“I'm supposed to talk to that crab, aren't I?” My reflection glared back at me. “I know, I know, but how else do you want me to do?” I had a habit of talking to myself. It was kind of a thing. I hoped I'd grow out of it when I turned thirty. But how was I supposed to get in touch with him? It's not like they'd given me his cell. The last thing I remembered was the elf butler escorting me back through the double doors out of Satan's office and then, nothing. Kind of like my senior prom night. I'm pretty sure I was there. That's what the pictures say anyway.
I supposed my next best option was to attempt to recreate the summoning ritual from the night before though I was guessing it was going to be a tad more difficult considering I just happened to be running low on my supply of black candles and chicken blood. And I was pretty sure my bank account had a little minus sign in front of the dollar amount. I decided to resort to the next best tactic in a hopeless situation: desperation.
“Hello,” I queried, spitting into the sink and turning the water off. “You in there?” The mirror didn't respond. I tapped on it lightly with my fist. Still nothing. “Maybe I should've gotten a receipt,” I quipped to my reflection, snatching my bathrobe from its hook and wrapping it around my shoulders. Before I had a chance to really get into it with the mirror, the doorbell rang. I pulled the robe tighter around myself and tied the belt to cover the skimpy nightie that I was wearing then made my way to the door cautiously. Expecting a Jehovah's witness or maybe my entirely too creepy landlady, I was quite shocked when I opened the door to find an angry, scowling demon.
“Oh,” was all I could manage to get out. “You.” Levie's scowl deepened as he gave me a rather dismissive once over. He had a brown, leather suitcase in his right hand and a half-crumpled novel clutched in the other. I wondered what my neighbors would see if they walked out of their apartments right now. Would they see this demon with black leathery wings filling the hallway and orange eyes sparking or just a really angry man in a very well pressed and expensive looking suit? He shouldered his way rudely past me. “Excuse me,” I closed the door behind him, not wanting to cause a scene. “But this is my apartment.” He threw the suitcase down on my coffee table and whirled around to face me. His eyes locked on mine, and I was startled by the intensity of his anger.
“As your,” he paused as if trying to select the right word. “Caseworker,” he all but spat at me. “I am required to stay with you in your place of residence for a minimum of forty eight hours and guide you through your first wishing experience. I am not happy about it, and I do not like you. I will deign to stay here because if I do not, Uncle Lucifer will be most displeased and his wrath is slightly less appealing to me than staying in this run down hovel that you call home.”
Frankly, I was too shocked to say much of anything although I felt my blood pressure rising with my own rage. Levie closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them, he appeared calmer, as if that outburst had allowed him to let off some steam. I wasn't used to being insulted like that, but then again, I wasn't used to having demons angry at me either. I thought about throwing some insults of my own or maybe just punching him in his frustratingly handsome face but decided against it. I would remain calm. I would. I held out my hand and Levie looked at it with the corner of his lip upturned as if I were infected with the plague.
“Let's start over.” I spoke slowly and carefully, holding my temper in check. “My name's Ginger Malloy. I know, it's terrible, feel free to laugh.” Levie didn't laugh, he just stared at me, face expressionless. “Okay then, is your name really Levie?”
“Leviathan.” That was it. No elaboration and he didn't offer me his hand. Feeling slighted as well as embarrassed, I stepped away from him and went into the kitchen to check the time. I had to be at work in forty-five minutes. It wouldn't do to get fired yet. Rent was due soon, and I had no idea how long the whole wishing process took.
When I came back into the living room to tell Levie, he had already settled himself on my couch, romance novel in hand. This time the cover featured a man who looked suspiciously like Fabio holding a swooning woman in a maid outfit.
“I need to get ready for work. What are you going to do?” Levie ignored me completely, his attention entirely focused on his book. “Do you want to come and have dinner at the brewery across the street?” He looked up at me, his glasses precariously perched on the tip of his nose.
“Human food disgusts me.” I stood there for a moment, waiting to see if he was going to say anything else. When it became quite obvious to me that I was being ignored, I left him in the living room and went to change. I would remain calm. I would.
“Executive Rent a Car, my name is Ginger, how may I help you today?” I said all of this with the excitement of someone attending their own funeral. Whatever the customer said blended into a mindless stream of worthless conversations that I tried to block from my psyche, lest it eat away more of my soul than the cubicle walls and beige décor were already doing their best to achieve. Not that I had a soul anymore anyway. But at least I could get out of this, recession or no. I didn't need another job and working at a call center sucked. I had wishes. Three of them. If I could just decide exactly what I wanted to do with them, I could throw my headset down and never answer another question about full size sedans for as long as I lived.
I tapped my fingers against the arm rest on my chair and tried to ignore the troop of Leprechauns that were dancing merrily on my coworker's desktop. The more attention I paid them, the more influence they had on our world and the more damage they could cause. Even as I was thinking that, one of them kicked over her open water bottle, spilling the contents onto her keyboard and all over her lap. She covered her mouthpiece and cursed, mopping at the spill with a pile of crinkled white napkins that she fished from her purse. She didn't seem to give the cause of the spill much thought. Not that they ever did. People never wondered why there was only one sock in the dryer when they knew they put two; they never thought about why the car keys had migrated from the kitchen counter into their linen closet. That would have been just too much effort on their parts. But I knew. And I was sick of it.
I turned my attention back to my computer screen and waited for my next call. It was slow today, but then again, it was every Mother's day. Only the most miserable and lonely people called to rent a car on Mother's day. People like me. I sighed and tried to ignore the approach of another coworker.
“Hey Ginger, how's it going?” Erin asked me, settling her plump, khaki suit covered self into the desk next to me.
“Fine,” I lied, trying to deflect her attention. She giggled and slapped at me companionably with her other hand.
“Oh Ginger!” she exclaimed as if I had just relayed to her the silliest little joke. “You don't have to lie to me! What is it? Is it a boy?” Now she really sounded excited. I suppose she would have. The thought of boys must have really gotten her goat considering she hadn't been able to get in the vicinity of any since hitting puberty. I cringed at my own inner monologue and tried to wonder when the hell I had turned into such a cynical little ass hole.
“No Erin,” I said, pressing the hold button on my phone and setting my headset down next to me. “It's nothing really. Now, if you'd please excuse me, I'm on lunch.” I plastered as nice a smile as I could manage on my face and batted my eyelashes sweetly.
“Wonderful!” She exclaimed, rubbing her hands together. “Let's have lunch together.” I cringed inwardly but nodded and grabbed my purse and jacket off the back of my chair.
“Yes, let's.”
Erin led me to the entrance of the brewery, promising to pay for me after I'd protested the cost. Now I really felt guilty about insulting her, even if only in my own head.
Lunch was nice, even with Erin's brother, Blake, hitting on me continuously while she dropped hints about his recent bachelor status. “I didn't know your brother worked here,” I said, setting down the remainder of my burger as my stomach protested the thought of more food. Erin smiled.
/> “Just while he's finishing up at the university,” she said, elbowing me. I wiped my hands on my napkin to hide my disinterest. She snapped her fingers, causing me to jump in my seat. “I've got a great idea,” she gushed. “Why don't you come over to my mother's house tonight for dinner? Have a chance to get to know Blake. You did say you didn't have any plans tonight, right?” I frowned. I didn't have any Mother's Day plans, but I had plenty of things to do. “What's wrong?” Erin asked, putting a hand on my shoulder and leaning forward, face scrunched with concern. I felt bad for hating her and tried to answer with at least some honesty.
“I'm just thinking about my Mother.” Erin's eyes grew wide as saucers. The woman loved idle chitchat.
“What's wrong with your Mother?” She breathed, eager to absorb any information that I was willing to give her. I shrugged and turned in my chair to face her. You mean besides her being a drug addict and a prostitute? Nothing. “It's nothing serious I hope,” she blurted out before I could respond. “I mean, I don't know what I would do without my Mother. She's my rock.” I opened my mouth to give the same sort of generalized excuse that I always did when it came to Mom, but she kept talking. Now I remembered why I hated her. “I'm sure my mother would be just tickled to meet you. And I mean if you and Blake were to get together, she'd be your mother, too!” I cringed, outwardly this time. “Are you sure you don't want to come tonight?” Hell no. I scrambled for an appropriate response, polite but dismissive.
“Ah, thanks but I'll be fine. I just wish I had a mother as supportive as yours.” Erin smiled sadly and leaned back, oblivious to what I was now feeling. A shift had occurred in the atmosphere of the restaurant, one that only I could feel. That was it. I'd done it. I could tell. The air was different; it just felt wrong. “Oops.”
“Oops what?” Erin asked, standing up and grabbing the check from the table. I rubbed my head as I tried to wrap my mind around what I'd just said. It couldn't be that easy to make my wishes, could it?
I stood slowly and followed her to the register. As Erin paid and chatted with her brother, I leaned against the counter and tried to control the roiling of my stomach. When I looked up, he was standing there. I don't know how he did it, but suddenly, Levie was just there, standing in front of the cash register, eyes aglow with rage.
“You,” he screamed, causing the entire restaurant to go silent. “What have you done, you fool!” His eyes were aflame and smoke was flowing from his fingertips. Levie's wings were raised in an aggressive stance, and I risked a glance at Erin to try to determine if she was seeing the same thing that I was. Her face held surprise but surprise at being yelled at by another customer, not at seeing a six foot tall demon with little flames bursting from the ground around his feet. “You have no idea how much trouble I'm going to be in with Uncle Lucifer.” He cupped his face in his hands. “He's going to destroy me. Throw me in the river Styx. Stupid girl. Stupid, idiot girl.”
“Sir, please calm down.” Blake stepped in front of the desk and put a hand on Levie's shoulder. “We apologize, we didn't see you there. We'll get you seated right away.” Levie paled and threw Blake's hand off as if his very touch caused him physical pain.
“Don't you touch me, human. Your kind disgusts me. Filthy primates. Monkeys. Worthless.” He grabbed the register and proceeded to throw it against the wall. It dinged cheerily as cash and coins exploded from it like some sort of bizarre hailstorm. “Magic is not a toy, stupid girl. Pray tell, what exactly were you thinking?” All I could do was stand there. I couldn't admit to knowing him, not in front of all these people. Maybe if I got rid of him now before he said anything else, I could pass him off as just another crazy. We were in downtown Everett after all, not like we didn't have enough of those around here.
“Please,” I said slowly, stepping away from the counter to stand next to Erin. “Just go home or we're going to have to call the police.” Levie pointed a finger at me.
“I will leave, but when you are finished here, I will be waiting for you.” He stormed out of the glass double doors, cracking one when he slammed it shut. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair.
“What on earth – ” Erin covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head. “A man like that belongs in an institution.”
“I agree,” Blake said, picking up the phone. “That's why I'm calling the police.” I ignored them both and shrugged my arms into my coat and made as if to leave. Blake put his hand on my arm. He gazed at me, concern apparent in his gaze. Great.
“I don't think you should walk back to work alone. It's dangerous, that freak could be waiting out there, ready to jump you.” I frowned.
“He's right, Ginger,” Erin interjected, sounding far too excited. “Let's have Blake walk us back, shall we?” Between the two of them and Levie, I'd had just about enough for one afternoon.
“Blake, look, I know most girls like the whole helpless maiden thing, but I'm just not that into it, okay?” I tried to smile to soften the blow a bit. “I'll be alright. It's only half a block away, and we don't need an escort.” He looked ready to argue but seemed to think the better of it when he saw my frown return.
“Okay, then.” He shuffled his feet nervously. “But I was wondering if maybe you'd – ” I held up a hand to interrupt him.
“I'm really sorry, Blake, but I have to go. I'm going to be late. I'll see you later.” I didn't give him a chance to answer, just opened the one uncracked door and hurried out without giving Erin a chance to put in her two cents.
The rest of my work day crawled by, and I considered leaving several times, but the thought of facing Levie, and my thoughts, sounded even more unpleasant than dealing with disgruntled customers. It was that bad. It got even worse when my manager approached me and tapped me on my shoulder. I pushed the hold button on my phone and took off my headset.
“What?” Maybe not the best way to deal with my boss, but I was in a bad mood. I'd sold my soul for three wishes and in less than twenty-four hours, I'd managed to waste one. She smiled at me anyway. Kristy was like Erin, annoyingly cheerful and extremely nosy.
“Rosanne in HR wants to talk to you.” She paused and looked around. Covering the side of her mouth to shield her words from the thousands no doubt clamoring to hear, she said, “It's about your shoes.” I glanced down at my pumps. Three inch heels, dark plum, no ornamentation of which to speak.
“Why?” Kristy shrugged and motioned me to stand. I dragged myself to Rosanne's office and plopped down in the gray chair on the opposite side of her desk. Immediately, I noticed the large brown and white bird sitting on one of her bookshelves. It eyed me critically with one big yellow orb and shrieked. I resisted the urge to cover my ears and tried not to pay it any attention. If I focused on it too much, the roc might gather enough influence to decapitate my boss. And as much as I would have liked it do so, it would probably just end up making my day worse.
Rosanne continued typing on her computer for several moments before bothering to acknowledge me. And when she did, it wasn't pleasant. She folded her hands on her desk and turned her lips up in some semblance of what a normal human being would call a smile.
“Now Ginger, you know that we promote professional dress in our working environment.” I raised an eyebrow and glanced down at my black pencil skirt, dress jacket and white button up. I decided it was best not to respond. “I've noticed that your shoes are well, not quite presenting the conservative image that we at Executive Rent a Car would like our customers to associate us with.” The roc chose that moment to spread its massive wings and take off. If it had truly been of this dimension, it would have been impossible for it to fly around the room. However, as it was only partially in this reality, it was managing to circle just fine. I tried not to look at it, I really did, but it let out another horrible cawing screech. With my ears ringing, I tried to stay nonchalant, but my shoulders were tense and my spine rigid and not just because of the supernatural bird. Rosanne didn't seem to realize that we were in a call center. There were n
o physical customers present. Ever.
“Unfortunately,” she said stressing the word in a way that would have made babies cry. “If you don't have any other shoes that you can switch into that are a little more appropriate, I'm going to have to ask you to take the rest of the day off.” She opened her mouth, showing her teeth in another faux smile. “Without compensation.” I almost laughed, really. I looked down at my shoes again. They were plum. Dark plum. So dark they were nearly black.
I stood up and smoothed my skirt down, gathering my resolve as I watched the tip of the roc's wing hit a plaque on the top shelf of her bookcase and send it hurtling to the floor. Apparently, I had paid it enough attention to lend it at least some physical influence. Rosanne didn't appear to notice what she was doing when she stood up and picked up the (no doubt) useless trophy, frowning at the crack in the wood.
“You know what Rosanne,” I said, grinning as I watched the roc feel threatened by her repositioning of the plaque. It beat its wings furiously at her back and snapped at her head with its beak. “You can take my shoes and shove them. I quit.” I gave the bird one last heavy stare and hoped it really would take her head off.
As I left the building, I embraced my new feelings of freedom. Okay, so I had wasted one wish, big deal. I still had two left, and I didn't have to spend eight hours a day at a job I hated, still barely paying the rent and wondering what to do with my life. I had options now, choices, and that, that was worth my soul. I shivered and tugged my wool coat tighter around me; the night was chilly but not nearly as chilly as the voice that spoke to me from the shadow of the building.
“Was that clingy waiter boy your lover?” Levie asked, gracefully pushing away from the building and falling into step beside me as I made my way to the parking garage. I ignored his question, too perplexed by his change in attitude.
Hell Inc. Page 3