Thanks to my rash action, I was stuck in Caitlin's body. More accurately, I was trapped in a body that was a dead ringer for Caitlin. The lady herself was still leaping in the fields of Slumberland, blissfully unaware of how close she'd been to having a demon of Covet as an enemy.
Since that would've been my fault, I was sort of glad things didn't turn out that way. I might have felt obligated to make things right. Not because I liked Caitlin (I did) or thought of her as a friend (I didn't) but because that would have broken one of the Ten Great Rules. Paraphrasing Rule No. 3, demons could fuck with mortals only if said mortals were slated for Hell, or begged a favor of Hell, or courted the demons of Hell. Caitlin didn't fit any of those categories. Worse, technically she was protected by the Hecate. Smart demons didn't piss off goddesses, period.
I touched my flesh beneath the gem and blew out a relieved sigh when I found the skin unmarred. Mental note: Even if it feels like you're in the Lake of Fire, your body doesn't burn from contact with an active shieldstone.
Mental note, part two: Never ever, ever remove the Shield Against Evil.
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to stand. The demon had been right—I reeked of sex. Couldn't help it; it was an aftereffect of using my power on Caitlin before I drank her vomit-worthy potion.
Right. First things first: Time to bathe.
It took me a few minutes to find which room had the bath (none), and a bit longer to figure out the shower stall. I'd taken my fair share of showers in my time, but they'd all been for (and with) clients. They'd never been about getting clean, just wet. After learning the hard way that twisting the single knob all the way meant scorchingly hot water, I adjusted the temperature, reviewed the various soaping options, and grabbed two dark blue towels from the small closet outside the bathroom. Then I proceeded to take a delicious shower, staying under the water until my skin wrinkled.
Mental note, part three: Showers aren't just for sex.
Toweling dry, I pawed through Caitlin's various toiletries and cosmetics, frowning over the very slim assortment of goodies. It took longer to apply makeup by hand than it did by magic, but I figured I'd get faster with more practice. Turning my thick black hair into a tight French twist, I fastened it with two long bone-colored pins, allowing some tendrils to frame my round face. Then I found Caitlin's bedroom and ransacked her closet and bureau.
Next time I go on the lam from the Underworld, I'm turning to a supermodel for help. Maybe her accessories will lack that certain magical oomph, but I bet she'd have a killer wardrobe.
Finally, I decided on a light blue cotton blouse, dark blue jeans, and brown open-toed sandals. For giggles, I wore a white lace bra and panties. In all of my existence, I didn't think I'd ever worn white intimate garments. Men always seemed to prefer red and black. Maybe white made them think of angels—or worse, marriage.
Finding a suitcase with a set of wheels and a retractable handle (bless me, these mortals were fucking ingenious), I piled in an array of clothing that I deemed bearable, leaving behind the long, flowing skirts, matronly blouses, and dowdy sweaters. Maybe Caitlin was an über witch, but she was also in serious need of a fashionista.
I shoved Caitlin's makeup and personal items into a travel bag and dumped that inside the suitcase as well. In went two pairs of boots, one pair of athletic shoes, and all-purpose black pumps. After scanning her small house, I also added two jackets and a few books from her library. One title in particular had me rolling on the floor: Lucifer's Hammer. Heh. King Lucifer never used a hammer.
That thought stopped me cold. In my mind, I heard King Lucifer's voice, decreeing the Announcement to all of Hell. And I remembered the softest brush of lips against mine, the faintest whisper of words: You really believe that your friend isn't an enemy?
Shoving the memory aside, I grabbed Caitlin's purse and flipped open her wallet. Then I rolled my eyes. Leave it to me to borrow the identity of the one adult in all America that didn't have a driver's license. What was I supposed to do with a State ID—pick my teeth?
Hmm. But she did have some cash, at least. And ooh, lookie at all the credit cards.
Crap. I should've had Caitlin tell me what her PIN was before I drank that nasty potion. Now I couldn't command her without activating my power—which meant removing my amulet. And it would be, pardon me, a cold day in Hell before I did that. Oh well. I'd make do.
Before I walked out of Caitlin's life, I covered her sleeping body with a blanket. She murmured some nonsensical sleep stuff and rolled over.
Sweet dreams, Caitlin. And don't cancel your credit cards before I max them out.
Chapter 3
South Station
As I shut Caitlin's door behind me, I realized I had no idea where I was going. I adjusted the shoulder strap to my purse, grabbed the handle of the suitcase, and walked exactly three steps before someone called to me.
"Hey, Cait, good morning!"
I turned to see a little man exiting the house next to the witch's. A scrawny thing, he was dressed in a brown suit that screamed polyester and begged to be returned to the 1970s. With a chicken neck and no chin, the man was a far cry from Adonis. But his smile was genuine, and I found that oddly appealing. His hand was up in a wave.
Flashing him a smile, I said, "Morning." Far as I could tell, other than the spectacular shower, there was nothing good about the morning so far.
"Wow, you look terrific!" A mad blush exploded across his face, staining him from ear to ear. "I mean, you always look terrific. But there's something different about you. Did you change something?"
Heh. A lot of somethings. "There's no fooling you."
"Got your hair cut?"
"Styled it differently."
He grinned, showing overly large front teeth. "I knew it! It looks really good this way."
"Thanks," I said, fiddling with the suitcase's retractable handle. The blessed thing was halfway up, and I couldn't get it to open all the way.
Locking his front door, he said, "Say, it looks like you're going on a trip. Business or pleasure?"
Survival. "You could say a little bit of both."
He chuckled, a sound that was far too attractive for his looks. "That's the right attitude! You headed to the airport?"
Trapped on a flying coach, with no way out? Er, no. "I like traveling on the Earth instead of over it."
"Know what you mean. Besides, security's a real bitch these days. Pardon my French." Tucking a briefcase under one arm and picking up the newspaper on his doorstep, he said, "If you're going to South Station, I'd be happy to give you a ride. It's on the way to the office."
I had no idea what or where South Station was, but if Chicken Neck thought it was where I was supposed to go, I was willing to run with it. Smiling warmly, I said, "Aren't you the nicest neighbor a girl could have?"
His blush deepened. "Say, let me help you with that," he stammered, walking over to me and taking the suitcase. He did something to the handle, a quick push in and out, and the thing worked perfectly for him. Huh. Must be a mortal thing. With a thick newspaper tucked under his armpit, his briefcase in one hand and the suitcase's handle in the other, he looked ridiculously comical… and rather sweet.
Ugh, it had to be the milk. I couldn't be this nice in real life.
Next to his large, blue minivan, he released my suitcase to rummage through his jacket pocket. Removing a set of keys, he pointed a device at the car and pressed a button. The minivan beeped twice, and the back door slid open.
Unholy Hell, these mortals were amazing. Such nifty little gadgets! The Almighty really did make humans in His own image, didn't He? Mortals definitely had the creation bug in their genes, whether making babies or making gizmos.
But they also had other genes in them too, didn't they? Darker genes that ate at them like a cancer…
Quit it, Jezebel. That's what got you in trouble in the first place. Just leave it alone.
"Say, Cait—you okay?"
I glanced over at Chicke
n Neck, who threw my suitcase onto the backseat. "Sorry. Lost in thought."
He smiled at me, then shut the door. "You look way too serious for such a nice morning. I know that look. You're thinking about the business part of the trip instead of the pleasure part, aren't you?"
"You could say that." Feeling the weight of my new body pressing down on me, I tried to smile, but suddenly I felt completely drained.
"Try not to think about business. Think of it as a grand adventure!" He shrugged, looking embarrassed and proud at the same time. "That's what I like to do. Who wants to go to a convention for dentists? That's boring. But if I think that I'm on my way to someplace new, someplace where I could escape from my life and start over new if I wanted to… well, that makes me feel like I'm doing something fun." He lowered his voice. "Actually, I pretend I'm doing something dangerous."
His brown eyes sparkled with joy as he revealed this tidbit, and I couldn't help but smile at his excitement. He was so endearing, like a pet. I resisted the urge to pat him on his balding head. "Sounds like you make the best of it."
"Exactly!" He opened the passenger door for me, and I slid onto the seat. "Say, you never told me where you're headed. What's your destination?"
"Someplace fun," I said. "Fun, but dangerous."
He barked out a laugh. "Let me guess—New York City, right?"
Why not? I needed somewhere to go. "You got it."
"New York, New York," he sang, "it's a hell of a town."
Perfect.
A harrowing ride later—bless me, if all Boston drivers don't have death wishes, then they're certifiably insane—Chicken Neck deposited me in front of a sprawling building laden with Ionic columns, topped by a huge clock tower. South Station, I presumed. The granite structure seemed to take up the entire city block—it curved, as if it were either circular or oval, looking more like an amphitheater than a place that harbored trains. Looking up at the clock mechanism, complete with a massive bird spreading its stone wings as if ready to take flight, I was struck by just how small I was.
How did mortals reach such heights without wings? Or at least a decent levitation spell?
The sculpture atop the clock seemed to look down at me. An eagle, maybe—or an owl. For a dizzying moment, I saw superimposed over the building's facade the towering mountain complex of Pandemonium, home to all creatures of the Pit. The stone bird launched itself off the clock and spiraled down at me, its talons spread wide, murder shining in its black eyes. I bit back a scream as the creature transformed into the half-owl, half-woman shape of Queen Lyssa, goddess of madness and fury, her beak opened as she released a piercing hunter's cry.
Screwing my eyes shut, I told myself that I wasn't in Hell. Even in the deepest part of the Abyss, it didn't smell this bad. Risking a look, I opened my eyes. Once more, the bird was trapped in its stone prison.
Minor panic attack successfully averted. Get going, Jezebel.
Herds of people marched into and out of the massive doorway, all wrapped up in their lives, trying to make their way to their destinations. Gripping my suitcase handle tightly, I joined the flow and allowed myself to be swept inside, caught in the current of human commuters. People swerved around one another as if their feet knew choreographed steps; I, new to the dance, tripped over my own feet and stumbled into fellow travelers. Bags and valises and backpacks and other assorted carrying cases surrounded me, crushed me as we moved forward into a grand concourse.
And there I stopped, too flabbergasted to move. Storefronts and signs and tables and, above all, people milling about, filling almost every available space with color and movement and sound. And the stench! Body odor mingled with perfumes and colognes and deodorants and other camouflages… and that was just from the humans. From the building itself wafted ammonia, soap, and other cleansers, barely dampening the deeper, richer smell of dirt and decay, buried within the structure's foundation. I inhaled, trying to focus on the earthy scent—something to ground me, help me through the assault on my senses. Someone jostled me from behind, yelling something unintelligible at me as I got shoved to the side.
Glaring, I tried to find the person who'd bumped me, but I would have had an easier time picking a specific grain of sand from an hourglass. Bless me, I knew there were billions of humans on the Earth, but did the better part of that number have to loiter in one building?
I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and walked forward. Now that the initial shock of the place had worn off, I felt amazed instead of overwhelmed. So many stores! Food sellers—many of which seemed closed, but McDonald's and the Boston Coffee Exchange were open and, from the look of the lines of people waiting for service, they must have been giving away free samples. A place called Au Bon Pain also had a lot of business, and as I saw rows of muffins, bagels, and other assorted pastries lying on display, my stomach lurched and rumbled. Saliva pooled in my mouth, and I swallowed it down. It took me a moment to identify the sensation I was experiencing.
I was hungry! And not for sex. Wow… that was a first.
Ambling inside the pseudo-French boulangerie, I paused in front of the baked goodies. My stomach growled again. I grabbed two large muffins, considered the sounds my belly made, and took a third. Following the cues of the humans around me, I stood in a line until it was my turn. The key to blending in, I discovered, was acting as if I knew what I was doing. Apparently, maneuvering through real life was just like sex: When all else fails, fake it.
I showed the cashier my selection. Taking my pastries and putting them into a paper bag, she asked me, "That all? Any coffee today?"
I'd never tried it before, although I'd heard mortals talk about coffee like it was an exquisite pleasure. I could use a bit of pleasure. Maybe the coffee came with a side order of Cabin Boy to watch me drink it. "Sure, coffee would be great."
"Large?"
"Um, okay."
"Milk and sugar?"
"No milk," I said quickly.
She pushed a covered, wax-coated paper cup my way, along with the bag of muffins. "That'll be seven twenty-nine."
Right, payment. I opened Caitlin's bag and produced her wallet. Inside the billfold were three tens, a twenty, and a few ones. I handed the cashier a ten, took my change along with my purchase, and returned the wallet to the purse.
I just bought my first thing as a human! Woot! I wanted to do a happy dance, but I thought that might call attention to myself.
Suitcase in tow, I hurried out of the shop, managing not to slam into anyone as I searched for a place to sit and eat. Seeing an empty table, I made a beeline for it and threw myself into the seat just as another woman approached. She shot me a filthy look as I placed my bag and purse on the table. I bit back my initial reaction, which was to zap her and giggle as she fell to the floor, writhing as an orgasm savaged her body. Not only was I in disguise, I also had my shieldstone nuzzled between my breasts, which wouldn't allow me to use my power even if I really wanted to. So instead I smiled sweetly at her as I opened my bag of food. Scowling, she turned away, looking for a place of her own. Suck it up, sweetie. I was here first.
Feeling very proud of myself for using such restraint, I took out a muffin. The large pastry had some fruit in it—cranberries and orange pieces, I thought; I'd just grabbed the first ones I'd seen without pausing to read their names. I tore off a chunk and popped it in my mouth.
Chewed.
Swallowed.
Oh… unholy Hell, who would have thought a morsel of food could be so succulent? I'd eaten mortal food before, but all as part of the job—it never had any real taste until now. And such taste! Sweet as a man's soul on my lips, solid as a man's shaft ramming inside of me. I ripped off another piece and ate it, savoring the way my saliva began to break down the food even as I chewed, masticating until the bite was nothing more than mush. I swallowed it down and broke off another section, shoving it in my mouth and barely touching it with my teeth before I swallowed, already reaching for more.
Before I knew it, the muffin
was gone. As I reached into the bag for another treat, a male voice asked, "Is this seat taken?"
Hovering next to the empty seat across from me stood a tall man in a white T-shirt and jeans, a steaming paper cup in one hand, a jacket slung over his shoulder. Crowning his head, his light brown hair was cut short, but it was just long enough to curl slightly around his ears. His face was broad, with sculpted cheeks and a strong jaw. Small, expressive sea-green eyes regarded me. Poet's eyes… and a fighter's nose, which had clearly been broken at least once in his life.
One side order of Cabin Boy, as requested. Yuuuuum.
His thin lips, already curved into a pleasant smile, quirked into an amused grin as my gaze lingered.
"Not taken," I said, finally remembering to answer his question. "Help yourself."
He draped his jacket over the back of the chair, then sat, taking a sip from his cup. "Thanks."
I smiled at him, admiring how his throat worked as he drank. Then I mentally rolled my eyes. What was I, a former succubus or a wannabe vampire?
To cover my fluster, I removed the plastic cover from my coffee cup and took a careful sip of the hot liquid. Oooooh… yum, again!
I must have said something aloud, because the man said, "Sounds like your coffee's better than mine."
"I think it's the sugar. Wow, that's good!"
Looking at the advertising on my cup, he said, "With a reaction like that, from now on I'll get my coffee at Au Bon Pain, too."
We shared a laugh. His was warm, and hearing it made my stomach nutter and my heart beat a little faster.
He extended his hand. "I'm Paul."
When his fingers touched mine, I felt something electric dance over my skin, and the temperature suddenly rose about a million degrees. Instead of telling him Caitlin's name, I gave him the human nickname I'd picked up over the years. "Jesse."
His eyes flicked to my suitcase. "Going or coming?"
My breath caught in my throat as I heard another voice, a deep voice, whisper to me: Going or coming? In my mind, I saw a large man, a blue bandana holding his long, red hair away from his lean face. He opened his mouth and asked…
Hell on Earth 1 - Hell's Belles Page 3
