Hell On Heels

by Robyn Peterman

  “Bring it,” I shouted.

  She did. She gleefully put me into a chokehold.

  “You suck, you freakin’ assclown,” I grunted.

  “Holy Hell! Assclown? You can't do better than assclown?” she barked. “You are the wussiest Demon ever born. There’s no way you’re Lucifer’s daughter!” She forcefully threw me to the mat. As she was about to body slam me, I quickly rolled to my left, hopped up and gave her a roundhouse kick to the head. She staggered back and grinned like an idiot.

  Hmm, this was actually getting fun.

  “Oh,” I informed all of them. “I am definitely Lucifer’s daughter.” Without even thinking I raised my hands and froze them. Wow, that was cool. I wondered what else I could do. Blanche hadn’t taught me anything about Black Magic yet, so I figured trial and error would be my teacher today. I grinned evilly at my cute little frozen pseudo-family. The shock on their faces was priceless. I smirked and considered my options.

  I slowly rotated my right wrist and my little frozen family began to spin—and spin and spin. The faster I moved my hand the faster they spun through the air. They were on an invisible vomit-inducing carnival ride from the Basement of Hell. Their shrieks were music to my ears and aching muscles. Not Lucifer’s daughter, my ass.

  As Carl’s pallor turned green I backed up. Using my left hand I made little flicking motions, moving the trio closer together. Not touching, but close enough that they all could enjoy what was about to come out of Carl.

  “Dixie,” Myrtle screamed. “You win. We lose.”

  “Hades help us.” Janet moaned as she started to turn the same shade as Carl.

  I did feel kind of bad, but not that bad. I grabbed my phone with my left hand as my right continued to rotate and I set the timer for five minutes. That should probably do it.

  “STOOOOOPPPPP,” Myrtle shrieked as she clearly saw the impending bile storm headed her way. Carl and Janet whimpered in agony.

  Now I felt that bad. So much for being a heartless Demon. . .

  I lowered my hands and they all dropped to the ground with resounding thuds. I was too nice for this crap. I went to my dizzy group and tried to help them to their feet. Too little, too late. Payback was a bitch. . .and so was getting thrown up on.

  Chapter 18

  “I just blasted you with a volt of electricity and magic that should have killed you,” I coldly informed one of my favorite people in the world. “You cannot sneak up on me anymore. Grandma Gigi will fry my ass if I off you.”

  “Yes, yes, she would.” Grandpa’s eyes sparkled with joy. Curls of smoke streamed from his singed clothing. “But you can't!”

  “Can't what?”

  “Can't kill me,” he continued gleefully as he patted out a small fire on his crotch. “On any other Demon or Angel that would have worked, but not on me. In fact,” he pondered seriously, “I believe there are only several beings in the entire universe that your power will not work on.”

  “And they would be?” I asked as I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and poured it over his head.

  “Thank you,” he giggled.

  "No prob. Answer my question."

  "Your magic kills anything except a True Immortal."

  I ransacked my brain for the list of True Immortals. Grandpa waited patiently. All I had wanted was a damn midnight snack. How did scrounging for Janet's Rice Krispie treats turn into a history lesson with a smoldering grandparent?

  “A True Immortal can’t die—I already knew that. I just forgot.” I watched him stare lovingly at my snack and I sighed. “Do you want one?"

  "Of course. I've been eating Mother Nature's cooking for weeks. I need something edible."

  I cut him a huge wedge of Rice Krispie treat, slid into a chair at the kitchen table and attacked my own.

  "Are you going to go back to my lesson?"

  “I believe it was your turn. However, part of what you said was wrong.” He grinned and began separating the treat—Krispie by Krispie. “True Immortals can die—they just can’t be killed.”

  I tamped back my desire to slap him and then hug him. “Like that makes any sense.”

  “It makes perfect sense, my love. A True Immortal can only die if they choose to.”

  "Oh my Hell, are you going to eat that or just play with it?"

  "Both. A True Immortal can die of a broken heart."

  “For real?"

  “For real. You know if you press on the individual Krispies it's a little like popping bubble wrap.”

  I dislodged a few Krispies to see if he was right. He was.

  “Wait,” I said as I cut two more pieces to eat since we were obviously going to play with our first round. “You just get a broken heart and poof, you're dead?”

  “Mother Nature's bosom, that's satisfying,” he shouted as he pounded his little fist into a large wad of Krispies. “Of course not—it’s a three part finale. One, your heart must be truly broken. Two, you must choose to die and three, the Sword of Death must be plunged into your heart.”

  “They didn't exactly teach that in school."

  “That’s not information we want getting out,” he replied. “In the wrong hands that could be a clusterfuck. And apparently the Sword has gone missing."

  "Again? Mr. Rogers lost the damn Sword again?" I shouted as I grabbed the pan and punched the rest of the Krispies.

  Why the Hell my father let Mr. Rogers guard the Sword was beyond me. Mr. Rogers was the former host of a mortal freakin’ children's show.

  "It was never lost the first time," Grandpa reminded me. "That was a test for your cousin Astrid. Fred Rogers is a formidable warrior and is one of the few men I know who can pull off a cardigan sweater."

  I bit back my retort about asking if it disappeared while he was changing his tennis shoes and I began to eat the crushed mess on the table.

  “Oookay, that seems like a bit of a problem.”

  “Oh yes,” he agreed and pilfered some of my snack.

  I picked at the marshmallow goo on my hands and debated asking any more questions. Curiosity won out. “Do you know who stole it?”

  “Possibly.” He leaned forward and licked the table. What in the Hell was he doing? His manners were disgusting. I wondered if he got away with this at my grandma's.

  “You're not going to tell me."

  “Correct,” he smiled ruefully. “You are correct. Do you have any milk?" I nodded and got him the jug. I didn't bother with a glass—he wouldn't use it anyway. "Let’s get back to your lesson.”

  "Can I guess who stole it?"

  "Of course, but if you listen closely the answers are always there."

  I watched him gulp from the container and grinned. How did he make disgusting etiquette look cute? I waited for more. More would certainly come, it just might not make any sense.

  “So, where was I?” he inquired as he wiped his mouth with the edge of the tablecloth.

  “Let me see. . .Mr. Rogers is a sucky guard, True Immortals can bite it if a date goes bad and the freakin’ Sword of Death got ripped off."

  His mouth quirked with humor, “Yes, yes, of course. How many True Immortals are there?"

  "It's undefined."

  "So very smart." He chuckled and brushed all the crumbs to the floor. "There are eight established Immortals at the moment, but there are more in our midst."

  “Grandpa, I’m sure you're not telling me this for my health.”

  “Actually, I am.”

  We sat in silence while I waited for him to continue. It was clear I was going to be waiting a long time and I didn't want him licking any more surfaces.

  “Fine. Satan, you, God, Angel of Death, Angel of Light, Mother Nature, Astrid and. . .” I paused. Who was the other one?

  “So far, so good.”

  “Oh. . .” I was stuck. Who in the Hell was the other True Immortal?

  "I hear you did the nasty with the Angel of Death."

  "I did not do the nasty," I snapped. Was nothing sacred?


  “Touché, and you're a terrible liar.” He grinned and shrugged. “Your mother is a True Immortal.”

  “My mother is alive?” My sex life was suddenly forgotten.

  “As far as I know, my sweet. I’m sure I would have heard if she bit the big one. Although if you ask me, she may as well be dead considering how she’s neglected her duties and the mess she’s made.”

  “Would you like to expound on that?” He was excellent at avoidance, but he was not avoiding this.

  "Nope."

  I deflated like a flat tire and sagged in my chair. My head fell to my hands and I gave in to the impulse that had been clawing at me for days. I cried. Hard.

  “Oh my baby.” Grandpa took me into his little arms and rocked me in the same manner most Demons couldn’t resist rocking him. He gently wiped my tears, gasped and jerked his hand back.

  “What?” I choked out, alarmed by his reaction.

  “Your tears.” Grandpa looked at his burnt finger with amazement. “They burned me.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I was so confused. I touched the residual tears on my face to see if they burned me.

  Nothing.

  “Don’t be sorry, lovey.” He smiled. “It’s not your fault. One who has the strength to cry is often the strongest of all. You’re more like your mother than I realized.”

  “About that,” I started.

  “Don’t ask,” he cut me off. “Because I can’t tell. I can get away with a lot, but not even I can go there.”

  “What in the Hell is wrong with everybody? What could be so awful? Is she a farm animal or something?” Tired of this didn’t even begin to touch on the frustration with the mom subject, but I knew a closed door when I saw one. Furthermore, he was laughing too hard at my farm animal or something question to be of much use to me. “Fine,” I said, changing the subject, “what are you doing here? I thought all of you were forbidden to communicate with me for a month.” If that turned out to be false, Hayden, my own personal Angel of Death’s ass was grass.

  Grandpa was still enjoying himself at my expense so it took him a moment to gather his cute little self. My jaw clenched and I pressed my hands firmly down on the kitchen table. I had the urge to grab and squeeze him, but I knew I could control it.

  “Dixie, Dixie.” He sighed the way one does after a good hearty laugh. “Rules don’t apply to me.”

  He giggled and squeezed himself. Holy Hell, he’d better not do that. I wasn’t sure I could curb my hugging impulses if he was going to rub my face in it by loving on himself.

  “Grandpa.” I turned away from him. I was seconds away from smothering him with kisses. “Does Dad know you’re here?”

  “Not exactly, but Cole and the generals do. Those bastards are everywhere.” He got serious. “Your father suspects. He wants me here, but he can’t say that since he already laid down the law. Sooo he simply turned his head and pretended he had no idea what my plans were. Furthermore.” He grinned evilly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s quite difficult to say no to me.”

  “I’ve noticed.” Amusement colored my voice and I gently touched his face. “Why are you really here?”

  “I miss you." It was all I could do not to tackle him and cuddle.

  “Is that all?”

  He tended to save the best for last.

  “Um, no.” He smiled sheepishly and took another swig of milk. “You have to drink from me again. It takes two times to ensure the Black Magic has taken and I need to implant several random messages into your head.”

  “Like that wasn’t random enough?” I swallowed and attempted to tamp down my gag reflex. Blood after Rice Krispie treats did not sound good to me right now. . .actually ever.

  “I understand how drinking from me doesn’t appeal. Hades knows it freaks me out, but you’re too important to the world for me not to do this. Not to mention I love you more than all of your sisters put together. You have never broken one bone in my body!”

  As immature as it was, I loved knowing I was his favorite. “Grandpa, it’s just that blood tastes so. . .” I shut my mouth. It filled with water and I knew I was close to hurling. I refused to vomit. If I vomited, he’d vomit and I’d still have to drink his blood. Oh, Uncle God, please help me.

  “What if I put chocolate syrup in my mouth and then drink your blood? Will that screw anything up?” I asked, praying to Satan that my mouth would stop watering.

  He wrung his hands and considered my suggestion. “I don’t see why not. It certainly makes me happier to know that you’re happy.”

  I quickly grabbed the Hershey’s Syrup from the fridge while Grandpa slit his throat. I squirted a gob of liquid chocolate into my mouth and latched onto my beloved grandpa’s bloody neck.

  It really was much better this way. The chocolate-blood mix tasted a bit rank, but it was greatly improved from the first blood suck-a-thon.

  A burning heat rushed through my body, but instead of being scared this time I went with it. I held tightly to Grandpa as I started to convulse. I shook violently for about two minutes, then it subsided. The burning and churning was alarming, but doable because I knew it would end. I felt floaty and springy. The magic whooshed through me.

  The sound of wind chimes bounced around inside my head and a feeling of absolute power consumed and unnerved me. I pulled back and searched my grandpa’s face. He was weaker and I was stronger.

  “Am I killing you?” I gasped as I cuddled him carefully.

  “No, my love.” His smile broadened with love and approval. “You are becoming stronger than me.”

  “No,” I cried out. This was all wrong.

  “Yes.” His mood was thoughtful. “This is the way it is meant to be. It should have been years from now before we had to do all this, but. . .” He faded off.

  “But what?” I shook him gently. My life and future were spinning out of control.

  “But so much is happening, you are the only one to solve it. . .end it.” His smile was sad.

  I touched his neck and closed the knife wound. My body automatically knew how to do things that my brain had no idea I could.

  “What else do I need to know?”

  “Absolute power can corrupt absolutely. People aren’t always who you think they are and the old ones have wisdom. . .most of the time.”

  “Is that all?”

  “For now,” he added cryptically.

  “Oookay.” I shook my head in frustration. “And what am I supposed to do until I understand all your messages and try not to get killed?”

  "Oh, you know,” he said as he giggled. “Go to community college, make friends, visit your cousin Astrid, practice Black Magic, have fun. The usual.”

  "Wait. Did you say community college? I've already graduated from a college that rivals most Ivy League institutions."

  "You look young and that is where you need to be."

  “Holy crap, you’re serious?”

  “As a heart attack,” he replied, tucking my hair behind my ears. “You are so darn pretty, my little one.”

  Compliments didn't help at the moment. I paced the room and my ire rose to my throat. An utter lack of control consumed me and I turned away from my grandpa's concerned gaze.

  Frustration was eating me, and instead of yelling at the little man who had only come to help I slammed my hands down on the table. . .and it exploded.

  "Shit," I screeched. Frantically I ran for the fire extinguisher and in my haste blew up the fridge. "Son of a bitch, help me," I begged before I took down the house.

  "Breathe, Dixie," Grandpa demanded in a voice that calmed me. "Control your anger. Don't let it control you."

  "I can handle this," I said with more confidence than I felt. Shithellfirebuttholes , I was going with the theory that if I said something aloud enough it would be true. Again, shithellfirebuttholes.

  "You can and you will," he replied with an ancient confidence that calmed me some.

  “Anger is my trigger?” I asked.

  "Some
what, but the main trigger is imbalance."

  "I'm imbalanced?" I snapped. That would have been a lovely thing to have known before I'd left Hell.

  "No, no dear." He chuckled. "Your Grandma Gigi is imbalanced, but she has a wonderful bosom. Imbalance in the world is your trigger."

  "Could you be more specific?" I asked, ignoring the part about Mother Nature's boobs.

  "Lack of balance, injustice, unfairness."

  "That seems a bit do-goody for a Demon," I muttered.

  "Yes, well, you can blame that on your mother."

  "Ahhh, the elusive mother figure that seems to have caused some of the shitstorm up here."

  "Correct. Keep your eyes open, child."

  "If I didn't adore you so damned much I would incinerate you too," I muttered, hating the rules of being a Demon.

  "I love you," he said.

  "I love you too." I leaned in to kiss him but paused. “How will I know who the Rogue Demons and Angels are?”

  “Trust me, you’ll know.”

  Chapter 19

  There was no way she could be that stupid. Community college was bad enough without this. We’d only been going to classes with humans for three days—how could she do this to me? I ran down the smelly hallway toward the crowd that had gathered. I was conscious of my speed. I had to hold back or explain a whole lot of stuff that no one would believe anyway. Grandpa stayed for four days and had left this morning. He made it abundantly clear to me that I needed to behave like a human. He told me to dance more. WTH? Carl was delighted and added ballroom dancing to our fight training sessions. Myrtle thought we should twerk. Holding back my speed was literally painful. Not many mortals could run so fast that they disappeared. There were simply too many things to remember.

  The fluorescent lighting made the paint on the walls appear puke green. The colorful bulletin boards with lime green sorority rush notices couldn’t hide the fact that the college was over eighty years old and hadn’t been remodeled since the 1970’s.

  I tried in vain to make my way through a group of the popular sorority girls sporting Uggs, t-shirts with Greek letters on them and super short minis. They had no intention of letting me by. I could disintegrate them with a single flick of my fingers, but that would be a bad thing and almost impossible to explain to my dad. None of the girls liked me because apparently all the boys did. The college was tiny and all who went here seemed to either be related or buddies since kindergarten. Very Deliverance.