Tracy spent his weekend as far away from his new apartment as possible, returning only when night came and slinking up to his room to sleep. It didn’t matter that figuring out how was getting a little easier (assuming he wasn’t just getting used to it). It wasn’t just about the discomfort; it was the principle of the place. Whatever demonic deal kept him living there, he would follow its terms as little as possible.
When Monday finally arrived, Tracy’s return from work brought the first real good news: the verification letter in his mailbox. He filled the thing out in his car, then stashed it in his glovebox for the next day. That’s everything I needed from the apartment. Where I live now doesn’t even matter, so long as I keep paying the Devil his due.
Would he really sleep in his car and eat at the work cafeteria for three months?
Yes, in fact. Goodbye horse curse. Goodbye insane roommate who thinks that Thanos is real. Enjoy your time in horse hell, I’ve just finished serving mine.
He didn’t even bother waiting until Rose would be at work to head inside, marching straight past her and up the stairs to his bedroom. It was still basically in cardboard boxes, which didn’t help the process. But he was too excited to care. He packed up his clothes first, enough that he felt confident no one at work would complain about the smell again. Toiletries, sleeping bag… what else did someone need to live out of their car?
He didn’t really bother trying to organize anything so much as he just crammed it into the bag as tightly as he could. He could always reorganize once he was settled in.
Tracy emerged from his bedroom dragging the bag more than carrying it. He didn’t even care that it had changed into a set of saddlebags and could probably be worn just fine on his back. He wouldn’t be back here, not until the nightmare of moving all that stuff when his contract was up. That was a problem for future Tracy, he wouldn’t dwell on it now.
Rose was still downstairs, slumped over a table scattered with papers and binders. There were bags under her eyes, as though she’d been working there all night and only his noise had startled her. “W-what?” She glanced between the bag and Tracy, confused. “Are you going camping or something?”
He nodded. “Yep. Extended stay automobile camping. Only the finest in illegal city squatting until this curse expires. Thank you for…” He shrugged one wing. “Well, you’ll probably have the place to yourself for a while. Hopefully a very long while. I guess that’s a good thing, right? More privacy, more house parties… whatever you’re into.”
He didn’t even wait for her response, turning for the inner door. A few steps later he was standing on the sidewalk, back on two legs.
Tracy smiled to himself, satisfied. The Devil had tried to steal his soul, but the Devil could be beaten. Too bad he didn’t have a fiddle; the entire process might’ve been faster.
His footsteps slowed as he reached the front of the car, noticing something tucked under the windshield wiper that certainly shouldn’t have been there. Someone with as little disposable income as Tracy knew well how to avoid wasting any of it on things like these. Yet here it was—a parking ticket. One he certainly couldn’t deserve.
“Parking in red zone,” said the ticket. Apparently the last two inches of his bumper counted as “parked” in the red zone. He wanted to crumple the sheet and throw it away—but that wouldn’t actually help. They had all his information now, and it wasn’t like he was leaving the city anyway. Well that’s sixty dollars I didn’t need I guess.
He tried to force a smile as he got back in, jamming the ticket away in a pocket. He was free of horse-land, it was still reason to celebrate! Just because there were a few bumps on the road to freedom didn’t mean he shouldn’t enjoy the relief soon to come.
He settled into the driver’s seat, ignoring the vibration in his pocket. He could worry about whoever was texting him later. He was free. How do I spend my human Monday night? Really it was just about finding a place to sleep, since he had to wake up for work the next day. That auto shop hadn’t cared he parked nearby, maybe he’d go there again. Tracy twisted the key. Instead of starting smoothly, the engine made a sound halfway between a scream of pain and a thousand gear shafts dying. Half the warning lights on his dashboard all came on, flashing at random.
Dammit. Tracy slumped into the steering wheel, so much the hard plastic deformed. What did I do to deserve this? His mind raced through the implications—he’d need to uber to work, which would mean even less money. Then there was getting his car fixed, and the ticket… why did all of this have to happen at once?
Maybe I can fix it myself?
He finally pulled out his phone, which still had a text message waiting on screen for him. It wasn’t from his friends back home, or even any of the new ones he was making at work. This one was… from his landlord?
“Friendly suggestion: Read the 24th section of the lease agreement. -D”
“Friendly suggestion: go fuck yourself,” he whispered into the empty car. He wasn’t quite brave enough to type it. The Devil was already screwing him, the least he needed right now was to piss him off.
This can’t be related, right? He probably just wants to make sure I’m going to pay rent on time or something.
He spent a few minutes searching for the specific pattern of warning lights on his dash, without much success. The cellular connection had been fine before, but just now he wasn’t getting much of a signal. After waiting nearly two straight minutes for a YouTube video to start playing—only for it to go back to buffering a few seconds later—Tracy finally slumped back into the seat.
If he can doom me to horse town, he might know something about this. I should probably check just to be sure. It wasn’t anything specific, just an assortment of entirely disconnected bad luck. Right?
His backpack was here, since he’d be using it at work. Tracy fumbled around with the zipper for a moment, before opening the back and pulling out the crumpled sheets of the lease.
There on the second to last page, in print so small he had to squint, was the 24th section. “Agent is entitled to use any means to ensure leasee utilizes the property as their primary residence, with an escalating level of severity as infractions continue. General misfortune and entropic acceleration will gradually escalate to illness, dismemberment, loss of major limbs, disorientation, disfigurement, and general destruction of means.”
“What the hell?” he texted back, hands shaking. “You can’t do this!”
“I already have,” came the response, almost instantly. “You signed it. I don’t suggest trying to manipulate your contract in any other ways, Tracy. I’m free to manipulate whatever I wish; it comes with the occupation. If you want the protection of your contract, honor it.”
Tracy smacked his phone down into the empty seat beside him, taking several deep, slow breaths. Of course he wanted to defy Discord’s command and flee his apartment anyway. There had to be some way for him to escape, right? That stuff was probably just there to scare him. Loss of major limbs, really?
But considering every other power this demon wielded against him, was it rational to think that things couldn’t just keep getting worse if he tried to run?
I don’t want to live in there, but so long as I’m still using it as my residence, he won’t do anything to me. It wasn’t what he wanted, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. He just had to sleep there, and get his mail there. He could still avoid the apartment as much as he pleased.
He knew the instant I tried escaping. I really need to sit down and pick apart this contract. What else did I sign up for without realizing? But he wouldn’t sit out here and do it, or else things would probably keep getting worse.
Now I’m going to look like an idiot to that horse-girl. At least she was just a horse, so he didn’t care if she thought poorly of him. Obviously, because he didn’t.
Tracy groaned, then finally rose, gathering up all his crap and taking his short walk of shame back to the duplex. He hadn’t even locked the door, so it opened in seconds, a yawning maw opening wide to swallow his humanity whole. Yet sunlight streamed in from over there, almost painfully cheerful compared to the coastal smog on his side. I have to do a year of this.
People survived prison, didn’t they? They’d survived things even worse in some parts of the world. If they could do that without complaint, then Tracy could survive sleeping as a horse for a year. Either that, or declare a war I probably can’t win against a god.
He stepped through, feeling the strange rush as his body shifted down to four legs. It probably should’ve been an incomparable agony, changing that way. But whatever pain might’ve been expected, it didn’t come. And I don’t want it to start, do I? That contract did talk about loss of major limbs. In a way, that already happened. Every time he stepped through the door, he lost his hands, becoming basically crippled. Maybe he should do some research into how humans with a similar disability got things done.
Then he realized Roseluck was staring.
He hadn’t shut the inner door, after all. He hadn’t really cared what she thought, since leaving was his entire purpose. That meant she had a clear view straight down the hall to where he’d walked in from the world outside. She’d seen his actual face. At least she didn’t see me actually naked.
He spun back around, pulling the door closed and taking his time in locking it. He didn’t usually do that, but—maybe a little delay would stop her from screaming.
He turned, dragging the duffel bag back through the opening. “Car troubles. I’ll… have to call a mechanic, but they’re all closed already. Unless you know any good mechanics on your end.”
He stopped in the inner doorway, meeting her eyes with an awkward smile. Of course he didn’t really expect anything out of her, but asking was deeply satisfying anyway. Let her be the one to feel awkward for a change.
Roseluck stood, scattering papers from the table as she backed away from him. “I-I… you… outside…”
“Yeah.” He nodded over his shoulder. “That’s how the door works. I don’t want to call it magic, but I’m not sure what else it could be. Some kind of… Link Between Worlds.” He grinned, but apparently she didn’t care for references either.
“Oh.” She shivered, retreating a few more steps. “Y-you’re… you’re not a night guard?”
He shook his head. “God, no. What an awful job that would be. I might have gone to a crummy community college, but I still plan on doing more than that with my life.”
She turned, then darted for the door as fast as she could gallop. She didn’t stop to lock it on that side either—as far as he knew, that door didn’t even have a lock.
He watched her go, then turned back to the stairs. He still had to get all his stuff back up. And maybe I’ll read over that whole contract before bed, just to be sure.