Welcome to Hell Box Set: Paranormal Romantic Comedy

by Demelza Carlton

  "It is rare," Gerry chortled. "How often do you get a meal cooked by Merih and me? Merih even burned his hand making it. Now that's dedication!"

  Merih held up his hand, which looked a little redder than usual.

  "Oh, let me help you with that," Mel said, reaching for the demon's injured hand.

  Gabi's loud laughter made Mel turn to the angel in surprise. "Don't waste your time. Angels can't heal demons, Mel. You'd only burn him worse."

  "Oh!" Mel remembered Melbourne Cup Day. "I'm sorry," she said to Merih. Yet she wondered how she'd managed to heal Luce, less than an hour before…

  Mel decided her steak was worth the risk and cut herself a slice. It seemed demons weren't too bad at barbequing flesh. Perhaps it was all the practice they had in Hell.

  "…and what will I do? We're angels. We're supposed to be perfect, not engage in petty theft on some lowly demon's demand!" Gabi hissed, her eyes filling with tears.

  Mel carefully swallowed her morsel of meat. "Angels aren't perfect, Gabi. We're just good." She attempted to fold another piece of lettuce onto her fork, which flipped off just before she managed to insert it into her mouth, slapping her wetly on the nose.

  "Not just good," Gabi insisted. "We're better than everyone else. At everything."

  Mel laughed. "Better at stealing salt shakers, too?" she asked gently.

  Gabi reddened.

  "What's the joke, Mel?" Gerry asked, drawing her eyes away from Gabi. "It must be pretty good if it can make an angel blush."

  Demonic laughter sounded on all sides.

  Mel lowered her eyes. "It's…well, it's sort of a private angel joke. You probably wouldn't find it very funny. Even Gabi didn't like it – so I shouldn't really have said it in the first place."

  "Tell us another one, then!" Merih insisted.

  Mel smiled and shook her head. "I don't know many and the few I do know aren't very good. How about you tell one? I'm sure you know better ones than I do."

  Merih grinned back. "Well, I do know a good one about the day Anna Nicole Smith and Princess Diana arrived at the gates of Heaven for judgement. Heaven was full and St Peter said they only had space for one more…"

  "Why is he staring at you? He shouldn't be staring at you like that. It's so rude…" Gabi hissed in Mel's ear.

  Mel turned to see who Gabi was glaring at. Luce averted his eyes again, so she looked back at Gabi.

  "Um, you have mayonnaise on your nose, Mel," Gabi whispered, handing her a serviette.

  Mel wiped her nose carefully, wondering how long she'd been wearing her lunch on her face. She hoped it had just been the last, floppy lettuce leaf that did it.

  "…and St Peter said, 'Well, a royal flush beats a pair any day!'" Merih finished.

  Mel laughed right along with the demons as Gabi grumbled about how judgement didn't work that way and Heaven was never full.

  "I have one," Luce said. The whole table fell silent. He pulled out his red handkerchief and laid it on the table. He glanced up at Mel. "It's about a magic carpet."

  "A man walks into a Persian rug shop and asks the salesman for the best rug he has. The salesman grins and tells him that his best rug is in fact a magic carpet. All he has to do is sit on the carpet and say, 'Magic carpet, rise,' and the carpet will rise and fly him wherever he wants to go. They bargain for a while, but when both feel they have a good price, they agree and the man goes home with his Persian rug/magic carpet."

  Luce looked up at Mel expectantly before he continued, "So, the man lays the carpet on the floor of his living room, sits down on it and says, 'Magic carpet, please rise.' Nothing happens. He tries sitting in different positions, standing on it, shouting at it, cajoling it – all to no avail. The rug just sits there, looking pretty on the floor.

  "The next day, he's having a beer with friends, and one's an engineer for an international airline. They get to talking and he asks the engineer for help with his magic carpet. The friend agrees and comes over to see what he can do for the carpet.

  "The engineer takes one look at it and says, 'No wonder it won't fly. It doesn't have any wings!' and he gives it wings."

  Mel leaned forward to see Luce fold the handkerchief, as if he was starting to construct a paper plane. She wondered how handkerchief planes flew.

  "After his friend left, the man sat on his carpet again, saying, 'Magic carpet, please rise.' Still nothing. Annoyed, upset, but not ready to give up yet, the next day he decides to go ask a mechanic for help. So, he loads the carpet into the car, takes it to his mechanic and shows him the carpet.

  "The mechanic looks at the carpet, the same way he looks at the man's car when it's going to cost a lot of money to fix, and finally says, 'Of course it can't fly. It doesn't have an engine!" So, the mechanic puts an engine on the carpet."

  Luce folded the handkerchief again, tucking part of it underneath the rest, so it didn't look like a paper plane at all. He caught Mel's eye and winked. Intrigued, she crossed her arms and gave a slight nod, inviting him to continue.

  "He pays the mechanic and takes his carpet home again. He lays it out on the floor, hops on, and says, 'Magic carpet, please rise.'" Luce paused for effect. "And…nothing. The carpet just sits there, looking like an ordinary Persian rug, with wings and an engine. Angry, he loads the carpet into his car, determined to take it back to the shop to get his money back.

  "On his way back to the rug shop, he drives through the red light district, and the girls are out on the street, looking for customers. He has to stop at an intersection and a girl wearing not much at all leans into his open window, offering to cheer him up for a price.

  "Feeling like it's the best thing that's happened to him all week, he agrees and he takes her back to his place. She notices the carpet and asks about it.

  "He replies, 'It's supposed to be a magic carpet, but it doesn't matter what I do. It just won't rise!'

  "The prostitute laughs and says, 'Baby, trust me, I can make anything rise.' So she gets her hands on the carpet and…"

  Mel looked at the red origami penis rising in front of Luce and burst out laughing. The demons were strangely silent.

  Luce gave Mel a cheeky grin. "Glad you like it."

  The other demons took this as their cue that the joke was over and it was time to laugh, but Luce's eyes locked on Mel's and he seemed not to notice the others at all.

  "I need a coffee," Gabi announced, shoving away from the table. The force of her push toppled Mel's wineglass over – right into her lap.

  Gabi hunted around the table for a spare napkin to mop up the mess, but the napkins seemed to be gone. Mel rose and attempted to wring some of the wine out of her soaked skirt, hoping it wouldn't hurt the grass.

  Luce stood, too, giving his ruddy penis a flick so it hung limp, an ordinary handkerchief once more, before holding it out to Mel. "Please," he offered.

  Mel took the handkerchief, to the combined gasps of Gabi and the other demons, and used it to mop the moisture from her skirt.

  Mel felt Gabi's hand close on her arm. Gabi was so agitated, her soul felt like a violently shaken snow globe: a blizzard of white with glimpses of colour. "Give it back," Gabi hissed, digging her nails in. "We'll go get napkins from the café."

  Mel held out the well-used hanky, inclining her head to Luce. "Thank you."

  He winked again. "Any time."

  Gabi's grip tightened further as she almost dragged Mel away from Luce and the other demons, marching as fast as her legs could carry her. She looked close to tears. "That was Lucifer. The infernal Lord of Hell. In perhaps the sexiest body I've ever seen him in. And you…you took his dick and wiped your wet patches with it. Are you trying to tempt him to taint you? He's the most dangerous demon there is!"

  "Relax. It was just a joke, Gabi, and it was a handkerchief, not the man's genitals. I'm hardly in danger from him," Mel tried to tell her, but Gabi seemed to be muttering under her breath, so she probably didn't hear.

  Privately, Mel wondered what Gabi would say if she tol
d her she'd touched more than Luce's suggestive handkerchief today. She didn't want the demon's body – she wanted his stormy soul.

  "We should go back to the agency office. Raphael requisitioned a team of surveillance angels – Grigori – and those guys look like the best in the business. Living Greek statues, the lot of them, and they obey orders like you wouldn't believe. Tell Raphael you need one for the weekend. You take your pick of the Grigori boys and…well, once you're done, that demon's hot body won't work on you. You should never go up against demons without making sure there's no desire for temptation…"

  Mel burst out laughing. "Gabi, I'm not using any of the agency staff as sex toys."

  Gabi looked hurt. "Not sex toys. A willing partner who'd do anything for you…"

  "Gabi, have I ever told you about my friend, Patrick?" Mel asked carefully. She waited for Gabi's head-shake before she continued, "A few weeks ago, when I was in Colombo, I ran into him. I think I have a couple of photos we took on our wahoo cruise…"

  Mel heard a clink and noticed the stolen salt and pepper shakers in Gabi's pocket. Gabi was certainly a conscientious angel today. Mel wondered how the barbeque would have ended had Gabi not been there.

  Thirty-Six

  She'd enjoyed the break over Christmas and New Year, but it looked like the peace was over. Protesters were camped out in front of Mel's office building again. Sighing, she slipped past them and wondered what the problem was this time. They looked like environmentalists – she could see very few shoes among any of them. There were plenty of placards and even one poor person in what looked like a black bird suit. Mel hoped he didn't get heatstroke in the hot weather that was forecast for the day – perhaps he'd head home before that happened.

  She wished the security guard a good morning before she stepped into the lift. She could see him shaking his head at the strangely dressed protesters as the steel doors slid shut.

  Reaching her desk, Mel flicked on the power to her PC and debated whether to take one of her tisane tea bags or if she'd need the buzz of a coffee.

  Lili appeared. "Ah, Mel – you're needed over in Regulation. Zaq has some protesters causing trouble, so his report suddenly became a lot more urgent to the Minister. Something about cockies or corellas or kookaburras – ah, birds, anyway. Go find out what he needs done."

  Mel nodded. "Sure." She set off in the vague direction Lili had waved toward. Her drink decision could wait until she worked out what her workload would be.

  Thanks to the nameplate by his desk, Mel found Zaq, a stressed-looking demon who didn't even look up as she stood beside him.

  She waited, watching him grit his teeth and tap the keyboard for almost a full minute before he grunted, "I'm busy. Go away."

  Mel smiled. "I'm Mel and I'm here to help. I believe you have a protester problem?" She pulled out the visitor chair and perched on the edge of it.

  "No, they're not a problem. They just don't like the airport expansion project we approved last week." He shoved a report at Mel.

  Mel took the booklet and glanced at the cover. It wasn't the international airport – it was the one for small planes, not far south of her house. "I thought they were already so busy that the state government's trying to move them somewhere else," she said. "Why do they want more traffic?"

  Zaq shook his head irritably. "They don't. They want to stop the traffic jams on the tarmac, waiting to take off. And then there are the flight schools…"

  "There are flight schools there? I had no idea…" Mel marvelled.

  "Sure. A couple of really big international airlines have their flight schools at Cockburn. Or they did. One of the accommodation blocks was lost in a bushfire last week."

  "Oh, how awful! I hope no one was hurt."

  "Only the guy cleaning the barbeque. He was looking for a hose and the only one in the courtyard belonged to the wastewater treatment system – the gardener occasionally used the water on the lawns. Anyway, it was curry night in the cafeteria two days before and the tank was pretty full, so he opened the tap. The septic tank was under a fair bit of pressure, so some of the air escaped and the hotplate was still on. The methane hit the flame and…well, the explosion took out half the accommodation block and the adjacent shower block. Left a big crater, too. The student was lucky – we think the sewage sludge saved him from the worst of the burns. They had to pump his stomach, though, because they think he swallowed some of it…" Zaq chortled. "That's when the shit really hit the fan. Turns out there were disused aviation fuel tanks under the dorms and maybe a plane or two, as well. The whole lot went up, just under the air conditioning units for the other accommodation block. Until they get the mess remediated – and best estimate is two or three years for that – they need new accommodation built quickly. The airline's insisting it can only go on land that the airport can guarantee isn't contaminated, which pretty much only leaves them the virgin bushland buffer. So those old trees have to go." He shrugged.

  "Ah, so the protesters are upset about the loss of the trees?" Mel asked.

  Zaq snorted. "Only because they think some endangered cockatoos need them. Someone should tell the protesters that any cockatoo in an airport is endangered until it's dead. Should've called it Cocky-burn Airport. It's the busiest airport in Australia – a quarter of a million takeoffs and landings every year. The cockies don't need the trees. The airport had experts come in to do surveys. They said it was too far north for the cockies, but they agreed to plant some trees to replace these, just in case someone got upset. So, no worries!"

  Mel wet her lips. "So, what exactly is the Minister worried about, that he's putting you under so much pressure?"

  "He needs a presentation that he can deliver to the press conference tomorrow, with briefing notes on the cockies. You know how to use PowerPoint?" Zaq eyed her critically.

  "Sure," Mel replied, hoping he wasn't thinking about Luce's end-of-year presentation. "So all the info I need is in this report?"

  "Yep," he said. "The expert reports are in the file on the network. I'll email you the link now. What's your login?"

  Mel grimaced. "Melody Angel."

  "That's a weird name for a…" He stopped. "Are you an agency girl?"

  Mel nodded swiftly. "Yes, I'm from the Helpful Angels Agency."

  Zaq's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure? You're not like the others. Even the boys in Legal…they have that 'I'm-better-than-you-and-I-know-it' air to them. You seem almost normal – like a human or something. I guess you haven't been an angel for long enough to get a trumpet up your arse or whatever makes them so stiff."

  Mel laughed. "No, nothing musical in me at all. Just the name."

  "And your voice," he said immediately, then blushed. He stared into his lap as he continued, "So, can you get that presentation to me by the end of the day?"

  "Sure," Mel said. She brandished the booklet. "Cockies, here I come!"

  "I see why Lord…I mean, Luce recommended you," Zaq said.

  Mel stopped dead, then proceeded cautiously with, "Lord Lucifer recommended me for this project? Why?"

  "He said you were the best assistant he'd ever had for a presentation and to beg Lili to let me have you," Zaq mumbled to his lap.

  Mel tried hard not to laugh. "You had to beg Lili for me? I bet she liked that."

  Zaq laughed, lifting his head so he could look at Mel again. "Better you than her. Will you help me with the presentation? I'm terrible at them."

  "Of course. Helping people is what angels do," she responded with one final smile, before turning to go.

  Lord Lucifer, she mused. So it was true and Gabi was right. Luce was the Lord of Hell. She'd expected him to be darker inside, to be honest, but she only knew what she'd heard of the demon – Mel had never spoken to him before she'd set foot in the HELL Corporation offices. He just didn't seem as dangerous as Raphael and everyone else had warned her.

  Ah, he was known as an expert in deception – perhaps he was capable of using that demonic deception on her, Mel decided.

>   She carried the report to her desk and swapped it for her mug. A tisane today – preparing a presentation on birds sounded like fun.

  Thirty-Seven

  Mel was almost done with the presentation, which was full of pretty pictures of planes and the wildlife that did live at the airport, including some unusual orchids they seemed to be going to great lengths to protect. She couldn't work out how one of them could be called a praying virgin orchid – it looked more like a bird bending over to drink.

  After checking the brief summary on the cockatoos in the report, Mel decided she needed more detail. She dug the expert's report out of her email and took a sip from her second cup of tea. It looked like he'd done a complete biological survey, counting birds, snakes, lizards and even moths.

  Mel headed downstairs to pick up some lunch so she could eat while she read the lengthy report. She glanced at her phone and noticed the missed calls from earlier that morning. Raphael had some urgent issue again, she saw – three calls and a misspelled text message told her so. Alone in the lift, she dialled and held her phone to her ear.

  Mel only waited for Persi's greeting before interrupting the girl to ask for Raphael. Persi's switchboard skills had improved – she managed to put the call through to Raphael on her first attempt.

  "Why the barrage of messages?" Mel asked.

  "Where are you? It sounds noisy. Can you come to the office this afternoon? I'd prefer not to be overheard," Raphael said.

  "That's all? You want to see me? If you want privacy, come to my place. I'm cooking tonight – I'll make sure there's enough for you. I'll pick up fresh mushrooms on my way home for the risotto, if you bring some wine. I'll probably use all of mine in the cooking."

  She stood in front of the Yummi sandwich shop and counted. As she expected, she didn't get past three before he said, "All right. What time?"

  "Make it seven, just in case I get caught up at work," Mel replied. A Turkish bread caught her eye. Chicken, pumpkin, feta, baby spinach…her stomach rumbled its agreement.

  Raphael agreed and they ended the call. Mel slipped her phone back into her pocket, caught the shop assistant's eye and claimed her sandwich. She waited while it toasted and carried the hot, papered bundle upstairs, her mouth watering all the way.