico the divers should search for it. It still had grooves worn into the stone where the blood had flowed - heavily.

Anybody with even a trace of sensitivity wouldn't enjoy touching the thing, an unprepared psychic would probably spend a couple of months in the fetal position.

The master was a psychic, but he had learned to ignore the rather gory images that would flash across his vision whenever he touched the altar. But judging from the way he paled and gritted his teeth he was getting a particularly intense splatter film this time.

"What did you expect?" I asked cattily, "The kind of summoning you're planning involves major etheric backlash before you even start."

"Shut up." It was said through gritted teeth. I briefly considered the wisdom of distracting someone that was putting considerable effort into just keeping his brains from spraying out his ears and shut my mouth with a snap.

With a visible strain the master pulled himself together and flashed me a scared grin. "Shall we begin?"

I could go into detail. I could tell you the whole process from beginning to end, all the chants, and all the tools. It's not that hard, anybody could do it.

That's why I'm not going to tell you anything more than that it was long and unpleasant and it worked.

The Boss, I mean the Big Boss, was trying to look reassuring, he stood there in the center of the pentagram, mild and stoop shouldered like an elderly librarian. At the moment he was white-haired and thin wearing a loose cardigan sweater and faded trousers. He gave us a friendly smile and I cowered behind the master's ankles.

"Well hello there young fellow, would you be the one who put on that little summoning?"

"I… that is, it was…" I looked up at my master's sweating face, the Boss's mild manifestation had thrown him off balance in a way the most monstrously demonic appearance wouldn't have. Which was exactly the Boss's plan.

The stupe had probably been expecting horns and goat leggings.

I sank my claws into his ankle, he yelped and quickly pulled away giving me a reproachful look, but the muzziness was gone from his eyes. He turned back to the Boss, the old arrogance back in his stance.

"O serpent of the pit, thou slinking beast of Abadon, I hereby abjure and command you…"

"Now young fellow all that's hardly necessary, after all we're all friends here." The Boss had a patient smile on his face like an old and friendly teacher faced with a rambunctious and overly enthusiastic student. "Why don't you tell me what I can do for you son, and we'll get down to business."

I gave my master a wary look. No, he wasn't buying it. The Boss was keeping the elderly librarian pose going purely for show now; his opening gambit had failed.

He didn't look too worried about it.

My master smiled a slow confident smile. "By all means, let's do some business." His voice was relaxed, but down at my eye level his right knee was jiggling like a soul on the griddle.

They negotiated for hours.

Terms, conditions, escrow, penalties… well one penalty. When they were done the Boss reached out his hand and with a flourish pulled a vellum contract out of the air - it looked like cheap slight of hand.

It wasn't of course.

"Well then if we are in agreement you can just sign this document on the dotted line and start collecting your benefits."

"Just one moment, I was thinking we might try a little side contract."

The Boss's eyes glittered, something vaguely serpentine rose in his face, his smile revealed teeth just a little sharper than before. A moment only and then it was just the mild smile of a kindly old man.

"What exactly did you have in mind?"

"A little wager, if you win you get me now, if I win, I collect everything I've contracted for but you don't get my soul."

The old man looked thoughtful, "Son are you sure about this? It's been a long time since anyone took that 'absolute knowledge and the answers to the mysteries of the universe' option. It would be a damned shame if you didn't collect." My master grinned, emboldened by the Boss's seeming resistance. "Yeah, but if I won I'd collect with no strings attached."

The Boss smiled again, it was a lot less reassuring this time. "Well not exactly. You're still a pretty likely candidate for the pit, and when you got there I'd be expected to pay… particular attention to you." The Boss winced as if at the thought of some unpleasant duty, but his eyes flashed a mocking green for just a second. "Politics, you know."

If the naked threat the Boss had just delivered so mildly had made any impression on my master he hid it well. "I think I'll take my chances, thanks."

"As you wish." The Boss didn't look disappointed and this whole encounter was giving me a strong sense of deja vu.

It reminded me a lot of the way I like to play with my food when I caught it.

"So exactly what kind of wager did you have in mind?"

My master looked like he was thinking about it, but he surely must have planned the project out long in advance.

"Well who am I to go against tradition. What do you say to a straightforward challenge? I'll set you a task and if you can't complete it, I win."

The Boss was all business suddenly. "One task then, winner takes all."

"Agreed."

"There are, of course, some rules." The Boss said smoothly.

My master stiffened slightly. Metaphorically speaking he'd just stepped on that old rake that's been missing all summer, just hiding in the tall grass waiting for an incautious foot to step down and initiate an excellent example of action and reaction.

That was me you know, the rakes were my job.

"What kind of rules?"

"Well some clever lads have played this game over the centuries, you certainly can't expect me to be beaten the same way twice, for instance you can't ask me to destroy Heaven or Earth." The Boss smiled that sweet smile again. "Those are on my to-do list, but not for today."

"Secondly, you can't ask me to apologize to God and return to the fold." The Boss's smile was cold this time. "You can't really force a family reunion you know."

"Thirdly, you can't ask me to kill myself or diminish my powers in any way." The smile had become a sneer now and my master was looking a little pale. "My nature is as eternal as any soul, that's not going to change."

"Fourthly, I won't change the universe in any major way. Earth will still be Earth, Hell, still Hell. I'm not going to bring about peace on Earth, empty Heaven, and turn every second redhead into a lizard, nothing like that. Not that I couldn't of course, but there would be… repercussions."

The Boss snapped his fingers. "Oh yes, and you can't ask me to find the task for you." My master looked sick suddenly and the Boss all but beamed. "I got hit by that little beauty by a clever little Goth witch-boy a few years back, kind of a no-win scenario for me. I actually had to concede defeat," The Boss stroked his chin for a second, behind his smile a black, world freezing fury. "Sadly the young man later perished in a freak haddock incident."

The Boss gestured and suddenly he was leaning back in a black marble throne, he looked twenty years younger and twenty times more menacing. His eyes were glowing as red as banked coals now. "What's that human expression…? 'Give me your best shot' I think."

My master leaned forward on the altar and ran his fingers through his hair reflectively. "Well, you haven't given me a lot to work with have you?" I looked up at him sharply, he was back to looking as confident as ever. He knew something. He turned his head slightly and winked at me. What the Hell was he up to?

"Destroy my servant." It was said so casually that at first it didn't sink in, when it did my fur stood on end and I found myself hissing. I would have turned and run, futile as that would be, but I was suddenly frozen in place. The Boss's work or the master's? At the moment it didn't seem to make much difference.

I sent a murderous glare in the master's direction but he had his eyes fixed on the Boss. Reluctantly I turned and looked at him too.

He looked…Worried.

"Well certainly, I can blast him to a cinder, confine him to the lowest pit of Hell…"

"No. Destroy him utterly, wipe him from existence."

"This is about that dead rat in your boot isn't it? Look, I don't know what came over me…"

They ignored me utterly so I just went back to cowering. Then the last thing in the world I would have expected happened.

The Boss broke into laughter. It was an oddly innocent laughter. Something at once so vastly old and completely unhuman and yet vertiginously childlike that it was a hundred times more terrifying than a good solid evil cackle could ever be.

The Boss was an angel once after all, and there's nothing quite likes those creatures in all of creation. They are from outside.

"How did you figure it out?"

I stared at the Boss in shock, he was smiling wryly, once again the mild middle aged librarian with a patched cardigan and wire rim glasses. I turned to my master, he was grinning, relief shining in his eyes. "Furiasta gave me the first clue when he confirmed that my soul was immortal and indestructible, then you kindly let slip that the same was true of you. I took the gamble that it applied to Furiasta as well."

"Ingenious. I salute you sir, you've certainly added a new loophole for me to close - you know I told Him giving you monkeys imagination would come back to haunt us."

The master smiled thinly at the insult. "I believe I'm owed some benefits?"

"Of course." The Boss said blandly. Then he turned and shot me a malevolent glare. I cowered again.

"But first you're going to have to forgive me some pettiness, I'm going to have to relieve a little tension on your servant." He grinned showing teeth like mirrored razors.

"I'm going to set so many curses on you Furiasta, so many spells and influences and hellish glamours that you'll wish you really had been destroyed."

Suddenly released from my magical paralysis, I backed up fast, nails clicking on stone until I was backed into the corner. I meowed piteously as a glittering red cloud of curses and enchantments appeared over my head and began to sink towards me. Talk about a bad loser!

"Stop that immediately!" My master was coldly furious, I could see him through the fog, beard bristling indignantly. "I insist you remove all spells and enchantments from my familiar immediately!"

Whether it was a genuinely generous impulse or just that he felt The Boss was stepping on his prerogatives I don't know. Either way I appreciated it.

It was stupid, but I appreciated it.

Maybe I'd even have warned him if I could, but probably not.

"As you wish." The Boss said calmly, the red mist vanished and I felt a sharp pain in my long bones as I began to transform.

My master was too busy berating the Boss to notice. "Really, I expected better of you, such crudity ill becomes - what the Hell…?"

I hit him like a freight train, weighing six hundred pounds, armored like an armadillo on crack and with a mouth full of more teeth than a game show host. He died with a shocked look on his face.

I stood over the red ruin on the floor and purred.

"Stop that." The Boss said irritably.

"Sorry." I said stretching to my full twenty-foot length. "Force of habit. You know he really should have spotted that. I could no more resist ripping him to pieces when I'm in my natural form than I could resist chasing mice when I was trapped in that cat body. He just forgot to specify which spells to lift."

"Yes, well he'll have all of eternity to consider that one little mistake, in fact I suggest we head back immediately, I'm going to want to look in on him personally."

"Sure. You know I was always told that demons have no souls. Its kind of interesting to find out we do."

I looked up at the Boss, he was staring at me thoughtfully. "You know Furiasta, there's a dukedom opening up in the fourth circle. I'm going to need someone who understands discretion for the position."

"You mean the third circle don't you Boss?"