by Crymsyn Hart
Hell’s Gate: Amelia
Crymsyn Hart
Published by Purple Sword Publications, LLC
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
HELL’S GATE: AMELIA
Copyright © 2011 CRYMSYN HART
ISBN 978-1-61292-026-9
Cover Art Designed By Dawné Dominique
Chapter One
Amelia waved her hands in front of the mirror and sighed. No one saw her. Lila, the bartender, was busy stocking the shelves for the night. It’d be nice for other people to see me besides the supernatural beings who dwell here. Why can’t just a regular guy notice me? She drifted toward the center stage where her feet had once touched the wood. Now all she had were legs and sometimes those didn’t manifest. Death sucks.
Once upon a time, she had been a showgirl in the roaring twenties. She glided toward the throne in the center of the stage and slumped down, resting her elbows on her knees. She cradled her head in her hands and stared at the empty club. Soon it would echo with the newfangled sounds that passed for music. The roped off areas would be full of people waiting to indulge in whatever fetish or voyeuristic appeal they were into. Amelia thought it crazy. Hell’s Gate offered her a refuge until the afterlife allowed her to traverse to the other side. It was either that or wander the streets and not be the victim of the soul harvesters. If they caught her, then she’d be thrown into an eternity of service or worse. A cold shiver gripped her even though she was already dead.
“Why are you so glum? Normally, you’re breezing around here playing tricks on the employees.” Tig leaned on a speaker near the edge of the stage. The gangly manager had his arms crossed over his chest. He flashed her a smile filled with pointed teeth. His black slitted pupils showed that he was one of the unnatural beings who inhabited Hell’s Gate. She never knew what exactly he was, but he scared humans and gave off a predatory vibe. Amelia didn’t believe he was king of the jungle, but some kind of shape shifting creature.
“Not in the mood today. I’m tired.”
“Tired of being dead or hanging out here?”
She shrugged. “Tired of not being seen. I’m lonely. I see mortals hanging onto one another kissing and touching when I can barely interact with them. Stacking glasses and running my fingers down people’s backs is nothing. I’m grateful Leah invited me to stay, but I’m alone here.”
Tig rubbed his chin. “Let me see what I can do. I have a few connections. Hang tight.”
A smile formed on her lips. For the first time in a long time, she had a sense of hope. Amelia leapt out of the chair. When she did, she lost her focus and moved directly through him. A momentary sense of fear shot through her. Instead of landing on the dance floor, she stopped when her back hit the bar. Tig jumped down and walked over to her. She threw her arms around him and gave him a hug. With all her might, Amelia willed herself solid. There was a gasp in the room and then a loud crash. She jumped from the sudden sound and saw Lila staring directly at her. Her concentration was broken, and the world shifted back to normal. Everything took on the washed out look it always had.
“Tig, who the hell was that?”
Amelia giggled. The manager looked around. “I don’t see anything.”
“I swear you were just hugging a woman.”
“Lila, how many times do I have to tell you not to let your imagination get the better of you?”
Amelia hovered behind the bartender and blew on her neck. The other woman spun around and growled. She chuckled and then focused her energy on rearranging the shot glasses on the counter. It took a great amount of attention, but she was able to pick up the glasses and move them into two pyramids. Lila returned back to her work and swore.
“Amelia, haven’t I told you to lay off messing with my glasses?”
She stuck her tongue out at the bartender and heard Tig snigger. “Lila, leave her alone. She needs to have her fun every once in a while.”
Lila grumbled and continued stocking the bar. Amelia glanced at Tig who grinned right back at her. He wagged his finger. “Leave her be for now. I’ll see what I can do.”
She nodded and watched the man disappear into the bowels of the club. Amelia sighed and wafted back to the stage. She gazed up at the ropes of Christmas lights that were wound through the pipes. To the left of the stage was a corded off area with manacles hung from the walls and ropes suspended from the ceiling. An array of whips and paddles dangled from hooks, waiting to be used. They all but begged to redden skin. Another area close to the stairs was where the men gathered to worship women’s feet. She didn’t understand the lure of men being attracted to feet, but she had witnessed men lick leather boots, suck on toes, and pet shoed women’s feet.
“Hey, Lila, you want to get tied up tonight?”
Amelia blinked. The club was full of people. She rolled her eyes. I hate it when that happens. I pay attention to something for a moment and time flies before I know it. I detest being a spook. She sighed and took in her surroundings. People were dressed in mostly black with heavy makeup painting their faces. Some were half naked. Women had their breasts hanging out covered with tape to conceal their nipples. The music shook the floor and even reached into her ghostly realm where she experienced the beat.
Lila smiled when a tall, golden skinned man picked her up in his arms and kissed her deeply. Amelia was transfixed at the sight. It had been so long since she had felt the solidity of another person. It had been decades since she had experienced any kind of emotion. Her existence was stuck in the realm where the colors were wishy-washy and any kind of detail was lost to her unless she thought extremely hard. Seeing the bartender’s face light up when the man hugged her, Amelia felt a stab of loss. The only man she had ever loved had been gunned down trying to save her life. It hadn’t worked. Amelia never understood why Shawn moved on in the afterlife and she remained. Other ghosts she ran into said it was some unfinished business on her soul. Whatever that business was, she wished it would present itself.
“Hey, I’ve been looking for you. Where’d you go?” Tig’s hand passed through her arm.
“Sorry. I got distracted.” She shrugged. “Happens.”
“Well, you’re here now. I have something for you.” He reached into his pocket and drew out a ring, a plain silver band.
“Are you proposing to me?”
He chuckled. “No. This ring will allow you to be solid, but only in the club. If you step outside these walls, the spell will cease and the ring will fall off your finger. So I suggest you don’t wander.” He held out the ring to her.
Amelia reached for it and expected her fingers to move through it. However, she touched the circlet and felt the coolness of the metal on her fingertips. Shock raced through her. “How did you get this? Where did you get it? What will happen?”
Tig smiled. “I know a witch who owed me a favor. She did say that it’d only work at night. So during the day you’re still a ghost and at night—”
“Will I be alive?”
“Not alive, but not truly dead. Somewhere in between. My friend didn’t say how long it would last, but it’s the best I can do.”
Amelia’s hand shook while she slipped the ring over her finger. It fit perfectly. Once the metal settled on her flesh, a zap electrified all her nerve endings. The world snapped into p
lace around her. Instead of the hollow echo of the music, she felt the intense pounding of the bass rattling her bones. Her heavy bones. She stared at her fingers and they were pale and pink. The fabric of her red dress was vibrant along with the red pumps she wore. The seams of her black fishnets were still firmly in place on the back of her legs. When she pulled up the hem of her skirt, her garters were even there. The most important thing was that she had feet. She stretched out her leg and felt the bend of her knee. The warmth of her flesh was something she hadn’t experienced in the eighty-five years since she had died. The elastic of her muscles and hardness of her bones was something she exalted in. A squeal of delight ripped from her throat and she threw her arms around Tig’s neck. This time she didn’t move through him. Dust sat heavy on her tongue. The smell of sweat and perfume permeated the air. The stale aroma of cloves clung to people. It was all so overwhelming that she wasn’t sure in which direction she should head next.
Tig unwound her from his body and took her hand. He led her over to the bar and tapped Lila on the shoulder. The blue haired bartender spun around and almost threw her drinks on him. However, she stopped short on the tips of her toes and clutched the bottle of beer and the shot in her hands.
“Tig, what the fuck? I’m busy here. You could get your ass behind here and help me.” The bartender gave her drinks to the customers who were waiting for them.
“Lila, chill. I wanted you to meet someone. This is Amelia.”
Her eyes met Amelia’s for a moment as she looked her up and down and then turned back to get an order for another patron. She stopped and then went back to Amelia. “Wait a minute. Amelia, as in the ghost who keeps being a pain in my ass and rearranging all my glasses?”
Amelia smiled and did a little twirl, feeling her dress reel around her. “That’s me.” A surge of energy gripped her. She wanted to boogie with the other people on the dance floor. All she desired was to declare that she was alive to the entire universe and that it felt wonderful. Lila poured a shot of something and Amelia snatched it from her hands and downed it. The warmth of the alcohol burned right to her stomach and then rocketed to her brain. It felt great.
“Hey! Ghost or not, you need to pay for that,” Lila proclaimed.
“Give her a break. She’s hasn’t had a drink in eighty-five years. Anything she wants is on the house tonight,” Tig said. He took Amelia’s hand and led her into the fray of grinding people. The manger whirled her around and then dipped her. A gleeful noise slipped through her lips. Gravity threatened to pull her to the floor even though she was in the comfort of Tig’s arms. It wasn’t something she was used to. He pulled her up and her head spun. She closed her eyes and tried to get her bearings while Tig led her from the dance floor.
“Thank you for everything,” she said. Amelia sucked in a breath, feeling her lungs expand. Taking in the air, she held her breath just because she could.
“You’re welcome. I’ll talk to Leah about setting you up in a room downstairs. You should have one while you’re flesh.” He walked her over to the stairs and left her by the foot fetishist enclosure.
Amelia smiled and took in everything around her. The noise hurt her ears, but it was a good hurt. With so many people surrounding her, she had forgotten what it was like to interact with others. Being alone so long on the other side, she wasn’t sure where to start.
“Hey, honey. You looking to get your feet wet?”
A woman beckoned her into the roped off area where men were waiting in line and others were on their knees worshiping the women’s feet. Amelia had seen her around the club before, but hadn’t interacted with her. The attendant’s red hair was pulled back into a bun. She wore a short, blue vinyl dress with thigh high, leather boots.
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Come on, honey. Women tell me it’s the best experience of their lives.”
Amelia twirled her finger around her shoulder length, black locks. Once she realized what she was doing, she stopped. I thought I got rid of all those quirks. Her gaze darted at the couple of empty seats and the men who were eagerly waiting. They all seemed to have good intentions, and if anyone got out of hand they were booted from the club. Why not? I’ve been dead for almost a century. Now it’s my time to live. Have to take advantage of it while I can. The light reflected off her new ring and reminded her of what Tig had said. He didn’t know how long the spell would last. It could fade at dawn. She smiled at the other woman.
“Sounds fun. It’s been a while since I’ve taken a walk on the wild side. Let’s see where this goes.”
Chapter Two
Barrett stared at the woman who had just entered the foot fetish area. His mouth dropped. She wore a blood red dress with a plunging V neckline that showed off the dip between her breasts. Her long arms were bare, and her black hair spilled like ink on her pale skin. Her dress fell to mid thigh, showing off her beautiful, fishnet clad legs. Her calf was perfectly shaped from the pumps she wore. The thing he loved most was the vintage fishnet stockings with the long seam running straight down her leg. The glimpse of her black garters was something he craved to touch when she sat down in the burgundy velvet chair. His cock grew rigid as he looked at those beautiful legs. If she has such wonderful legs, then her toes have to be just as magnificent. Please pick me to worship them.
The only reason he came to the club was so he could indulge in his fetish. It wasn’t something he ever admitted to outside of these walls. Hell’s Gate was his refuge. The haven had saved him many times in the past when it was too painful for him not to worship the arch of a woman’s foot. The tender skin on the sole and the beautiful painted toenails. It didn’t matter to him if women adorned their nails; it was all about their feet. Barrett shivered when he thought about his obsession. The attendant, Mistress Sandra, made sure no one got out of line. He was granted fifteen minutes, and if he wanted more, he had to wait in line again. Thank God he had just been brought in a few minutes before. Mistress Sandra whispered in the new woman’s ear and pointed out the three men who were waiting to be chosen. He bit his lip, the anticipation wound his stomach in knots. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Barrett absently wiped it away, hoping not to disturb his blond hair. He didn’t want to ruin any chance of being chosen.
Mistress Sandra raised her hand and beckoned him over. Relief flooded his body. He got up and then knelt before the woman.
“This young man is one of our regulars. He’ll treat you right. Barrett, this is Amelia. Say hello.”
He glanced up quickly and was struck dumb by those intense blue eyes he locked his gaze with. Never before had he seen anyone with such vibrant cobalt eyes under long lashes. After Mistress Sandra coughed to grab his attention, he remembered his place and dropped his eyes. Barrett studied the design of the red shoes before him. The toe was rounded with a slightly curved, square, three inch heel. A slim piece of leather rested against the top of her foot and buttoned on the side of her shoe. Amelia’s shoes didn’t appear to be modern. By studying her whole outfit, it seemed to him that she had stepped out of another decade. Then again, the people who came here were all trying to be someone else. Just one night where he could step away from his real life and express himself was a godsend.
“Barrett, aren’t you going to introduce to yourself to this nice woman?” Mistress Sandra urged him.
He peered up again and forced a smile. Barrett switched his gaze from the redheaded vixen who watched over the area to the raven haired beauty who had chosen him to adore her feet. “Sorry. I’m Barrett.”
“Amelia.”
“Now, that’s settled. You two can work out what you want. I’ll come and get you when your time’s up.” Mistress Sandra walked to the other patrons who were waiting in line to come into the foot fetish area.
Barrett waited a moment before looking up at Amelia again. She flashed him a nervous smile. “Is this your first time doing this?”
“Is it that obvious?”
The corners of his mouth turned into a smi
le. “Yeah. It’s okay though. I won’t bite your toes. Unless you want me to.”
The laugh that trickled from her lips was intoxicating. It sent a quiver down his spine and seemed to wrap him in a spell. At that moment, he would do anything this woman wanted of him. Not because it was her first experience with foot fetishists, but because she was beautiful and unique. He couldn’t put his finger on it.
“No biting please. What do you want to do?”
“Can I take the shoe off from your right foot?”
He studied her pale face and didn’t see any creases of makeup when the lines formed on her forehead. She was just naturally white. He could see the spider webbing of blue veins through her translucent skin. A dimple appeared in her chin when she sucked on the corner of her bottom lip. Barrett waited patiently for her to answer. He didn’t want to spook her because this was her first time. Their encounter could get pretty intense if she wanted it to. For now, he wanted to start slow.
“Okay.” She finally relented.
