ME & THE MONSTER

edges

What nobody told you about the Market was that it was chock-full of weirdos.

The first one that strolled by my stall was a grey-haired woman. 

"Excuse me," she said. "You wouldn't happen to be the Carrows' daughter, by any chance?"

"That's right," I said.

The woman let out a chuckle of delight. "Thought so. Like two peas in a pod. Isn't your family around, dear? I'd like to say hello. And I wanted to carry out some business, if possible."

I wondered who she was. I felt a prickle of annoyance at her patronising tone. I wasn't a kid, for goodness' sake, I was a month away from my twentieth birthday.

"They're busy today, I'm afraid. But you can rely on me for anything you wish."

"Lovely. Well, um –" She dropped her voice to a whisper. "A friend of mine told me about your special bargains...?"

"Yes," I said, sliding a sheet of paper over to her. "Check them out if you like. We're interested in all kinds of souls: large, small, stained, whatever. Even second-hand."

She peered down at the paper. "What do you recommend, as a professional? Which bargains are the most popular?"

"The first two ones, I think." I was warming to my businesswoman role. "You get to enjoy all the benefits, in the span of two to three weeks. Ruthless brilliance of mind. Timeless beauty. Wonderful absence of feelings: you'll never get to feel guilty or jealous or melancholy again."

A glint in her eyes. "Sounds like a dream."

Neither Mum nor I were fond of this kind of thing, truth be told. More often than not Mum didn't even bother to ensure if the pact actually worked. Too much trouble, she said, lazily, while I felt uneasy about the effects it brought on the human. In the long term, it would ruin their life, and it was highly likely they'd ruin countless other lives along the way. No, I wasn't having it.

Except for my first year at the Market, I'd never made the pact come true. That meant I was swindling the customer, I suppose. Anyway, I'd rather be a fraud than being responsible for having a psychopathic genius on the streets.

However, even if the pact didn't fully work, the moment the person sold their soul to us demons, they'd walk away a little less human.

A little meaner. Somewhat smarter. Something vital was ripped right out of them.

"We have to keep the tradition going," Dad would insist. "It's a matter of tradition, you people."

"And we guarantee the utmost discretion, of course," I told the woman now.

"That's a relief, dearie. I don't want tongues wagging. I'll have the second one, then, please. Oh, and here's Sheila; take care of her, will you? She's rather a pet, after all."

"Of course. You needn't worry, madam."

Then the woman set her bag down on the counter of the stall and fished something out. It changed colour when the sunlight hit it, as though it were underwater, and it billowed out in the windless air. I inched forward a finger towards the soul.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you. She bites," the woman said, sweetly. "Well, it's been a pleasure doing business with you, miss Carrows."

Only then, as she was turning to leave, did I notice something, with a start.

The woman seemed unperturbed by my staring.

"Oh yes," she said, glancing down at herself. "I'm missing a hand, dear. Very forgetful of me, I know. You get to my age, you'll be just as forgetful, just you wait and see. First lost my reading glasses. Then lost my house. And then lost my hand. Haven't got a clue where it could be." She gave a shrug. "It could be worse, of course. My sister lost her head last year. Doesn't suit her, being headless. She looks a right sight."