Hell in Heels

by Adrianna Morgan

  I nodded and took a big gulp.

  “So, what will it be? Sex on the Beach or the Screaming Orgasm?” He winked at me flirtatiously and I did my best not to wink back.

  “Neither,” I replied flippantly. “I’ve had enough of both.” He raised an eyebrow and I ignored the look. “What’s good here?” I asked as I eyed a menu resting on the table looking at the multitude of drinks.

  The bartender cleared his throat. “You should try the Sangria. This is Miami. You need to try a drink with a little Cuban flavor.” He winked again.

  A Sangria. I liked that. Especially the way it rolled off his tongue. Almost made me want to test how well his tongue rolled. Almost. But as soon as the image of the bartender rolling his tongue popped into my head, so did an image of Evan. Damn it! I wanted to change my mind about falling in love and just sleep with anyone I chose, but I had thought about it for so long, I just had to know. Besides I had already committed to trying it and it seemed as if Evan was behind lucky door number 1.

  I looked back at the bartender. “I guess I will try the Sangria.”

  He nodded his approval. “It’s delicious. You’ll definitely like it.”

  I sat back as he walked away and slipped the shoes off my feet. I thought about Bri sitting in Evan’s office all self-assured and for a moment, a spell almost flew past my lips. At the last second, I decided she wasn’t worth the trouble.

  My phone buzzed and I looked at the display. It was Evan. I picked up the phone, eager to hear his voice.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I thought you were staying for the tour?”

  I shrugged, knowing he could not see me and lied. “I was starting to get a bitch of a headache. Don’t know why,” I said, thinking of Bri.

  “Really, Helena? A headache? Does this have anything to do with Bri?”

  I closed my eyes. Damn he was good. “Why would my headache have anything to do with Bri?” It took all I could to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

  “Helena. What is going on?” Evan sounded confused and I squeezed my eyes tighter still. I could feel the imagined headache start to take root and I took a deep breath.

  “Nothing is going on.” I lied again. Normally, I didn’t give a shit about sparing someone’s feelings, but right now, I wanted Evan to like me so much that I was trying to be subtle. I almost laughed out loud. Me, subtle? Dad would be proud.

  Evan sighed loudly into the phone. His voice chilled a few degrees. “Helena, I am trying to be patient with you, but if there is one thing I’m not, it’s a fool. I can tell you are lying to me and I can tell you are upset about something.”

  Anger start to build around the headache. How dare he get upset with me? I was the one trying to make something work and was confronted by Bri. Granted, he didn’t know that, but that wasn’t the point. He should know that Bri was half in love with him; any idiot could see that. He could not pretend that he was not aware of her feelings for him.

  “Really Evan? You could tell all that?” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm from my voice. “You’ve known me a little over a week now and you think you have the right to demand anything from me?” My voice shook as my anger grew. I was really pissed off.

  “Helena, what is going on with you?” He almost shouted through the phone. I felt his frustration and somehow it made me even angrier. I shouldn’t be in a bar at mid-day, alone. I should be hanging out with him. He wanted me; he said it and he knew I wanted him. So why had I let some insignificant witch tell me any differently? I was mad at Evan for not realizing what Bri was up to. I was mad at Bri for getting in the way. But I was more upset at myself for walking away.

  I rubbed my aching temples with my hands and stared at the phone. I could hear Evan’s breathing and I realized he was still waiting for an answer. My anger at him was starting to cool, but I was far from fine.

  “Helena?” His voice was calmer as well. “What are you doing? Are you at home? Do you need me to come over?”

  The deep baritone of his voice washed over me and my heart jackhammered in my chest. I was too confused to even think. I honestly didn’t know what I wanted from him. I didn’t know if I could handle it.

  I murmured thanks as the bartender came over and placed a large glass with a pinkish liquid in front of me. Pieces of orange and pineapple swam in the glass and I could smell the intoxicating scent of the alcohol entering my nostrils.

  “Hey, I’m fine,” I told Evan reassuringly. “I really do have a headache.” I said, still massaging my temples. “And I’m sorry I yelled at you. Believe it or not, I have a temper.”

  He laughed. “It could be because of all that red hair.”

  I laughed back. “Could be. But really. I’m fine. Just taking a few hours for myself. I’ll talk to you tonight.” I hung up before he could say anything else to change my mind.

  I picked up the glass and put the sweet concoction to my lips. Well, here’s to getting smashed and having fun, I said in a silent cheer, before downing the first glass and signaling the bartender to bring another.

  *

  My head was a cotton ball of fuzziness by the time I drained the last drop of Sangria from my glass and my stomach lurched as a waitress walked by with something fried. I was drunk. Blissfully, wholeheartedly drunk. And not thinking about Evan. Until now. Damn! I could not even drink him out of mind. But it didn’t matter. I wasn’t cut out for that love thing anyway. Falling in love? No demon worth her salt would even think about saying something like that. And with a human.

  I scoffed silently. I was a princess of Hell. I was the princess of Hell. He was so totally beneath me. But now that I think about it, I would like him to be beneath me…and on top of me and maybe even a little spooning action might work. I shook my head and held tight to the table as the room started to spin. It would be really easy to use a spell to clear my head, but I knew from experience that trying to work a spell while drunk was not a good idea. Bad things tended to happen if you weren’t careful.

  An overwhelming urge to leave came over me and I grabbed my purse. I stood up shakily and managed a few tottering steps before I stumbled into the wood of the bar. Cursing under my breath as a few heads turned my way, I looked at the stairs looming before me. It was like my worst fear come to life. There was no way I was going to be able to make it down those neck breakers without falling. Especially in these shoes.

  And I would be so pissed if I broke a heel. Throwing caution to the wind, I removed my Louboutins, shoved them haphazardly into my bag and put a shaky foot on the first stair. As I was about to make my way down, a hand grabbed my arm. Before I could jerk away, the bartender stood in front of me.

  “Mami, you left me such a good tip, I can’t let you break something.” He gestured to the side of the bar near the door. “Take the elevator.”

  “You have an elevator?” I frowned as he laughed.

  “You think we lug all that liquor upstairs ourselves?” He turned me in the direction of the metal box and gave me a little push. “Elevator. And take this.” He thrust a bag into my hand. “For, you know,” he held his stomach and mimicked the retching that my stomach desperately wanted to oblige.

  I mumbled thanks, grabbed the bag and headed in the direction he’d pointed. A few minutes later, still clutching my stomach, I headed out into the warm air of South Beach in the evening time. It was still light out and the streets were starting to come alive. The evening traffic had died down and most of the cars now were interested in finding somewhere to park and party. I followed an unseen force past the rows of hotels and shops. Past the lines of cars that were parked along the street and in parking garages until I reached an area that was covered in trees. The neighborhood looked decent, even if the buildings were drab and the landscaping nonexistent except for the trees.

  Against my better judgment, I moved along the cracked walkway, my bare feet crunching on dried leaves long ago fallen from the trees. I moved further along and the trees
grew more sparse and the buildings more ominous. I wanted to turn around and run back to the comfort of my condo. After all, even though I was the devil’s daughter, right now, I was as vulnerable as I could possibly get. If something were to happen to me, the only way I could get out of it was to call my dad.

  I pressed my lips into a firm line. That was not happening. But I continued to move forward. I cursed my feet as they silently carried me past broken homes and cars into the heart of downtown Miami. The smell had changed. It smelled like piss. I wrinkled my nose. The same sulfur laden urine smell of my arrival a few weeks ago.

  Why was I still moving? I commanded my feet to stop and felt myself continuing to lurch forward. I was almost like a zombie. I wanted to stop. I wanted to go home. I wanted to lie down in my big Jacuzzi tub in my bathroom and have Evan rub my feet. But instead I was walking into shit-town. I took a deep breath underneath an overpass and almost gagged as the scent of unwashed bodies and urine hit my sensitive stomach.

  Suddenly the sangria and fruit I had consumed made its way up my throat. Hunched over, I heaved up the mass which tasted so much better going down and wiped my mouth on my edge of my blouse before walking over to a concrete column. I leaned against the study structure for a second as I caught my breath and looked around vigilantly.

  A shadow caught my eye and I turned slowly. An old woman stared at me, her eyes yellowed by liquor and drugs. She snarled, showing cracked, yellowed teeth and lunged for me. I turned and ran, but instead of heading back the way I came, I ran deeper into the bowels of downtown Miami.

  My red hair streamed behind me and the heel of one of my shoes poked me in the ribs through my bag. I adjusted the offending shoe and continued running. I don’t know when the woman stopped chasing me. I didn’t know if I had been in her territory, on her corner or in her paranoia. Regardless, I was tired and hungry and starting to get pissed. The alcohol was still in my system and my stomach still trembled if I thought of food, but so far, I wasn’t having any other ill effects from the alcohol. Granted, I was still heading away from South Beach, but I was sure I was taking the scenic route.

  I wondered for a moment, if Orthus had placed a spell on me, but I could not detect any of his magic. I couldn’t detect any demon magic, but the orange shimmer in the distance did let me know magic was present. I realized that resistance was futile. I was being commanded to go. I bided my time. If Bri was fucking with me, when I got back, she would get to meet the real me. That little witch would not like it when she met my inner demon. You did not get to fuck with the daughter of the devil and get away with it. No. There was a special place in hell for people like that and it involved a lot of torture.

  My steps start to slow and I was instantly on guard. Whatever this was, I was nearing the end of it. The intensity that I had felt, the compulsion that had come over me ebbed and I was able to think about going back to South Beach. I was still fairly weak and unable to conjure in my inebriated state, but if I had to, I could whip something up.

  The building was in an older area. It was a one story house, barely bigger than my closet with a Spanish tiled roof that was cracked in places and the faux finish on the outside of the house peeling in patches.

  I rounded the corner to an outdoor area and saw him. He sat on the ground, a long white robe covering his body. He was thin and his elbows jutted out at a weird angle. He held a cigar in one hand and I watched as he muttered a few words, took a long drag, and blew the smoke with flourish onto the makeshift altar in the built-in grill of the patio.

  “I summon you, great spirit. Great Lucifer. I summon you. Hear the cry of your faithful servant. Hear the cry of your loyal servant.” He lit a match and the altar went up in flames. I felt the familiar pull towards him, my feet moving despite my resistance.

  I closed my eyes. Shit. It was worse than I thought. I was being summoned. I groaned as he noticed me and gave an excited shriek. Damn. This day just kept getting better and better.

  ~*~

  Chapter 5 – A Sage Mage

  I was in so much trouble. No. I was in deep shit. The kind so deep, there was no way to dig out of it. I stared at the voodoo practitioner who stared back at me. He reached a trembling hand out to me and I involuntarily stepped back.

  “Praise Lucifer!” He threw himself on the ground in front of me and clasped my legs. I resisted the urge to beat him over the head with my purse or a shoe, but I tried desperately to untangle my legs from his hands. He kissed the ground at my feet, his lips against the concrete.

  “I am Olorisha Luis Fernandez. I am the humble servant of your master. Please grant my one wish as I have served you faithfully.”

  I sighed. Olorisha. Much, much worse. Not even voodoo. Santeria. Damn. He was going to be a hard one to get rid of. The Santeria priests were notorious. More than a few demons had become trapped over the eons because of them. Most were also very fanatical, believing wholeheartedly in their religion and that belief fueled their obsessions. Few were actual worshippers of my father and those who were never really admitted it. Like everything else, there was good and there was evil. Some just liked to do their evil in the dark. Or…I looked around. In their backyard.

  Of all the demons, with all the luck, I happened to be the closest one the moment he cast his stupid, fucking summoning spell. Now I was stuck. I could carry out his summons and be subjected to whatever weird or unorthodox request he wanted, which would grant my freedom. Or as Princess of Hell, I could summon a lower demon to carry out my sentence for me.

  There was only one problem. I could swear the demon to secrecy and even use a spell to bind him, but my dad would know if a demon was summoned from hell and if he asked, that demon would be obliged to answer. Truthfully. Not even my magic could match that of my dad.

  I sighed. I stood barefoot, bathed in the light of the city at twilight, with a human clasped to my body. It was similar to a fantasy I had entertained, but it was in a warm hotel room and the human was Evan. Even better, he had not summoned me to fulfill a wish. Like I was a damn genie. I was abruptly brought back to the present by the pinch the Olorisha gave me.

  Narrowing my eyes dangerously, I glared at him and he hastily backed away. He surveyed me again as I stared back. He was thin, with a slight paunch around the mid-section and very tanned, his skin tone hinting at an island ancestry; Cuba or Puerto Rico. His dark hair blended in with his skin although his hairline well back past the center of his head. He stood a little taller than my five foot six frame and he looked soft underneath his loose robes.

  I raised a brow at his sneakers peeking out from under his clothes. Great. He was a rebel. Hated those. Those were the worst ones to get in hell. For some reason, they did not understand that the struggle was over and that all the people they had killed for their cause had gotten them nothing. Except a stint in hell. They were the ones who wanted you to know that they didn’t deserve their fate and that what they were doing was of the utmost importance. Imagine processing a group of them at once. It was horrible.

  Refocusing on the Olorisha, I sighed again as he bowed low. His body was taut with excitement. He opened his mouth to speak and I quickly held up a hand to silence him. Alcohol still thrummed through my system although the effect was quickly starting to wear off. I needed water. The only way I could regain some control was to negate the effects of the alcohol. Although I could not release the alcohol from my system, I could dilute it a bit. It would clear my head and allow some reason. Then I could figure out a way to get out of this summoning.

  “I am extremely thirsty and my feet hurt. I need water and somewhere to sit before I get into any discussion about any wish granting.”

  He nodded and ushered me into the house, silently leading me to the couch. The interior was dark and a bit cool. He noted my discomfort and hurriedly turned off the air conditioning, returning with a bottle of water. I sipped the bottled quietly, taking in my surroundings. He wasn’t too bad, I noted, but still thought to be wary. I’d heard stories from other de
mons about how demanding summoners could be.

  Many demons had to find a way to grant the request while at the same time killing the human. Making a deal with a demon was already a one-way trip to hell, but if the summoner managed to find salvation—true salvation—before they died, they might be spared. Ensuring that they did not find salvation kept the numbers up and the rooms in hell filled.

  Thinking about killing someone, human or not, left a bad taste in my mouth. I was not interested in killing anyone, but I was not to be toyed with. I eyed the man who sat across from me on another couch and was trying not to stare at me. He held a small black object in his hand and I frowned as I stared at it.

  “Is that a cell phone?”

  He laughed nervously. “No, no,” he said quickly. “Remote control for the TV.” He hurriedly placed it on the couch behind him.

  I continued to frown. Did he think I was an idiot? I knew what a remote control looked like and I also knew what a cell phone looked like. The little bastard was trying to take a picture of me. I muttered a simple spell aware that I was still drunk and watched in satisfaction as he jumped when the cell phone hidden behind his back appeared in front of him. I held my hand out and made a fist, smiling wickedly as his face fell when the phone crumpled into black dust.

  “I am not one to be messed with,” I said harshly.

  He nodded silently, his eyes wide and I wondered if this was his first time doing a summoning. It would explain his excitement at seeing me.

  I sat back and waited. The silence stretched between us uncomfortably and the Olorisha swallow visibly. I smiled. I was happy he was afraid, but to be honest, I was scared as well. There was no way out of this without alerting my dad. Or I could refuse the deal, which would allow a damned soul to go free. Who knew what kind of ramifications could result? Forget all that cosmic universe stuff and upsetting the balance. There was no balance. It was just about the numbers. And numbers were down.