Father Gregory stepped into his side of the confession box and took a seat, a smile spreading across his face. He secretly enjoyed confession, something about hearing the dirtiest secrets of his congregation, and absolving them of their sins, made his day. The booth, like always, was dark and small. A small square window covered in a movable grate was set into the thin wooden wall to his left.
"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned?" A small female voice asked from the other side of the tiny window. A flash of reddish hair shone through the latticework. "Is that the way it's supposed to go?"
"More or less." Father Gregory said, not bothering to tell her that he was supposed to begin with a prayer. "How long has it been since your last confession?" He already knew the answer: never. He'd learned to tell the difference between proper Catholics and those who just needed someone to talk to, a long time ago.
"Never." The girl said, unsurprisingly. "I've been to church and stuff, but I've never done this."
"That's alright," Father Gregory said, knowing sometimes that the confessors needed a little encouragement. "What sins have you come to confess?"
Natalie McAllister took a deep breath: this was the hard part. Why did I agree to do this? She knew why: Satan had made her a deal. A few minutes of embarrassment for his presence at karaoke tonight, and he'd become a lot harder to order around lately, especially since she'd unwittingly given him so much leverage.
Natalie held the mobile phone in her hand; knowing that Satan was on the other end, listening, gave her a little comfort.
"Can you hear me child?"
"I, uh- I accidentally took the wrong cup at a coffee shop once." Natalie blurted, painfully aware that she was stalling and stalling badly. "When I was six, I broke a window and didn't own up to it. I stole a pen from the bank. I let a mouse be taken by an eagle once, although that wasn't entirely my fault."
Natalie paused, knowing she was getting to her biggest and most damning sins and wanting to delay those confessions as long as she could. She heard a muffled laugh, and she wasn't sure if it was coming from Satan through the phone or from the priest in the adjacent cubicle. "I've been forcing a man to follow me around and do my bidding for the last, almost a year, and I refuse to let him go."
The priest in the box was silent for a moment. "Will- Will you ever let him go?"
"No." Natalie said. "I can't let him go, people would get hurt. Our blood contract is the only thing that lets me stop it."
"You should release him. I'm sure the Lord will reward you for it. You are not beyond salvation."
Natalie shook her head, even while knowing the priest could not see it. "I don't know about God, but Michael said once that he could save my soul, I think."
"Michael?"
"Archangel Michael, Satan's brother."
The priest made a sound, somewhere between a gasp and cry. "Satan?"
"You know, the guy I have a contract with- Lucifer, the Devil. Didn't I mention that?"
"No. No you didn't, child." The priest was trying to remain calm as he pulled a phone out of his pocket. He dialed a nine and two ones, but his thumb paused over the call icon. "Is that all you have come to confess today?"
"There is one thing." Natalie said quietly, hiding a smile. A scarlet blush crept up her face as she thought of the night before. She could still feel Satan's skin against hers, as if he'd left a permanent imprint on her body, on her heart. One that would remain there for the rest of her life. She felt uncomfortably hot. "Sex before marriage."
She was gone before he could suggest she join his church's mental health and counselling and support service. She tore out of the confession box and through the church.
She's insane. What if she hurts someone? What if she already has?
These thoughts had Father Gregory out of the confession box in a moment. A flash of red hair flew down the centre aisle and out the door. Father Gregory followed. He reached the front doors a moment before they slammed shut behind her. He stepped through.
The street outside, he thought, was strangely deserted. The red-headed girl stood on the opposite side of the road, in conversation with a man. He was tall, at least six feet, with black hair and startling yellow eyes. He was laughing, clutching at his stomach and doubling over as the girl looked embarrassed
Father Gregory did not like the look of him.
The priest watched as the man righted himself and cupped the girl's cheek in his hand, speaking to her. The two slowly turned and began to walk down the street, the man lazily snaking an arm around her waist.
Father Gregory muttered a prayer, but he was unsure why. He's just an ordinary man. The thought allayed his fear a little, and he resolved to go back inside. This was just a prank.
But the girl stopped, as if suddenly aware she was being watched, and the man, noticing her action, looked behind him. The man and Father Gregory locked eyes. For a split second - just short enough for Father Gregory to doubt later what he'd seen - red horns sprouted from his head.