Hell On Heels

by peterman, robyn

  I tried to examine his wounds to figure out the extent of his injuries, but there was too much blood and one of his eyes was swollen shut. Even if I did know how to fix him, I really had temporarily depleted my magic on Lucy Adam’s abomination of a father. And I didn’t think this animal had the time for me to go find some evil or angry people to refuel.

  “Okay buddy, I’m going to pick you up and find a vet.”

  He sighed and closed his one good eye. I wasn’t quite sure how to interpret that but it worried me. Was he close to death? I moved in closer. Most people wouldn’t go near a bloody injured dog-wolf, but most people weren’t immortal Demons. Short of the thing taking my entire head off, a few bites and scratches might sting but they wouldn’t kill me.

  As I bent to pick him up my body locked and I was paralyzed with a vision. Oh shit no, please tell me Black Magic didn't include visions. Sloth's life was a living Hell with her visions. . .Knowing fighting was futile, I closed my eyes and went with it.

  In a hazy stream of light Hayden appeared. My breath caught in my throat and I reached out to touch his beautiful face, but my hand went right through him.

  He wore all black and his face was sad.

  "Hayden? Are you here or have I truly lost it?"

  "I'm here, Dixie."

  "Why?" I asked. "I thought everyone was forbidden."

  "It's not a social call."

  I shook my head in confusion.

  "The wolf, Dixie. I'm here to take the wolf."

  "No," I said, realizing he was acting as the Angel of Death. "No, absolutely not. You can't seriously tell me you take animals to wherever animals go when they die."

  "That's correct. I don't."

  "Then leave," I yelled. "This is my wolf. He's an animal and I'm keeping him." Why was he being such an asshole? If this was his way of getting around my father's rules to see me it was stupid.

  "This one is my gift to you," he said. "Because I love you I will not take the wolf."

  "Good," I snapped. He began to fade away and I wanted to scream. "Will you come back? As just Hayden?" I pleaded as he faded farther and farther away.

  "I will come to you soon," he promised. "My life is empty without you in it."

  "Mine is too," I replied to air since he was gone. This was quickly going down as one of the suckiest days ever. I half expected a gaggle of Angels to pop up out of nowhere and try to off my ass.

  The wolf wimpered.

  “All right,” I told him as I scanned the area for danger. “I’m going to pick you up. I’ll try not to hurt you, but you look like you’re hurting bad anyway.” Damn if that wolf didn’t look as if he knew what I was saying. Why did Hayden come for a wolf? One more piece of the puzzle I would figure out. . .and I would. Soon.

  I thought about putting the bleeding animal in my car, but I figured carrying him would be easier on his body. Besides, Main Street wasn’t that long—the vet had to be close. I pushed Hayden from my mind and focused on the wolf-dog.

  “I’m going to call you Steve,” I told him. “I’ve always wanted to name an animal Steve. It’s just wrong in such a good way. You know?”

  The dog moaned, either from pain or the fact I was naming him Steve.

  “Oh please,” I cooed, gently stroking his snout, “it could be worse. I could have said Skippy or Bubba.”

  I gingerly wedged my arms beneath him and tried to avoid any open wounds. Damn it if this wasn’t going to ruin my favorite Sock Monkey t-shirt. I was glad the street was deserted—I would have a hard time explaining how I was able to carry a hundred pound bloody dog-wolf with ease.

  I’d find a vet and get him fixed up and I’d keep him. Yep, I’d keep him. The thought made me giddy. I didn’t think Carl, Janet or Myrtle would mind. If they did, screw ’em. I was keeping the dog-wolf. Steve needed me. Clearly he was a special dog-wolf if my own Angel of Death had come to get him. Forget Hayden. Save the dog.

  Sweet Baby Satan, I hadn’t felt so happy in a while. I looked down at my new dog-wolf and I smiled. Bloody mess or not, he was mine. I just needed him to live.

  “Do you know which way the vet is?” I asked my wonderful new pet named Steve.

  Steve leaned his head to the left. I froze. “Did you just point to the left?” Was I losing it from loneliness and giving an animal human traits, or was my dog simply brilliant? I searched his pain-glazed eyes as he blankly stared back. A bizarre sense of sadness enveloped me. He didn’t understand me, but he’d definitely seen some bad things in his short life. I suppose I'd have to label myself lonely and losing it. Nonetheless, I was going to the left.

  I wanted to move at Demon speed, but knowing it might freak out Steve I walked. Off we went, moving at a dreadfully slow human pace, looking left and right for an animal hospital.

  Holding back on my instinct for speed was making me sweat, or maybe it was the hundred pound bleeding mound of fur I was carrying. Whatever—I didn’t like it. You didn’t sweat in Hell. Well not unless you were frying in the basement—or having sex. Damn it, forget Hayden. Save the dying dog.

  Did this town even have a vet? Steve was so quiet in my arms I was beginning to panic. “Are you okay, sweetie?” I muttered, burying my chin in his fur.

  He grunted softly, sighed and laid his big head on my shoulder. I wasn’t sure if it was his drool or his blood running down my back. Neither boded well. I needed help. Fast.

  The sun bounced off something shiny about two blocks down. The glare was blinding. I took it as an omen and moved toward it. Picking up my pace a little bit, I moved as quickly as I thought was safe for my dog.

  It wasn’t something shiny—it was someone shiny. It was Blanche. She had some explaining to do.

  She was perched on a wooden bench of the lovely if not slightly over-manicured front lawn of Happy Hacienda Senior Citizens Home. She was deep in conversation with an old woman who was either dead or sound asleep. The old woman was slim and had obviously been a beauty in her youth. She was ethereal. Her eyes were closed and her lashes were so long they brushed her cheeks, her long tapered fingers were clasped at her chest and her feet were crossed at the ankle. The topper was they were encased in red sequined Uggs. This little old lady was rockin’ some style. However, the turquoise blue housecoat knocked her down a few notches. She had a serene look on her strangely unlined face. She must have some scary good genes. I doubted she’d look so relaxed if she knew a silver-skinned, blue-eyed Demon was spilling her life story right next to her. My dear invisible friend was talking a mile a minute. Clearly she was as lonely as I was.

  “Blanche,” I called, catching her off guard. “What in the Hell are you doing? And where have you been? You can’t keep disappearing when I need you.”

  “Dixie,” she hissed, flinging her arms out in alarm and narrowly missing the old woman’s head. “You can’t just sneak up on me like that!”

  “How is walking up to you in broad daylight carrying a hundred pound bleeding dog sneaking up on you?” I shot back.

  “That’s a dog?” She got up to examine Steve.

  “Of course it’s a dog. Well, I think it’s a dog,” I offered lamely. “Where have you been?”

  “I have stuff I have to do,” she snapped. She almost beat my grandpa for the top prize in avoidance of questions. She peered at the furry mess in my arms, successfully distracting me from my interrogation. “What happened to it?”

  “I don’t know, but I love him and I’m keeping him and his name is Steve.”

  “That’s an awesome name.”

  “I know,” I grinned. “Isn’t it?”

  “Steve looks kind of dead.” Blanche circled me, checking Steve from all angles.

  “He’s not dead,” I insisted. “Your friend on the bench looks more dead than Steve.”

  We both stared at the old woman on the bench for a moment. “She’s too pink to be dead. Besides, if you look really close her chest is moving,” Blanche whispered, checking the old lady out.

  “Fine.” I nodded. “She
’s not dead and neither is Steve. He’s hurt. Can you fix him?”

  “I don’t know,” she began.

  “What do you mean you don’t know?” I narrowed my eyes at her as I gently laid my dog on the ground at my feet. “You can turn into a book and a tornado. You can disappear and reappear whenever you feel like it. Why in the Hell can’t you fix my dog?”

  “I don’t have healing magic,” she retorted angrily.

  “What does that even mean? How can there be a difference in mag. . .”

  “But you do,” she cut me off.

  “I do what?” Lucifer, she was exasperating. Steve was beginning to cough up blood and my heart constricted in my throat.

  “You have healing magic from your mother,” Blanche informed me.

  “Holy Hell,” I shouted. Fear for Steve and anger at Blanche was knotting me up inside. “Do you know who my mother is too?”

  “No, I don’t know who she is for Satan’s sake, and if I did I would tell you.” She glared at me. “I don’t know how I know but I’m sure you can heal things.”

  “How do I do it?”

  She paused for too long. “I have no idea,” she mumbled.

  “You’re joking.” I held my raw emotion in check. Surely I misunderstood her. She was supposed to teach me how to use my power.

  Her icy blue eyes clouded over with tears. “I’m not joking.”

  I swallowed the firestorm of swear words I wanted to hurl at her. I knelt down on the ground by Steve and tried to heal him. I closed my eyes, hoping desperately that my healing magic would come to me. I felt no tingle, no spark. Damn it. I tried visualizing my dog whole and healthy. . .Nothing.

  “It’s not working, Blanche.” I attempted to hide the feeling of dread inside but I couldn’t. Why was this dog’s future affecting me so much? Was he more than a dog?

  “Because you need something to love you,” Blanche replied to my thought.

  I didn’t have the energy to tell her to get out of my head. I wasn’t sure if that was even a possibility.

  “I’m so sorry, Steve.” I gulped hard and tried to hold back my tears. No such luck. Grandpa said tears were strength and I decided to believe him. Steve was dying and despite all my hoo-doo voo-doo gifts, I was useless. I leaned over him and stroked his big head, my tears falling unchecked all over him. I rocked back and forth. The pain I felt was intense. I was still unsure why his death was hurting me like this. I’d known him for less than an hour. Maybe Blanche was right. I did need something to love me.

  “No way,” Blanche gasped. “How can it be so simple? Heal with pain,” she muttered. “Your pain heals.”

  What in the Hell was she talking about? My dog was dying and she was babbling nonsense. I turned to look at her.

  “No,” she barked. “Keep your eyes over Steve and cry.” She was fascinated. “Your tears are healing him. It’s your tears, Dixie. Your tears have magic. Look.”

  She was right. My tears that had burned my grandpa were healing my dog. His ridiculous cryptic clues were beginning to make sense. Everywhere my tears landed on Steve, his wounds knitted themselves shut. I cautiously began to massage my teardrops all over his broken body—every open wound, bruise and cut. Adrenaline shot through me and sparks began to appear at my fingertips. I quickly clapped my hands as I didn’t want to set Steve on fire. My tears had changed to ones of joy, but that didn’t matter. The healing properties seemed the same. I had done it. I saved my dog. He looked up at me with gratitude and something else in his eyes. A noise and the scent of gardenias knocked me back from my magic high.

  “Oh thank heavens, you found my wolf,” the old woman cried joyfully. Her voice was melodic and bizarrely familiar to me. She smelled lightly of gardenias. Was she a retired old Hollywood actress I’d seen in the movies? She was certainly pretty enough. Her long lashes framed the most beautiful violet eyes I’d ever seen. Back in her day she must have been a knockout. As lovely as she was, she was sorely mistaken. Steve was not a wolf—he was a dog and he was mine. Of course Steve picked that very moment to look up at the old woman and wag his tail happily.

  “Steve is yours?” I asked quietly, my heart breaking just a little bit.

  Blanche stepped in to defend me, like that was going to do any good. She was invisible. “He’s not a wolf, he’s a dog and Dixie saved his life so he’s hers,” she insisted, moving to stand between the old woman and my Steve.

  “Oh sweetie,” the old woman gently touched Blanche’s cheek. “It’s a wolf and it’s not a he. It’s a she.” She walked around Blanche and squatted next to me. “Thank you, my beautiful child for saving Lucky. My wolf means the world to me.” Her violet eyes searched my face. I felt caught. I couldn’t look away.

  Her voice. . .what was it about her voice? Steve, aka Lucky, how I missed that he was a girl I’d never know, leaned into the old woman and lovingly licked her. She was so happy and I was so sad. It was like a bad dream. Blanche stood there in a stupor.

  “You can see me?” she whispered.

  “It would be pretty hard to miss you with that silver skin and those gorgeous blue eyes.” The old woman laughed.

  Blanche was shocked to silence. A first in my experience, but I was speechless too. She should not be able to see Blanche, and if she could see her, she should be alarmed at the very least. . .terrified at the most. I was quite sure this was no ordinary old lady. She had a wolf for a pet and she could see my imaginary friend. She wasn’t a Demon—I could sense a Demon. She hadn’t tried to kill me, so I surmised she wasn’t an Angel. Plus Angels didn’t age. She was something else. I just had no idea what.

  “Cat got your tongue, little girl?” The old woman smiled and winked at Blanche. “Lord knows it’s been working fine for the last two hours.” She chuckled. “You have an extraordinary imagination.”

  I laughed, partially from shock and partially because of the look on Blanche’s face. “What are you?” I asked, wondering if she had any clue what we were.

  “Just a crazy old lady with a wolf for a pet.” She smiled. My breath caught in my throat and I fought back the urge to reach out and touch her. It was similar to the feeling I got around my grandpa. I could tell Blanche had the same impulse.

  The smell of cookies made me look up and I spotted a round, cheery nurse walking toward us. Grinning from ear to ear she moved closer and walked right through Blanche. Holy Hades, I’d never seen that before, but then again Blanche usually showed up when I was alone. I glanced quickly at the old woman to see if she noticed, but she seemed blissfully unaware that a four hundred pound perky gal in a nurse uniform just walked through the silver girl.

  “Howdy Miss Evelyn, I see your dog came home.” She smiled and shook her head.

  “It’s a wolf,” the old woman named Evelyn patiently corrected her.

  “Wolf, smulf, you need to get a collar on that damn dog. It runs off more than it’s here.” She put out her big beefy hand and tenderly helped Miss Evelyn to her feet. “Who’s your little friend here?” she asked as she smoothed Miss Evelyn’s housecoat.

  “This is Dixie.” Miss Evelyn smiled at me. “Dixie, this is Rhonda.”

  “Nice to meetcha.” Rhonda extended her hand and I shook it. She was warm and soft and smelled like vanilla and sugar.

  “Nice to meet you too,” I replied, watching Lucky get to her feet and press her body to Miss Evelyn. “Well, I’d better go,” I said, halfway hoping Miss Evelyn would ask me to stay. I went to shake her hand, but she pulled me into an embrace and hugged me hard. I stiffened. I wasn’t used to affection from women. My sisters all loved me, but no woman ever held me. I felt dizzy and a little lightheaded.

  Tentatively I wrapped my arms around her and let my head lay on her shoulder. It felt so right. I didn’t want to let go.

  “Come back and see me sometime, Dixie,” she whispered. “And bring Blanche.”

  She disengaged herself, took Rhonda’s big hand in her slender one and walked back into the senior home. Lucky followed close on her
heels. The sense of loss I felt was acute. What in the Hell just happened here? I shook my head and ran my hand through my hair. This was going to go down as the weirdest day ever.

  “Do you think she’s psychic?” I asked Blanche.

  “Possibly, or maybe she’s just crazy. Really nice, but crazy,” she replied. We stood in silence and mulled the options.

  “Should we tell anybody about her?” I wondered aloud.

  Blanche thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  Blanche worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “I have no clue, it’s just a feeling.” She paused and then took my hand. “Dixie, I’m sorry I haven’t been around.”

  I leaned in and kissed her cheek. I could never stay mad at her. “Come on,” I said wearily. “It’s time to go home and get my ass kicked.”

  “Haven’t you had it kicked enough today?” she asked.

  “Metaphorically? Yes. Literally? No.” I grinned and squeezed her hand as I guided us toward my car.

  “Why don’t you just transport us?” she asked.

  “One, because my car is parked down the street and two, because we’ll end up in a bathroom somewhere.”

  Blanche giggled and I rolled my eyes.

  Life on Earth kind of sucked. I still had over two weeks before I could communicate with anyone from Hell and I wasn’t sure I could make it. I wondered if Hayden would have to wait the two weeks to come to me. The thought was depressing and I pushed it to the back of my mind. I would deal with it, but then again it didn’t look like I had much of a choice.

  Chapter 22

  When we got home from the strangest afternoon ever, Blanche nearly laughed herself silly watching Carl hand me my butt during fight practice. I wanted to slap her, but I was too busy defending myself from a two hundred and fifty pound hairy man in gauchos and a rainbow tie-dyed muscle shirt. Carl’s fashion choices were appalling yet riveting. Anyway, I knew I was improving. Hand to hand combat wasn’t my strong point, but Carl was determined to change that. Even though it hurt like Hell I loved him for pushing me. Carl was unaware of our invisible audience, so my giggling at the insults Blanche was hurling mystified him. I suppose he thought I’d either lost my mind or I was starting to enjoy the pain.