Old Demon and the Sea Witch: A Hell Cruise Adventure (Welcome to Hell Book 10)

by Eve Langlais

  Old Demon and the Sea Witch

  Welcome to Hell #10 ~ Hell Cruise Adventure

  Eve Langlais

  Contents

  Introduction

  1. Shax: Have you read the book, How to Train your Goblins? Don’t. It’s a lie!

  2. Dorothy: A lady should always be pleasant. Even with jerks

  3. Shax: I really wish someone could recommend a book that explains women.

  4. Dorothy: Marry me, indeed. It’s too late for us.

  5. Shax: That book on witches really needs a bigger warning about pissing them off.

  6. Dorothy: It doesn’t matter how old they are, men are perverts.

  7. Shax: Does she want me to save her? Should I save her? All the books contradict themselves.

  8. Dorothy: Nothing more dangerous than someone who is hurting.

  9. Shax: No book can compare to real life.

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Copyright © 2019/2020, Eve Langlais

  Cover Art © Dreams2Media 2020

  Produced in Canada

  www.EveLanglais.com

  EBook ISBN: 978 177 384 162 5

  Print ISBN: 978 177 384 163 2

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  This book is a work of fiction and the characters, events and dialogue found within the story are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, either living or deceased, is completely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to digital copying, file sharing, audio recording, email and printing without permission in writing from the author.

  Introduction

  You can’t teach an old demon new tricks, but it’s never too late to fall in love.

  A long time ago, Shax loved a sea witch, but was too dumb to admit it.

  But this old demon has decided it’s time he got a second chance. A cruise through the tropics seems like the perfect place to rekindle things.

  The problem is, Dorothy isn’t about to let him charm his way back into her life. Not when he broke her heart once already. Good thing fate hasn’t given up on this pair. With Lucifer meddling, surely things will—

  Go to Hell first, because come on, this is Lucifer we’re talking about. But even he can’t stop true love.

  *An older hero and heroine paranormal romance.

  Check out the entire Hell collection at EveLanglais.com or click the button below.

  1

  Shax: Have you read the book, How to Train your Goblins? Don’t. It’s a lie!

  The little green bastard fired a first edition of Pet Sematary, signed by the King himself, at me. I winced as it hit a bookcase and flopped open to the ground, the pages bent.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I roared, appalled at the travesty.

  The goblin stuck out his tongue and grabbed a worn but enjoyable romantic story about a demon and his witch. Based on a true story, and a favorite of the staff.

  The bastard wound his arm back, ready to toss.

  I shoved up my sleeves and prepared to catch. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  Once more, goblins had snuck into Hell’s epic library. It used to be known as the Ashurbanipal, but that was when it was on the Earth plane. Back when I was still kind of human. Before the incident.

  With the Ashurbanipal in peril, the librarians at the time, including me, had made a deal with the devil. I got a pair of horns and an extended lifespan. Lucifer got to boast about owning the most extensive library anywhere, and I got to deal with stupid shit like leather-parchment-eating worms and goblins. Neither of which had any respect for the literary word.

  And where there was one…

  Another book almost clocked me in the head. War and No Peace, the alternate ending that added a few hundred additional pages. It would have hurt if it’d landed.

  I glared, about all I could do until the library acolytes arrived with the lassos. Good thing our last batch of recruits had been practicing.

  People often made the mistake of assuming that librarians were meek scholars with the muscle tone of a human centenarian. Maybe on Earth, but here in the Pit, working the library meant staying fit. Because Hell’s library didn’t give up its knowledge easily. Bringing it to Hell imbued it with certain challenges. Now, it required quick wits and agile strength to find what you were looking for. The deaths of those who failed probably explained the lack of interest in reading.

  The funniest were those who assumed they could cockily enter and do the job of a guardian of the stacks. They didn’t believe us when we told them that magic was forbidden inside the library, as were candles—any sort of flame, actually. Sharp-edged objects, even letter openers, had to remain outside the guarded doors. There were some priceless books in here. Irreplaceable ones that could never, ever have a copy. Some could not be read by anyone. Some knowledge should remain hidden, but never be destroyed. The library existed to protect wisdom and history.

  Anything that might possibly damage a book found itself held outside the doors. At times it was a wonder anyone made it through the powerful magnet that yanked at your flesh as if it would strip out your teeth and bones.

  Yet it somehow couldn’t stop goblins. Nor the dragon that decided to squat on the Dungeons and Dragons section. But we let her have that hoard mostly because we kept the Salvatore books elsewhere.

  I ducked before a sudden volley of books—fired by more than one green goblin—could rain on me. It required some fast footwork to leap, grab, tuck a book before flipping to snare another and another. I was a veritable acrobat, catching all the paperbacks before they could land.

  Except for one.

  The original Wizard of Oz manuscript by L. Frank Baum, a first draft handwritten with all the dark, yummy bits before they got edited out to become the modern-day classic. It landed hard enough to snap the binder holding all the loose sheets. They spilled onto the floor.

  The goblins, a chattering sort, fell silent. Did they hear the anger ticking inside of me?

  Thump. Thump. Thump. One by one, I placed the books I’d managed to save on the table.

  “Ergh blag?” The goblin closest to me appeared apprehensive.

  With good reason. Because there were some lines even they knew to never cross.

  Jerod, a student of mine, arrived with a lasso. Out of breath, and like an idiot, he ran right into the middle of the problem.

  But the goblins ignored him to watch me. I held out my hand. The lasso hit my palm.

  There was a squeal as the little bastards split, racing through the stacks. As if they could escape.

  I twirled the lasso, whipping it out, the circle rotating, nice and tight. I would have to go hunting, and the aisles didn’t leave much room.

  I tracked down the first one in the dead end for novels that never made it to market. For example, we had a whole shelf of stories by an author written while being kept prisoner by an avid fan. He died in captivity, and the reader hoarded the books written under extreme duress until Lucifer came to get her soul and she traded them for a spot in Heaven.

  Rumor had it she’d kidnapped an angel. The one who’d helped the Christians write their Bible. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on that book.

  The goblin I tracked hovered mid-shelf, clinging with its gouging claws to the scratchable wood. The bookcase should have been made of something more durable, but the devil liked the look of it.

  So did I, but I lik
ed to bust his balls and proffer suggestions that we replace it with industrial metal shelving. I just hoped he never realized I mind-screwed him, or we could end up with a very warehouse look rather than a cozy library.

  The creature dared to pull out a volume and wag it. I gave him my sternest look. “I can be nice about this.” I eyed the spinning lasso. “Or not.”

  The thrown tome said not. No remorse filled me as the noose soared and landed around the goblin. He flailed and squawked. I tightened the rope, yanked him towards me, and spun it rapidly until he was bobble-eyed, staring at me from a rope cocoon.

  I held out my hand without looking. Someone wisely gave me another rope. I hunted down the rest of the goblins, bundling them one by one. Some of my acolytes managed to snare a few.

  There was only one left. He sat in the baby section, surrounded by books about raising them, corrupting them, the things to expect, the crazy mommy stories never published because infanticide was frowned upon.

  The beast eyed me with black orbs that didn’t blink. He softened his expression, made his mouth tremble. He appeared innocent and childlike. I could feel my acolytes around me weakening.

  They’d learn.

  I said nothing as a student reached for the goblin saying, “You’re so cute.”

  It took a blinking second before the student noticed the teeth locked around his wrist. Another before he screamed.

  I chose to use this as a teaching moment. “Don’t put your hand near sharp objects. Understood?”

  Fervent nods.

  Since I didn’t have a clear headshot, I went hands-on. I jammed my thumbs into the hinges of the goblin’s jaws. When it unlocked, I wrapped an arm around its neck and held it while two of my students jumped in to secure its limbs.

  Only then did I let go and eye the sobbing student. “Next time, pay attention to the rules. Find a medic.” I turned away. We didn’t coddle stupidity in Hell.

  “Jerod.” I waved a hand, and the boy stacked the last goblin into a neat cord with the others. Thirteen. The usual number for a goblin gang.

  “What should we do with them?” Jerod nudged a stubby-nosed goblin on the bottom.

  “Don’t ask me. I need to go home and pack. I hear the kindergarten for Gifted Demonic Children is looking for some new toys.”

  The bugged-out eyes on the goblins amused my acolytes as they scurried off with the donation. A short-lived amusement that quickly turned weary. It never changed. My life a never-ending saga of goblin catching, text restoration, and acolyte training. The only reprieve from monotony that I ever got was the raising of my nephew when his parents died.

  However, his time with me was coming to an end, hence the reason I was taking a vacation. In the morning, we’d be leaving on a goodbye cruise. The nephew I’d raised approached the end of his life in a human body. Soon, a curse upon his line—passed down through generations—would strike, making him into a permanent sea monster.

  Which really sucked. I still remembered the day Ian had come into my care, arriving along with news of my much younger sister’s demise. A solemn-eyed toddler, he’d gazed at me, doing his best to still a trembling lower lip. My first impulse as a confirmed bachelor was to send him to the orphanage. What did I know about raising a child?

  Yet there was something in his face… He reminded me of his mother, but even more, I saw me. A mini-me, the son I’d never had.

  “Guess we’d better move some books around and make room for you,” I’d said.

  At the time, my home, the home of a scholar, hosted thousands upon thousands of tomes. Books that over the years found themselves returned to the library as Ian, my nephew and new son, grew. The evacuation made room in my house for a child who educated me more than any book could. He taught me that there was a world outside of my studies. Showed me what it could be like to share my day with someone else. He made me crave the company of others. Reminded me what life had been like before I became a demi-demon in Lucifer’s service.

  And now, he was leaving me. It made me sad as I packed my things for our last vacation together, including a satchel of books. A proper librarian never left home without at least a half-dozen. Except, I wasn’t actually a librarian any more. I’d finally tendered my resignation to the devil’s shock. Retirement meant more time to do the things I wanted.

  Like this cruise. I made my way to the port where I ran into my nephew, who managed a weak smile.

  “Got your ticket?” my nephew Ian asked.

  “Yes, I’ve got my ticket. I’m old, not senile.”

  “Are you sure? I heard you let goblins loose in the library again.”

  “Who, me?” My lips curved. “How else am I supposed to train the newbies properly?”

  “One of these days, they’ll catch on to the fact that you’re playing them.”

  “Who says they haven’t? On the contrary, once they realize the emergency is faked, they become part of the story that continues it.” In order to teach, I used awe. Reverence of my skills. The acolytes saw me going after goblins, snaring them with ease. They eagerly listened to everything I said after that.

  “Yeah, well, they might not mind it, but I’m still pissed you had those brine burrs sink the ship I traveled on when I was ten.”

  That brought back a fond memory. I’d been trying to teach Ian about accepting his kraken side. Learning to work with it in the hopes he wouldn’t completely lose himself later.

  “You survived.”

  “You could have warned me the burrs on their bodies would stick to the insides of my mouth.”

  “How was I to know you’d lack common sense and eat them?” Never even occurred to me to tell the kid not to eat something called brine burrs. We figured out it was his monster side making him do that shit. It needed to be taught so he didn’t end up a mindless beast like his father.

  “Ready for sunshine and cold beverages?” Ian faked enthusiasm as he indicated the portal. Our turn to go through.

  “You forgot bikinis.”

  “Did you bring yours?” Ian taunted before striding towards the inter-dimensional rip.

  It rippled on the dock, and nothing could be seen through that hole to somewhere else. We could be stepping into a volcano for all we knew. Yet when I passed into the rip, feeling the pressure and cold of nothing and the sum of everything at once, I exited from the ashy heat of Hell to the moist sunshine of the Caribbean.

  It had been a while since I’d tasted the atmosphere of Earth. I’d only been back a few times since I was cursed to become a demi-demon. Tilting my head back, the hot rays of the sun kissed my skin. I breathed deeply, inhaling all kinds of smells that weren’t brimstone and ash. Brine, the whiff of smoke from a stack, a bit of ocean decay. Not all that nice, yet it wasn’t Hell. “Damn that smells good.”

  “Incoming!” yelled an imp waving a fluorescent glow stick.

  My nephew nudged me, and we moved to allow the next person through. My steps soon slowed as I glanced overhead, noting a pair of incoming witches on brooms. An older woman and a young lady. For a moment, my heart stuttered. I used to know a girl who rode a broom back in the day.

  But she got married. Had a child. Once I realized she’d moved on without me, breaking my heart in the process, I’d never looked her up again. Nor did I ever care for another like I did my sweet witch, Dorothy.

  “Did someone piss in your coffee? You look so sad. Don’t tell me you’re going to be a sour-faced downer this entire trip,” Ian teased me. He’d been making light of his demise for a while now.

  I didn’t laugh. I couldn’t help but feel I’d let him down.

  “I will be a grumpy old demon if I want to,” I grumbled.

  “Maybe putting on a bathing suit and going for a dip will soothe your crotchety tendencies.” Ian held the elevator door open, waiting for me.

  What would I do without him? “You’re a mouthy brat.”

  “Learned from the best.”

  I hid a smile.

  Ian tucked his hands into h
is pockets and slouched against the elevator wall. “So, I saw you eyeing those witches. You going to try and hook up with someone?”

  “I am not here to get laid.”

  “Why not? I’m thinking I should have a last hurrah.” He winked at me, and my heart turned sadder. I saw right through the attempt but played along.

  “We should find sisters.”

  “Don’t you mean a mother and daughter pair?” Age-wise, I was much older than my nephew, but in appearance, not quite old enough to be his dad.

  The elevator spilled us out onto a floor well above water. Our lavish suites were side by side. A good thing because I wanted to be close to my nephew in his final hours.

  We chose to split up and unpack. We’d meet again for dinner. I’d no sooner closed my door than a certain goddess decided to visit me.

  Springtime flowers filled the room a moment before she swirled into view.

  “Gaia, I thought we discussed knocking.”

  The pretty goddess of nature, wearing a light green summer frock, a crown of woven daisies, and a chocolate handprint over her boob, inclined her head. “If I appeared in the hallway to knock, then people might remark on the fact that I was visiting you. Not a good idea since we don’t want Lucifer finding out I’m sneaking off to see another man and lying to him.”

  She put it in terms of the worst-case scenario possible. The reminder brought a groan. “I really wish you’d tell your husband what we’re doing.” Because I didn’t need the hassle of dealing with an angry Lord of Hell. He tended to be quite jealous where his wife was concerned.

  “You know we can’t tell! He would lose his ever suspicious and possessive mind.” She stamped her foot, and I was sure they felt the ground quake somewhere in the world.