Incredible plans
This was supposed to be coffee.
Nothing complicated.
Cassandra looks terrible.
Not my assessment.
You'll meet the gentleman responsible
for that shortly.
He knows Cassandra.
Rather well, apparently.
Cassandra has never seen him before.
This bothers her.
As it should.
He is charming.
Very charming.
He is also drinking her coffee without
permission.
This bothers her considerably more.
Priorities.
I know him, of course.
We've crossed paths.
He has acquired rather a reputation
over the years.
Some of it deserved.
Some of it rather imaginative.
He doesn't seem particularly troubled
by either.
What he wants with Cassandra is
another matter.
He says he has plans.
Incredible ones.
Cassandra has not agreed
to any plans.
This will surprise absolutely no one.
Incredible plans
“Darling, you look terrible.”
I heard the voice before I saw the man
it belonged to.
When I looked up, I saw him.
Attractive. Black hair. Green eyes.
A smile that held the perfect balance
between confidence and challenge.
He was impeccably dressed, his suit
fitting him like a second skin.
“Excuse me?” I said, raising my
eyebrows.
He sat down opposite me, took a sip
from my coffee and looked at me again.
His voice was deep and melodic.
“Terrible, Cassandra. I am really sad
to see this.”
He knew me.
But I did not know him.
“Oh, of course you do,” he answered,
smiling as if I had spoken aloud.
He leaned a little closer. “I am HIM.”
I stared at him.
“HIM,” I repeated, using the same tone.
God, that man had charm.
He smiled at me as if there was nothing
more important in the world than me in
that moment.
I could get lost in those eyes, I thought,
and immediately cleared my throat to
concentrate again.
“Who are you?” I asked calmly.
“The one no one wants to meet. Yet
here I am. With you.”
He smiled, satisfied.
“One of my favourites.”
I leaned back a little.
“Guess it,” he said. “I want to hear it
from your lips.”
The way he said it sounded almost like
a love declaration.
I observed him carefully and felt the
hairs on the back of my neck rise.
“You know,” he said, charmingly
recognising this.
“Yes.” I breathed out slowly.
“The Lightbringer.”
“Fair point, darling. And well
appreciated, that name.”
He took my hand and kissed it.
“A pleasure, Cassandra. I have been
waiting for this for a very long time.”
I looked at him and needed a moment.
“Very long,” I echoed.
His smile changed slightly.
“Oh yes.”
“Why?”
“I like you.”
He leaned back in his chair.
“I was beginning to worry.” he said
slowly and sipping at my coffee.
“About what?” i asked, still trying to
process who he really was.
“That dreadful look on your face.”
I stared at him.
“What look?”
“The one that says you are about to
make something terribly complicated
that is actually quite simple.”
“You have known me for three minutes.”
He smiled.
“Darling. I have known you considerably
longer than that.”
I swallowed.
“I am not sure that is a good thing.”
He chuckled, and even that sound
was melodic.
“That is the best thing
you can hope for.”
He was not joking.
He meant it.
“One of my favourites. I told you. Do
you know why?”
He paused and ordered champagne,
then did not continue.
Eventually, I gave in.
“Why?”
He smiled again. One finger almost
brushed my cheek.
He leaned towards me and looked
directly into my eyes.
“Stubborn. Determined, always close to
obsession. Soft-hearted. Rebellious.
Shameless in any matter where it
counts.”
He smirked.
“Reminds me of myself.”
I still stared at him.
There were several things wrong with
that statement.
The most irritating one was that I was
not entirely offended.
“Close to obsession?”
He smiled.
“That is the part you are objecting to?”
The champagne arrived.
Of course it did.
He raised his glass.
“To the woman I have great plans with.
Incredible plans.”
I held my glass and simply looked at
him.
“Afraid, darling? No need. I am here to
bring you some light.”
He looked at me as if I were food.
“I just need a little shadow for it.”
I slowly put the champagne glass down.
“My shadow.”
“Yes.” he smiled charmingly at me.
“For your plans.”
“Our plans.”
“I do not remember agreeing to any
plans.”
His smile widened.
“Our plans,” he said again.
“Stop saying that.”
“I could not possibly.” he tucked a
strain of my hair behind my ear.
“And stop drinking my coffee.” i said a
bit helpless.
While smiling he looked at the cup in
his hand.
“You were not enjoying it.”
“That is not the point.” I said slowly.
“Oh, Cassandra.”
He leaned closer.
“That is very much the point.”
“Ah. The enjoy-everything-forbidden
thing,” I said.
“God, no. That is not it. You all do that
far better than I ever could.”
He had noticed that I had flinched
slightly at the word *God*.
He smiled.
“Work agreement,” he murmured. “Well
paid. Nice benefits. No team.
I prefer that.”
He smirked again.
“No forbidden things. You all give me
far too much credit.”
“For what?” I asked irritated.
“Almost everything.”
He took another sip of my coffee.
“Lust. Greed. Jealousy. Betrayal.
Bad decisions after midnight.”
“You had nothing to do with those?” my
tone was sceptical.
“Oh, I have attended.”
He smiled.
“But attendance and organisation are
very different things.”
“And now you are attending?” I asked.
Finally, I took a sip from the
champagne.
He approved with a satisfied smile.
“With you? Gods forbid.”
He laughed charmingly, and it
sounded almost like a male siren song.
Then he looked around the café,
as if checking whether anyone might
be listening, before returning his green
eyes to mine.
“What do you need?”
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
His smile became unbearably satisfied.
“Oh dear.”
“Don’t.” I held up my hand.
“I have not said anything.” he replied.
“Your face has.”
“My face is magnificent,” he said lightly.
Unfortunately, it was.
“The woman who fought her whole life,”
he continued.
“For others. For herself. Against
shadows and monsters.
And who still does not know what she
really needs.”
He paused, then brushed my cheek.
Electricity moved through my body.
“This one is for free,” he said softly. “The
next ones will not be.”
He placed a finger beneath my chin,
soft but firm.
“More,” he said. “You want more.”
I was painfully aware of his touch and
tried to move away from it.
But he held me with his eyes. They had
become a little greener now.
I started blushing and hated myself for
it in that moment.
He had me.
And I knew it.
“More,” I repeated, buying time. “Always
comes with a price.”
His thumb moved along my jawline.
“Not for me.”
Finally, he let me go.
“You look better now,” he said. “Your
cheeks are nearly rosy.
Alive. Hungry.”
I was not sure whether he meant me
or himself.
“I do not want to pay any price,”
I finally said.
He laughed out loud.
“You have credit. Free shopping.”
Then, more quietly:
“Now or never, Cassandra.
What do you need?”
I looked at him, waiting for him
to say more.
But he remained silent.
He simply watched me.
My thoughts were racing.
I knew the profundity of the moment.
I knew I needed to give him an answer.
I was just not sure what that answer
was.
Then he did something unexpected.
He took my face in his hands and
kissed me.
It was not a soft or romantic kiss. It was
hungry. Deep.
As if nothing else mattered anymore.
I should have stopped him.
But I did not.
I fell into the kiss.
When we parted, he looked calm.
His forehead rested against mine, and
his voice vibrated softly between us.
“Now,” he said. “Do not think. Now.”
Before I could stop myself, the words
came out of my mouth.
“No boundaries that I have put
around me.”
I did not even know what it meant.
Or why I had said it.
He moved back in his chair.
“Very well,” he said.
Then he added, “Incredible.”
“Be specific,” he said, sipping
his champagne.
“No, that is not a contract. I do not deal
in those. I need you to say it.
That is all.”
But I could not help noticing
something he had not said.
It was intuition.
He was testing me.
“Testing me.” he murrmured.
His glass stopped halfway to his lips.
For the first time since he had sat
down, his expression gave me
absolutely nothing.
“Am I wrong?”
He took a sip.
“Be specific, Cassandra.”
“You did not answer.” I said.
“Neither did you.” he said with his
charming smile.
I looked at him for a moment.
“Let me tell you a little story about a
girl in a shitty palace, strange parents
and questionable ancestors.
She thought being worthy of whatever
it was could only be achieved by being
extraordinary.
So she tried that.”
He raised one eyebrow.
“Turns out that’s quite exhausting.
She became a queen,
and after a while,
that was exhausting too.”
I paused.
“She tried being strong, soft, neutral.
All of it failed.”
I looked at him.
“There was only one thing left:
becoming herself.
Spoiler alert - she was used to making
herself bigger or smaller, depending on
the occasion. Never simply herself.”
He watched me closely but to my
surprise still stayed silent.
“She called it control. She called it
being careful. She called it strength.”
My fingers tightened around the
champagne glass.
“But it was fear.”
His mouth curved slowly.
“Now that is more interesting.”
he finally said.
“Fear of being a burden.
Fear of not being wanted.
Fear of being too different
and wanting too much.”
He leaned back in his chair,
looking at me as if he had been
waiting for exactly those words.
“There she is.”
I breathed in.
“There is something in me.
Not golden light. Green, maybe.
Fiery. Alive.
It wants things. It takes space.
And I have spent years
trying to make it quieter,
softer, more acceptable.”
His green eyes brightened.
“I do not want it to become a weapon.
But I do not want to cage it either.”
His smile changed.
Not softer.
Sharper.
“Do not make it pretty, darling.”
I looked at him.
“You are asking for desire.
For hunger. For more.
For the freedom to want without
apologising for it.”
My voice was a little rough.
He tilted his head.
“Say it, Cassandra.”
For a moment, I hated him.
Then I looked straight into his eyes.
“Yes. All of it. And more.
The freedom to let it live and be free,”
I said. “Without fear choosing for me.”
“Very good.”
I waited.
“That’s it?” i said after a longer pause.
His smile slowly returned.
“Oh no, darling.”
He raised his glass.
“That’s the order.”
I stared at him.
“Now comes delivery.”
He chuckled.
“One question.”
And smirked when he saw my surprise.
“Who is the master of fear?”
His hands moved through his dark hair
as he looked at me.
“Me,” I replied instantly.
“Are you?” he asked.
“I should be,” I murmured.
“Not what I asked.”
He smiled and took another sip of
champagne.
Then he brushed my cheek again and
held my chin gently while looking into
my eyes.
“Delivery time, Cassandra.”
His voice was low.
“It is choice. Fear can tell you
all sorts of things.
But it cannot choose.”
He leaned back and smiled brightly.
“You can.”
I looked at him for a moment.
“Your incredible plans?”
His smile widened.
“Oh, those.”
I waited.
He finished his champagne.
“They started today.
Just the beginning.”
He paused for a second.
“I see you - always, darling.”
I did not know why he chose
exactly those words.
But he had.
Knowing very well what they
meant to me.
“You know the wings are overrated,”
he continued, winking at me.
“But one never knows for sure.”
Then he rose from his chair,
kissed my cheek and walked elegantly
towards a car waiting for him.
I remained where I was.
For a moment, my hands seemed
to be surrounded by green fire.
And somewhere in the distance,
I could still hear his laugh.
And his voice, saying:
“Incredible plans, darling.”
DESIRE
XV — The Devil
Of course.
The Devil.
Finally.
He'll be pleased.
Lucifer.
The Lightbringer.
Morning Star.
Tempter. Rebel. Adversary.
Humans have given him an impressive
collection of responsibilities over the
centuries.
Lust.
Greed.
Jealousy.
Betrayal.
Bad decisions after midnight.
He maintains he merely attends.
For once, he's right.
Desire doesn't need him to create it.
Humans have been managing that
perfectly well on their own.
He watches.
Encourages, occasionally.
Provokes, certainly.
And appears to enjoy the view.
Which brings us to Cassandra.
Naturally.
He asks her what she needs.
Nothing.
Complete system failure.
Eventually Cassandra arrives at:
More.
There she is.
Desire.
Not temptation.
Not something offered from the
outside.
Something already there
asking to be admitted.
The Devil seems delighted.
Of course he does.
There is apparently no contract.
No soul.
No eternal damnation.
Hell has introduced free shopping.
I wasn't consulted.
Then again, he stole her coffee.
So let's not rehabilitate him entirely.
And apparently fear gets an opinion.
Choice gets the vote.
Useful.
Rebellious recognises rebellious.
I wouldn't tell either of them that.
They'd become insufferable.
But there is something else.
He tells Cassandra he's known her
for considerably longer than she
thinks.
Remember.
He attends.
Which makes what happens next
rather more interesting.
I see you - always, darling.
Again.
And he knows exactly
what those words mean.
Then, almost as an afterthought:
The wings are overrated.
Yes.
Those wings.
So.
The Devil has been paying attention.
For quite some time, apparently.
The question isn't whether he was
behind any of it.
He wasn't.
The question is why he's so interested.
He says he has incredible plans.
Apparently they've already begun.
How reassuring.
He is the Devil, after all.
