Unholy Night: A Paranormal Holiday Romance

by Karpov Kinrade

  “God is real.” His response is just as quiet. “Though as you can tell from meeting me, not everything is as you might expect.”

  I nod. “What about other religions? Beliefs and gods? Does all of it co-exist?”

  “We exist within the reality created for us by belief. It’s all part of the universal soup of existence.”

  My mind feels too full, like my belly after a big Thanksgiving meal. I need time to digest everything, so this is all I’m going to ask on that subject. The magnitude of these revelations are immense. I let go of Lucifer’s hands--immediately missing their soothing warmth--and sit back in my chair with a loud sigh that ruffles the list still in my lap.

  I give my shoulders a little shake and pick up the paper. “Do you think I accidentally skipped kids when I touched this earlier?”

  “I doubt it.” He holds his hand out and I pass him the scroll. “The elf’s magic is stronger than most.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Consumerism. Lucky bastard.”

  I snort a very unladylike laugh and I think of Valentine's day. “Then Cupid must be going strong.”

  He lowers the list and gives me a serious look. “We do not speak that name in this house.”

  I can’t help it. I burst out laughing, startling Mandy from her sleep.

  “What’s so funny, Mommy?” She sits up and rubs at her eyes.

  “Mr. Lucifer is scared of a cherub.” I cover my mouth with my hand but it does nothing to stop the sound of my giggles.

  “I am not afraid of Cupid. I simply dislike the fellow.” He’s glaring at me, but I’m not worried in the least.

  “What’s wrong with Cupid, Mr. Lucifer?” He looks at my daughter and his whole expression changes into something kinder, patient, and… almost adoring.

  “Well, let’s just say we’ve had our differences in the past. Using his arrow on Helen of Troy was careless and most definitely not a good joke, no matter what he says. I was busy for a decade sorting all the dead into the appropriate levels.”

  “Where did they wait? Purgatory?” I hold out an arm for Mandy and she bypasses it to crawl onto my lap instead. I pull her against my chest and tuck her head under my chin.

  “I might be wrong, but I’ve been taught it is a place between heaven and hell where people wait to see where their souls will go,” I say.

  “I have no need for Purgatory. I have a waiting room on level two that plays the Macarena continuously. I checked their souls as they came in. I’d already assessed them, so knew they belonged here, but the paperwork! I thought I’d never see an end.”

  “Let me get this straight. You have a waiting room that plays the Macarena on repeat?”

  “What other song would I use?” His bewildered eyes are my undoing.

  I laugh and try to muffle the sound against Mandy’s winter hat.

  “You think it was a bad idea?” He runs a hand through his hair, giving me another tantalizing glimpse of his horns.

  My fingers are itching to touch them, trace their curves, and bury my fingers in those soft looking curls.

  His eyes cut to me and he smirks. Damnit. He knows what I’m thinking. He might not be able to read minds--according to him-- but he can definitely read pheromones or something, and that’s bad enough.

  A knock sounds against the large door leading into the office, before opening and revealing creatures that are both fantastical and horrifying at the same time.

  Mandy makes a small peep of fear before hiding her face against my jacket.

  “Fuchsia, Birch, Dan. These are my guests. The lovely Lady Lyla and her charming daughter, Mandy.” Lucifer looks at each group and smiles, but it’s the first time I’ve felt true fear ring down my spine since setting foot in Hell.

  I’ve been wondering where they are, if they are even allowed on this level, but here they are staring at us in shock. Just as I mirror the same expression back at them.

  “Nice to meet you?” I don’t mean for it to come out as a question. I clear my throat and try again. “I mean, I’m pleased to meet you.”

  “Don’t worry, my Lady. Most humans never see us, so it's a real treat to be addressed at all.” A demon the size of a dining room table chair approaches, leaving a trail of something slime-like in his wake, and it takes all of my will power to keep from shrinking away from the small demon. He gestures to himself with hands that only have two fingers and a thumb, each ending in a sharp claw. “I’m Dan. Is that your spawn?”

  Huh? Spawn? Mandy grips my waist even tighter. Oh. “Uh, yes, she is. Mandy, be polite and say hello to the nice demon.”

  She shakes her head no against me. This won’t do. I lower my voice to her ear and whisper, “Remember when we talked about discrimination and how it’s a terrible thing to do? Well, you’re doing it right now.”

  She pulls away from me with a look of dismay. “But Mommy, he’s covered in gross stuff and his hands look funny.”

  “And that, Bunny, is exactly how discrimination starts. You’re afraid because Dan looks different. We don’t have any demons where we live so I understand why you might be scared. But if you get to know him, he might be the nicest person… er, being you ever meet.” I put my hand on her shoulders so she will meet my eyes. “You are too smart to be afraid of someone just because he doesn’t look like you, aren’t you?”

  She nods her head yes before turning to look at the demon. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Demon.”

  “Just call me Dan, little one.” Dan, the tiny, slimy demon turns to Lucifer. “What can we do for you Master?”

  “We have a code Eighteen-A. Round up the appropriate staff for an extraction.”

  “Yes sir!” Dan practically runs out of the room in his excitement, leaving a trail of gross, sticky-wet footprints in his wake.

  “How may I be of assistance, Master?” This next demon is larger. Human sized, with curling black horns poking out from her hair, one of which looks as if it’s busted on the tip. Her eyes are slit, with cat-like pupils, and her skin is a red that reminds me of cherries. She’s wearing cat-eyed glasses and what looks like a traditional maid’s black dress, complete with white collar. Unlike Dan she has five fingers, but like Dan they’re each tipped with long black claws.

  “Take Lady Lyla and Mandy to their room. They need to be dressed for the cold. Something durable, please.” Lucifer walks over to his desk, searching for a pen and then scribbles something on a torn piece of paper. “Birch! I need you to help me organize.”

  I really take a look at his desk this time and cringe. Sticky notes and papers are sprawled out in a haphazard way. It makes my OCD brain demand I straighten it up. Everything about Lucifer and this realm of Hell seems orderly. But his desk is a complete contrast of chaos.

  “Of course, Master.” Birch is taller than Mandy, but not as tall as I am. However, that doesn’t matter. He is all bulging muscles and looks one flex away from ripping his shirt. His skin seems to be made of bark. Large, black horns curl back from his forehead, ending in vicious points. And from what I can make out, his teeth resemble those of a shark. “What are we preparing for?”

  “A heist, old friend.” Lucifer slaps the demon on the back. “We’re going to steal Santa’s sleigh."

  Mandy sucks in a breath and looks up at me. “Stealing is bad.”

  “He meant borrowing. We’re just borrowing it to deliver the presents, then we’re going to return it to Santa.” I shoot a warning look at Lucifer over her head. He smiles back and offers a little shrug.

  “Lady Lyla, my name is Fuchsia. If you’ll follow me to your rooms, I’ll help you get dressed.” The red demon smiles and I try to not stare at her fangs. “It’s right this way.”

  I pat Mandy on the back and she hops off my lap so I can stand up. “Lead the way, Ms. Fuchsia. I guess we’re changing clothes.”

  “We need to change?” Mandy grabs my hand.

  “Seems like it.” I squeeze her hand. “We’re going somewhere much colder.”

  “
Follow me.” Fuchsia opens the door and walks out into the hallway.

  I look over to where Lucifer is busy planning with the muscle bound demon. His eyes are animated as he talks quickly and quietly. There is something bright and eager in his demeanor. He looks at me as we head for the door and his smile is so alight with happiness and full of mischief it steals my breath. Everything fades away and my world narrows to him, to this moment. The light glinting in his eyes, the crackling coming from the fireplace as the flames reach for him, the white of his smile.

  “Mommy?” Mandy tugs on my hand and I suck in a deep breath.

  Lucifer gives me a wink and turns back to plotting.

  “Let’s go, Bunny.”

  We walk out to the hallway and find Fuchsia waiting for us, her hands clasped gently in front of her stomach, her expression serene.”Your rooms are this way, My Lady.”

  “Please, just call me Lyla.” I follow the brisk pace the demon sets. “And we don’t really need a guest room, just a place to change.”

  “Oh, My Lady, these aren’t guest rooms. They are your rooms. Only the people Master dislikes stay in guest rooms.” Fuchsia turns and smiles, revealing her fangs once more. “The moment you set foot in Hell he had rooms designed for both of you.”

  “Why would he do that? Our contract is only for one night.” I look at the demon in confusion.

  “It’s not my place to presume to know.” She looks at me and her smile grows, giving me the distinct impression she has her own ideas as to why. “I simply do what is asked of me.”

  “And you prepared rooms for us in this short time?” We take a left down another hall and I find myself wondering where Lucifer’s room is located.

  “I would have liked more time, but I think they will work for now.”

  “We really only need one room and like I said, not even that. Just a place to change,” I explain.

  “That just won’t do.” Fuchsia keeps up her brisk pace. “Master was specific. He even wanted you both in this hall.”

  “What’s so special about this hall?” Mandy asks.

  “Ah, this is where the VIP’s stay.” Fuchsia looks down at Mandy. “That means Very Important People. It’s been decades since we made rooms for someone.”

  I’m not sure what to think of this information. We’re VIPs? Why?

  “Who was the last person to stay in the VIP wing?” Yes, this is a much better train of thought.

  “Elvis Presley,” she says. “Quite the character.”

  “Wait,” I stop walking. “Elvis Presley. The King stayed here? Is he here now?”

  “Oh no. Just long enough for our Master to sort him into the correct level.” Fuchsia stops and looks at me, her eyes twinkling. “I take it you’re a fan?”

  “I spent my childhood listening to my father’s records. He still plays his vinyls.” I look around the hallway as if I might spot some sign of Elvis. “I know all the words to every song.”

  “Oh, we will have to trade tales later. Things were very lively when he was here!”

  “Why was he here, though? You said he was being sorted into Hell. Shouldn’t he have been on Level Two?” I frown. “Why was he in Hell anyway?”

  “That is definitely not something to talk about in the presence of little ears. Let’s just say, he is the King of Rock n’ Roll.” She walks to a door and rests her hand on the doorknob. “Our Master felt Level Two was too cruel for someone with such a musical gift.”

  “The Macarena wasn’t invented then, so what did he play?” I can’t help my curiosity.

  “Oh, he’s been playing the Macarena for centuries. I believe Father Time helped him with that little trick.” She turns back to the door and pushes it open. “And here are your rooms. If there is anything you dislike, just let me know. Your clothes are on your beds.”

  Mandy and I walk into the room and it’s not actually a room at all. It’s a giant sitting room warmed by a large fireplace, with an overstuffed couch, several chairs, and thick carpet. Bookshelves line one wall and I can see treetops through one of the windows. Mandy wastes no time running through the room and opening all the doors.

  “Oh my gosh!” She squeals and disappears.

  I run after her just in time to see her launch herself onto the largest pink monstrosity of a bed I’ve ever seen.

  “Mandy!”

  “It’s so soft!” She swings her arms and legs back and forth like she’s making a snow angel.

  “I’m very glad you like it.” Fuchsia smiles and pushes her glasses back up her nose with one delicate claw. “Now, let’s get you two dressed.”

  8

  Lucifer

  By the time Lyla and Mandy return, I’ve worn a path in the hardwood floors with all my pacing. I am immortal. Eternal. A creature that has existed longer than humanity. And in many ways, my existence these long years has been static. Unchanging. Unmovable.

  Until tonight. No--maybe since I held Mandy’s letter in my hand.

  How… in such a short time, even when compared to the gnat-like lifespan of a human… how has this woman and child shaken my core reality so profoundly?

  When she walks in wearing a black velvet bodysuit with blood red fur cuffs and black Santa hat, I feel momentarily tongue tied, which is not like me at all. I’m very good with my tongue in all situations.

  But she’s so stunning, so radiant, and so damn sexy in an outfit that hugs all her perfect curves just right that I know I look like a foolish hormonal mortal as I stare at her.

  “Don’t look at me like that. It was this or a mini skirt and that was not going to happen. Humans can get frostbite, you know.” Her cheeks turn that charming shade of red, but she holds my gaze with her own, her chin tilted up in silent defiance of her nerves. Her lips painted the same red as the fur trim. Her eyes blazing. Damn this woman sets me on fire.

  When my language skills return, I grin at her. “You look like the poster girl for Santa’s Naughty List.”

  Mandy frowns, looking up at her mom. “Is that true, Mommy?” she asks, clutching Lyla’s hand in hers. “Are you on the Naughty List?”

  Mandy is dressed up like an elf, down to the white and red candy striped coat and floppy green hat. She’s adorable, even in the old elf’s colors.

  Lyla narrows her eyes at me, then looks down at her child. “No, Lucifer was just making a joke. An inappropriate one,” she says, glancing back at me with a stern expression that makes me laugh.

  Mandy shakes her head. “Grown ups are so weird sometimes. Aren’t jokes supposed to be funny?”

  Lyla laughs. “Yes, they are.” She looks at me. “You just got burned by an eight-year-old,” she says with no small amount of glee in her eyes.

  “So I did,” I say, giving Mandy a gallant bow. “A well-placed hit. I will have to work on my humor, Lady Mandy.”

  The child giggles and it warms my cold, immortal heart.

  “Can I touch your horns, Mr. Lucifer?” Mandy asks. The request gives me pause. No one has ever asked me this.

  “Mandy, that’s impolite,” Lyla rebukes her daughter.

  She is always on as a mother. That must be so exhausting. And to do it alone. I make a mental note to look into this ex of hers. Will he be one of my less honored guests someday? I daresay I hope so.

  A taste of my own malicious delight taints the air and I smile. We shall see what kind of man could hurt these two pure souls and I will make sure he pays for his sins.

  I feel their underlying pain, raw and ugly, a deep wound for both of them, though it’s already fading for Mandy. The young are quite resilient when given love and support.

  Lyla, though, isn’t there yet. She’s still healing. The taste of that wound induces a violent rage within me that I force down. This isn’t the time.

  “Sorry Mr. Lucifer,” Mandy says, a bit of sulk in her voice.

  “‘No need for sorrow,” I say, brandishing my most winning smile. “Better to ask than assume.”

  I would have let her, but I don’t want t
o contradict her mother in front of her. I would never undermine Lyla’s authority as a parent.

  “And you,” I say to Mandy, “look like a proper elf-girl. Are you ready for a trip to the North Pole?” I ask.

  Her face beams, all sulk gone as she nods her head. “Yes! I’m so excited I could scream!”

  “You’re in Hell,” I tell her. “We encourage screaming here.”

  Her eyes widen and I nod, giving her permission.

  A glint of delight lights her eyes. She opens her mouth and screams as loud as she can. It’s an impressive sound for such a little thing.

  I throw my head back in a full body laugh, then I join in, screaming into a roar of demonic glory.

  Lyla looks at both of us like we are mad, and certainly we must appear so, but then she laughs softly and surprises us both by letting out her own furious primal scream. It starts soft but crescendos soon enough, channeling so much pent up pain and rage I feel almost drowned by it. The scents wafting from her are a mix of bitter pain and the sweetness of liberation.

  But the release in the room is also palpable. We have each been holding onto something that only a good scream in Hell can properly exorcise.

  Mandy flops to the ground, giving up first and collapsing into peels of slightly manic laughter.

  Lyla lasts longer than I expect, and when her voice goes raw, she finally stops, breathless and red-cheeked, flush from the emotional outpouring.

  “Wow. That was…” her voice is scratchy.

  “Awesome!” Mandy finishes before looking at me. “That was awesome. You must scream in here all the time!”

  I think about it a moment and shrug. “Not in a very long time, actually,” I say. The truth of that weighs heavy on me. I’ve become too numb to the pain and suffering around me. Too anesthetized to it all.

  But tonight I can feel it again. The burn. The bittersweet pull between the dream and the nightmare. The raw urgency of my role in this domain. I may not always be pleased with my job, but this reminds me of how important it is for the world.