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Erebus, issue 4, 1943
Page 5
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EREBUS 5 Contact INVALID by R. L. Dubois MARLOW - 43 The demon appeared precisely upon the last stroke of ten, just as Peterson yawned and started to lay aside his book. He jumped, and the volume hit the luxuriously carpeted floor with a muffled thud. "Well," he said finally, his darkly handsome face working, "So ot's you again. You'll overlook mu surprise, I trust. I hadn't realized ten years would pass so swiftly." "Ten years are but an instant in eternity," the demon gargled hoarsely, swinging his barbed red tail from side to side with short, nervous flicks. Peterson winced inwardly but managed to maintain an outward semblance of composure. "I suppose," he drawled "that you've come to exact - uh - payment from me?" The demon lifted his thick, bushy eyebrows and inclined his head in agreement. Peterson templed his long, tapering fingers and leaned forward in the chair. His brown eyes glowed. "Suppose," he queried softly, "Suppose that I should tell you I shan't give you my soul?" The demon showed yellowed fangs and laughed; a mirthless, bubbling cachination. "Hold on!" Peterson cried, "You haven't forgotten our little agreement, have you?" His thick lips pursed thoughtfully, the demon frowned. "Something about 'Satisfaction guaranteed or your soul refunded', wasn't it?" he asked at length. "That's right," Peterson nodded, "and I'm not at all satisfied." It was true enough, he reflected bitterly. He'd never wanted to get on the Street; it was only at his father's angry insistence that he'd taken a position in the firm. Then, a week after he'd made his agreement with the demon the old boy kicked off and left the whole works right in his lap. After that things came fast and furious. In short order he'd found himself at the head of a rapidly mushrooming financial empire that required is constant attention. At first he'd tried making money in other, more congenial ways, but when they all flopped he gave it up as a bad job. And then there was Jean. Oh, he'd wanted to marry her, right enough. Too late
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EREBUS 5 Contact INVALID by R. L. Dubois MARLOW - 43 The demon appeared precisely upon the last stroke of ten, just as Peterson yawned and started to lay aside his book. He jumped, and the volume hit the luxuriously carpeted floor with a muffled thud. "Well," he said finally, his darkly handsome face working, "So ot's you again. You'll overlook mu surprise, I trust. I hadn't realized ten years would pass so swiftly." "Ten years are but an instant in eternity," the demon gargled hoarsely, swinging his barbed red tail from side to side with short, nervous flicks. Peterson winced inwardly but managed to maintain an outward semblance of composure. "I suppose," he drawled "that you've come to exact - uh - payment from me?" The demon lifted his thick, bushy eyebrows and inclined his head in agreement. Peterson templed his long, tapering fingers and leaned forward in the chair. His brown eyes glowed. "Suppose," he queried softly, "Suppose that I should tell you I shan't give you my soul?" The demon showed yellowed fangs and laughed; a mirthless, bubbling cachination. "Hold on!" Peterson cried, "You haven't forgotten our little agreement, have you?" His thick lips pursed thoughtfully, the demon frowned. "Something about 'Satisfaction guaranteed or your soul refunded', wasn't it?" he asked at length. "That's right," Peterson nodded, "and I'm not at all satisfied." It was true enough, he reflected bitterly. He'd never wanted to get on the Street; it was only at his father's angry insistence that he'd taken a position in the firm. Then, a week after he'd made his agreement with the demon the old boy kicked off and left the whole works right in his lap. After that things came fast and furious. In short order he'd found himself at the head of a rapidly mushrooming financial empire that required is constant attention. At first he'd tried making money in other, more congenial ways, but when they all flopped he gave it up as a bad job. And then there was Jean. Oh, he'd wanted to marry her, right enough. Too late
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