...So, I’m Satan, Lucifer, the Devil. Call me whatever you like, but knowing the names doesn’t mean you know everything. For example, I’m just a vice president of a division, not the head of the company. I exist at His whim, doing as I’m told to help keep the balance.

I’m not such a bad guy, really. I love classical music and Sinatra, fresh flowers on my desk, and yes, I’ve shed a tear or two late at night while watching a Lifetime movie. It’s just the job. I have responsibilities and I aim to do my best with every assignment. Yes, I excel at the stuff that might make other beings balk, but that’s just how I was made. In designing me, He went all out because the idea of meeting up with me if you’re evil had to be terrifying, right? Otherwise, why be good?

There are those of you who I bet think you’d be good no matter what. No consequences and free will, but you’d still be little “angels”, wouldn’t you? Uh-huh. Oh no, I believe you! I’ve never seen it happen, but I’m sure you’re different. Come on. Even the most pious choir boy stands on the edge, just begging me to give him a little push.

I had no idea pushing this little one would mean I fell, though. No, not that kind of falling—which didn’t actually happen, by the way. I was never up there to begin with, so I couldn’t have fallen. I mean the kind of falling that happens when love slams right into you and takes your breath away. Never even knew I could fall in love. Never knew there could be someone for me out there after all these years by myself.

His name is Oscar and he’s so beautiful. Pale as moonlight, with big blue eyes and sandy blond hair, he’s like summer at the beach. A sweet, shy cove of a beach that blushes a lot. He has a quiet voice and he really listens, wants to please everyone he meets, wears his little heart on his sleeve. The first thing I ever wanted to do when I met him was protect him. Tuck him in close and not let any bad thing get anywhere near him.

Then I’d remembered why I had to meet him, and that I was the bad thing.

I hadn’t handled the contract personally or else I would’ve been able to refuse it before having to go up there and collect on it. It had been centuries since one of these “take my firstborn” things went through. I knew I should’ve replaced the demon who’d made this deal a long time ago, but I’d thought he’d had his fill of these kinds of contracts back in the Middle Ages. Then Oscar’s angelic face came across my desk.

Apparently, my old-fashioned employee had given Oscar’s father the gift of perpetual success in business for the price of his firstborn’s soul. On Oscar’s twenty-first birthday, he would belong to me, his existence at my whim until I set him free. I’d done so with all the others handed to me by their oh-so-loving parents over the centuries, and they’ve been recycled back into the world many times over by now.