Welcome to Hell Box Set: Paranormal Romantic Comedy

by Demelza Carlton

  Mel smiled modestly at her feet. "Thank you, I have. I've rarely seen the gates this busy, though. What's happened?"

  "I heard there was a typhoon in the Pacific, but weekends are always busy lately," Therese said, her expression turning sad.

  "Why weekends?"

  "Teenagers killed in car accidents, like this one," Therese said softly, nodding at the girl beside her. "The driver, and the passenger who gave him the tequila, were sent elsewhere, but this one was in the back seat when the car hit a tree. None of them were wearing seatbelts. It's like teenage kids think they're indestructible."

  Mel smiled sadly. "That hasn't changed. They've been doing that since the first humans – though baiting a rhino or a mammoth with nothing but a pointy stick is perhaps safer than racing in a Ford V8."

  Therese's eyes widened. "You’ve been around that long? Since...since cave people? Is that why you were sent to escort the demon here?"

  Mel's smile widened. "No, I volunteered for this one." Luce felt her fingers weave between his, still hot from her scalding this morning. Once again, Luce wished he could heal the damage he'd caused.

  Therese lowered her voice, as if she thought her whisper wouldn't carry to Luce's ears. "Where did you find him? I mean, I've never heard of a redeemed demon before..."

  "Lucifer's office in HELL."

  Therese gasped. "The depths of Hell? But he looks too attractive to be a demon. I heard they had horns, tails, hooves, red skin and things. That one...well, I think I'd volunteer to escort him places, too." She blushed.

  "Would you like me to strip and show you the whole package?" Luce offered, turning to face the angel. "I mean, if you want to admire me as a fine piece of meat, I'd hate for you to miss anything."

  She turned redder still. "Are you sure he's redeemed? He doesn't sound it. Shouldn't someone lock him up or something, until they're sure?"

  Luce crossed his wrists and lifted them. "Mel can handcuff me to the bed any time she likes and test me until she's satisfied." He realised he still had a pair of cuffs in his jacket pocket, which spurred him to turn on the full force of his wicked grin. "Any beds in Heaven?"

  "Shh. Later, perhaps," Mel whispered.

  "I didn't think there were submissive demons. I thought they were all arrogant and into whips and chains and things..." Therese's eyes widened. "If you found him in Lucifer's lair, he must be the devil's lover. What will you do when Lucifer comes looking for you?" The little angel looked terrified.

  Let him in and give him a cup of tea after letting him use her shower, Luce thought.

  "I'm sure I'll manage," Mel replied, looking like she was trying not to laugh.

  Luce was struggling, too. The fresh-faced angel without wings had no idea who he was, despite his dark wings. "Mel's definitely a match for Lucifer, any day of the week," he managed to say. A perfect, sublime match, he thought as he glanced at Mel's shapely legs below her skirt.

  "Oh, no – they say no angel is, which is why they banished him to Hell. I'm sure I'd be terrified if I so much as saw him," Therese squeaked in fright. "Imagine all the terrible things he could do to you! They say he can corrupt you with just a word or even a look!"

  Luce gave her his friendliest smile. "Then it's a good thing I'm on my best behaviour today."

  Therese stared at Luce in terror as she realised who he was. "God help me," she murmured.

  "Next!" called the gate angel.

  Therese looked to be deep in prayer and the line before her had vanished.

  "You're up, Therese," Mel said, nudging the girl. "It was lovely meeting you."

  "And...and you," the young angel stammered, pulling the teenage girl's saved soul after her as she hurried to the gate angel's podium.

  "You didn't need to scare the poor girl, Luce," Mel said.

  "I was just trying to be friendly," he protested. Under her knowing gaze, he relented. "Oh, okay. I've been tempting innocent morsels like her for millennia. Old habits die hard. It's not like I was going to..." He drifted off, not actually sure what he'd have done to the little angel if he'd had her. He stuck his hands in his pockets and scuffed at the snow with his shoes. His fingers closed around the white leather cuffs in his pocket and he brightened. "You know, I meant it about the handcuffs. Any time you think I might be reverting to my old ways, feel free to chain me to the bed. I always keep a spare pair in my pocket, just in case." He started to pull them out so he could show her.

  "Shh, put them away, Luce. You'll give everyone the wrong impression. C'mon, it's our turn." She stood and strode toward the gates.

  Luce followed her along the row of now-empty benches to what he hoped was his final judgement.

  Fifteen

  The dude in the dress swallowed and loosened his collar a little. "N-n-name?" he managed to say.

  Mel's mellifluous voice rang out before Luce could open his mouth. "Allow me to present the redeemed angel, Lucifer, Light of the Morning, for re-entry into Heaven."

  "L-L-Lucifer?" the saint squeaked. "Does he...does he submit to judgement?"

  Luce wanted to ask for an angel who could enunciate properly, but he held his tongue. He didn't want to embarrass Mel. "He does," he said instead.

  The man riffled through the pages of his book. Luce stood patiently, waiting.

  "You hereby express your contrition for the following sins. Pride, the war against Heaven, the subversive activities of the HELL Corporation, seduction and corruption of one hundred and fifty three thousand, five hundred and sixteen angels..."

  Luce tuned out a little at this point, feeling his face flush as he looked everywhere but at Mel. He'd lost count after the first dozen or so. That was millennia ago and they did add up, but he hadn't realised that there were quite that many. A thousand or two, maybe, but surely not a hundred thousand...

  "Is that how much practice it took to get as good as you are? No wonder you're the best I've ever had," Mel murmured.

  Luce stared at her in surprise and found himself lost in her smile. She was an angel in every sense of the word. "I didn't sleep with all of them," he confessed, then added virtuously, "Some of the men said I wasn't their type."

  The angel cleared his throat before continuing, "Impersonation of the Virgin Mary in a strip club on five occasions, salacious thoughts about Melody Angel..."

  The strip clubs had been funny. The first time, he'd seen grown men crying and some even praying. A bunch had hurried home to their wives. It was like watching a hilarious movie for the second time – he'd just had to do it again. As for the thoughts about Mel...ah, those were nothing compared to the reality. Maybe he should mention some of his early fantasies to her, just in case she was interested.

  "...and the violent rape of Persephone."

  The WHAT?

  Sixteen

  "I never touched Persephone, the little devil!" Luce protested.

  The gate guard seemed to grow in stature, as if he enjoyed being argued with. "Says here the last sin you committed was the violent rape of Persephone, the half-angel who worked as your personal assistant. You left her tied to your bed, bleeding."

  "She's lying! I swear I never touched her!" Luce replied hotly. He hadn't. She'd cuffed herself to the bed. If she'd managed to cut herself or rub her wrists raw while trying to get out of the cuffs herself, it wasn't his fault.

  "So you don't repent of your final sin?" the guard prompted, the pen shaking in his hand with apparent eagerness.

  "I can't repent for something I didn't do. Aren't you supposed to be omniscient? Or the book is, anyway? Check again," Luce insisted. He felt his dread build. He'd given Persephone everything – the powers, the authority, all that came with the darkness in his soul. Did that also mean she had his capacity for deception – that she could accuse him of rape he'd never committed and manage to get it written into the Book of Judgement? He wished he'd killed her instead. Maybe he should have done what they said he had.

  "It says here..."

  "I vouch for him," Mel interrupted, her voi
ce ringing out across the snow as she strode toward him. She tapped the book with her finger. "He was with me that evening, not Persephone. I spoke to her while he was in my house and she was both uninjured and not restrained in any way. After that phone call, I kept him occupied until I left him in no state to do anything to Persephone that night...or the next morning."

  It was the guard's turn to blush. He evidently wasn't used to forthright angels – or perhaps not female ones. Luce grinned. He wondered how much hotter that blush would get if he knew precisely how Mel had kept him occupied.

  A woman stormed through the gate toward Luce. "I swear by all I and my daughter hold holy: that demon seduced my daughter, tied her to a bed and raped her when she wouldn't submit to him!" she screeched. "He's not redeemed – he's the demon who's seduced more angels than any other. I'll swear to his guilt. You can't let him in unless he does proper penance for what he did to my daughter!" The gates clanged shut behind her, vibrating a little with the force of the closure.

  Luce had never seen her before in his life, though she did bear a passing resemblance to Persephone. Idly, he wondered if the girl's mother knew about her tattoo – or whether the mother had one, too. She looked far too youthful to be Persephone's mother, but appearances were deceiving in Heaven. He'd spent too long in Hell – he wasn't used to souls choosing their age. In Hell, they looked their worst, on principle.

  "Why doesn't your daughter speak for herself, Cousin Demeter?" Mel asked reasonably.

  Demeter pointed a shaking finger at Luce. "She doesn't trust him not to do it again. Even the thought of him scares her!" Her mouth set in a grim line. "He left my poor girl to take care of his company, doing his job, while he cavorts with another angel, no doubt trying to corrupt her, too! He has no remorse!"

  Luce swallowed. "I have no remorse for Persephone. She said if I gave her everything – my company, my power, all of it – she'd tell me how I could find Mel. She took it willingly. All she gave me in return was an address, a phone number and her word they were Mel's. I'd do it again – with less hesitation." Mel's fingers tightened around his. He couldn't look at her. She'd let him into her house and her life. He couldn't remember joy like she'd brought him. She didn't deserve a demoted demon – she deserved an angel of equal rank. He'd do whatever it took to achieve that again – even if it meant surviving this inquisition. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry if anything I've done caused Persephone pain or grief. That was never my intention." He gritted his teeth.

  "So...so you do repent all of your crimes?" the gate guard cried in relief, sweat trickling down his cheek. Luce realised he wasn't the only one under pressure in this interrogation. The gates slowly started to swing open. "In that case, I can permit you entry into..."

  "NO!" boomed a new voice. "I haven't stood guard for countless centuries against him and his kind, only to let a demon in now. I banished him to Hell as he deserved. Demons cannot be redeemed. I won't stand by and permit the most damned demon of them all to sneak into Heaven on an angel's skirts." An armoured angel stepped in front of the gates, lifting a sword that burst into flame. "You shall not pass!"

  Oh Hell. He had to pop up, just when everything seemed to be going so well. If he had a nemesis, it was Michael. Mel was no match for that flaming sword.

  Mel burst out laughing. "You've been watching too many movies, Michael. Even I've seen that one. As for my skirt..." She shimmied out of the garment, letting it puddle in the snow at her feet for a moment, before reaching down to retrieve it. Flashing her white cotton undies in the process, she ignored Luce's wide grin, the gate guard's blush and Michael's attempt to turn his head away. "If I remember correctly, Michael, you were just as eager as Luce to get into my skirts. Here!" She balled up the white skirt and lobbed it at the armoured angel.

  Awkwardly, he batted it away with the sword, setting the skirt alight as it tumbled to his feet. He did a clumsy, clanking jig on the spot to put out the flames. The resulting black scorch marks up his legs spoiled the shiny armour. Luce smothered a laugh as Michael ripped the metal helmet off his head. Red-faced, he demanded, "What are you laughing at, demon?"

  "Well, I can certainly see why the lady prefers me," Luce drawled.

  "All the more reason to keep you and your kind out!" declared Michael. "You deserve an eternity in Hell for corrupting just one angel, let alone a hundred thousand, five hundred and..."

  "A hundred and fifty three thousand, five hundred and sixteen," the gate guard corrected.

  Michael stared at him in panic. "A hundred and fifty three thousand..."

  "Five hundred and sixteen," the guard repeated, with some satisfaction.

  "Look, I've said I'm sorry for any wrong I've done. But there's more to it. Every one of those angels was a willing participant," Luce said. "And after seeing you two, I'm not surprised. Skirts and dresses and metal – haven't you seen what men wear on Earth these days?"

  "I'll send you right back to the Pit before you can make it five hundred and seventeen with Mel!" Michael shouted, waving the sword so the flames streaked through the air. Demeter stood with her arms crossed, nodding. She still kept her distance from Michael, her eyes firmly fixed on the erratic sword. "You're only using her to get back into Heaven so you can try to take over again!"

  Luce turned to Mel. "I swear that's not true. If this weren't your home, I wouldn't want to set foot in there ever again. Mel, please believe me. I might've fantasised about corrupting you before, but now that I know you, I couldn't. You can see into my heart" – he thumped his chest – "and into my soul. You know I wouldn't do that to you, don't you?"

  Mel nodded serenely, her eyes intent on Luce's. "I know exactly what you would and wouldn't do," she said.

  Luce felt a chill sweep across his heart. Did she know him better than he knew himself? Had she brought him here, only to betray him so Michael could banish him more permanently to the Pit?

  No, she wouldn't do that. She was too kind for that – and she'd tried to dissuade him from coming with her. Surely she wouldn't...she was the only one who believed in him, that he could be redeemed. His hope was all hers.

  "You may have her convinced, but never me. I will not let you pass into Heaven!" Michael shouted, lowering the sword like a parking barrier across the gate.

  "What about my daughter? What reparation will he make for what he did to her?" Demeter growled, looking from the gate guard to Michael.

  Both men shrugged. "He said he was sorry..." the guard ventured.

  "The Hell he's sorry!" she shouted. Her eyes glowed with fury. "I'll send him back to the Pit myself."

  She pulled Michael's sword from his steel grip. The blade flared up, giving her eyes a ruddy glow, as she held it like a cricketer about to hit a ball for six. She charged forward, her eyes fixed on Luce.

  No one seemed able to move.

  Luce recovered first, summoning his traditional bident to block the blow he could see angling toward him. He wouldn't let that blade blast him to Hell against his will again. That was one blow to the balls he wouldn’t take.

  Mel recovered second, moving between Demeter and Luce. Her resonant "NO!" was enough to freeze Luce.

  Faced with a righteous angel, Demeter faltered and the flame fizzled. She dropped the sword, but it was too late.

  Luce tried to lower his weapon, too, but both barbs had already pierced Mel. The bident had passed right through her chest, the red-glazed prongs protruding from her white shirt.

  "No," Luce moaned. "Mel..." He dismissed his weapon back to the depths of Hell, so it wouldn't do any further damage to Mel's body. His eyes fixed on the fading bronze fork until it had disappeared altogether.

  He pulled her against him, trying to let her down gently onto the snow, which now felt incredibly cold and hard. Beneath his knees, the snow turned to cloud – much softer and warmer for Mel, he realised distantly.

  Blood blossomed over Mel's breasts, like obscene flowers on a corpse. There were tears in her eyes.

  Luce didn't care who w
as watching him. He kissed Mel's lips and tasted the salt of her blood. A nagging thought crossed his mind that angels couldn't be killed, but Michael's sword and his own fork weren't normal weapons – they were imbued with more power than anything else he'd encountered. He'd been banished from Heaven by one of them...and she'd been touched by both.

  Mel didn't deserve his fate.

  "Hold on, my love. Everything will be as it should be. You'll see." She smiled and a bubble of blood appeared at the corner of her lips.

  "You'll be all right," he said, praying for it to be true. "Just lie still, Mel, and someone will heal you."'

  If he were the angel he once was, he could have healed her at a touch. Instead, he was forced to beg for help from the angels who'd condemned him. "What are you staring at?" he shouted. "Someone help her. Help her!"

  No one moved.

  The light in Mel's eyes started to fade. With what looked like great effort, she swallowed. "I love you," she whispered. She looked at him one last time and her eyes closed.

  Luce couldn't take his eyes off her. He thought it was his sight blurring, as sunlight tinted his tears of grief to gold. The body in his arms became lighter, though, so that he couldn't help but notice. Her skin was turning to gold, dissolving into a fine mist. The mist curled upward, forming a cloud above his head. The bloodstained shirt in his hands fell limp with no body to fill it.

  The cloud roiled, streaming like cirrus in a high wind, then faded into nothing. She was gone.

  He crumpled the shirt in his arms, still warm from Mel's body and smelling of her perfume. Actually, it was lumpy with her underwire bra, so he folded it carefully so as not to show her underwear to anyone. He looked around for her knickers and scooped them up, too, hiding them inside her shirt. He didn't trust Michael with them – not that he trusted Michael at all, self-righteous bastard.

  Luce felt his fury build. Mel was his everything and they'd taken her away from him by standing there doing nothing. "You killed her," he accused Demeter, before shifting his glare to Michael. If Michael hadn't brought his infernal sword and barred their way...if Demeter hadn't snatched it from him to attack Luce...if Mel hadn't felt he needed to be protected... "She didn't deserve to die!"