Welcome to Hell Box Set: Paranormal Romantic Comedy

by Demelza Carlton

  Mel's eyes lit up as she looked at the package and carefully took it from his hands. "Thank you." She kissed him, but it was over so quickly that Luce barely had time to respond. He watched her peel off the crumpled plastic wrap and open the box. "How did you know?" she exclaimed, staring at him in wonder. She pulled out the bottle of perfume, holding it over her wrist in anticipation.

  "You wore it every day at work. I came to see if you were free for lunch a few times, but you weren't at your desk. Once, there was this scent...like I'd just missed you and you'd sprayed your perfume on before you went out. I went through your desk drawers and then your filing cabinet, looking for it. I found it, but the bottle was almost empty. When I saw the same perfume in an airport duty-free shop, I had to get it. I wanted to give it to you...but I also wanted to keep it to remember you by." He closed his eyes, determined not to look at her. He sounded like some sappy romance hero, instead of the stern Lord of Hell. "Every day I was away, I thought of you. Wished it was you with me instead of that...that..."

  "Lamprey?" Mel suggested.

  "Yes!" Luce exclaimed. "You don't know what it was like. I mean, first it was just the short skirts and skimpy tops so I could look at the goods, as if she wanted me to ask how much she wanted for them. Then she left buttons and zips undone, like she wanted to take it all off. Then the constant offers. Sex, sex and more sex. She started offering with her clothes on, but they came off quickly. First, she wore those skimpy little French knickers, then switched to stringier and skimpier things until she left off underwear completely. Any excuse and she'd bend over to pick something up, flash that horrible tattoo and give a coy smile or a wink, like she thought I wanted to see what she had between her legs. I couldn't eat or drink anything when she was around, because I knew I wouldn't be able to keep it down when she dropped her fork again...Oh, Mel, you have no idea. I shuddered at the sight or sound of her – my own secretary! Not being able to get any work done around her, because of the constant offers of sex..."

  Mel's gentle smile looked sympathetic. "Actually, I do. Some demons are more subtle than others, but your office had plenty of men who deemed themselves my prospective partners. One was particularly persistent."

  "The demons at work hounded you like that half-angel pursued me? I'll send them all back to Hell in disgrace. I had no idea. You'll never have to see any of them again, I swear..."

  "I don't work there any more and neither do you, so it's not really an issue now. And it wasn't as difficult for me as it was for you. I knew I could never accept any of the offers. I didn't want to hurt anyone, is all. As long as you were a demon, the most I was ever willing to offer you was dinner." Mel's smile turned sad and she turned away, busying herself with his clothes on the bed.

  "You agreed to dinner tonight," Luce reminded her, starting to feel uneasy.

  "I did," she said. She started hanging his shirts beside her dresses, pushing her meagre wardrobe aside to make more room for his. She stopped to finger the last one. "I've never seen you wear this to work."

  Luce looked at the silk shirt that had caught her interest. "That's because I bought it in New York and I didn't trust my PA to get it dry-cleaned properly, so I haven't worn it yet. But for you, if you like...I'll wear it to dinner." He made swift work of his buttons, stripping off his shirt so he could change. "Or I could just go topless, for your viewing pleasure." He grinned, spreading his arms in an open invitation.

  Mel laughed heartily as she stepped closer. "Are they real?" she asked, caressing his rippled muscles with her fingertips. It felt...indescribably good.

  "All real. All...yours." He pulled her closer, wishing his pants didn't feel so tight. Maybe he should take them off, too. "And there's more, Mel." He kicked his pants away from the puddle they'd formed around his ankles. For a moment, he wondered if her silence was because he was being too pushy, like he'd been in the office. Could he ever do the right thing around her? "But only if you want me," he said, hoping.

  "Before or after dinner?" She gave his lips a light kiss.

  "Both, if you like. An aperitif, then dinner, followed by a decadent dessert. I want to treat you like you deserve, Mel. You've done so much for me and I want to repay you in any way I can." Luce waved at himself before gesturing more broadly. "Me. The world. I'd give you anything, Mel. All you have to do is ask."

  "I don't need you to give me the world. For now, you're enough," she said, giving him a deeper, more heavenly kiss.

  "And after?" Luce's voice growled, to his surprise. He'd never heard himself sound so feral. Like some lust-crazed human about to jump her without her permission. But he wouldn't. Not Mel. After so many weeks without her, he needed to know she wouldn't leave him. She'd laugh if she knew, he was sure of it. The Lord of Hell, lost without Mel.

  "You promised me dinner and dessert, my love. I'll hold you to that," Mel said, smiling. "Now show me what you have in mind for an aperitif."

  Twelve

  She wore white – an angel in the kitchen, contrasting with the honey-coloured timber cabinets. Her hair was pinned up as it usually was in the office, baring her neck so that it fairly begged him for a kiss. He couldn't refuse her, so he moved as quietly as he could until she was close enough to touch. Maybe he hadn't used up all his oyster influence last night...

  "What is it about white that makes you look so angelic?" he murmured as he kissed her neck.

  Mel jumped and gave a yelp. Liquid splattered on the bench.

  Luce lifted his head and realised she'd been handling hot tea. She moved quickly to the sink, running her red hands under the cold tap.

  "I'm sorry, Mel. I didn't realise..." he began, wishing he'd thought to announce himself more safely. She was hurting because of him and he couldn't stand it. He'd give anything to be able to heal her as she had him.

  "It's all right," she said breathlessly. She nodded at the half-full cups. "You drink yours. I'll get to mine in a minute, if I get time."

  "What’s the hurry?" Luce asked, slurping the steaming liquid. He hadn't had a cup of tea in centuries until arriving at Mel's place and now it seemed perfectly natural to drink several a day. He wondered if there was anything she couldn't persuade him to do.

  "Raphael called. He said he can get permission for you to enter Heaven again, but you'll have to go through judgement, like any mortal. I said it was ridiculous and I fully intend to argue your case in person. Raphael evidently didn't make it clear..." For the first time, Mel looked annoyed. No, like an angel filled with righteous anger, or at least indignation. He pitied whoever she'd be arguing with; they hadn't a hope in Hell against her.

  "Are you sure it's worth the trouble?" he asked. "I mean, it's been so long, I barely remember what it's like up there. It's not like I need to go in – the place is full of righteous angels, being sickeningly kind to each other with no idea of the reality down here. You know I have no patience for them, with their snowy-white reputations and ideals. I don't belong there."

  "I'm one of them and so are you. You have every right to be there, just like they do. I have the same ideals, Luce, and you seem to like me just fine," Mel said through gritted teeth as she shut off the tap, shaking her fingers dry in the sink.

  Now he felt bad. She seemed so different to all the other angels he knew. None of them knew the conditions down here as well as she did. Delusional, living in their cloudy paradise...they'd never believe her, unless they saw him bleed for themselves. He'd spill his lifeblood for Mel, but not a drop for any of them, he swore. And they'd turn on her like they'd turned on him all those centuries ago. For doing what was necessary – stating the truth.

  "I'm coming with you," he announced.

  She shook her head. "No, Luce. They'd...react differently to you. I'll go on my own and smooth the way for you. It's better this way."

  He snorted. "You expect me to sit here, like some damsel in distress, while you fight my battles for me? Why don't I just wear one of your dresses and you can call me Lucia, too? Even then you'd have to cha
in me up here to keep me from coming with you. Oh Hell, that brings back memories..." He couldn't help laughing.

  "What memories? Do you have a torture room with chains somewhere that you haven't showed me yet?" Mel asked. "Or did you just forget about it until now?"

  Luce did his best to regain control of himself. "No, not any more. I did have a fun couple of decades as Madam Lucia, though, and we had a couple in the Lair. The things those girls could do..."

  Mel's face turned blank, almost deliberately, Luce decided. "You worked as a brothel madam? Why doesn't that surprise me? I bet you could've filled up Hell with the people in your whorehouse..."

  Luce sobered. "The customers, yes, but most of the girls were absolute saints. The things they put up with from the clients, the pay, the conditions...actually, I never saw their souls again, once they left my employ. Of course, there were a few...the ones who thought it was a fun idea to rob the customers and leave them in an alley somewhere, sometimes still breathing...well, Hell always needs a few more demons."

  "You...I'm sorry, Luce, I'm just trying to imagine you in a dress, let alone running a brothel..." Mel shook her head, as if trying to shake the image out of her ears.

  Luce tried to smother his grin. "You know, I could show you," he offered eagerly. "There was a lot of leather involved, but I believe some of my favourite designs are still in vogue in modern adult shops. I think they'd suit you better than they ever did me, though."

  "Luce." Mel's piercing gaze brought him out of his fantasy. "We weren't discussing your fetish for leather. We were discussing how you should stay here while I'm in Heaven, at least for the moment."

  He met her eyes without flinching. "The only way you'll get me to stay here while you're fighting on my behalf is with a strong set of restraints – which brings us nicely back to leather." He let his grin break free. "I fight my own battles in person, Mel. Later, we can celebrate with leather, if you like."

  Her expression was priceless and he couldn't help laughing.

  Thirteen

  "Please stay here and wait for me," Mel said as she slipped her shoes on. "You won't help your case any by pleading it personally, I swear."

  "What are you so worried about? That I'll upset someone? Those angels should learn to take themselves less seriously if just the sight of me offends them," Luce grumbled.

  "Angels have long memories, Luce, and you...many of them still blame you for the fall of their loved ones – the angels who followed you and fell with you," Mel said gently.

  Luce stopped dead, ignoring his half-laced shoe. "No one fell with me. I fell alone, Mel, and I was left where I landed, shattered. It was dark and cold and hurt like Hell and there was no one to help me. The other angels were banished for what they chose to do, but by the time any of them found me, I'd recovered sufficiently that I didn't need their help. Every one of them made their own decision and I won't be held responsible for their choices and actions!" For a dark moment, he was lost in his past pain in the very depths of a private part of Hell.

  Mel's soft kiss to his cheek pulled him out of the Pit, her arms holding him firmly in the present. "Show me," she whispered.

  It was as if the ground had dropped away beneath him. Falling through stone and darkness until agony engulfed him and the shadows closed in, but the sensation was dulled, somehow. Maybe it was Mel's embrace, still secure and strong. Blindly, he groped for her in the dark and his lips found hers. He couldn't kiss her hard enough to banish the memories, but they began to fade all the same as she returned his kisses. He tasted salt – oh God, was he crying again? What in Hell would Mel think of him? His eyes jerked open to find out.

  Tears cascaded down her face from eyes brimming with sympathy. Not his tears – hers. For him. More precious than any he'd seen before, let alone tasted. "I'm sorry, Luce. I didn't know – and I can barely imagine what it was like to go through it alone." Her sweet, salty kiss was a balm to his slowly healing soul.

  "I don't trust your heavenly hosts one little bit. You shouldn't go alone, not to speak on my behalf. I won't let them hurt you like they did me. Let them judge me – they're no better than I am." He regretted the bitterness in his tone, but it was there all the same.

  "Luce...please. You're right – any form of judgement is unnecessary and that's exactly what I need to explain. If you come with me, if they judge you today..." She swallowed, as if she wanted to choke down her own words before she spoke them aloud. "I see only darkness. The future is not clear."

  Luce grasped her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes, but she turned away to hide her soul. "What aren't you telling me? Mel..."

  Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply. "What I swore I wouldn't say. Don't ask me to lie, Luce, for I won't. Please, take my word and trust my advice – that it is a bad idea for you to accompany me to Heaven today. For once, swallow your pride and accept help when it's offered." When her eyes opened, they shimmered with tears. Clouds threatening rain.

  If she cried at the mere memories of his fall, there was no way he'd stand by and let them throw her out on his behalf. Luce cemented his resolve. "I'm not sitting here on my arse while you plead for my soul. I intend to be where I belong – by your side. They can judge me to my face."

  "I still think it's a bad idea, Luce," she conceded reluctantly. "You should wait."

  He shrugged. "If they won't let me in, then I'll sit on the kerb outside the gates, drinking out of a bottle in a brown paper bag, until you reappear." His fingers twitched and the bag appeared in his hand, crumpled around the bottle's metal cap. "And I won't share my single malt with anyone but you."

  She laughed and shook her head. Luce wished she'd look less sad, as if she was more worried than she was willing to say. So much for a triumphant entry into Heaven after all these centuries. "To the gates?" he suggested, taking her hand.

  She squeezed his fingers strongly. "Yes. With you tagging along, I'll have to do things the old-fashioned way and use the gate."

  Together, they translocated to where they could just see the gates. Bathed in misty cloud, the bars shone like pearl in the bright sunlight. Luce felt his dread build as he approached the portal that had kept him out for millennia. Before his eyes, they changed from the happy vision to one that better fitted his mood. Cold iron, brick and desolation, rising from ashen snow.

  "The gates of Auschwitz? Luce, that's really not funny," Mel murmured.

  Luce left them looking dark. They matched the foreboding he felt as he tightened his grip on Mel's hand. They were going to separate him from Mel, he was sure of it. Let them try. He'd fight with every speck of his spirit, like nothing they'd ever seen.

  He focussed on the crunch of snow underfoot. If he stared at his feet, he wouldn't see the looming gates he knew would always keep him out.

  "Halt!" a male voice commanded.

  Luce looked at the angel on gate duty. A bloke in a white dress, no less. No wonder he looked nervous. He had his wings out, poised for flight, as if he thought it made him look more angelic, instead of like a giant seagull.

  Mel gave a little sigh and he felt the softness of her wings making their presence known. She gave him a radiant smile and he was reminded of their first kiss, the night she'd changed him.

  "Should I?" he whispered.

  Mel nodded encouragingly. Luce breathed deeply. He'd never shown her his dark wings – in fact, few people had seen them. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd lost feathers to the rough rocks in the narrow tunnels. The smell of singed feathers had plagued him so much in Hell that he'd given up showing them altogether centuries ago. Feeling more nervous than ever, he envisioned the vulture he always thought he looked like. The weight on his shoulders told him they were visible. He stretched, feeling the power in his wings for the first time in too long.

  "Impressive wingspan," Mel whispered with a wicked smile. Her fingers caressed the leading edge of ebony feathers, making him wish he'd broken his wings out earlier.

  Every bit of his being was telli
ng him to enfold her in his arms and fly away with her. He dismissed the silly sensation and folded his wings instead, turning his steady gaze on the now-even-more-nervous angel.

  "You need to get in line like everyone else. You'll be called when it's your turn for judgement." The angel pointed a shaky finger toward the long line of white benches, which were occupied by a diverse array of people.

  "Sure," Mel replied, tugging at Luce's arm as she led the way to the first empty patch of white wood. As they passed, he noticed people staring and whispering, but none would meet his eyes.

  She settled her wings behind her with a shrug of her shoulders and Luce did the same. Looking up at all the people before them, he realised that the only black in the sea of people was what he was wearing – his suit and his wings. The one place in the universe where black didn't let him blend into the background.

  He sighed and wished for the first time that he was invisible. This was going to be a long wait.

  Fourteen

  "So you're the one who redeemed a demon! Everyone's talking about it," the angel sitting beside Mel gushed. "I didn't think it was possible!" She stared avidly at Luce. "I'm Therese, by the way."

  Mel introduced herself, offering the girl her hand. "How long have you been an escort?"

  Luce choked with laughter and tried to hide it with a coughing fit. An angel escort?

  Therese's eyes shone. "Only a few weeks, I think – it's difficult to tell, with no concept of time up here. This one will be the tenth soul I've escorted to Heaven," she said proudly, gesturing at the girl on her other side.

  The teenager stared into space, much like the corpse she probably hadn't left behind very long ago, judging by the modern cut of her clothes.

  "You've been around a lot longer, I'm sure. I've heard it takes at least a century before we get wings and yours look so majestic..." Therese added.