Hell on Earth 1 - Hell's Belles

by Jackie Kessler

  She glanced at me. "You do so love goading the Arrogant, don't you?"

  "Who, me?"

  Meg opened her mouth, but just then a screech rent the air. Shrieking overhead, a flock of Banshees swarmed. Gathering! they cried, their voices digging into my mind. Gathering! To the First Sphere for Gathering! Attend for King Lucifer! They rocketed away, throwing their Call at all the denizens of Hell.

  "I'll be blessed," I muttered, staring at the receding forms of the Banshees. "He's really going to make an Announcement."

  "Told you so," Meg said, smiling innocently.

  Creatures of the Pit advanced upon Abaddon, oozing and slouching and swooping, moving in whatever ways they chose to answer the Call of Gathering. The courtyard and box seats filled quickly—one didn't keep the lord of the Underworld waiting. As the sheer bulk of demonic presence pushed me against the edge of the granite platform, my anxiety grew.

  What could King Lucifer have to say that merited the attendance of the entire legion of Hell? I could count on one hand the number of times any of the thirteen Kings had demanded an audience. But for all of the demon hordes to collect was unprecedented. Partially that was because most of the different types of demons despised one another, and forcing them together was a catastrophe waiting to happen. Picture a cat hurled into a bathtub filled with water. Multiply that by a million. You'd have an easier time getting those million felines squeaky clean than you would corralling all the demonfolk under one roof.

  But partially, it was also due to the gravity of the situation. King Lucifer only made an Announcement once before, in all of existence. That had been at the very beginning of Hell, way before my time; I was just a few millennia old—relatively young, as these things were counted.

  What did He have to say that was important enough for all demons to leave their charges of damned souls unattended?

  Meg's lips on my own snared me out of my roiling thoughts. I opened my mouth to hers, relishing her taste of mint and old parchment. Before my tongue could do more than graze her teeth, she pulled away to whisper in my ear. "Queen Lyssa's here. Got to go."

  "You dumped me here in front, and now you're leaving me?"

  Giggling, she said, "We all do what we must."

  I squeezed her hand, then watched her fly up to greet her ruler. The Queen was easily recognizable, even with thousands of other beings hovering in the air. A blend of owl and woman, Lyssa soared above the courtyard, her tail streaming behind her. Gray feathers swathed her form, with black stripes rippling across her body. Her wings, like her tail, were pebbled with shots of white on a field of pitch. Orange burst from her body as her feet flexed, her razor-sharp claws putting my own talons to shame. Even from the ground, I felt her gaze upon me. Set in a charcoal face, her eyes blazed, white stars dying in a poisoned sky. Her beak, the same fiery orange as her claws, opened wide as she screeched her disapproval. Everyone knew that the Erinyes weren't supposed to mix with the demons.

  Yeah, yeah. And oil's not supposed to mix with water. But then someone invented mayonnaise, and wham—instant mixing. Just call me Jezebel, the condiment of the nefarious.

  Around me, masses of creatures bumped and shoved and cursed, jostling my form as they jockeyed for a better position. With Meg gone, I wished I could just sneak to the back and keep the wall company, but there were millions of bodies in my way. I was trapped by the platform.

  That blessed Megaera! If I didn't know better, I would have sworn she'd dumped me in front on purpose.

  "It's difficult, isn't it?"

  I looked over my shoulder to see a large demon smiling at me. He'd chosen a human form, an attractive one with just enough tone to show the beauty of the body without calling too much attention to the muscles themselves. Wrapped in an emerald toga of raw silk, he stood proudly, his chin high. Atop his head, his dark hair practically begged me to run my fingers through its curls. Green eyes shone brightly, hinting at amusement, yet sadness was clearly stamped on his face. At first I thought he was Arrogant. Looking closer, I sensed something about him that touched on Envy, possibly even Lust.

  Even with the courtyard uncomfortably crowded, demons had given him a wide berth. Curious, I pushed my way closer to him. Nope, no malefic force radiating from him, no overwhelming sense of threat or fear washed over me. He didn't even smell bad. How'd he manage his own elbow room?

  "What's difficult?" I asked him, still trying to get a fix on his affiliated Sin.

  His smile broadened, but his mournful eyes belied his mirth. "Being friends with one of the enemy."

  My nostrils flared. "She's not the enemy."

  "Of course she is." He cast a glance at Meg's receding shape, nearly lost among her sister Furies. Queen Lyssa, a goddess in her own right, claimed a top-level box seat with the other Principals, and her cluster of Erinyes flocked by her side. "Her nature is to avenge, and murder is her birthright. She is one of the few entities that can negate a demon's existence on a whim."

  "I know all that," I said tightly, feeling uncomfortable for a reason I couldn't name. Maybe it was because he was illuminating my friend in a light that I didn't want to see.

  "You think the scorpion won't sting the frog this time, don't you?" He laughed softly. "But it will. The scorpion will always sting. That's its nature."

  "If you say so," I said with a shrug, trying to act flippant.

  When all else fails, go for the Dumb Blonde approach, no matter what form you wear. "I'm not much of a philosopher."

  "I didn't say so. Aesop did. And I'm no philosopher."

  "No?" I put a purr into my voice, did a little shimmy-bop with my hips that jiggled my breasts. "Then what are you, sweetie?"

  He sighed. "I'm tired." Then, lower: "And I'm bitterly disappointed."

  Ah. Definitely Envy. Normally I had no patience for the Envious, neither the infernal nor the mortal variety. Wah, wah, you've got what I want, wah, wah, I'm so bitter. Cry me a fucking river. You want something so much? Go get it. But something about this demon set him apart from the rest of his brethren, something that I couldn't place right away. But it tickled the back of my mind.

  Giggling to cover my disquiet, I said, "You had me going for awhile. I thought you were one from the Pridelands."

  "Did you, now? That's amusing."

  A grin flitted across his face, and for a moment, I saw the cosmos shine in his green eyes. As bitter as he was, he didn't feel Envious.

  He felt lost.

  The tickle in the back of my mind strengthened to a maddening itch. Who was this creature, this being whose Sin was too mercurial to define?

  His voice soft, he asked me, "You really believe that your friend isn't an enemy?"

  My throat constricted, and I swallowed thickly before I answered. "Not that it's your business, but yes I do. Megaera is not my enemy."

  He leaned over and kissed me. Nothing passionate, nothing seductive—just a simple, affectionate kiss. His lips barely touched mine before they were gone. Stepping away, he smiled sadly at me. "If only you were right."

  My hand flew to my mouth; I felt a tingle where his flesh had pressed against my own. My voice a breathy whisper, I asked, "Who are you?"

  He inclined his head in a brief bow, and then he strode onto the platform.

  Around me, the legions of Hell crashed to their knees. Foreheads touched the stones on the ground as demons prostrated themselves, offering complete devotion to the being that stood alone before them. My eyes widened as I understood who He was, that handsome demon whose words had troubled me so and whose kiss still lingered on my mouth.

  With a cry, I fell to the floor, hiding myself among the infernal. As one, we creatures of the Abyss called out the name of our dread ruler, the unholy one to whom we all answered:

  Lucifer the Light Bringer, the First of the Fallen.

  Chapter 9

  Hotel New York

  As Megaera stared at me, her blue eyes unblinking, I wondered if I could feign innocence. Of course I could. If I could fake an o
rgasm on the spot, surely I could muster up some Bambi eyes.

  "I think you have me mistaken for someone else," I said, aiming for Disgruntled New Yorker, but coming across more like Mortal In Fear For Her Life.

  Meg arched an eyebrow. "Really, Jezzie. I know your true name. You think a little thing like a human shell can fool me?"

  Fuck.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I waited for the nothingness of oblivion to crash over me. After three heartbeats, I realized that either it took an Erinyes a few moments to summon enough power to annihilate someone, or Meg didn't want to destroy me.

  Daring a peek, I saw Meg trying to fend off a grin. "Honestly, Jez, if I wanted to take you out, I would've gotten you when you first walked in."

  "So you're not after me?" Relief turned my voice into something breathy and high-pitched, like Minnie Mouse after a serious bong hit.

  "Not officially. I'm here as your friend." The grin finally bloomed on her face. "Girl, what've you gone and done? A mortal? What were you thinking?"

  With a heavy sigh, I plodded over to the bed and flopped down on my stomach. The mattress was soft yet firm—a good sleeping surface, but not so hot for wild sex. "I was trying to get off the Evil radar. Between the human thing and the Shield Against Evil, I thought I was safe."

  "You wound up snagging a shieldstone?" Meg whistled in appreciation. "Nicely done. I can't wait to hear how you managed that."

  Rolling onto my hip, I met her gaze. "So how'd you find me? Even with our spiffy psychic connection, the shield should be masking my presence."

  Throwing back her head, Meg let out a belly laugh so jolly, Santa Claus would have turned green with envy. Lost in her guffaws, she looked as human as I did, albeit one seriously out of touch with current fashion. Still sporting her white toga, she looked like a poster child for either a Grecian Revival or a fraternity party.

  Finally she stifled her giggles enough to say, "Jez, you're completely hidden from Evil. But I'm an Erinyes. I'm many things, but I'm not Evil."

  I mentally slapped my forehead. Duh. Just because Meg and her sisters resided in Hell, that didn't mean they were truly creatures of the Pit. Heaven had an exclusive membership—only the Good may apply. Hell wasn't nearly so choosy; the Underworld enjoyed diversity. If you weren't purely Good, you either had Purgatory, Earth, or Hell to call your own. Most creatures caught in between opted for Hell; we threw better parties.

  I blew out a sigh. Thinking like that was going to get me caught. I wasn't a creature of the Pit any longer.

  "Jezzie, what possessed you to run?" Meg leaned forward, cupping her chin in her hand, her elbow on the chair's armrest. "Now of all times, you had to go and buck authority?"

  "I couldn't stay." Sitting up, I wrapped my arms around myself. "You should've seen where they placed me."

  A smile flitted across her face. "I heard. Crossing the boundaries between desire and terror, huh?"

  "Inadvertently." I bit my lip. "Is she still pissed off at me?"

  "What else is new? Lillith gets pissed at everything." That she could blithely mention the Queen of the Succubi's name without any fear of getting her attention spoke volumes about Meg's power. No nefarious entity in its right mind ever wanted to bother an Erinyes.

  Meg's face turned somber. "Seriously, Jez, this wasn't a good idea. He's looking to make an example out of you."

  I felt the blood drain from my face, and I fought back the urge to vomit all over the pretty coverlet. "He can fuck Himself until His wings rot."

  She smiled tightly, and it didn't come close to reaching her eyes. "And here they've been saying you aren't loyal."

  "You know I'm loyal, but not to that—"

  "Stop." She held her hand up, and I sealed my lips shut, forcing my mouth to silence. "Don't say it, Jez. Don't even think it. They haven't set me on you. Don't give them a reason to."

  Swallowing thickly, I nodded. Having a Fury on my tail would make my new life very stressful… and very short.

  She rubbed the bridge of her nose for a moment. Then she said, "Look, for now you're okay. They still have your case posted in Avarice only. But after your little stunt with the Coveter earlier today, it won't be long before you're on top of the list across all the geographies of Hell." She met my gaze. "I don't suppose there's any way I can convince you to come back, freely and of your own accord?"

  "I can't, Meg." I shook my head, remembering my final assignment from the Abyss, and how miserably that turned out. "I can't spend an eternity doing something that I loathe."

  "Did you ask Lillith for a different assignment?"

  "She hates me. After four thousand years, I was still only fifth level. If she wasn't going to promote me when I was good at what I did, there was no way this side of Salvation that she would've reassigned me."

  "Technically, it wouldn't be up to her. It's His call."

  "Yeah," I said. "And we both know how well that would've gone over."

  She nodded. "So you're chancing it as a mortal?"

  "Yeah."

  "And you won't say anything to the humans?"

  I let out a startled laugh. "Bless me, no. That would be all I needed—both sides after me. No thanks. My life's interesting enough as is."

  For a moment, something flashed in Meg's eyes—a hint of sadness, perhaps. Then a wicked grin unfurled across her face. "So what's in the bags? Anything naughty?"

  An hour later, I was perched over the toilet. It had taken me a moment to understand what the pressure below was desperately signaling; at first, I thought it was just a reaction to the rather frightening hot dog I'd eaten for lunch—the vendor had called it a "sewer dog," and it had tasted like hairspray. By the time I had finally realized that nature was calling, I had to make a mad dash to the bathroom before the special delivery landed in my panties.

  In a lot of ways, being a demonic blow-up doll had been easier. Sure, it had been messy at times—sweaty and slick and sometimes covered head to foot in whipped cream. But I'd never had to clean up after myself. A little zap of power, and wham! Instant sanitation. But mortals had to bathe and brush and crap and scrub and dab and scour. And repeat, ad nauseam. Gah. Whoever came up with the proverb that cleanliness was next to godliness must've been a demon. At least in Hell, mortals didn't have to worry about cleaning away grime and filth, or washing away old bodily fluids. Of course, they were sort of too busy being tortured to really care about what covered their flesh.

  Sitting on the can, I found, was a perfect opportunity for some deep thinking. It's not like there was much else I could do while I waited for my system to finish doing its business. So I thought about what Meg had said to me before she'd left.

  She'd heard my dealings with Caitlin (Meg: "Bonus points for your parting gift"), the Coveter (Meg: "You were so freaking lucky, it makes my head spin"), Paul (Meg and me: "Yum!"), and Belles (Meg: Rolling on the floor, helpless with mirth)—overall, she thought for my first day as a human, I was doing fine. When I'd asked her point blank about whether my bumping into Paul had been a coincidence, she'd smiled and made a no-no-no gesture with her hand. "That'd be telling," she'd said.

  Well, duh. That was the point, no? But her lips were sealed on the matter, which led me to believe that Paul had a role to play in my new life. Based on how just looking at him was like foreplay, that was fine with me.

  But Meg had left me with some advice on her way out.

  "Have fun," she'd said, "but don't be a fool. You're human, but you've got no soul."

  "Sweetie, next you'll be telling me I've got no rhythm."

  Her face somber, she'd replied, "Not funny, Jez. If you get yourself killed, then that's it—no Underworld, no second chance. You're toast."

  "Toast?" I'd said, trying to lighten the mood. "White, wheat, or rye?"

  I'd expected at least a chuckle. Instead she'd given me a look that would've frozen parts of the Lake of Fire. "I'm serious. One of the joys of being an Erinyes is having an intimate understanding of Fate. Yours is spraypainted in neon.
If you die, that's it. Oblivion. So don't be stupid. Keep your shield-stone on, don't tell the humans what they shouldn't know, and keep yourself alive. Who knows," she added, a tight smile on her face, "maybe you'll even make it to a ripe old age and watch your body decay and slowly die."

  "That's my Meg," I said, feeling my stomach somewhere in the vicinity of my ankles. "Always putting a positive spin on things."

  "You already broke the rules," she said, her voice as soft as spoiled fruit. "Don't make it worse. You know I'm rooting for you. But if I'm told to come after you, I'll have to do my job."

  Her blue eyes locked on my green ones, the air between us flashing with a turquoise energy that vibrated with love and fear and despair. Then I grabbed her in a huge embrace and hugged her for all I was worth. I told myself that she'd never betray me. We'd been best friends for more than a thousand years. She wouldn't hurt me. Even if she were set upon my trail, she'd never turn me in.

  And I heard King Lucifer's voice whisper in my mind, the memory of a warning: If only you were right.

  Pasting a smile on my face that felt as fake as Barbie's boobs, I said, "Then I'd better make sure you don't have a reason to find me on official business."

  She left, and that's when my stomach sent up its first gastronomical SOS. Now, with my butt getting numb on the toilet seat, I thought about how sad Meg's blue eyes had been.

  Enough. I didn't have time for malaise. I had to prep myself for my first shift at Belles. Based on how pale my skin was, and how dark my hair was, that would entail a lot of lathering, shaving, trimming, and moisturizing. Then I'd have to figure out which outfits to wear, which shoes to totter on, and what to do with my hair. And finally, I had to decide whether I would do a girl-girl scene, which Roman had begged me to think about.

  Being a human female was racking complicated.

  I finished my business, experienced the usage of toilet paper, and flushed, just like that, defecation disappeared, washed away in swirling water. Mortals had come a long way from simply dumping their refuse into the gutter. A few hundred years back, I'd done the London circuit, and let me tell you, those streets made toxic dumps seem clean. Nothing like going down on a man, surrounded by garbage, feces, and rats, to really turn sex into a dirty act.