Raising Hell

by L W Rogers

  She’s right of course. If I go I will probably end up fucking up. I seem to have the innate ability to do exactly that on most tasks I’ve been set. This is the reason that I more often than not find myself tied to a desk pushing paper. Well, that and my aversion to blood, obviously. Apparently ‘I lack the maturity or level head’ to manage even the simplest task. However, I really would like to accompany Lailah on this one. I have to say that I am intrigued as to why this woman has the issues that she has but, even more so, I’m curious what her reaction will be when my angelic friend puts forth her proposition. You’d think that anyone would jump at the chance to work with yours truly. Plus, it’s the opportunity of a lifetime to try and prevent what could potentially be a disaster of catastrophic proportions on the earthly plain; a chance to save the world, if you will. Anyone with a hero complex would be thrilled. However, Lailah seems convinced that her plea will fall on deaf ears. If she’s saying this will be a challenge then I’m inclined to believe her.

  I must focus. This is too important to play tag along and piss off the contact. “Fine. I won’t come. I’ll wait for word from you. But don’t expect me to hold off if the response is a solid no, Lailah.”

  I am met with silence.

  “Lailah?”

  I know better than to go looking for her. She’s gone. How rude!

  Fucking angels will be the death of me.

  I punch one of the standing stones, accidentally knocking a chunk loose from it in my temper. I give up trying to put it back on when I realise that nobody will notice anyway. Well, probably not.

  Needless to say, I’m not in the best of moods when I head for home. Maybe I can find something exciting to do when I get there? My internal voice laughs mockingly at this thought for most of the journey to Hell. Yeah, because that’s going to happen.

  ***

  One of the most important things you need to know about Hell is that it’s dull, dull, dull. I’m not kidding on this. You’d think that it would be party central (well, at least for us daemons, less so for the unfortunate souls who end up here, I suppose). Except, it’s really not. Nope. Not on any level at all.

  Take now, for example. I’m back at my desk after coming from my short but not so sweet liaison with Lailah. I have absolutely nothing to do and I’m tearing-my-hair-out bored, again. Now, don’t get me wrong. There is plenty to occupy yourself with down here as long as you are into eternal torture or standard warfare, but when you’re afflicted, as I am, it seriously limits your job prospects.

  I’ve been sitting here for the past two hours conjuring up toys to keep myself amused, even resorting to animating a few fantasy figures on my desk to make things more interesting through the art of war (you know, a few mass produced plastic witches, wizards and couple of dragons for good measure). All I succeeded in doing was setting fire to my in-tray again. It made a right mess when I had to throw water over everything to kill the flames. There are now the sad, charred remains of the aforementioned figures, pools of ink, and soggy clumps of burnt paper littering the once flawless surface of my desk. Fucked if I can be bothered to clear it up though. I know I need something to do, but cleaning isn’t what I’m looking for. I could dispose of the carnage with the click of a finger, but I don’t want to. Boredom gets the better of me, so I finally resign myself to staring out of the window at nothing in particular.

  It’s hardly a stellar view, as all I can see is the window on the opposite side of this pit. Pale stone surrounds the arched windows, and the panes glow amber from the fire pit that protects the entrance to this infernal hole. It used to be a view I cherished, now it’s no more than window dressing, a pretty mask to the evils that occur within. Torture, pain, and endless days of darkness await those who choose the path to this realm. Sadly, fewer seem to be falling foul of this inferno, and our once overflowing holding cells are empty as all the devils choose to dwell in a more human hell. That’s probably why Sadie and Darius were so cheerful about the opportunity that presented itself earlier. The chances to torture are sparse at best these days.

  Speaking of which, I think I may have found myself something to occupy my time with for a short while. I think I’ll pay ‘mother’ a visit.

  I head back down the weeping, weaving path to Sadie’s quarters. I ignore the crimson tears that paint my trousers as the faded tracks from earlier have already tie-dyed the fabric at the hem.

  It doesn’t take long to reach my intended destination. As I near the door I contemplate knocking, but dismiss the idea out of hand choosing to barge my way in instead. As the door thwacks the wall I am met with the sight of Darius’s naked arse and my eyes bleed for the second time in as many days. He has Sadie pinned to the rock face opposite the entrance and is grinding up against her as she shrieks her pleasure. How did I miss the sounds, you may ask? The answer to this question is a little strange, but also simple. Let me explain. I know you wouldn’t expect a daemon to be worried about something as trivial as privacy. I mean they have no sense of common decency, right? However, that is another fact about Hell. Although the cells are on the empty side these days, it used to be ridiculously noisy down here, so the boss decided that private quarters be soundproofed so that the sounds emitted from them did not destroy his enjoyment of the pained screams coming from the torture chambers. Speaking of which, the rutting pair have still not picked up on my presence. I guess I’d better inform them of the fact that they have a visitor.

  If I was a gentleman I’d go back out and knock. I would also not let on that I am aware that I interrupting their – well, whatever this little ‘match made in Heaven’ is. What I definitely wouldn’t do is what I choose to do next.

  I cross the room and tap Darius on the shoulder. He jumps at the contact, dropping Sadie to the ground in the process. She lands at his feet with a thud and a bewildered ‘Oof’. Whipping round, he snarls and I feel his claws digging into my throat. As recognition passes behind his glare, I grin at him broadly.

  “Hey Darius.”

  “What the actual fuck, Blaine?”

  If those shrieked words were from Darius then I didn’t see his lips move at all. That can only mean one thing. Sadie has recovered herself and is less than happy. I turn my head as far as I can to meet her wrath. To say she looks pissed is the understatement of the millennium.

  “Mother.”

  “Darius, drop him.”

  Well, that was certainly unexpected. She seems like she’s going to rip me the proverbial ‘new one’ but she’s getting him to release me. The way she looks right now she would probably delight in having me in her torture chamber for a little one on one mother/son punishment session.

  Of course, Darius doesn’t drop me straight away. Instead, he chooses to tighten his grip further before flinging me into the nearest available wall. I hit the rock face with a crack. I’m unsure whether this is the sound of the impact or the sound of many, many bones fracturing. The only way to find out is to attempt to raise myself from the ground.

  I drag myself to my feet slowly, just in case. Although I’m aching, it appears that nothing is damaged internally. Brushing myself off, I check out the wall behind me. There’s a large crack that stretches from ceiling to floor. It gapes in the middle and bleeds rubble at the base. Something tells me that it’s going to be a bitch to fix. Oh well, never mind.

  “I’m glad you came to find me. I have a task for you that came straight from the boss.”

  I spin towards Sadie. She still looks angry, but her tone is all business. I raise an eyebrow in question.

  “Go on.”

  “The Satan has requested that we send someone up top to see if they can find out who is leaking information, how they are doing it, and what its final destination is. As you appear to be at a loose end, I put your name forward. You’ve definitely too much time on your hands recently with the amount you’ve been terrorising me.”

  “Now hang on a minute. The only time I’ve bothered you is now.”

  “Not true, Blaine. Sur
e the incidents may be small, but little things add up. To be frank, I think you’re bored.”

  She has a point. Before I came to hassle her I was thinking exactly the same thing.

  “So when do I need to go?”

  “As soon as possible. He’ll be expecting weekly updates as he appreciates this may take some time. Upon your return, you must report back to The Satan with your findings.”

  The news of my imminent departure is a positive thing. This situation can work in my favour due to the lack of deadline for the job. Obviously, I won’t need to do any searching because the mole is me. I’ll just have to drag this out for as long as it takes to find a scapegoat to divert any attention away from me. Which means that I’ll then be free to track Lailah and see how she’s getting on with the contact she’s selected for me (and, if needs be, ‘influence’ the situation in our favour).

  “Fine. I’d better get moving then I suppose.”

  Sadie nods her agreement. Darius snorts loudly. I wave, then raise a middle finger at him as I head for freedom.

  “Oh, and Blaine?”

  I sigh and turn back towards them.

  “Yes, mother.”

  “There’s no rush to get home.”

  “Of course there isn’t. The Satan only knows I wouldn’t want to spoil your ‘fun’.”

  She rolls her eyes at me as I turn to walk away.

  “One more thing before you go...”

  I pause, waiting for her to continue.

  “Don’t let the door hit your arse on the way out.”

  I feel the rush of heat and air as I’m propelled forward. My body comes to a halt in the archway. I hear Sadie cackle within the room as Darius shouts “Oops. It already did!” and the door swings closed, launching me into the stony surface ahead of me. I turn, finding the door is ajar due to bouncing off my now sore posterior. To add insult to injury, I am then subjected to the sound of moaning and slapping skin. Fucking hell, now my ears are bleeding too. Don’t they ever stop?

  Chapter 5

  Cadence

  I take mum back to the car to rest whilst I go back to the house, grabbing the bag of supplies that she had brought with her. Sifting through the supplies it is apparent that mum knew what we were going to walk into and what we would need at short notice. Everything required for a cover spell. We aren’t about to leave this poor witch to rot or for anyone to come looking for her. We need a temporary fix to cover what we do not want seen until myself, mum and the coven leaders can come back to give this witch the proper burial she deserves.

  I place the items I need to complete the spell around the house. Then I go inside to the most central part of the house I can find. A few candles and herbs later and I’m almost done. A prick of my blood to seal the deal, and one incantation later the house is ‘hidden’ from anyone who may happen to stray this way. We will need to come back within 48 hours mind, as the spells potency will have worn off.

  Grabbing what little I have left to take, I make my way to the car. Mum is asleep in the passenger seat. I quietly climb into my seat, carefully closing my door so not to disturb her and start the car. I look over at her sleeping, all colour gone from her face, knowing all too well she will be wiped out from this for some time. She certainly won’t be able to perform the burial service with the rest of the coven, which I know will grieve her deeply.

  It is late when I get home, having dropped mum off on the way through. She was absolutely exhausted and, to be honest, so am I. Before climbing into bed, I send a message to my driver and receptionist informing them that I will not be in work that day and to forward anything important to me at home.

  I sigh at the depressing sight of the hour, 3 AM. I wrap my new duvet around me and feel sleep taking over almost instantly. I shall think about the events of the night when I wake.

  ***

  Breakfast turns into brunch by the time I awake. I have to say it was the most solid night’s sleep I’ve had in ages. I check my phone to see several missed calls and messages. I need caffeine before I even begin to tackle that crap. I put a pot of coffee on and set about brunch, my stomach growling at me to eat anything and everything. Omelette would do nicely.

  Three coffees later and my omelette is done. Yes, I know, I have a serious caffeine addiction, but hey, there are worse things to be addicted too. I barely get chance to take a bite of my omelette when there’s a knock at my door.

  Who the fuck could that be? I contemplate ignoring it, taking another mouthful of food. There’s a further knock. Ugh. I begrudgingly get up, but not before shoving the largest amount of omelette in my mouth before I answer it, swallowing a little quicker than I should have, and causing discomfort as it goes down.

  As I open the door, I see this preppy, slightly Gothic looking business type woman, smiling at me. Only way I could describe her really. Very attractive, smart, but has the most annoying smile that I just want to smack off of her face. Anyone that knew me would know not to be so ‘chirpy’ around me. She’s just too damn happy for my liking. Yes, I know, I’m a miserable witch. What can I say? Hormones are a bitch.

  I return her smile with a forced one of my own. “Can I help you?”

  “Cadence?” she questions, still smiling.

  “Miss Winters to anyone that knows me, but yes I am.” I was being pedantic. Very few people called me by my first name and for a complete stranger to do so just pissed me off further.

  “My apologies. I’m Lailah.” She holds a hand out in a warm gesture for me to reciprocate. I hesitate briefly. I could be a complete bitch and not return the hand shake, but I think better of it and shake her hand. The sooner I can get rid of her the sooner I can return to my breakfast.

  “Sorry to turn up so abruptly. I did call and leave several messages… I really need to talk to you.”

  “Well I haven’t even had chance to pick up my messages yet. It’s a bit presumptuous of you to just turn up unannounced, especially at my personal residence.”

  “And for that I deeply apologise. It is a matter of the utmost importance and cannot wait. I believe you had a break in at your work place yesterday.” I shoot a look at her, surprised and taken aback on how she knows this. It’s not public knowledge and I don’t sense anything supernatural about her to suspect she heard it via the grapevine.

  “If I could, perhaps, come in and explain. I wouldn’t want anyone to hear our conversation.” She says it just above a whisper as she moves in closer, looking around the halls as if she is being watched. I briefly look beyond where she’s stood, out into the empty hallway. Nothing. Great I have a loony bin at my door.

  For once I have no words and open my door further in an open gesture to come in. I close the door behind me and show her to a seat on the sofa. I grab my coffee from next to my sad, cold omelette, knowing I won’t get to finish it and take a seat directly opposite, waiting for her to continue her story.

  “I will be completely open and honest with you. Some of it you may not be happy or comfortable with, but it’s imperative that you at least let me finish what I need to tell you before you make any decisions.” I nod in agreement, gulping my barely warm coffee, still trying to suss her out.

  “Firstly, I should tell you that I’m a celestial being, an angel.”

  I choke on my mouthful of coffee. “An angel?” I ask, unsure if I heard right.

  “Yes. I don’t see how you would be so closed-minded or shocked at this, after all, you surround yourself with supernatural beings on a daily basis. And what with you being a witch yourself. “

  I look up at her, eyes widened with the amount of knowledge she has on my life, yet, I know nothing of hers.

  “How am I not able to sense that you’re an angel?”

  “We have ways of hiding who we are. Supernaturals aren’t always welcoming when they know what we are. Sometimes it’s easier to cover that part until we explain ourselves.

  “Riiiiight!” I stand up heading for a fresh coffee, taking my now cold breakfast to dispose of. A
fly has already taken up residence on it. Its annoying buzz is irritating every fibre in me. It is still making a home as I begin emptying it into the bin. All hope is lost of disposing of the annoying creature with my breakfast as it flies over me.

  “Can I get you a coffee?” I ask, distracted, as I try my hardest to catch the incessant fly. I could try a small fire ball but I’m sure I’d do more damage to the apartment than the fly.

  “Please, black.” She turns in her seat, catching me swatting around the kitchen after the damn fly.

  “Anything I can help with?” she asks, as she heads towards the kitchen.

  “Not unless you’re good at disposing of winged little bugs.” I put my hands up in defeat and make the coffees.

  “Yeah, they can be pesky creatures.” She squints as she tries to find it herself.” Bit of a waste of space if you ask me.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to love all of God’s little creatures?”

  “Please, that is so old fashioned. We do have our own opinions and lives, beyond what people perceive.”

  I hand her the coffee and we take our seats back on the sofas.

  “How do you know about the break in and what concern is it to you?” I jump straight into the matter at hand.

  “The missing relic…the athame. There are reasons you initially thought it was of no significance when sold on. That athame had a very old and very powerful protection spell on it.”

  “Impossible.” I interrupt, frankly annoyed at the insinuation that we didn’t do our jobs properly before selling it on.

  “Please Miss Winters, let me finish.”

  I raise a brow, shocked that someone can put me in place so calmly and without me biting back. No one has ever had the nerve to stick up for themselves in front of me other than my own mother and the coven. I let her continue without saying another word.

  “You weren’t to know. Its magic goes higher than even your own mother’s, Miss Winters. You see, it was protected by angels. This athame was forged in hell, by Satan himself. When he was removed from power, this athame was hidden in plain sight but under the protective spell of an angel. From the outside it looks and feels like your basic athame. When it was used for dark magic, it uncovered the spell the angel had cast on it.”