Conviction

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====== Pessenta ======
They say you'll damn yourself---you're already in Hell. They say it'll only end in tears---you've long since run out. They say they'll take more than you offered---there's nothing you wouldn't pay to make him hurt.

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You know witchcraft is possible. There was an execution in the news just last year. What you can't quite work out is how. Any conversation you have to find a demon or make a deal, God would hear. You can stand the risk to yourself, there's nothing the Commission could do to you that's worse than what he already did, but you can't take the risk that they'll stop you getting your revenge, so you have to be careful.

It takes a year to get there. A year of conversations with no words, of smuggled fragmentary demonology texts from God knows where, of associates who don't show up one day, never to be enquired after. Your security clearance is limited in scope, and ultimately of little help. You had hoped a demon would approach you at some point, thinking perhaps that's how all witch relationships must start, but evidently Hell's surveillance is no better than Heaven's is.

When you finally find the secret, you could almost laugh at how simple it is. (You don't. You've long since gotten used to suppressing the impulse to speak.) A prayer to a demon will not be overheard by God. You already have your demon picked out.

After thoroughly checking you won't be overheard by mortal means either, you begin.

"Fnshn. I want to make a deal."

For a tense moment you think the prayer has failed and you're about to be arrested, but then the reply appears in your mind.

"What do you need?"

"There's a man in prison who deserves to be damned. You can have my soul too, just make sure he goes to Hell."

"Your soul? I'll hear you out. First, summon me so we can meet face to face."

Following the demon's instructions, you smash the clock on your wall. There's a knock on the door. You hurriedly clear away the debris and hide the book, and take a moment to compose yourself before answering. It's someone you don't recognise. You're silent.

"Is that any way to greet someone you just invited in? An honored immortal guest no less? Sheesh, you really need to work on your poker face if you're going to get far as a witch."

They walk right past you into your house, take a look around, and flop casually onto your sofa as if they weren't the embodiment of evil.

"So, what were you gonna pay? Souls are nice, but yours was already forfeit as soon as you brought me here. Murder and mayhem are traditional, but I'm open to an interesting offer."

"Fnshn, I have secrets for you. Official secrets about suppressed technology. Things they don't even want other humans to know."

"Very interesting, yes, I'm open to the possibility, but it has to be something I don't already know of, so you'll have to tell me first, what is it?"

"Fnshn, It's..." You're already past the point of no return. No point in hesitating now. "...a bomb. We think it is possible to build a bomb that would be far more powerful than anything that exists, about 100TJ from a single device. Powerful enough to destroy a whole city. It's made of uranium, sort of like a nuclear reactor that releases all its energy at once."

The demon is leaning forwards now, staring at you intently with a hungry look. "For this, I would damn Tabaga himself. You have a deal. For this bomb, I will drag your enemy to Hell, and inflict upon him whatever torments you desire."

"Fnshn, I'm sorry, you misunderstand. I can't build it myself, I can only tell you how it's done."

"Why not?"

"Fnshn, the cost is enormous."

"I'll fund it."

"Fnshn, it requires things money can't buy. Uranium supplies are closely monitored."

"Not a problem." They hold out their hand, and a dark, crumbling rock grows from their palm.

Recognising the mineral, you recoil. Intellectually you know that the demon is far more dangerous, but you've been having radiation safety drilled into you your whole career, and this is far from the required procedure.

"Scared of a little rock are you? I can see why. These things are no good. Still, nothing compared to what you're gonna build me." They take a fragment of the rock in their other hand, crush it between their fingers, and hold it out to you. "Here. Eat it."

"Fnshn, is that uraniite?"

"Yes."

"Fnshn, that'll kill me."

"Before you have time to build the bomb?"

"...Maybe."

"Well consider it a test of your commitment."

You let them drop the powder in your hand, wincing a little. You did swear you'd pay anything. You eat the rock.

------

You don't know what hold the demons have on the rest of your cabal, but there are nine of you now, working away in your secret lab. Some work with hollow eyes and haunted expressions, some with feverish intensity. Personally your face shows whatever you need it to, which when you're in the lab, is nothing. Fnshn was serious about your poker face apparently, and after bringing in another demon, they had Ksl fix it for you. You still need to maintain your normal life in addition to the bomb research, to avoid arousing suspicion. Normally that would leave you no time for sleep, but Ksl fixed that too. Some of the other witches just live in the lab permanently, working at all times of day and night. It's a difficult project, certainly, but with your dedication, and the demons' help, it's proceeding faster than you would have thought possible.

------

There's a flash of light, growing from blinding to incinerating, and then, damnation.

------

You were expecting the torture. Being in Hell, and seeing that he's not here, is worse.