The arrangements were all set, but I had that nagging feeling I’d forgotten something. It had taken me a long time to build up the courage to propose, and tonight was going to be the night. I’d followed all the rules. The restaurant was fancy, I’d spent enough on a ring, and I was pretty confident they’d say yes. All I had to do was relax and stay calm.

My phone vibrated. My father, a spectacularly successful fortune teller and occultist, had sent me a message. I didn’t hear from him very often.

“I’m so sorry. I did everything I could,” it read.

I was a little confused, and decided that he’d meant to send it to someone else. “Wrong number?” I typed, and hit send. I turned on the television, and began to watch whatever happened to be showing just to keep my mind off tonight.

My phone buzzed again. “No. I’ll explain in hell,” came the reply from my father. I scoffed and put the phone down on the arm of the sofa, more than a little confused. I’d deal with him later. Now wasn’t the time.

The television paused, and faded to black. A beautiful and starkly androgynous human-esque figure appeared on the screen, looking straight forward. They leaned forward. Crack. To my astonishment the screen appeared to have shattered, and before my next thought the figure was stood in front of me, chuckling to itself. I thought my nerves had finally pushed me over the edge.

“I love doing that,” it said, in such a refined voice. I closed my eyes. “Keep them open or I will open them for you,” it added, as if in reply.

“Who or what are you? You aren’t real,” I cried, in a rising panic.

“Oh. Just something you probably know as the Devil. Satan. Lucifer the Lightbringer – I love that one – Beeeelzebub,” it said, with a wry smile and dark look in its perfect eyes, “we’re going somewhere to have a little chat with your father. Clever man, but not quite enough.”

Before I could blink, we were sat at a huge, shiny black triangular table, in an even larger triangular room with no door and black marble walls. My father occupied a chair, and the Devil occupied another.

“The father, the son, and the, er… unholy spirit?” joked the Devil, with a loud hearty laugh that lasted a while longer than it should have, “look at us all here, together at last!”

My father had tears in his eyes. “I’m so sor-” he started saying to me, unable to look at me directly.

“Why don’t you start by telling him why we’re all here. Welcome, by the way, to hell,” said the Devil, addressing me and cutting across my father with a clear hint of cruelty.

I looked towards my father, and he just slumped down in his chair clearly unable to speak further. The Devil laughed again, then in an instant flew into a pure rage, then became much more sedate and serious. It was unnerving watching something that appeared so beautiful act in this odd and unpredictable way.

The Devil explained the deal it had made with my father. As a much younger man, he had started developing skills in the arcane and occult, and he wanted to use it to his advantage. He had learned that if he only asked, he could bargain with the Devil over anything he could find it in his heart to desire.

His desire was to protect the love of his life, my mother, from anything that might harm her. So, he asked the Devil for a successful career. The Devil, feeling this was a common enough ask, thought no more of it, but it did not realise the consequences of this ask from someone whose career goals were to tell the future and master the occult arts.

In return, the Devil told me – to my horror – that my father had agreed to give his firstborn child over to it in exchange for this favour. Secretly, he never expected to have any children, so he felt he had cheated the Devil. My father didn’t know that the Devil’s lust would reach so far and so quickly find its way between my parents. Nine months later, I was born.

To my surprise, the Devil said my father had spent more than the next two decades continually outsmarting it with his prodigious skill in the occult and fortune telling to protect me. I felt a flash of gratitude towards my father, but I quickly snapped myself out of it. This must be a weird nervous dream, and I will wake up soon enough.

“What your father didn’t realise,” said the Devil, with a dark but perfect smile, “is that no matter how many times he tried to save you, no matter how long it took, I only had to best him once and it would be over. I am incredibly patient.”

My father exhaled and sat back in his chair, looking up at the abyssal marble ceiling above. “Is there anything we can do to make this right?” he pled, now facing the Devil.

The Devil shook its head, “You know better than that. Your son is mine, I just wanted him to know it was your fault.”

I listened silently, and dared not consider this was real. A small spark of anger lit inside me.

The Devil began laughing, “Bet you didn’t see that coming eh? Fortune teller? Don’t worry, I’ll make it all look like an accident. Enjoy the rest of your career,” it said, and my father's seat was suddenly empty.

The Devil’s eyes turned black as it faced me. I went cold.