beelzebub-girl-ancient-legends

by RG Stancu

  "It seems your aunt is already waiting," the driver said with a leer. I followed his line of vision to a blonde, busty woman wrapped in flowing chiffon that revealed a little too much, waving from a huge cruise.

  "Thank you." I grabbed the bag from the demon's hands and tossed it toward Dallas who caught it in one fluent motion.

  The demon hesitated, gaze fixed on my approaching aunt who swayed her generous hips from side to side, ambling at the pace of a turtle. "Want me to get that phone fixed for you?"

  "No, thanks. Her phone's working just fine." Dallas leaned into me whispering, "He's hitting on you again."

  The demon grinned. "Are you sure? Why didn't she just beam herself here then?"

  I was flattered that Dallas thought the guy was into me, but the truth was he stalled for time because he wanted to meet Aunt Krista. I couldn't believe the cheek. Then again, why was I surprised? Every demon in Hell would kill for a date with her.

  "The Star Trek convention's in New York. If you hurry you might catch the plane on time," Dallas said.

  "Go away," I hissed to the demon. "Or need I remind you of Lavardos?"

  With a sigh, the chaos demon bowed and jumped onto the driver seat, starting the engine as he shot Aunt Krista a rueful look.

  "Come on." I grabbed Dallas's arm and pulled him across the promenade. "We might as well meet her half way, or else she won't reach us before dawn."

  "That's your aunt?" Dallas whispered as we stood a few feet away. I nodded, regarding the curvy, heavily tanned figure balancing on six-inch stilettos. He laughed. "Oh, boy."

  "Darling girl, look at you." A hint of expensive perfume wafted past as Aunt Krista air-kissed me left and right. She took off the huge sunglasses covering most of her face and pushed them between her large bosom almost spilling out of her black D&G bathing suit. "What happened to your hair?"

  "What?"

  She waved a manicured hand in my face. "You need a cut. That colour isn't doing your freckled complexion any favours either. You should sue the hairstylist."

  "It's my natural colour." I grind my teeth.

  "Poor you. Luckily, Pierre's paying us a visit tomorrow. I'm sure he can squeeze in a few minutes to help out my unfortunate niece."

  She turned to Dallas, gaze wandering up and down. "Look at how big and gorgeous your brother's turned. I still remember him as a chubby little boy. Time flies, doesn't it?"

  My jaw dropped. Was she for real? "Auntie, I don't have a brother. This is my fiancé, Dallas."

  "Are you sure?" She pouted. "Who was the chubby, little boy then?"

  I rolled my eyes. "There was no chubby, little boy. Only me."

  The woman found me fat as a kid?

  Smiling, she inched toward Dallas, bosom pushed out, and held out her hand. "Aren't you a cutie? You might be inclined to feel shy since it's an honour meeting me." She clicked her tongue. "Well, don't be. I'm just a normal woman, albeit a very good-looking one, and—"

  Grabbing her arm, I pulled her aside muttering under my breath, "He has no idea who you are, and I'd like to keep it that way."

  "He's—"

  "Mortal?" I nodded.

  "Interesting. Let's enter my measly abode then." Aunt Krista sauntered back up the ramp of the huge luxury cruise. Dallas and I followed behind as she started showing us around as though she owned the place.

  We passed the entrance hall, a large room with marble floor and several sitting opportunities, then took a right, down the stairs, to the sleeping quarters. Aunt Krista's measly abode was a large penthouse-style apartment with open rooms and a balcony overlooking the sea. The glass slide doors, golden candelabras and silk curtains gave it a regal yet modern flair. Everything looked so sparkling and immaculate. If it weren't for a pair of pink slippers with four-inch heels left next to a bedside table, I wouldn't think anyone actually lived here.

  "How long have you been traveling around?" Dallas asked.

  "A few months, maybe a year." Aunt Krista dropped onto a wine-coloured chaise longue and rang a bell. A second later, a young man clad in silk, green pantaloons, a golden shirt and a large turban appeared, holding a tray with refreshments.

  I snorted. "You can't be serious."

  "You don't like my genie, dear?" Aunt Krista pouted, her forehead remained smooth where there should've been a frown. I wondered how much Botox she had injected to get that frozen, shiny skin.

  "Did you just say 'genie'?" Dallas asked.

  "That's what she calls her service personnel. They like it a lot." I glared at her, lest she dare contradict me.

  "As you say, dear." She tapped a long, red fingernail on her bare thigh. "He's the boy you talked about on the phone." I nodded, thankful she remembered that until she continued, "Why would you marry a butcher?"

  "What?" I peered at Dallas who shot me a confused look.

  Aunt Krista moistened her lips. "I was married to one a few hundred years ago, and let me tell you, you'll never get used to the smell."

  "A few hundred years ago?" Dallas asked.

  "She thinks she's really old, hence the Botox," I whispered to Dallas. "Why would you think Dallas is a butcher?"

  "I can tell when I see one." She turned to him, brows drawn.

  "How will you provide for my niece? Obviously, she won't be able to live on pork chops."

  "I'm not a butcher," Dallas said.

  I shook my head and made a cuckoo sign to Dallas. "He isn't.

  Now, drop it, Auntie. We both have jobs."

  "You're not marrying a butcher," Aunt Krista said.

  What was wrong with her? Last time I checked, she wasn't this loco. Must be all the Botox. Leaning back, I crossed my arms. "So, you're agreeing with Patty. I’m glad you've finally decided to work out your differences."

  She narrowed her gaze. "You went to see Patty first and she didn't give you her blessing?"

  I shrugged. "You know how she likes being the first at anything.

  She sets the pace and everyone else follows."

  "Hm." Aunt Krista tapped her fingers against her shimmering lips. "We'll have a huge reception, and she's not invited. My friend, Donatella, makes the most stunning gowns. Of course, we'll need to do something about that hair of yours. I'm so glad I didn't inherit that red mop."

  Actually, she did. Dad said peroxide was developed specifically so Krista could pretend otherwise though. "You're a natural blonde then?" I smirked and pulled a scroll out of my handbag. "Tell that to your roots. Now, if you could sign the dotted line so you can get back at Patty. We haven't got all day."

  "Are you getting married in Hell?" Aunt Krista asked, inspecting the scroll.

  "I wouldn't call marriage hell." I shot Dallas an amused glance as I mouthed, "She's been married one too many times."

  "No, dear, I asked if you were getting—"

  "You're talking about the weather? For someone who lives on a cruise you sure abhor the Californian heat." My fake laughter sounded forced. I had to get us out of here before my crazy aunt blew my cover. Dallas might be gullible in that he believed everything I said, but he wasn't stupid.

  "What's in this for me?" Aunt Krista asked.

  "You get to see your only niece married, living happily ever after." I groaned inwardly because I knew I'd have to come up with better bait than that.

  Aunt Krista shook her head, her fake blonde strands swaying with the soft breeze coming from the open window. "No."

  Let the bargaining begin. I took a sip of my cold water and cringed at the sour taste of lemon. "What do you want then?"

  "I want to be featured on your TV show."

  "How do you even know about it?"

  She smiled, self-satisfied. "I have my sources."

  Dad must have told her. "What would you need PR for?" I asked.

  "Well, since I'm trying to set up my own business some exposure would come in handy." She rang the bell again. The genie demon popped back in, carrying a large tray with a selection of sequined handbags and shoes that glimmered in the sunny
room, and dropped it on the table. The glittery stuff made my eyes ache.

  "This is my life's purpose," Aunt Krista said, her throat choked with emotion.

  "It's very—" I gestured with my hand, struggling for words.

  Horrendously ugly, non-wearable, and certainly nothing that anyone in their right mind would ever want to buy, or even be seen with, dead or alive. Fortunately for Aunt Krista, I was family, so it was only natural that I lie. "Creative," I finally managed to say.

  Dallas nodded, wide-eyed. "Indeed, and so very shiny."

  "That's the appeal, my dear." She picked up a garish red purse with faded stripes. It looked as though it was painted by a toddler. "I designed it all myself."

  "You're talented. Now can we get on with the scroll?" I said.

  Aunt Krista shook her head. "Not before you've agreed to a bit of product placement on your show. I wouldn't mind doing an interview or two, maybe even a model catwalk, in exchange for my signature."

  It was all Dad's fault. If he only kept his mouth shut, we wouldn't have to give in to Aunt Krista's crazy demands. The truth was, the moment we featured cheap bags from the eighties we'd lose all credibility.

  I sighed, considering my options to get out of this disaster. "You know we're not Project Runway, right?"

  "Of course I do, dear." She laughed. "I'm already in the process of becoming a household name. I just need more traffic to my website." She had a website? Yet more clutter on the Internet.

  "We'll find a way to fit you in," Dallas said, shooting me a doubtful look.

  "Goody. Where do I sign then?" Aunt Krista clapped her hands.

  Several minutes passed as she took her time reading the scroll.

  Eventually, she grabbed a pen, hovering over the thick paper, as though she was about to sign over the family jewels.

  I bit my lip until I drew blood. The pen moved, leaving behind a wet trail of cursive handwriting. She had barely finished putting the last touches in the form of a dot when I snatched the scroll and pushed it into my purse for safekeeping. Two aunts down, one to go.

  "See you on the set?" I asked, signalling Dallas to get up.

  Aunt Krista nodded, flabbergasted. "Sure, dear. Let me check my diary for a free slot and—"

  "Tomorrow, eight o'clock in the evening." I was almost out the door when I shouted over my shoulder, "We won't reschedule for you, so don't be late."

  Chapter 21 – Who wants to be famous?

  It's amazing how irritating and time-consuming travelling is when one has to rely on old-fashioned technologies such as planes and taxis. After getting back to California I was so tired I wished I could lie down and sleep off my jetlag, like Dallas, but there was no time because my personal assistant was already waiting in the studio.

  I walked into the large area and stopped to peer around, taking in the eerie yet groovy atmosphere. Chairs with velvet lining were set up in rows facing a raised platform with two black, leather sofas surrounded by countless burning candles. On a coffee table, a silver tray with an embossed dagger, salt, various wood utensils and yet more candles waited to be used in our fake séance.

  "What do you think?" Ginny asked, anxiously. I turned and smiled.

  "I couldn't have done a better job. Time to get our guests then."

  "They're gathered in the reception area together with the camera crew."

  "What about Theo?"

  "She's been debriefed," Ginny said. "I've just finished going through her list with her one more time. She's memorised everything."

  I nodded, impressed. Apart from arranging nicer clothes for himself, he had thought of everything. "Ginny?"

  His eyes turned wide with alarm. "Yes, Princess."

  "I'm taking over from here. Why don't you get yourself something nice to wear and sit down with a cup of coffee? You've earned a break."

  If his skin, dark as coal, could flush, it would've for sure. His gaze lowered to the clean floor, fixing on his battered shoes. "But this is what I've been wearing for most of my life," he whispered.

  I inched forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. The coarse material of his shirt felt like sandpaper under my touch. "I understand but you have an important job and need to look the part."

  He bowed and scurried away. For a few seconds, I stared after him, wondering why I never exchanged more than a few words with him during the time he worked in our kitchen. What a shame I missed out on a wonderful friendship for so many years.

  As Ginny said, Amber and Theo were waiting in an adjoining room together with at least a dozen people, ranging in age, I've never seen before. Frowning, I inched closer, ignoring Amber's greeting and the makeup artist wanting to put the last touch to my makeup.

  A middle-aged man dressed in a business suit bowed, his cropped hair almost touching the ground. The others noticed and followed suit. My gaze connected with that of a freckled teenager, and for a moment his magic broke, revealing a surprisingly human face with red skin and flames dancing in his black eyes. He must be one of the upper level demons employed to play audience. Ginny thought of every detail.

  "Please, follow me," I said, pointing through the open door to the empty chairs. "Have a seat and try to behave like normal people."

  "What do you mean?" Amber asked.

  The teenage demon grinned and his appearance flickered for a moment, revealing what hid behind, all lobster-red skin and blazing eyes. Amber flinched and took a step back whispering, "What's that thing?"

  I shrugged. "This and that."

  "A vampire that isn't cocky? Every day harbours a new learning experience," Dad said from the door.

  I turned to face him, my eyes shooting daggers, lest he annoy my guests, forcing me to spend days if not weeks searching for another necromancer to do Amber's job. It wasn't like they advertised their services on a website.

  "Where's Dallas?" Dad asked.

  "Sleeping off the jetlag." I pulled him aside hissing, "Keep it shut, Dad. This is my show. I'm the boss here."

  "That's your father?" Amber asked. I rolled my eyes because I'd heard it so many times before it really ticked me off. Every one of my female friends fancied Dad. He must have some sort of magnet implanted under his golden skin. "He's so—"

  "Handsome? Good-looking? Hot? Fit?" Irritated, I grabbed her arm and guided her to the leather sofas. "Stop staring, Amber. It's not attractive. Just sit and do your job."

  "I'm not staring." She ran a hand through her brown hair, peering at Dad from under long lashes. What was it with every post-pubescent girl developing a crush on his green eyes and mysterious flair?

  "Thank you for helping us out," Dad said. His eyes twinkled.

  "My pleasure," Amber stuttered, her pale cheeks flushed. "It's the least I can do for your hospitality."

  "That was my daughter's doing. She has a rather persuasive nature." Dad shot me an amused look. "We're happy to have Dallas's family over."

  Amber beamed as though he had just complimented her on her amazing taste in fashion. I gestured Theo to sit down, only now noticing the confidence in her stride. There was also a flicker of hope in her blue gaze that wasn't there before. I bet she wouldn't let Dad's charm distract her from her job. Or maybe it wasn't working on her because she hadn't grasped the magnitude of the power he wielded over the world. Looking at her, seemingly pale and frail in her oversized white gown, I felt sorry I hadn't bothered to visit her in Distros after our initial meeting. I just didn't feel I could take any more of that pain she felt inside.

  "Theo, this is Amber. She'll be assisting you in contacting your sister," I said.

  Amber nodded. "Hi."

  "Thank you," Theo whispered, arranging her flowing gown around her. "I'll do whatever you say. All I ask for is that you persuade Sofia to stay away from him and his family. I don't want the same fate to befall her."

  "Wait." Amber jumped up, wide-eyed. "Is she a—"

  "A ghost?" I smirked. "Amber, you're a necromancer in a show about raising the dead.
What did you expect? Eerie sounds produced by a computer and a few Hollywood actors in bad makeup? Please don't tell me you've never seen a real ghost."

  She shook her head. "Not this close, so not really." Her skin paled again, giving Theo a run for her money.

  "You're staying in Distros. How did you manage to avoid them?"

  "Aidan keeps me inside," she whispered.

  "Is he afraid you might catch a sunburn?" Talk about a control freak. I patted her knee. "Relax. Everything's going to be okay. If it helps, Theo's one of the good ghosts out there."

  "She's no poltergeist then?" Dad asked.

  I shot him a glare. "Stop freaking her out."

  "Thanks for helping us, Theo," Dad whispered. "I know being in Hell isn't a thrilling experience."

  She shrugged. "It's not that bad, sir. Maybe a bit lonely at times."

  "You should come over for dinner. Cass would appreciate the company," Dad said.

  I peered at him, surprised. Dad had never invited anyone over before because he wasn't keen on visitors. Maybe he had taken a liking to her. I didn't have time to ponder over Dad's change in attitude though because Aunt Krista's shriek rippled through the air, drawing everyone's attention to her.

  Jumping up, I dashed in her direction, then stopped. What the heck was she wearing? It looked like a huge roll of pink spandex wrapped around her big bosom and round hips. I hoped she wouldn't bend forward because I wasn't keen on seeing her underwear. "What's wrong?"

  She stared at me as though I was dense. "Your demon friend won't let me arrange my merchandise."

  Ginny appeared behind her whispering, "You didn't say anything."

  "I’m sorry. It's my mistake. I should've discussed my idea with you first, Auntie." I winked at Ginny and turned to face Aunt Krista.

  "What idea?" she asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  "If we keep your designs on display, our audience might think it's all part of the visual merchandising." I pulled her to a seat in the front row and motioned the sitting demon to move to the back.

  "So?" Aunt Krista cocked a brow.

  "You want to surprise your audience." I pushed her down into her chair. "You want to go for that wow factor, Auntie. Why don't you talk about your bags during our five-minute break when everyone's focus is on what you have to say?"