My sire's favourite lesson, as he poured me rose petal tea through his best octopus teapot, was, "with privilege comes certain obligations."

"The first and most important obligation, is to start the day with a cup of tea." At his words, we would lift our cups synchronously and take a delicate slip of the steaming liquid.

"We must never help anybody. Not the Reapers. Not the Cupids. Not the Angels. Not even fellow Demons. And certainly, never the Humans. In fact, if an action is even likely to helpful, we must reverse it straight away."

"And we must never, ever, let civilization have the last laugh."

The self-evident tone in which he said such things never did lend itself to question, so I was never brave enough to ask him what he meant by the last one. When I was ready, my sire sent me to the Realm of Man, where I diligently set up a gardening centre on the busiest street in the busiest business district I could find. Narrow roads. Terrible parking. Thick crowds of well-dressed pedestrians perpetually hurrying to dead end jobs. The smell of exhaust mixing with the indignant squawks of entitled Humans.

Not a day goes by where an exasperated real estate agent doesn't try to convince me to sell my shop. A landscaping and garden supply centre was of no use in a concrete jungle where the sparse patches of green were maintained by the city council. And did I sell small potted herbs for people's small window sills? No. Did I stock pleasant indoor plants to brighten up offices and improve workplace productivity? Heck no. But on any given day you could pick up a 50kg bag of manure for a bargain and my shelves were stocked with indoor hybrids that were guaranteed to induce hay fever in all but the hardiest survivalist.

Once the shop was set up in the morning (with easel signs on the sidewalk to block and trip pedestrians, of course), I spent most of my day sitting in the swinging garden chair beside the counter, thinking of new ways to rob Humans of their sense of safety and wellbeing. Everything comes from Chaos, after all, and to Chaos we must return.

When I finally became aware of the customer vying for my attention, he was shouting and red in the face.

"-can't believe that I've been ignored-"

"Oh, hello. I'm sorry but the store is closed," I drawl while giving him the once over.

There was only one really interesting thing about him, which was that his black business jacket had a hood hanging from the back. Other than that, he had unremarkable features and a forgettable face.

"Your sign says that you're open!" The man said with fury contained. He wasn't shouting anymore, but the way he held it back only made his words louder.

"Ah, I suppose it does," I sigh. "I'm not sure how helpful I'm going to be though."

"I need to redesign a garden."

"Your garden?"

"Does it matter?"

I shrug. "I don't think I can help you."

The man's eyes bulged. "But your sign also says ingenious landscaping solutions!"

"Oh no," I say emphatically. "I'm not that sort of landscaper. I'm an internal landscape specialist."

"What is that?"

"I have no idea," I answer in the same tone. "I just made it up."

The man scowled. "I knew it. Wraith told me about your kind."

Something about the way he said it made me give him a second look. Under closer scrutiny, his appearance was every bit as plain, but there was something subtly un-Human about this man. Somewhere between the sense of sound and smell there lay the faint scent of something sweet and electric fluttering.

A Reaper. Death's retainer.

"I don't think I like your tone," I said quietly. For the first time in a long time, I felt a tiny vine of fear wrap around my chest and from it grew a bud of curiosity. What was a Reaper doing in my shop? And how did he know who I was? Wait, did he know who I was?

"There's only one way to deal with you people." He crossed his arms and looked down his nose at me. His next words confirmed my suspicions. "Let's make a wager then."

My lips pulled back in an involuntary grin so wide that my pointed canines peaked between my lips. A flash of doubt crossed the Reaper's eyes, quickly swallowed again by determination and contempt for my kind.

Demons can't refuse wagers. We just can't. Don't ask me why. It must be a part of our conditioning. The mere mention of a wager made my hearts beat faster and my blood blister. I could feel madness quickly overtaking my usually calm and rational mind. It was all I could do to remember my sire's words about it.

The feeling will take you whole, grind you up, and spit you out. There's no way to turn it off, so you must use it. Lean into the fire, Alcindor, and make them regret their proposition.

I stood.

The promise of a wager were fish hooks that sunk into my joints and pulled me up from my seat.

The Reaper took a step back as I stood. He cleared his throat. "There's a garden party on the rooftop of the Zenith Building tomorrow night, but the setting is rather sparse. The building owner is looking to redecorate." Seeing the look on my face, he said quickly, "the wager is that you will not be able to do it with the following specifications."

He drew out a crisp sheet of paper with a neat dot-point list. As he offered it to me, I snatched it from his hands and devoured the words.

Daisies. Chrysanthemums. Juniper. Wisteria. Wattles.

The list made hysterical laughter froth from me. What was this Reaper thinking? Who did he think I was? Of course I could plant these in a rooftop garden before tomorrow night!

"And if I do?" I asked between giggles.

"Then you win," the Reaper said.

I wagged my finger at him. "Nuh uh uh. There has to be terms. There's always terms. If you can't think of any, then-"

"If you win," the Reaper said quickly, "I'll give you my first born child."

His proposition earned him a flat glare. We both knew he wasn't human, but he was trying to bargain like one. Reapers didn't have children. They didn't have souls either. He would have to make the wager enticing in other ways.

"Fine." He seemed annoyed and embarrassed at being caught out. How stupid does he think I was? "Fine. If you win, then… I'll… I'll give you a Key."

My eyes narrowed in satisfaction. "That's more like it," I purred.

Perhaps one in a billion souls contained a Key, and they were delicate, brittle things. For a Reaper to offer a Demon a Key was highly irregular, for each Key unlocked a single Truth of the Universe. If the corresponding Key was lost or broken, the piece of Truth was gone forever.

I reached my hand out to him and he looked uneasy, but he took it. He shuddered as he felt the wager soak under his skin. Breaking it would make his blood boil.

I waited for him to leave before leaping into action. I didn't want him to think that I would be overextending myself in any way, but all the same, I needed to hurry to get the job done in time.

I expected there to be a catch; some sort of hidden trial. But the building security let me park my car in the loading bay and ushered me to the building manager, who was expecting me. She wore a flattering teal dress with pink shoes and matching lipstick. Her black hair was swept into an elegant bun. There was a look to her that suggested that she was very determined. Perhaps the sort that might be willing to sell her soul or her firstborn, but not the kind of soul to contain a Key. Too conventional.

"I was told that you could weave miracles," she said as we rode the private elevator up to the roof.

"That's not exactly in my field of expertise."

As we stepped out onto the rooftop, I realised that the Reaper hadn't been too honest. There wasn't a garden per se, there were some plants in pots, a pergola, and an infinity pool. When she turned away, I bared my fangs in a humourless smile.

"We've been selected for the venue of the Eden awards this year, and everything must be perfect," she said as she gestured to the 'garden' and the city skyline beyond. "To welcome the most brilliant and minds in the field of epigenetics, only the best will do."

She turned abruptly to me, her gaze sharp. "Miracle worker or not, I expect you to deliver."

"Oh, don't worry, Human. You'll have your garden, and I'll have my Key."

"What did you say?"

"With my acumen, you'll have your garden, it's a business guarantee."

"…"

Strangely, she was reluctant to leave me to my devices, but I insisted that I did my best thinking alone, and time was ticking. Truth was, that I needed to open a portal through Hell, which involved me catching and slaughtering a pigeon. It wasn't at all graceful, but once the deed was done, I had a shortcut back to the supplies of my shop as well as my stores faster than an Seraph could fly. But even working consistently, I laboured through the night. The thought of the wage with the Reaper kept me burning bright.

If there was one thing Demons didn't want made public knowledge, it was that wagers sent us a bit mad. We're usually pretty clever creatures. Cultured even, in our own way. History books would have the world believe that we spend most of our time burning down cities and poking sharp objects at Humans, but that's stuff only happens because some malicious fool proposed a wager. The feeling was hotter than fire, hotter than dread. It was almost impossible to think about anything else but fulfilling the task and winning.

The voice of cynicism in me, usually quite articulate, was drowned out by the maddening, joyous chorus of imminent victory. Luckily, this wasn't the first wager I had made. My sire and I had worked hard for years before I came to the Realm of Man.

As I worked, I strained again and again to hear out that voice inside me. It was like swimming against a rip tide. By dawn, I was mentally exhausted and no closer to sanity. Nevertheless, the garden was starting to look great.

When the pretty manager came to check in on me, I was having my obligatory tea under the pergola. Her mouth was agape as she took in the scene.

"How…" she came to sit opposite me.

I handed her a homely, clay-thrown mug of sencha which she took absently.

"It's not done yet," I said. "There's still much work to be done."

"And you said you weren't a miracle worker," she smiled.

"So why is this event so important?" I asked, changing the subject because I was uncomfortable at the mention of miracles twice in two days.

She gave me a flat look. "You don't know about the Eden project?"

"I know about an Eden project, but that was a long time ago."

Any respect I had garnered for my work so far evaporated into a muted disdain. "The Eden project is the effort of scientists around the globe to map out the epigenome; the schedule of interactions between environment and gene that causes gene expression."

Blah blah blah. Blah blah blah.

She continued, oblivious of my disinterest. "Dr Eva Jabloka herself will be attending."

When my expression clearly said that I didn't recognise the name, the manager's disdain turned into anger.

"She's practically at the doorstep of curing aggression!"

"Good for her." I finished off the rest of my tea and my mind was quickly drifting to other things. Could I coaxes a wisteria to flower under the pergola before nightfall? Would floating pots of chrysanthemum and candles in the pool be too much?

"Well, if you have no interest at all in the next step of human social evolution…"

"I don't."

For some reason, the manager left quickly after that. The reason didn't really matter, I suppose, because it allowed me to look over my work. I was certain to win the wager, of that I was sure, even though the Reaper had been tricksy.

But why did the Reaper want a garden on a rooftop?

It didn't matter. I was on track to winning.

Or did it?

My sire's words rang against the madness of the wager.

Make them regret their proposition.

Right. Of course. Certainly, it would be a big blow to a Reaper to lose a Key to a Demon, but the Reaper had seemed prepared to do so. He had come prepared for the wager.

Which meant, I was probably being used.

As soon as the thought lanced through me, I realised how obvious it had been the whole time! That damned Reaper had something to gain from this rooftop garden, but what? Reapers were the best of us at killing the Humans. It was their job and they were good at it. I remembered my first encounter with them on a frozen coast in Wales. The image of one lone Reaper, pale and sullen, with a mound of corpses beneath his feet, was seared forever into my mind. Since then, their methods had become more sophisticated of course, to keep up with the times, but their purpose remained the same. Rumour was, they even had a monthly quota.

So what did a Reaper have to gain from a rooftop garden?

It was hard to think with the fever of the wager coursing through me, but I finally forced myself to concentrate.

On a hunch, I pulled out my mobile phone and did a quick search. Yes, demons had phone. And yes, Demons used Google. Our searches were the reason why it comes up with obscure autocompletes such as 'Are mermaids… evil?' and 'is the… Batman real?'. Who else would need to know such things?

It took me a while to find the article that confirmed my suspicions, but once I did, the Reaper's agenda was clear.

I looked across my rooftop garden. Now that I knew the truth, there was much more work to do before dark.

"There's no rest for the wicked," I sighed.

The Reaper stormed into my store early the next morning and found me brewing tea in my Carlie Harper teapot.

"You!" He seethed.

"So rare that someone is eager to seek me out when they know that they've lost the wager," I sneered.

"What did you do?" the Reaper shouted, his face redder than when I first saw him, so red that he could have been a tomato.

"What do you mean?" I asked, anything but innocently.

"Eva Jablonka was meant to die!"

"Oh? That wasn't part of the wager." My eyes narrowed. "And you should have expected this the moment you tried to manipulate a Demon. Your carefully laid plans in tatters. Your just reward."

When one knew about Dr Jablonka's unfortunately combination of severe asthma and allergic rhinitis, the plants the Reaper specified made sense. Each plant in the garden was carefully chosen for its high pollen count, almost ensuring the death of the good scientist.

Once I knew that, naturally I felt compelled to remove ever single stamen from every flower on that rooftop, thus removing all threat that Dr Jablonka would die. Page five of the morning newspaper quoted her to say that the awards night was the most delightful one she had attended, despite a small setback that had occurred at the venue.

I held out my hand expectantly. "The Key, please."

The Reaper was speechless with baffled rage. Still, he had enough sense to hand over the promised item. It was thin and chalky, light like charcoal.

I twirled it between my fingers until it rested between my thumb and forefinger.

With barely any effort at all, I snapped it in half.

The sound was beyond satisfying.

When the Reaper left my store that day, it was with a lesson learned. Don't mess with Demons. Just don't.

Left again in my own sweet company, I finished brewing my tea and took it with the morning newspaper to my favourite sitting spot, the garden chair. I continued to read the story on page five. While the rooftop event had gone off without a hitch, the rest of the building had to be evacuated due to an air conditioning malfunction that spewed clouds of strange, powdery substance over everything. A sample of the substance in question had been sent off to the police laboratories where preliminary analysis had confirmed it to be organic.

I still didn't know what my sire meant when he said that we should not let civilisation have the last laugh, but I was pretty sure it wasn't laughing today. At least, not more so than I.

Augie's Note

So this was written for the April Labyrinth Contest. Not sure if it's going to go ahead yet. We need one more entrant. So if you have a story to tell, head on over to the 3K Writing Contest thread on the Labyrinth Forum and check out the writing prompt. If not April, please join us for the next one. If you liked this story, and would like to read some great entries, head on over to the above mentioned thread where links will be posted and you can read then vote for your favourite entry! The prompt this month was to write a character generated by a random character generator. I got Landscaper/Demon/Inventor. I'm not sure I got the inventor out that much, but I did have lots of fun writing the story.

No doubt I will read through and find many errors which I will fix up over the coming months.

Until next time.

Augs.

21/05/17 - Edited some of the erratic changes in tense. Thanks TR. Since writing my nano story last year in present tense, I've found myself slipping into it. Also, Eva Jablonka is a real geneticist. I had the good fortune of attending one of her talks and the work she does really is amazing, but I made the aggression and the hay fever/asthma stuff up. I seem to have it in for scientists.