Outro

by thraced

Summary:

The devil was stuck in Georgia, he was feeling mighty low
He’d been gone too long,the plan had all gone wrong
And there was nowhere for him to go
He found that ol’ hickory stump and sat back down with a woeful scowl
And saw a far off light come shining through the pines
Shivering in the driving rain as the wind began to howl

Notes:

• For Missy.

Johnny felt a sudden chill run up his spine and knew deep in every bone that it had nothing to do with the storm rattling through the clapboards. His gaze pulled towards the door like his head was on a string, every hair on his arms and the back of his neck standing straight up. His poor old ancient hound startled awake from his warm spot in front of the stove and snarled at the door, pushing itself up on stiff legs.

Knock, knock.

Johnny grabbed the hound by the collar as it hurled itself at the door barking its head off, as full of verve as if it were a pup again. “Easy! Easy boy, easy, down. Down.” His usually obedient hound didn’t seem to hear him, trying to throw itself at the door with all its strength, and Johnny picked the dog up and carried it into the mud room, sliding its food and water bowls in there too before it could make another run at the door. “You calm down in there now,” Johnny said, his gaze pulling toward the front door again. “Looks like we might have a guest.”

Knock, knock.

A deafening clap of thunder all but shook the whole house and Johnny forced himself forward, touching his golden fiddle on its shelf as he passed. He took a deep breath before opening the door, surprised to see his hand shaking. This all felt different now in the dark with the wind howling than it had in the bright sunshine a few days before.

A bolt of lightning brightened the sky as Johnny opened the door to find the devil on his doorstep, which seemed a touch dramatic as far as Johnny was concerned. Johnny blinked at the sight of him, because he seemed like a different creature entirely than the being that had stood proud and tall on that hickory stump; he was still dressed as a country preacher, the way he had been then, but he was absolutely soaked down to the skin, hunched against the driving rain. His dark hair was plastered against his face, his curling horns all but lost in the tangles, his boots were spattered with mud like he’d walked a long, long way. “Back again already?”

The devil sneered, his sharp canines catching the lamp light. “This is all because of you.”

Johnny just cocked an eyebrow, his heart hammering in his chest that he was bantering with the devil. They hadn’t stood this close during the contest and it was distracting for more than the expected reasons; Johnny had expected him to smell like sulphur but he didn’t, it was something sweeter than that, something he couldn’t place. Like a lost scent of from childhood you knew you would never have again. “I didn’t make you jump out of nowhere and challenge me, that was all your doing. I even warned you right off you couldn’t beat me.” The devil didn’t seem to like being reminded of that and Johnny guessed he couldn’t blame him. The devil put one hand against the doorframe, like he wasn’t all that confident about staying on his feet. “What’re you doing here anyway, if it’s not for a rematch?” Johnny said, his eyes narrowing. He did seem to be swaying a bit, and the fingertips brushing the doorframe turned into full on leaning as Johnny spoke. “Thought you would’ve been halfway back to hell by now.”

“I can’t.” The devil shut his eyes for a moment, running his forked tongue over his lips. “I can’t,” he said again, that smooth tone back to his voice, like butter sliding off a sharp knife. He met Johnny’s eyes, dark irises the same red as an old wound, the pupils square like a goat’s. “I was already behind before our challenge, and when I…lost, the gates sealed themselves to me. The road winds me around in circles.”

“Well damn, what’s the point of being the devil if you can get yourself kicked out for losing a fiddle contest?” The devil fixed him with a withering look, which Johnny knew he deserved. Johnny took a step back and looked him over, really looked; lord of darkness he may be but right now he was shivering so hard Johnny could hear those teeth clacking together, his unnatural eyes huge and tired in his drawn face. Johnny looked down and saw that the toes of his muddy boots were very pointedly not touching his threshold, and then he understood. “Well, come on in then,” he said, pulling the door open wide. “No point in the two of us standing here letting all the wet in.”

The devil blinked, his head tilting to the side like he was looking for the catch. Johnny made a point of turning his back, only watching from the corner of his eye as the devil very deliberately stepped into his home. “And take those off,” he said, gesturing to the boots. “I don’t want you tracking all that all over my floors.” The devil rolled his eyes, clearly feeling very put upon, but he did indeed wrestle the boots off. “Normally I’d tell you to come ‘round the side but my dog doesn’t seem to think too fondly of you.”

“No, they tend not to.”

Johnny heard the clip clop of cloven hooves on his floorboards and fought the urge to both shiver and stare. The devil threw himself into one of Johnny’s kitchen chairs in a miserable wet heap, and it was taking a lot of work for Johnny to remember that this was the source of all evil in the world sitting at his table. Johnny found a towel and tossed it to him, gesturing to the devil to rub his head with it when he didn’t seem know what to do with it. “I feel terrible,” the devil said rather tragically, his head in his hands. “What is wrong with me?”

“Can’t rightly say,” Johnny answered, feeling sympathetic despite himself. “I got a mess of biscuits and gravy cooking, you’re welcome to some if it’ll help.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“Gotta admit, you’re not doing much to make being the devil sound like something fun.” The devil gave him a long-suffering glare and Johnny laughed as he turned back to his dinner, glad nothing had burned during all that. Before too long at all he put a plate down in front of the devil, which had to rank high on the list of things Johnny never expected to do, it had been that kind of week. The devil sniffed at the food, his nose curling, but after a few moments of watching Johnny he imitated how Johnny picked up the dripping biscuit, his face a portrait of low expectations. Johnny grinned when those strange eyes suddenly went wide. “Oh!” He took another bite, his lips smacking. “That’s actually…this is very good.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know,” he devil said around another bite, his brows drawing together. “I’ve never needed to eat anything before.”

“You’ve never eaten anything?”

The devil shrugged. “I’ve never felt the urge.” He looked over his already half-gone plate. “How much of this can I have?”

Johnny laughed and pushed his own plate over, saving two biscuits for himself. “Much as you want.” The devil went back to attacking the food like a starving wolf and Johnny sat back in his chair watching. “Hungry,” Johnny said softly after a few moments, and the devil’s questioning eyes met his. “You were hungry. That’s why you felt so bad.”

The devil looked at him with what seemed like genuine astonishment. “Is that why?”

“You ain’t never been hungry before?”

“Of course not. I had no idea it was anything like that, I should inflict that on people more often, it’s terrible.”

Johnny shook his head and reminded himself that it was the devil sitting there at his table, some things just couldn’t be helped. Soon enough the devil was sopping up the last of the gravy and Johnny took both of their plates. “Gotta admit, if I was gonna eat something for the first time, biscuits and gravy would be my pick too.”

“Is all food like that?”

“Nah, ain’t nothing like that. Might be all downhill for you as far as that goes. I got some shine if you want to try that next.”

The devil gave him a sly look, like he was reading more into that offer than Johnny’d meant. Hell, maybe the devil was right on that front, Johnny definitely felt like he’d downed a whole jar of moonshine tonight. But instead of answering the devil looked around Johnny’s little house, his gaze catching on that golden fiddle. “What are your plans for that?” the devil said, gesturing toward it. “I would have expected you to have already used it to improve your….” and then he gestured at the house again, which felt a little rude.

“I thought about it,” Johnny admitted, walking over to the fiddle and picking it up. “It’d be the smart thing, I know. Even asked a man about it, but….” He let it trail off, watching how the golden planes of the fiddle caught the lamplight. “He said it would set me up good, but I’d have to melt it down of course, and I don’t know. Just feel like it would be a waste, is all. Destroying something so fine.” He put it under his chin as if it were his trusty old playable fiddle before the heft of it became too much. “Almost wish I’d asked you for something I could play.”

The devil laughed, a genuine, surprisingly lovely sound. “Ah, you don’t know the trick.” He stood up and walked over to Johnny, hooves clicking on the floor, and gestured for Johnny to hand it to him. When Johnny hesitated he just sighed. “You won it fairly, as much as I hate to say those words,” he said, his hand still patiently out. When Johnny was still unconvinced he said, in the same tone you would use with a very stupid child, “If I stole something won from me fairly I would be in much worse shape than I already am.” Johnny handed it to him and it Devil handled it like it was a fraction of its true weight, fussing with the tune pegs that had been immovable in Johnny’s hands. He pulled an equally golden bow out of his preacher’s coat and set the fiddle under his chin, smiling as he drew the bow against the delicate golden strings Johnny was half afraid to breathe on. The single note was the purest, strongest thing Johnny had ever heard, a clear strong C that lodged right into his chest; the devil caught Johnny’s eye and winked at him.

Then he closed his eyes and started to play. He started with a simple melody, almost like a nursery rhyme, then shifted into a minor key and a dissonant variation, repeating the process again with the next key like he was running scales. The notes turned into a series of discordant chords, dark and complicated, Johnny watching his elegant fingers racing over the board almost faster than he could follow. The notes hammered at his skin, flowing through his veins like tacks pricking at the vessels from the inside; it should be ugly but wasn’t, Johnny didn’t think there was a word in any language that could capture it.

He picked up his own fiddle and played himself in, at first limiting himself to a subtle harmony to the devil’s harsh notes, then he let his melody soar up an octave, playing a variation of his own. The devil glared at him for a moment, changing his tune to compete with Johnny’s like it was another contest; they went on like that for a while, neither able to help himself, but then Johnny intentionally went back to harmonizing, letting the two melodies compliment each other again. The devil’s face softened as he realized what Johnny was doing and he closed his eyes again, losing himself in the playing; the two melody lines chased each other, high then low, dissonant then sweet, winding together until they became one new thing.

Johnny didn’t close his eyes. The devil’s long hair had curled slightly as it began to dry; Johnny watched tongues of flame come dance around the devil’s fingers as he played, how his lips curled up as he hit an especially satisfying series. It was suddenly so very easy to believe the devil had been an angel once.

The song built to its crescendo and seemed to hang in the air for a moment, a fragile, beautiful echo; the devil smiled at Johnny without a hint of guile, faintly breathless and his red eyes clear and bright.

Johnny put his fiddle down and stepped forward, curled one hand around the back of the devil’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. Johnny’s blood was on fire and if this was a spell he didn’t care to fight it. The devil didn’t say a word, just let out a soft surprised breath; Johnny heard the clink of him putting down the metal fiddle and then he felt those talented hands cradle his face. The devil was fever warm despite his still damp clothes and Johnny greedily snaked his hands under his false preacher’s shirt; he shivered when he felt the pointed forks of the devil’s tongue against his own. He tasted like wildfire smoke.

He pressed the devil against the wall; when Johnny pulled back for a breath the devil smiled, his eyes so bright in the dim light they were all but glowing. Johnny kissed just under the curve of his jaw and got lightheaded when the devil shivered; he traced his tongue along the hollow of the devil’s throat and felt his whole body jump against him, his hand going tight for a moment in Johnny’s hair. “Do you understand what you’re about to do, boy?” the Devil said, his voice so low Johnny almost felt it rather than heard it.

Johnny smiled, that same reckless, heady feeling as when he’d seen the devil first jump up on the hickory stump. “Think we already established that I might be persuaded to sin.”

The devil grinned, those sharp fangs shining, and pulled Johnny back against him.

*

Johnny came back to earth in the small hours of the morning, laying awake with the devil asleep next to him in his narrow bed. His growling stomach had led him to grab a knife and an apple from the kitchen but he’d paused after cutting his first slice, caught between the knife and the monster asleep beside him. There were things he should be doing now, he knew. What would the world be like, without a devil? How many souls could he save right now, with a little flick of a sharp knife? Johnny watched his chest rise and fall as he breathed, the devil’s sharp features made even sharper by the moonlight. Had this happened for a reason? Was this why he could play the fiddle as easily as other men could draw a breath?

But every part of him cringed away at the thought. Proud and boastful he may be, and Johnny could never deny it, but this was thinking about killing someone he’d let into his bed. Someone he’d shared food with. Even if this was the devil, there was right and wrong in the world, Johnny was sure of it. Pride was one thing, this would be rank murder and that was a sin no matter how you looked at it.

“It wouldn’t be.” Johnny looked down, a guilty flush setting his cheeks aflame. He wondered if he’d been speaking out loud without realizing or if he devil had just heard that thought in his heart. The devil’s eyes slit open but there was no accusation there. “A sin, I mean.”

“You’re known to lie.”

The devil just looked tired and a little sad. “Ah, but I can’t lie now, can I.”

“And how do I know that’s not a lie?”

“Because if I could, don’t you think I would have come up with one at your door?” He rolled over fully onto his back, grabbed Johnny’s wrist, the hand holding the knife, and pressed the sharp edge against this own throat. “Not a soul mortal or divine would scorn you.”

When he still hesitated the devil tipped his chin up to bare his throat further and it took all of Johnny’s will to keep his hand steady. “Do you want me to?”

The devil blinked, as if he didn’t understand the question. “I want to see what you’ll do.”

Even hurting and helpless the devil couldn’t resist tempting a desperate man, Johnny supposed. He placed his free hand against the devil’s stomach, tracing his thumb along the line of fine hair that would be under his navel if he’d been the man he looked like. He weighed the fate of the world, all that pain, all those wars, and tried to make that measure up against that one concrete, unforgiveable act. He let his fingertips trail over the devil’s leg, feeling where the smooth skin turned into unexpectedly soft hair leading down to the shining hooves, like black obsidian, letting his fingers relearn the body he’d already spent half the night loving in every way he could think of. He put the knife away in the little drawer next to the bed.

“Why?” the devil said, not even sounding relieved, just curious.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be a sin, but it would be a waste.” He let out a long, shaking breath. “Besides, you don’t make people sin. Might whisper in their ear some, but they choose to do bad all on their own.”

The corners of the devil’s eyes creased, like he wasn’t quite sure of that. “If anyone ever finds out that you spared me you will never know peace.”

“Yeah, well. If I’d used that knife I wouldn’t know peace anyhow, so I guess that’s all the same.” Johnny lay back down and pulled the devil to him; the devil’s long fingers stroked down his face, his lips pulled up in a vicious, beautiful, nightmarish smile. Johnny kissed the palm of his hand; ashamed all over again that he could even think about destroying all the music those hands might make. “Besides,” Johnny said, laughing, “if I did kill you now, how could I ever beat you in a contest again?”

The devil scowled for a moment but then laughed himself, straddling over Johnny’s waist and bending down to do his very best to kiss Johnny into the mattress.

*

Johnny wasn’t surprised to see the devil gone from his bed come morning.

He was, admittedly, a little surprised to find the devil sitting at his kitchen table, picking a tune on Johnny’s fiddle that sounded like weeping. He put it down when he saw Johnny, a triumphant grin on his handsome, inhuman face. “You should have killed me when you had the chance.”

“Thought we’d gone over that,” Johnny said, walking past him to the devil’s visible annoyance. “You want coffee?” The devil stood straighter than he had the night before, like a new charge was under his skin. “You look like you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Now I already have big head about my fiddle playing, don’t make me start bragging about any other type.” He stared into the brewing coffee so he would have something to look at other than the creature at his table. “Guess you’ll be leaving, then.”

“Imminently.”

“What happened to all that about you being locked out?”

The devil smiled. “There was a condition attached to that, because there always is. I would have to be allowed to spend the entire night in the home of someone who knew what I was, with no dealing or bargaining or even asking for the favor.”

Johnny knew he should be relieved this was about to be over, but he only felt a little sad. “Yeah. Figured it was something like that.”

The devil blinked in what seem like honest surprise, and maybe a little disappointment that he hadn’t pulled the trick he’d thought. “You guessed?”

“’Course I did. You think I forgot you were the devil?” The coffee was done and he filled two mugs, holding one out to the devil and then placing it on the table when he didn’t take it.

“Why?” Johnny took a sip of coffee, pretending he didn’t understand. “You wanted to save the world from me last night, you could have done that by closing your door.”

Johnny felt a little sorry for the devil that he had to ask that question, but reminded himself that of course he couldn’t understand. “Maybe I could have. But doing that would have meant leaving a man shivering and hungry out in the wet and the weather, and where I’m from that’s he biggest sin there is.” He nodded to the coffee. “That’s gonna get cold if you let it sit.” The devil, apparently confused enough to take direction, took a sip of the coffee, looking like he wasn’t sure what he thought about it. “It’ll grow on you.” Johnny pulled out a chair and sat down. “I figured out what I’d gonna do about the fiddle, by the way.”

“Oh? What?”

“I’m gonna keep it. Just as it is. That way when you get in the mood to come back around for my soul, you can try to win that back too.”

That had poked his devilish pride and Johnny watched him bristle up like an angry cat. “Your pride will be your end, boy.”

“But you’re gonna have to put up something too,” Johnny continued on as if the devil hadn’t spoken. “Something worth a whole lot more than a fiddle of gold.”

The devil’s brows furrowed, a deep line forming in the center even as his lips curled up in a mocking grin. “I don’t have a soul for you to steal.”

Johnny wasn’t at all sure about that anymore, but stealing it wasn’t exactly what he had in mind. “You leave my terms to me and get to practicing.”

The devil narrowed his eyes. “I can’t be what you want me to be. Not even your soul can do that.”

Might be you already are. But instead of speaking Johnny gave him a light, almost chaste-but-not-quite kiss on the lips, just a hint of that forked tongue. When he opened his eyes the devil was gone, and it took Johnny a second to realize he’d stolen the mug.

Johnny laughed to himself and went over to let his hound out of the mud room, rubbing him all over. “Thank for keeping the ruckus down last night, I do appreciate it. Once it warms up we’ll go for run in the woods, how’s that sound?” He let the dog out the back to have a good sniff and sat down, trying to get settled in his heart. After a few minutes he walked over the golden fiddle and picked it up, weighing the heft and promise of it in his hands. On a lark he put it under his chin and to his surprise he found it light as a feather; when he cautiously pulled his bow against the golden strings it produced a tone as pure and true as any violin strung by the finest European master. Johnny sat back down and played for the rest of the morning, the future a bright and sure target in his mind.

Johnny watched those cloven hoofprints smolder on his floor
And heard the echo of that song
Soul afire at the thought of adding more

So Johnny made that fiddle sing, his mind awake with secret dreams
‘Cause the devil wasn’t the only one who could hatch himself a scheme
For the sin o’ pride could strike at devils just as sure as it could men
And time changed all ‘cept just one thing: Johnny was the best there’d ever been