Prom Nights from Hell

by Kim Harrison

  The sticky, humid Miami night was as uncomfortable as if it were trying to rival hell. In her thick leather dress, the girl smiled a relieved smile and rubbed her hands against her bare arms.

  She let her body relax against the side of a nearby grimy Dumpster, and leaned toward the open top where the stench of rotting food hung in a heavy cloud. Her eyes slipped closed, then she inhaled deeply and smiled again.

  Another, even more vile smell—something like rancid, burning flesh, but worse—wafted through the sultry air. The girl’s smile widened as she sucked in this painful new odor like it was the rarest perfume.

  And then her eyes snapped open and her body wrenched straight and stiff.

  A low chuckle rolled out of the velvet darkness.

  “Feeling homesick, Sheeb?” a woman’s voice purred.

  The girl’s lips curled into a snarl as the body that belonged with the voice coalesced into view.

  The stunning black-haired woman seemed to be clothed in nothing but a lazily swirling black mist. Her legs and feet were invisible—perhaps not even there. High on her forehead were two small, polished onyx horns.

  “Chex Jezebel aut Baal-Malphus,” the girl in the red dress growled. “What are you doing here?”

  “So formal, little sister?”

  “What do I care for sisters?”

  “True. And our exact parentage is shared by thousands…But that’s such an unwieldy mouthful. Why don’t you just call me Jez, and I’ll skip over the Chex Sheba aut Baal-Malphus and call you Sheeb.”

  Sheba snorted derisively. “I thought you were assigned to New York.”

  “Just taking a break—like you are, apparently.” Jezebel looked pointedly at Sheba’s resting spot. “New York is fabulous—almost as evil as hell, thanks for asking—but even the killers sleep now and then. I got bored, so I came down to see if you were having fun at the purrrrrrrrrr-rom.” Jezebel laughed. The dark mist around her danced.

  Sheba scowled but did not answer.

  Her mind was on alert as she focused back on the unsuspecting teenagers inside the hotel ballroom, looking for interference. Was Jezebel here to mess with Sheba’s plans? What else? Most middle demons would go miles out of their way to screw over a little leaguer—to the point of doing a good deed, even. Balan Lilith Hadad aut Hamon had once disguised herself as a human at one of Sheba’s assigned high schools, about a decade back. Sheba hadn’t understood why all her miserable plots kept turning into happy endings. Then, when she’d figured it out, she still could hardly believe Lilith’s gall—the vicious demoness had actually orchestrated three separate instances of true love, just to get Sheba demoted! Lucky for Sheba, she’d pulled off a good betrayal at the last minute that took out two of the romances. Sheba sucked in a deep breath. That had been a close one. She could have been bounced back to middle school!

  Sheba grimaced at the succulent demoness floating before her now. If Sheba had a dream job like Jezebel’s—a homicide demon! It didn’t get much better than that—Sheba would stick to the mayhem and forget the petty tricks.

  Sheba’s thoughts twisted like invisible smoke through the dancers in the building behind her, looking for any signs of treachery. But everything continued as it should. The misery in the room was reaching new heights. The flavor of human unhappiness filled her mind. Delicious.

  Jezebel chuckled, understanding exactly what Sheba was doing.

  “Relax,” Jezebel said. “I’m not here to cause you any trouble.”

  Sheba snorted. Of course Jezebel was there to cause trouble. That’s what demons did.

  “Great dress,” Jezebel noted. “Hell hound skin. Terrific for inciting lust and envy.”

  “I know how to do my job.”

  Jezebel laughed again, and Sheba leaned in instinctively to catch the brimstone flavor of her breath.

  “Poor Sheeb, still locked in half-human form,” Jezebel teased. “I remember how good everything smells all the time. Ugh. And the temperature! Do the humans have to freeze everything with their wretched air-conditioning?”

  Sheba’s face was smooth now, controlled. “I get by. There’s plenty of misery to go around.”

  “That’s the spirit! Just another few centuries, and you’ll be in the big-time with me.”

  Sheba allowed a smirk to curl her lips. “Or maybe not quite so long.”

  One black eyebrow arched high against Jezebel’s white forehead, raising almost to an ebony horn.

  “Is that so? Got something particularly evil up your sleeve, little sister?”

  Sheba didn’t answer, tensing again as Jezebel sent her own thoughts snaking invisibly through the crowd inside the ballroom. Sheba locked her jaw, ready to strike back if Jezebel tried to undo any of her schemes. But Jezebel just looked, touching nothing.

  “Hmm,” Jezebel hummed to herself. “Hmm.”

  Sheba’s fists clenched hard as Jezebel’s search touched Cooper Silverdale, but again, Jezebel merely observed.

  “Well, well,” the horned demoness murmured. “Wow. Sheeb, I’ve got to say it, I’m impressed. You got a gun in. And a motivated hand—full of alcohol to weaken his free will!” The older demoness smiled with something that looked strangely like sincerity. “This is really evil. I mean, sure, a middle demon working homicide or mayhem or maybe riots could set something like this up at a prom, but a human-form child on misery detail? What are you, two, three hundred?”

  “Just one-eighty-six at my last spawn day,” Sheba answered brusquely, still wary.

  Jezebel whistled a tongue of flame through her lips. “Very impressed. And I can see that you aren’t neglecting your assignment, either. That’s one miserable crowd in there.” Jezebel laughed. “You’ve ended nearly every promising relationship, broken a few dozen lifelong friendships, made new enemies…three, four, five fights brewing,” Jezebel counted, her mind with the humans. “You’ve even got the DJ listening to you! Such attention to detail. Ha-ha! I can count on one hand the humans who aren’t completely wretched.”

  Sheba smiled grimly. “I’ll get to them.”

  “Ghastly, Sheeb. Seriously nasty. You do our name proud. If every prom had a demoness like you involved, we’d own this world.”

  “Aw, Jez, you’re making me blush,” Sheba said with heavy sarcasm.

  Jezebel laughed. “Of course, you’ve got a little help.”

  Jezebel’s thoughts twisted in a circle around Celeste, who had just twisted herself around a new boy. Jilted girls cried, while the boys Celeste carelessly tossed aside flexed their fists and glowered wrathfully at their competition; burning with lust, each was determined that Celeste was finishing the night with him.

  Celeste was doing half the work tonight.

  “I use the tools available to me,” Sheba said.

  “What an ironic name! What an evil mind! Is she fully human?”

  “I passed her in the hall, just to check,” Sheba admitted. “Pure, clean human scent. Revolting.”

  “Huh. I would have sworn she had some demon in her ancestry. Good find. But, Sheba, asking a date? Pretty amateur, involving yourself physically that way.”

  Sheba’s chin jabbed upward defensively, but she did not answer. Jezebel was right; it was crude and time-consuming to use one’s human form rather than one’s demon mind. However, it was the results that counted. Sheba’s timely interference had kept Logan from discovering his true love.

  “Well, it in no way diminishes your accomplishments here tonight.” Jezebel’s tone was conciliatory. “You pull this one off, and they’ll put you in the baby demons’ textbooks.”

  “Thanks,” Sheba snapped. Did Jezebel really think she could flatter Sheba into letting her guard down?

  Jezebel smiled, and her mists curled up on the edges, mirroring the expression.

  “A tip, Sheba. Keep them confused in there. If you can get Cooper to pull the trigger, then you might make some of these wannabe gangsters think they’re under fire.” Jezebel shook her head in wonder. “You’ve got so much po
tential mayhem here. Of course, they’ll bring in a riot demon if it really gets hot…but you’d still get some of the credit for stirring it up.”

  Sheba grimaced, and glimmers of red flashed at her ears. What was Jezebel doing? Where was the trick? Her mind ran over and over the humans she was assigned to torment, but she could find no trace of Jezebel’s distinct brimstone flavor in the ballroom. There was nothing but the misery Sheba had caused herself, and the few little pockets of repellent happiness that Sheba would attend to shortly.

  “You’re certainly helpful tonight,” Sheba said, being deliberately insulting.

  Jezebel sighed, and there was something about the way her mists rolled back in on themselves that made her look…embarrassed. For the first time, Sheba felt a hint of doubt about her assumptions. But Jezebel’s motives had to be malicious. That’s the only kind of motives demons had.

  With a rueful expression on her face, Jezebel asked quietly, “Is it so impossible to believe that I might want you to get promoted?”

  “Yes.”

  Jezebel sighed again. And again, the way her mists writhed in chagrin made Sheba uncertain.

  “Why?” Sheba demanded. “What do you get out of this?”

  “I know it’s all wrong—or rather right—for me to be giving you advice you can work with. Not very evil of me.”

  Sheba nodded cautiously.

  “It’s in our nature to trip up everyone, demons, humans—even angels if we get the chance. We’re evil. Naturally we’re going to backstab, whether it hurts our side or not. We wouldn’t be demons if we didn’t let envy, greed, lust, and wrath rule us.” Jezebel chuckled. “I remember—how many years ago was it?—Lilith almost got you booted back a few grades, didn’t she?”

  Red fire smoldered in Sheba’s eyes at the memory. “Almost.”

  “You handled it better than most. You’re one of the very worst working misery right now, you know.”

  Flattery again? Sheba stiffened.

  Jezebel twisted her mists up with a finger, and then circled that finger so that the mists drew a smoky orb against the night sky.

  “There’s a bigger picture, though, Sheba. Demons like Lilith can’t see past the evil at hand. But there’s a whole world out there, full of humans making millions of decisions every minute of the day and night. We can only be there to sway a fraction of those decisions. And sometimes, well, from where I’m standing, it feels like the angels are getting ahead….”

  “But, Jezebel!” Sheba gasped, shock breaking through her suspicion. “We’re winning. Just watch the news—it’s obvious we’re winning.”

  “I know, I know. But even with all the wars and destruction…it’s odd, Sheba. There’s still an awful lot of happiness out there. For every mugging I turn into a homicide, across town some angel has a bystander jumping another mugger to save the day. Or convincing the mugger to give up his wicked ways! Ugh. We’re losing ground.”

  “But the angels are weak, Jezebel. Everyone knows that. They’re so full of love that they can’t concentrate. Half the time the stupid birdbrains fall in love with a human and trade their wings for a human body. Though why even an idiot angel would want this!” Sheba scowled down the length of her human form. So limiting. “I’ve never really understood the point of having to wear these around for half a millennium. I guess it’s probably just to torture us, isn’t it? The dark lords must enjoy watching us squirm.”

  “It’s more than that. It’s to make you really hate them. The humans, I mean.”

  Sheba stared at her. “Why would I need a reason? Hate is what I do.”

  “It happens, you know,” Jezebel said slowly. “The angels aren’t the only ones to give it all up. There are demons who’ve traded their horns for a human.”

  “No!” Sheba’s eyes widened, then narrowed in disbelief. “You’re exaggerating. Now and then a demon shacks up with a human, but it’s just to torment them. Just a bit of malicious fun.”

  Jezebel winced, swishing her mists into figure eights, but she didn’t argue back. That’s what made Sheba realize she was serious.

  Sheba swallowed hard. “Wow.”

  She couldn’t imagine that. Taking all this delicious evil and throwing it away. Giving up a hard-earned pair of horns—horns that Sheba would destroy anything to have right now—and getting stuck with a weak, fully mortal body in return.

  Sheba eyed Jezebel’s glistening onyx horns and frowned. “I don’t understand how anyone could do that.”

  “Remember what you said about the angels? Getting distracted by love?” Jezebel asked. “Well, hate can be a distraction, too. Look at Lilith and her spiteful good deeds. Maybe it starts out with sticking it to the lesser demons, but who knows where it will lead? Virtue corrupts.”

  “I can’t believe a few tricks against another demon could make you as stupid as a birdbrain,” Sheba mumbled under her breath.

  “Sheba, don’t underestimate the angels,” Jezebel chastised. “You don’t mess with them—you hear? Even a strong middle demon like me knows better than to lock horns with the feather-backs. They steer clear of us, and we steer clear of them. Let the Demon Lords deal with the angels.”

  “I know that, Jezebel. I wasn’t spawned this decade.”

  “Sorry. I’m being helpful again.” She shuddered. “I just get so frustrated sometimes! Goodness and light on every side!”

  Sheba shook her head. “I don’t see that. Misery is everywhere.”

  “Happiness is, too, sis. It’s all over the place,” Jezebel said sadly.

  It was silent for a long moment as Jezebel’s words lingered in the air. The sticky breeze washed across Sheba’s skin. Miami was no hell, but it was comfortable at least.

  “Not at my prom!” Sheba retorted with sudden fierceness.

  Jezebel smiled widely—her teeth were black as the night sky. “That’s just it—that’s why I’m being so undamnedly helpful. Because we need demonesses like you out there. We need the worst we can get on the front lines. Let the Liliths of the underworld mess around with petty tricks. Get me the Shebas on my side. Get me a thousand Shebas. We’ll win this fight once and for all.”

  Sheba considered that for a moment, weighing the fierce purpose in Jezebel’s voice. “That’s evil in such a strange way. It almost sounds like good.”

  “Twisted, I know.”

  They laughed together for the first time.

  “Well, get back in there and destroy that prom.”

  “I’m on it. Go to hell, Jezebel.”

  “Thanks, Sheeb. Back at you.”

  Jezebel winked once, and then smiled wider until the black of her teeth seemed to envelop her entire face. She evaporated into the night.

  Sheba lingered in the dirty alley until the alluring scent of brimstone had faded away entirely, and then break time was over. Invigorated by the idea of joining the front lines, Sheba hurried back to her misery.

  The prom was in full swing, and everything was falling into place.

  Celeste was scoring high in her malicious game; she awarded herself a point for every girl who cried in a dark corner of the ballroom. Two points for every boy who threw a punch at a rival.

  All over the room, the seeds Sheba had planted were flowering. Hate was blooming alongside lust and rage and despair. A garden straight from hell.

  Sheba enjoyed it all from behind a potted palm.

  No, she couldn’t force the humans to do anything. They had their innate free will, and so she could only tempt, could only suggest. Little things—high heels and seams and minor muscle groups—she could manipulate physically, but she could never force their minds. They had to choose to listen. And tonight, they were listening.

  Sheba was on a roll, and she didn’t want any loose ends, so before she turned back to her most ambitious scheme—Cooper was pliant with intoxication now, ready for her direction—she sent her thoughts searching through the crowd for those small, annoying bubbles of happiness.

  No one was walking away from this prom
unscathed. Not while Sheba had a spark in her body.

  Over there—what was this? Bryan Walker and Clara Hurst were staring dreamily into each other’s eyes, totally oblivious to the wrath and despair and bad music surrounding them, just enjoying each other’s company.

  Sheba considered her options and decided to have Celeste interfere. Celeste should enjoy that—nothing was more evilly fun than flaunting your power right in the face of a pure romance. Besides, Celeste listened to every suggestion Sheba fed her, entirely agreeable to any demonic scheme.

  Sheba continued with her evaluation before acting.

  Not too far away, Sheba found that she’d dropped the ball in an inexcusable fashion. Was that her own date, Logan, actually enjoying himself? Impossible. So, he’d found his Libby after all and they were both unacceptably happy. Well, that would be easy enough to rectify. She’d go reclaim her partner and send Libby running away in tears. Amateur and crude to intervene bodily…Still, better that than let happiness win even one small battle.

  Sheba’s assessment was almost done. There was just one more tiny pocket of peace—not a couple this time; it was a lone boy wandering into the far end of the room from the hall. That annoying Gabe Christensen.

  Sheba scowled in his direction. What did he have to be happy about? He was rejected and alone. His date was the scourge of the prom. A normal boy would be full of rage or pain right now. But he insisted on making more work for her!

  Sheba inspected Gabe’s mind more closely. Hmm. Gabe wasn’t really happy. In fact, he was worrying intensely at the moment, searching for someone. Celeste was quite clearly in his view, writhing to a slow song with Rob Carlton (Pamela Green watched the display with shocked eyes, despair leaking deliciously into the air around her), but she wasn’t the source of Gabe’s worry. There was someone else he wanted to find.

  So he wasn’t happy—that wasn’t the sensation that had trespassed on Sheba’s atmosphere of misery. It was goodness itself that was exuding from this boy. Even worse.