The Road to Hell

by Jackie Kessler

  You knew that Meg would save me, Sire?

  "And what makes you think that you did not save yourself?"

  I couldn't think of a blessed thing to say to that.

  A feathery kiss upon my brow. And then: "I don't intend on seeing you again until it's the proper time."

  Yes, Sire.

  "Farewell, Jezebel."

  The gray gave way to swirls of color—

  —and I opened my eyes to find myself staring up at Angel's upside-down face. She frowned at me, which was really a smile, and her warm voice announced, "She is here."

  She? Oh. That would be me. The former demon, former living, former dead…

  Oh, fuck it. I was who I was. Whether Jezebel or Jesse Harris, I was me.

  Whatever that meant.

  Sounds of scuffling, then Daun's face peered over Angel's shoulder, his golden eyes gleaming. "Look at that, a mortal of her word. Welcome back, babes."

  Someone took my hand, and even though I couldn't see him from this angle, I knew that Paul was holding me tight. "Love," he said, his voice brimming with joy, "you've really come back. You've come home."

  I smiled at him, at all of them. "Hi."

  Mental note: Work on better opening lines.

  When I tried to sit up, Angel pressed her hands down on my shoulders, kept me pinned. I said, "Let me up, will you?"

  "You need to take it slow," she said. "You've been dead for hours. That's going to take a while to shake off."

  "I'll take vitamins in the morning. Please, let me up."

  Sighing, she helped prop me up. Then Paul scooped me into his strong arms, crushed me in an embrace. Hugging him back, I breathed in his smell—oh, bless me, it was so nice to be breathing again—taking in the heady mix of musk and sweat and gunmetal that was all Paul.

  My love.

  "Thank God you've come back," he whispered.

  I didn't think God had anything to do with it, but far be it from me to ruin the moment. "I told you I'd see you soon."

  Gripping my shoulders, he broke the embrace, gently pushing me away from his body to glare at me. "You had some damn nerve doing what you did."

  "Which part?"

  "All of them. Especially seducing me, then slipping your magic bracelet on me when my guard was down." He lifted his hand, showed me the golden Rope clinging to his wrist.

  "If I remember correctly," I said, "you were the one who asked if it was time for us to kiss and make up."

  "That was because you worked your wiles on me. And not just any wiles. Demon wiles. What's a mortal supposed to do in the face of demon wiles?"

  More than the smile on his lips, I saw his love for me shining in his eyes, stars swimming in the ocean. "So now you believe that I really was a succubus?"

  "Well," he said dryly, "seeing you with hooves and red skin was a hell of an argument."

  Heh. "And you're okay with that?"

  "Let me think for a minute. Yes." He lifted my chin in his hand, stared deep into my eyes. "I love you, Jesse Harris. Jezebel. Whatever name you want. We can figure out the whole difference in religion thing as we go."

  "You know," I said, "I don't really have a religion."

  "Jess."

  "More like a world view."

  "Jess."

  "But it's pretty adaptable…"

  "Jess. Now would be a good time to kiss me."

  "You bet."

  We sealed our lips together and kissed as if our souls depended on it.

  "Hey," Daun said, "bets on whether the foreplay's longer than the actual fucking?"

  Angel cleared her throat. "My Lord, perhaps we should let them be?"

  "Be what? Hot and bothered? Me, I want to watch."

  Sighing, Paul ended the kiss. "More later."

  "Aw," Daun said, "what's the matter, Shoulders? You're not into exhibitionism?"

  Paul shot Daun a look. "Last I heard, this was my apartment. Why don't you give us a little privacy?"

  "You're the one about to ravage her on the sofa," Daun said with a shrug. "If you were a gentleman, you'd take her to the bedroom. If you're going to do her here, least you can do is let us watch."

  Hold the phone. I said to Paul, "You can see Daun?" In his true form, the incubus should have been invisible to Paul, his words nothing more than a tickle in Paul's mind.

  "If he's the thing that looks like a satyr," said Paul, "then yeah, I see him."

  "'Thing,'" Daun said, grinning. "I like that. You trying to butter me up, Shoulders?"

  Crap, crap, crap. I could handle the paranormal shit; seeing auras (sometimes) and being threatened by malefic entities (frequently) sort of went with the territory. But Paul was human. Normal. A mouth breather. He wasn't supposed to get hit with stuff like this. My head started an impromptu bongo jam session, so I rubbed the bridge of my nose. No help. Welcome to Migraine Country.

  "And I see there's something different about the blonde next to you," Paul said.

  I glanced at the cherub, who was blinking prettily. Even utterly confused, she was stunning. Bitch. I said, "You mean, besides how her legs basically start at her chin?"

  "Jesse Harris," Angel said primly, "my limbs are all proportioned quite evenly."

  Bless me, at least she was still stupid. That made me grin.

  "And I see the sorority girl," Paul said, "sitting in the easy chair in the corner."

  Sorority girl?

  Following where Paul pointed, I saw Meg curled up in the overstuffed chair, her legs tucked daintily beneath her, her white toga resplendent. Her long brown hair framed her face in ringlets. She blew me a kiss, then grinned wickedly.

  "Really," Meg said, batting her lashes. "Don't let us stop you. Pretend we're not here."

  Daun waggled his brows. "Better yet, you guys take requests?"

  Next to me on the sofa, Angel blushed.

  "Right," I said, my head throbbing. "Anyone want a drink?"

  There's something rather surreal about having coffee with someone powerful enough to erase your existence with a thought.

  "Milk?"

  Meg made a face.

  "Yeah," I said, "I know. Me too. But the humans seem to like it."

  "Now, if you were stocked up on the blood of innocents, then I'd take you up on it."

  "Sorry, fresh out. I think you need to get that at a health food store."

  From the living room we heard Daun guffaw. "Sure," the incubus said, "you could make her meow. But did you really turn her into a cat? lean do that."

  "You know," Paul said with a sigh, "I was quoting from a movie."

  "What, so now there was no girl? Or no cat?"

  Meg and I exchanged a look. She said, "Should we tell the angel to join us?"

  Shaking my head, I stirred more sugar into my coffee. "Someone's got to keep those two from pissing on the carpet."

  "Do men really do that?"

  I shrugged. "Depends on how much they want to out-testosterone each other…"

  There was a muffled thump from the other room, then a tinkling sound.

  "Sorry," Daun said.

  Paul shouted, "You sure you're a satyr and not a bull in a china shop?"

  "Hey, no need to insult my parentage."

  "I can fix it," Angel said quickly.

  Meg and I ducked our heads low.

  "So," I asked, tuning out the male grumbles from the other room, "how'd it go with your sister?"

  She frowned, and for a moment her baby blue aura spiked with orange slashes: a grudge from long ago, unceasing anger. An argument with no resolution and too many hurt feelings to ever reconcile. "Not so good," Meg admitted. "We don't see eye-to-eye on some things."

  My head slammed into overdrive, and the aura winked out. Rubbing my temple, I said, "Like on how your King is a—"

  "Don't say it."

  I smiled sheepishly. "I was going to say, a conflicted individual."

  "Liar." She sighed. "Ally and I got into a fight a long, long time ago. Never really healed the rift between us."


  "Still," I said, "she tried to help you. If not for her, you'd still be hanging on His throne room wall."

  "Yeah. She was a big help." She paused. "She was quite keen on sacrificing you for me."

  I took a sip of coffee as I mulled that over. "She doesn't like me, does she?"

  "Not one whit."

  "Just because you and I are friends?"

  "You know how Hell is on that sort of thing."

  Humph. "Some entities have no taste."

  "And some humans push their damn luck," she said, shooting me a look. "What on Earth were you thinking, kissing Him like that?"

  I felt my cheeks flame, as if to fend off the ice from His lips. "I don't know, I just… bless me, Meg, I felt sorry for Him. I thought I understood Him, wanted to show Him that I understood what it's like to try to be something you're not."

  Meg pinned me with her gaze. "Two things, Jez. One, never, ever, feel anything for an Archangel but awe and dread. And two, you have to start showing your understanding in other ways than sucking their faces off. Your man won't like it if you start kissing every creature you think is in poor spirits."

  "Hey," I said, affronted. "He was the one who tried to eat my face. I just wanted to be nice. Why're you yelling at me?"

  "Because what you did was stupid." She sighed, sloshed her coffee in her cup. "No matter what you may think, Archangels are dangerous. They don't have emotions the way humans do. They're all ego. And they're concerned only with themselves."

  "Not all of them," I said, thinking of Lucifer.

  Meg frowned at me. "All of them, Jez. Some may change over time. But no matter their words, no matter their form, they're still Archangels, the first creations of the Almighty. You should stay far away from them."

  I blew out a sigh, lifting my bangs off my brow. "No worries there. The only two I know personally are in dimensions other than mine. And I'm planning on staying here for the rest of my life."

  "He's not going to let you live your life unaffected by Hell," she said quietly. "If you think you can just bury your head in mortal sand, you're mistaken. You need to be on your guard. He has a long memory."

  My voice tight, I asked, "Why does He hate me so much?"

  Meg stared at me, her unreadable blue eyes searching for something I couldn't name. Finally she said, "You offended Him."

  "By running?"

  "No. That was an affront that He probably would have overlooked after time had passed."

  "Then what?"

  She took a sip of coffee before she replied. "You have a way of flaunting your free will as if it's the latest fashion."

  "Oh please," I said, "not you too. It's not a question of free will. It's about choice. You guys make it sound like the nefarious and the celestials really can't think for themselves, which is utter bullshit. I made my choice, and I'm just as much a creature of the Pit as you, or as Him."

  "Jezzie," Meg sighed, "you're wrong."

  "About what?"

  "Whether from Hell or Heaven, supernatural entities aren't meant to choose things. They have a role, and they complete that role to the best, or worst, of their abilities. But not you." She paused, stared into her cup as if trying to read the future. "If you don't like something, you change it. You act. You don't realize just how rare that ability for action really is."

  I shook my head. "Choice is all around me. For Hell's sake, Meg, you gave me a choice." She looked up at me, and I met her unflinching gaze. "A month ago, you came after me, were going to drag me back to the Underworld. But you didn't take me. You asked if I'd return with you."

  "And you said no," she said.

  "And I said no."

  "And then I led you to your death." Her face paled, and she looked like she was about to vomit. "That was one of the hardest things I ever did, in all of my existence."

  My voice soft, I asked, "Why did you give me the choice, Meg?"

  She didn't answer right away. I waited, sipping my coffee, my heart racing from caffeine and anticipation. Finally, she said, "Maybe you have a way of influencing those around you. Or maybe we've always had choices, but we didn't know that we did. And maybe, knowing that we do have free will, maybe some of us aren't strong enough to handle that." Frowning, she looked away.

  "Hey," I said, "you're one of the strongest creatures I know." I reached out and patted her hand. "And I don't mean in the unimaginable might kind of way. You can handle anything."

  She smiled, looking sad and hopeful all at once. "You think so?"

  "I know so."

  "And Jezzie knows all, huh?" She laughed softly, stared at my hand on hers.

  "Sweetie, I'm not going to argue that point." I lifted my cup for another sip.

  She said, "I'm going away for a bit. I need to think things through. Should be back in a couple of years."

  I nearly splurted my coffee over the tabletop. Bless me, non sequiturs should come with warnings about hot beverages. "Years? You're leaving your role as a Fury?"

  "More like taking a long-deserved vacation. Be Good, Jez." She winked at me. "Or, if you're going to be Evil, don't get caught. Bye."

  I spluttered, "Wait!"

  She waited.

  "You don't mean you're leaving now, right this second, do you?"

  "Why not?" she asked, shrugging. "There's nothing good on television."

  "But…" I floundered, trying to think of how to make her stay. Now that I had my friend back, the last thing I wanted to do was tell her goodbye. "We've got to go shopping, get you some decent traveling clothes. The toga look is so BCE."

  "Thanks," she said, "but no. New York City's too expensive."

  "Boston, then."

  "Sorry, Jez."

  "You can't go yet," I said, racking my brain for anything that would delay her impromptu trip. "I haven't asked you any of the questions I have."

  She smiled, shook her head ruefully. "You're a piece of work, I'll say that for you. Tell you what—I'll answer you one question. Just one. But then no more stalling, girl. I've got an interdimensional plane to catch."

  Just one? Crap. I had only about a million of them. I bit my lip, thinking. Why was the Hecate watching me? What was the deal with the auras? Why was Paul able to see supernatural entities? Daun bonded my soul once—was I free of his influence? Would I see Lucifer again?

  Those were just some of the personal questions, which didn't even graze the surface of the big-ticket items. Was Michael the worst thing for the Underworld, or would He prove to be its redeemer? Or Alecto?

  And what about God—so silent and yet, if I listened to Michael, so judgmental—why was He not intervening to save His favorite creation? Was the Devil going to destroy everything?

  Whose side was Hell really on?

  "There's a time limit on this offer."

  "Okay," I said, flipping through the myriad questions and grabbing one. "In Hell, the Rhymers and the King both called me 'half-breed.' What's that about?"

  Meg smiled. "You should ask your Sire."

  "Hey, no fair being mysterious. That's not an answer."

  "Yes it is. It's just not the one you want to hear."

  She had a point. Thinking of Lucifer, I touched my brow, felt His kiss—so simple, so gentle. So warm.

  Even the butcher may turn piper.

  I said, "Maybe I will ask Him about that." And about His affinity for Aesop.

  The sounds of Daun and Paul arguing drifted into the kitchen, and Angel very clearly uttered a curse. Cool.

  Then something went boom.

  I rolled my eyes. "But at the moment, I've got too many other males on my plate."

  Meg laughed. "That you do. See you."

  "Meg?"

  "Yeah."

  "You take care of yourself."

  "I will, Jez. And I promise, I'll send you some postcards."

  Megaera, one of the Three Erinyes and my best friend, blew me a kiss. Then she disappeared. I tasted peppermint and old parchment on my lips—her kiss, lingering for a moment, then fading to a
memory.

  "Bye," I whispered, hoping she would find whatever answers she sought.

  Barring that, I hoped she'd at least go on a mad shopping spree. The ancient Greek thing really was so Zeroeth Century.

  One thing about dealing with supernatural houseguests: it's a bitch trying to lack them out.

  "Maybe one day I'll earn my halo," Angel said, sighing. She was clutching a Luther Vandross CD to her chest, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. We'd learned the hard way that apple juice acted like hundred-proof alcohol in her system. It had taken Paul and me fifteen minutes to coax her down from the ceiling; she'd been convinced that if she stopped clutching the light fixture, the entire room would spin away. Daun had been no help—he'd been too busy puking up a lung from laughter. He was still chuckling, leaning against the wall and watching Angel with sinfully gleeful eyes.

  "One day," I agreed, trying to figure out what would sober up a drunken celestial. Maybe some cough medicine? At the very least, that might knock her out…

  "I'll earn my halo and will sing with the Seraphim," she said, a happy smile on her lips. "And I'll get my name, and it can be anything I want it to be."

  Except Elektra, Peaches said. That one's mine.

  I told my conscience it should consider sharing the name. She raspberried me and skulked away into the corner of my mind.

  Angel started singsonging the Psalm of David.

  Gah! "We've got to do something," I said, desperate.

  "Maybe coffee?" Paul suggested.

  "Didn't work before." Angel had finished the pot, with no effect other than being a wide-awake drunk. "I'm thinking cough syrup."

  "I'll get it."

  I watched him scoot down the hall. Bless me, his ass looked so good in those jeans…

  "So, babes," Daun said. "You going to tell your meat pie?"

  I glanced at him, my guard immediately up. "Tell him what?"

  "Why, about us," he said, a lazy smile on his face. "You begging me to fuck you so that you could go rescue him. You coming twice, thanks to my touch. You dying with my name on those sweet lips."

  My heart froze.

  "Damn," he said, shaking his head. "I do so love that look. No worries, babes. Mum's the word. If there's one thing that demons are good at, it's hording dark secrets. Just remember that you and I both know the truth."