Costume Not Included by Matthew Hughes

"The last time we spoke," he said, "there was talk about a book."
      "I remember. You didn't care for the idea."
      "I still don't."
      Chesney waited. He couldn't imagine the Devil being stuck for words, but that was the impression he was receiving. Lucifer seemed to be wrestling with something he wanted, and didn't want, to say.
      Eventually, the Devil said, "You thought that all this," he gestured in a way that included more than the mist they stood in, "was part of a book that…" Satan couldn't bring himself to say the name, "that's being written."
      "Actually," said Chesney, "it was the Reverend Billy Lee Hardacre's idea."
      One tapered-fingered hand made a gesture of irritation. "But you know about it."
      "As much as he's told me about it," said the young man. "It's not something I'm particularly interested in."
      "Not one of your 'pools of light.'"
      "So you know about that, too?"
      Satan fixed him with a hard look. Chesney was glad he'd worked his way up to a point where he could bear such a stare from his mother; it made meeting the Devil's gaze less of a challenge. "Oh," said Lucifer, "I've made a point of getting to know you."
      "Why's that?" Chesney said.
      "We'll come to that, in due course. First, tell me what you know about the… book."
      "You're probably not used to this kind of question," said the young man, "but why should I?"
      He had the impression that Satan had thought out their conversation in advance. That was a technique his mother had applied to the interrogations she used to inflict upon him before he left home; policemen did it, too. Even so, his question caused the satanic jaw to tighten and the satanic eyes to narrow. It was a moment before the Devil answered. "Is this," he said, "a negotiation?"
      Chesney shook his head. "I thought we'd established that I have no interest in any of the kinds of contracts you make."
      "We have."
      "Then what am I doing here?" When there was no immediate answer, he said, "You're not trying to ask me for help?"
      Pride was the Devil's everything, Chesney knew, and he also knew he had just trodden upon it. He again waited while the jaw and eyes went through their permutations.
      "I am trying to discover," Satan said at last, "if you and I have a common interest."
      "I fight crime. You inspire criminals. Where in that would you look for a common interest?"
      "Nowhere. But, still, we may have a common problem."
      Chesney thought of his mother, then felt guilty for having done so. "Speak plainly," he said.
      "Someone is trying to make you do things you don't want to do," said Lucifer. "That was always the nub of my problem, too."
      Chesney made a show of thinking about it, but after a moment it wasn't just a show. The Devil seemed to know what he was thinking and weighed in with the next brick in the wall. "And it may be that we're talking about the same 'someone.'"
      "You're not allowed to tempt me," Chesney said.
      "I'm not trying to. Your soul is not in play."
      "So what do you want, and what are you offering?"
      "A partnership," Satan said. "Or call it an alliance."
      "To what end?"
      "To find out what this book business is all about. After that, we can reassess our positions."
      "But you were there," Chesney said, "when Hardacre explained it."
      "I know." Lucifer's face took on an expression that Chesney was now sure could only be described as worried. "That's what bothers me. I can't recall exactly what was said." The thin black brows drew down to form a perfect vee. "And I recall everything ."
      "You don't recall the meeting?"
      "I do, and I don't. It's…" – the jaw clenched and unclenched – "vague."
      Chesney could see no reason not to tell Lucifer something the Devil ought to know already. "The reverend has this theory," he said, "that the universe, including Heaven and Hell, you and me and everybody, are all part of a book that…" He hesitated, until