Chaos Magic

Part 1

I was just trying to have a late night snack.

I stopped in my tracks, clutching a jar of pickles, staring at my bed with a long , frustrated sigh.

The devil was on my bed.

The devil. Not a handsome stranger, not some old flame or new one with a bad reputation. The actual dark lord of Hell himself. Robes made of dark flames flickered around his tall form as rested comfortably on my duvet, idly flipping through the book I had been reading before I had left to get my snack. He didn't even bother to look up when I walked in.

I looked down at the jar in my hands, sighing again. Sorry pickles, it wasn't meant to be. I'm sure you would have been tasty. Without any further hesitation I chucked the jar of pickles at his head, running in the opposite direction.

CRASH!

I winced at the sound, trying to figure out how difficult pickle smell would be to wash out of my sheets, or if it would be better to just replace them.

"GET BACK HERE!" At the devil's angry shout, I shuddered, picking up the pace.

On second thought, let's just leave everything behind and rent a new apartment.

Not looking behind me, I used my hands to form intricate symbols while chanting under my breath. A dark portal opened up in my kitchen, the sound of an ancient creature's hungry roar echoing out through the opening. Definitely dangerous, but less so than what was waiting for me in my bedroom. Without further thought, I leapt towards the portal.

"Forget about escaping." A grim voice whispered behind my ear and the portal closed in front of me. "Now, we need to tal—oof!" I threw an elbow back, striking the devil in the stomach, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"Sorry buddy, I think you've got the wrong house." Waving a hand behind me, I raced towards the door.

"STOP!" At his commanding voice the front door went up in smoke, turning to ashes in an instant. Black and green flames filled the doorway, the sight causing me to frown.

Hellfire. Dangit. There goes my security deposit. Freaking Hellspawn.

With a defeated sigh, I turned around and looked at the prince of darkness.

"What do you want?"

His face was perfect, enough to make me hate him, but there was a sense of wrongness to it, a painful feeling, as if someone had tried to paint the features of an angel and fell into despair along the way. He smiled, the expression showing far too many teeth.

"I just want to talk."

I snorted at that. "I guess that's why they call you the 'Father of Lies' right?" Crossing my arms, I found the comfiest chair in the living room and sat down. "No way you came up here just to have a chat with a Grade E witch. I'm not worth your time."

Even though it was the truth, I felt a twinge of pain as I disparaged my own worth. But that was the world we lived in. Angels, demons, fairies, witches... we were all bound by the powers given to us at birth, the ability to shape the world as we saw fit, to impose our unnatural will on the natural. Some were born with great powers, going on to make legends of themselves. Amazing people like Merlin, or my namesake, my many times great great grandmother Morgana would have been ranked as Grade A. Strong enough to take on the big names of heaven and hell and hold their own.

But not everyone can be a legend. Some of us are just mere mortals trying to pay rent.

Like a certain Grade E witch who was being faced down by the devil.