Hell On Heels

by Robyn Peterman

  “Everything is fine,” she assured me. “Dad’s got his panties in a wad and he wants to see you. I've been sent to bring you to the Dark Palace.”

  “But I have a calculus exam and I. . .” I began to explain my schedule but petered off, realizing it was useless.

  “And?” She raised her eyebrows as she began to scratch the welts that had popped up on her arms.

  “Fine,” I acquiesced quickly. As laidback as my sister was she got really grumpy and occasionally deadly when she was itchy. Furthermore, my dad waited for no one, certainly not his youngest daughter.

  “You can’t see Dad or Grandma like that.” Sloth referred to my stew-splattered attire.

  I paled considerably and clutched my sister for purchase. "Oh my Hell, Gigi is there?"

  "Yep, and Dad is in a tizzy." She grinned evilly. "Let's get the unidentifiable lunch product off of you."

  “That’s my fault,” Stella offered apologetically.

  “No worries,” my sister told Stella as she affectionately squeezed her cheek. Sloth raised her arms and flung them towards me. In a flash my hair was clean and my hot pink sweat suit was gone, replaced by the requisite black my father expected us to wear.

  I hugged Stella goodbye and wrapped my arms around my sister. Sloth moved her hands in a circular motion. The glitter engulfed us as my beautiful sister and I vanished in a cloud of magic.

  ***

  My day was going from mortifyingly bad to really scary bad.

  The Dark Palace, my father's main residence, was normally a gross display of wealth and questionable taste. At the moment it had been transformed into a wild garden that resembled a blooming jungle on crack as opposed to the lush manicured gardens that populated Hell.

  I grasped my sister's hand in terror and peered through the vines and flowers. "Is she here?"

  "I don't sense her yet, but she's definitely on her way. Her garden usually precedes her by about five minutes," Sloth mumbled as she disengaged her hand from mine. "Dixie, I love you, but I wasn't summoned by our certifiable granny. Do you mind if I go?"

  "Um. . ."

  "Great! Call me later," my traitorous sister said as she disappeared in a blast of glitter. So much for counting on a Sin. The smell of jasmine and lilies permeated the air. There was no trace whatsoever of the grand ballroom which was where I knew I stood. Mother Nature, aka my Grandma Gigi, had a very bad habit of destroying my dad's homes. My guess was that he had missed his weekly visit to Nirvana to kiss her butt and she was pissed, but that didn't explain why I had to be here.

  "Dad," I called out in the largest whisper I dared.

  "Over here," Satan said quietly.

  I made my way toward my father's voice and found him hiding behind a large ivy covered rock. My stomach dropped to my toes. The most terrifying and powerful Demon alive was hiding from his mother. This was beyond bad.

  "Um, Dad?"

  "Dixie," he hissed and pulled me behind the rock with him. "Thank sweet Hades you're here."

  "Why exactly am I here?" I asked as I peeked around the rock.

  "Your grandmother is the definition of unstable insanity, and if I knew why she summoned us we wouldn't be hiding behind a rock," he answered logically.

  "Dad, you're my rock and this is making me very nervous."

  He considered me for a long moment and stood up. He was magnificent. He stood six feet six inches tall and has long raven black hair like mine. Our eyes were gold, although they turned ruby red when we got excited or angry. My skin was more peaches and cream in comparison to my dad’s beautiful pale mocha color.

  "You're correct Dixie, I am your rock. She's so damned horrific I forget myself. Everything will be fine—I hope," he muttered.

  His total lack of conviction was unsettling. I rose to my feet and waited. What the hell did she want with me? She'd shown me no attention at all in my twenty-one years in Hell.

  "Don't look her in the eye and stand at least ten to twenty feet away from her," my dad instructed. "She's crazy and prone to blistering and deadly fits of rage."

  "I heard that, you little shit," a glorious melodic voice shouted. "Just because you're the King of the Underworld doesn't mean I can't take you over my knee and tan your ass."

  I gasped and held on to my father.

  "Son of a bitchass motherhumping asshats—arghhhh!" she screeched as she fell ungracefully from the sky. It wasn't until that moment I realized the roof of the palace was gone. The musical voice did not match the language flying from her mouth or the otherworldly glamour she possessed.

  The disheveled beauty got to her feet and glanced around impatiently. She wore a gown of sheer golden gossamer that floated around her magically. Her hair was a mass of fiery red curls and her skin was a pale porcelain, but it was her eyes. . . Her eyes were the clearest blue I'd ever seen and they sparkled. She was quite simply the most gorgeous crazy woman in the universe.

  Her power filled the room. It was earthy with a dangerous sensual undertone to it. I would give anything to be back in the commissary covered in stinky beef stew. Anything.

  "Satan, you little bastard," she snapped as the gentle breeze in the room shifted into a slightly menacing wind. "I know you're here. I want to see my granddaughter. Now."

  "Mother," Satan bellowed joyously as he stepped out from behind the rock. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" He placed me firmly behind him and waited for her next move.

  "Cut the shit. You were supposed to visit me and I made a cake," she yelled. "You didn't show up and I ate it. I ate the entire cake. Do you have any idea how many hours I had to pole dance to work off an entire cake?"

  "Seven?" he guessed.

  She froze, stared at him for a tense moment, and then threw her head back and laughed with delight. "You're right! I always knew you were smarter than your brother. He guessed three."

  My father stood even taller, clearly pleased with himself that he'd bested his brother, God. Forget about my Grandma Gigi—my entire family was nuts.

  "Mother, while it's alarmingly wonderful and highly destructive to see you," he said, gesturing to the wrecked ballroom, "why are you here and what do you want with Dixie?"

  "I want to see her," she pouted and stamped her small foot.

  "You've not wanted to see her for twenty-one years. I don't see. . ."

  "You know exactly why I've ignored her, Satan," she said in a deadly quiet voice.

  My father had no reply. He bowed his head and shook it. What was going on here? Something was wonky and I'd bet my embarrassing virginity that no one was going to enlighten me.

  "I know she's behind you. Dixie, come out and greet me," Gigi demanded.

  My father turned to me and his golden eyes burned into mine. "It's all right. She won't harm you. Go to her."

  Sucking in a huge breath, I stepped out from behind my dad and warily approached my grandmother. My fear disappeared and was replaced by curiosity. . .the kind that was deadly to cats.

  "Oh my," she giggled, completely disarming me. "You are exquisite. You look like your father, but you have so very much of her in you."

  She caressed my face gently. I automatically leaned into her warm and delicate hand. My maternal upbringing had been virtually nonexistent—attention from a mother figure was addicting, no matter how insane she might be.

  "Do you mean my mother?" I asked tentatively, hoping she didn't remove her hand. "Do you know her?"

  "Well of course I do. She's a crazy irresponsible assbuckle. The next time I see her I will. . ."

  "Mother," Satan roared.

  "Well, she is," she shot back. "Anyhoo, I got a phone with cells. Would you like to see it?"

  "Um. . ." I was hoping she would continue her tirade on my mother. It was the most information I'd ever heard.

  "You mean a cell phone," my father corrected her.

  "That's what I said." Her gaze narrowed dangerously and the wind in the room kicked up a few notches. Her fingers began to shoot little orange sparks, and I worried for th
e health and welfare of my dad and his home.

  "I'd love to see it," I insisted quickly before she caused a Hellquake or leveled the Dark Palace completely.

  "I want you to take a selfie of me," she demanded as she handed me a jewel-encrusted cell phone.

  "Um, a selfie means you take it of yourself," I explained as she shoved her new toy into my hand.

  "Exactly. Take a selfie of me."

  Deciding further explanation of a selfie could end in violence I took several as she posed obscenely with a flowering vine.

  "While it's wonderfully disturbing to watch you hump the vegetation, would you like to explain your presence?" my father asked as he partially hid himself behind a boulder.

  "Yes, of course," Gigi said as she disengaged herself from the plant and planted a huge wet kiss on my cheek. Glancing at her phone, she grinned. "These would go positively viral on YouTube."

  "Mother," Satan warned as he stepped up next to me.

  As calming as my father's presence was, I realized to my utter shock I was not at all afraid of Mother Nature. It was clear that she loved me, which only confused me more.

  "Why haven't you ever wanted me?" I asked her and she froze.

  My father tensed beside me and his magic began to swirl with his mother's.

  "Dear sweet child," she cooed. "It was for your safety, but now since you're leaving I needed to see you and tell you. . ."

  "Enough," Satan shouted. "You know the rules. Would you put her in more danger than she's already in?"

  This was unwelcome news to me. I was in danger?

  "You're such a douchewanker—I wouldn't say anything to harm her. I love her," Gigi shot back angrily.

  "Then I think it best you leave," he said in a voice that made the hair on my neck stand up. However, his mother just giggled.

  "Have her powers come in?"

  "No, but they will," he snapped and advanced on his mother. "You will stay out of this. Do you understand me?"

  "It's not nice to backtalk Mother Nature," she hissed.

  "I thought it was fool," my father replied dryly.

  "Whatever. I'm late for a marathon pole dancing exhibition, otherwise I'd smite your ass for being rude."

  "You've done quite enough. Dixie, say goodbye to your grandmother. Now."

  I scurried forward and embraced my slightly unhinged grandma. She hugged me tight and whispered in my ear, "Your father is an assmonkey. Don't worry about a thing. I will see you on Earth. I promise."

  With that she disappeared, taking her jungle with her—almost. The roof of the palace was missing and I was quite sure that was not an accident.

  "Son of a bitch," Satan yelled and stomped around, throwing a fit. "It had better not rain before I can get a new roof or I will send ten thousand giant goats to Nirvana to eat your gardens, you heinous woman."

  "Um, Dad?"

  "Yes, Dixie?" he answered as he reined in his tantrum with difficulty.

  "What kind of danger am I in?"

  "At this exact moment, none. But tomorrow is a new day."

  "Is that supposed to help? Because it doesn't," I replied as I frantically began to pick at my woefully under-manicured fingernails.

  "Dixie, look at me."

  I did. He was magnetic and scary and beautiful and mine. I knew I would do anything for my father.

  "I am sending you away from danger. You have a mission, but you are capable and ready. It's not for public knowledge because it fucks with my reputation, but I love you. I will kill for you and I would die for you. Now, your sisters? Not so sure, but I would not send you directly into the firing squad. You have to trust me."

  Sucking in a huge breath, I nodded. "I trust you, Dad, and I love you too."

  "Come here," he said.

  I slid into his strong embrace and wished I could stay forever, but that was not how life went. If he said my powers would come, they would come. If he said I was ready. . .Hell, I just hoped he was right.

  Chapter 3

  I go to group therapy.

  When you live in Hell and you’re not considered to be evil enough, you have to do therapy.

  I have to do therapy with a group of others who have an evil deficiency.

  That group destroyed my cute bungalow yesterday.

  They were insane misfits and I'd grown to love them in the same way one loves a puppy who chews up your couch and eats your walls. Prone to destruction, we’d been banned from meeting anywhere but privately. I’d spent every afternoon at three-thirty for the last year watching them destroy meeting rooms, offices, classrooms, convenience stores. . .you name it, they could trash it. The convenience store wasn’t actually a session. We’d gone for Slurpees after a grueling hour of therapy and they thought the Demon at the cash register looked at them funny. It was bad. Our newest therapist—we'd had many—had threatened repeatedly to quit unless we started doing at home meetings. Hence my ruined house. And hence their solution.

  I should re-name my group The Wrecking Balls. Janet the formerly Bearded Lady, Carl the Strong Man, and Myrtle the. . .I’m not really sure how to explain her. I like her a lot, but she was difficult to describe. Basically she was a tiny Goth girl with more hair in her face than Cousin It. They were all quite funny but bordered on homicidal.

  Today they arrived in a big van loaded with tools, wood, a window and paint to repair my bungalow in Hell. Yesterday’s therapy session had turned violent when a debate over The X Factor versus The Voice ensued. Our therapist had been hospitalized for blunt head trauma from a toaster. Myrtle was one tuff cookie and psychotic to boot. She clearly thought the therapist was out of line when she commented on Simon's man boobs, hence the beating, followed by the destruction of my home. As much as I found my group amusing, their ability to trash every place we met was starting to ride my last nerve. Not to mention my horror that they were coming to Earth with me and posing as my family.

  A furniture truck arrived soon after they descended on my home, loaded with brand new furniture to replace what they had demolished. The new stuff wasn't nearly as nice as my old furniture that they’d destroyed. When I tried to kindly explain this to the Strong Man aka Carl he just shrugged and began doing the Moonwalk. Normally he flipped people off, but he liked me. He was fond of flipping people off. It seemed to give him joy. He moonwalked for about thirty-two counts and then slid very slowly into the splits, arms raised above his bald head.

  I stared at him in silence. I was definitely going to have a word with my dad about this group posing as my family on Earth. These people were C-R-A-Z-Y. It didn’t help that Carl was wearing something akin to a mauve wrestling uniform with black socks and brown earth shoes. I had no idea how to respond to his performance. Was I supposed to clap or was I supposed to challenge him by busting out my own moves? In the end I nodded at him, he nodded back and I walked away. Quickly.

  The furniture delivery guy, Wolf Boy, the hairiest Demon I’d ever seen, lined up all the new furniture on my lawn. I'd have to say Demons were a very attractive race. My therapy group and their friends were an anomaly. Wolf Boy then explained as he shed all over said furniture that he’d be back in a couple of hours to put it in my house.

  After winking at me lasciviously, he meandered over to Myrtle and copped a feel of her butt. This earned him a bone crunching solid right hook to the face. She knocked his nose clear up into his forehead. God, that had to hurt. Amazingly undeterred by this painful rejection, I watched in shock as he then palmed her boob. Ya’d think he would have learned his lesson. . .

  Myrtle easily picked him up even though Wolf Boy was twice her size and threw him to the ground. She then viciously crunched his testicles with the large hard heel of her combat boot. My dad would love that move. It made me bend over in sympathy for Wolf Boy even though our plumbing was entirely different.

  Wolf Boy lay crumbled on the ground moaning for a long time. With his nose where his forehead should be and his testicles lodged somewhere near his chest I didn’t blame him. All the others
worked around him as if he wasn’t there.

  I sat down on the front steps of my bungalow and watched in horror as my therapy group turned my beautiful little house into a bad home-improvement project. I felt a cool wind on my face and I closed my eyes and smiled. The air shimmered around me and out of nowhere Blanche magically appeared on my front lawn. She stepped over Wolf Boy and made herself comfortable on my new and highly unattractive couch. She happily held one-sided conversations with a bunch of Demons that didn’t even know she was there. . .because she was invisible. Blanche was mine and I was the only one who could see her. Although I’d told my dad and sisters about her, none of them believed me. Stella was the only one who was convinced of her existence. Stella loved hearing about Blanche’s adventures and Blanche loved Stella. It pissed her off to no end that Stella couldn’t see her. She would curse a blue streak trying to figure out a way to become corporeal for Stella. If I could behave a little more like Blanche, my dad would be so happy. However, every time I tried to copy her I either ended up with hives or laughing uncontrollably.

  “Excuse me, Dixie,” said Janet with the voice of a shy ten year old girl. Poor Janet was wearing a fake beard and mustache. Up until a few months ago her beard and stache had been real, but our former therapist had them permanently removed as punishment. Janet had been devastated. She'd been sporting her beard for hundreds of years and clearly felt naked without it. Her mate, Carl, loved her both hairy and hairless and had bought her an impressive array of beards. Focusing on her eyes instead of her lopsided facial hair was difficult, but she was sweet. “Would Your Highness like the walls the same color as before or do you want something new and fresh and not so dated?”

  I was fairly sure I was just insulted by a child locked in a hairy adult’s body, but I decided it was in my best interest to let that baby go. My hairy female friend was going to help me redecorate.