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Have you ever heard of the cross road demons. Spirit's tied to the area or decision making. Answering to the whims and requests of those who laid offers there. This is the story of one such demon.
She wasn't always a she, this spirit. The cross roads shaped them to whatever the mortal expected to see. What would most appeal to their desires, to secure the sacrifice to the other realm. And as the timid woman before scratched up the ground and the corner post, the dirt sticking to her fingernails the spirits form became more and more solid. A she, dressed in black trousers and flowing blouse cut just a bit too low, short hair black as night lips as red as sin and eyes bright and glimmering in the light of the full moon. Jewelry appeared silver and bright but plain and bold, rings on her fingers and a chains that swung between her breasts cool to the touch. As the mortal pulled the box from the ground the spirit felt heeled boots form around her feet and a packet or cigarettes formed in the pocket of her just this side of too tight leather jacket and a hat form in her head as the woman slipped a paper inside the box. As handfuls of dirt covered the old tin the spirit felt fire begin to burn under her skin and with the last pat of ground d a snap sounded and she appeared.
The mortal gasped and the spirit let out a throaty chuckle. Hmm this forms voice was deeper than the last time she'd been a woman, interesting. "Why so surprised baby, you summoned me?" she pulled the cigarettes from her pocket and slipping one between her lips snapped a finger to light it. The brief glow from the flame lit the mortals face. The bags under her eyes and the frazzled hair, the sunken cheeks and the frightened expression. The spirit took a drag extinguishing her finger.
"You're real." The mortals voice shook, as she clasped her dirt stained hands to her chest. Her knees where caked in filth as well, he linen dress would never be clean after tonight. "I had thought this was hoax but I was so, I was so, I had given up hope and this I...." She seemed a loss for words, wringing her hands, still kneeling as the feet of the spirit who leaned back against the road sign, with a analyzing look.
"Stand up baby and tell me what you covet."the spirit blew a ring of smoke "what your heart yearns for and what you lay upon my table as offering. " with another snap the tin box was from the dirt and in her hand. She did enjoy when mortals thought her powerful, when the imbued her with magic and fire. It always was more fun then when they thought her a simple sprite who couldn't speak their tongue but rather only acted in flame and contract. Those days were just so boring.
The mortal shaking stood, the silver light of the moon on a cloudless night caught the tear tracks down her face. She chocked down a sob and met the eyes of the spirit. "My husband, he, I need to escape.i cannot keep living like this. I can't."
"Why not just leave him?" The spirit asked dangling the tin by its handle. Marriage squabbles were consistent through out the ages. Husbands and wives, unable to stay faithful to one another, this wasn't new. "Walk our your door like you did tonight and never come back."
"He'll find me. He has before and I can't. He'll hurt me. And he'll hurt..." She didn't finish wrapping her hand protectively around her stomach where new life was beginning to grow. "Please I need your help"
"Help comes a price." the spirit said flatly, finally opening the tin "what have you to offer?"
Inside she found two objects. A locket or tarnished silver, it's clasp stuck shut from the passage of time, and a slip of paper torn from a note pad folded tightly in on itself. Leaving the necklace the spirit pulled out the paper and unfolded it, seeing a name written in tight shaking script and the date written 50 years in the future.
"The locket is the last thing that remains of my mother." The mortal says as the spirit examines the offering. "And who's name is this, some dead bear coworker who owes you a debt?"
"No. It's mine. I only ask for time with my child, to see it grow and flourish and thrive. And then my soul, my being, my body whatever you deem is required is yours." Her voice is stronger now, she stands straighter and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear not conscious of the dirt she smears there.
"Fifty years is a long ask," the spirit says tucking the locket in her pocket. "Many people without contracts get far less time with their children. And to take a life well, that's a steep price." She starts to circle the mortal, blowing out a ring of smoke as she watches the form shake slightly. There is strength in this woman, and the spirit feels a sense of fight in her still. Something that is not always present in cases like this. "I could give you 20, maybe"
"20 is too short! Surely you see that! They won't even be grown then. 45 at least!" The woman doesn't know where this fire has come from, as she whips around to meat the gaze of the spirit. Or rather she does as she feels a phantom movement of the baby inside.
Hmmm 30 then, and that's my final offer. Who knows you may be a grandmother by then." The spirit finishes her circle and her cigarette, back at the post where she started . She stares the woman straight in the eye, no need to blink, and gives a small smirk as she watches the resolve begin to crumble.
"30 then." The mortal slumps slightly, arms hugging her self tightly once again.
"Excellent" with one quick movement a contract appears out of the air. A snap and a flash of flames brings a pen out as well. "So we are in agreement, in exchange for the removal of your husband you are giving us this silver locket the only tie to your maternal line and in thirty years your eternal soul to use as we please by the whim of the other side?" The spirit extends the pen to the mortal, one manicured eyebrow raising expectantly.
With a deep breath the woman grabs the pen. A shaking hand reaches out to the floating contract and signs on the clearly marked area. As the last letter finishes both the pen and the contract flash into smoke and she swears as a burning brand hits her very soul. The spirit just smiles and lights another cigarette, her red lipstick staining the paper.
"Your husband will be gone by morning, and when the police come you will tell them that you have no idea what could have happened. Why would you call in a missing person if you were the one who made him disappear." The ember of the cigarette gives the spirits eyes an other worldly glow, or maybe that's just the magic beneath her skin. "And when the hounds come for you in 30 years, we'll baby you'll walk with them to the other realm willingly or we with be seeing each other again in a not so cordial way, understood?"
The mortal just nods and the spirit smiles. She fingers the locket in her pocket and the love and history that surrounds it should keep her fed, at least long enough for the next sucker to start digging at her cross roads. And at the very least she'll have this bright soul waiting for her at the end of the contract, and likely the child growing inside will try to make a deal as well. Marriage, family, its all the same year after year, century after century. She'd take this soul just like she took the ancestors before and the descendants after. The bloodline powering this crossroads with decision and sacrifice. Maybe next time she'll come back as a man or a hound herself. Who knows. For now she gives the mortal one last sinful smile and disappears from sitej, willing the tin back six feet underground. She becomes it again as they mortal wanders off into the darkness. The spirit waits. It won't be long. They know it.