Love Charms

by Multiple

  “About the termination of your contract – we have a slight problem.” He snapped his fingers, and using some kind of magic she had yet to decipher, the burnt remnants of clothing, the foam, everything about her mishap disappeared, including the lingering pain. She dropped into a chair, relieved but not wanting to show it, glad for the simple robe he’d conjured that hid her body. Exhibitionism was for those who went to the gym on a regular basis.

  “What problem? We signed a deal, Lucifer. In exchange for my soul and five hundred years of service, you were going to condemn all those who had an active hand in making me burn to an eternity of suffering in Hell. Seems pretty straightforward, and according to my contract, those five hundred years are up next Tuesday.”

  “Except, we’ve had a prison breakout.”

  “And what does a prison breakout have to do with my contract?”

  “Hold on to your panties, and I’ll show you. Oh wait, you’re not wearing a pair anymore.” He leered. She growled. He sighed as he muttered, “You are absolutely no fun.”

  Reaching below his desk, he grabbed something. The object thumped onto his desk, a green folder thick with paper, and labeled, no surprise, with her name. Slave to the big guy didn’t mean she’d rolled over and turned into a docile mouse once she got to the Pit. In the circles of Hell, it was every man/woman/demon for themselves. And after the way her lover betrayed her, Ysabel clung to her freedom and status like a pit-bull, cursing with magic anyone who stood in her way. It seemed the Lord had kept tabs on her shenanigans.

  Lucifer flipped open her file and pulled out from it, in another feat of magic she hadn’t mastered, a yellowed scroll bound in a lock of her hair. He sliced a fingernail across it, splitting the binding and the paper unrolled several feet, revealing line after line of tight handwritten script. He flattened it on his desk, using a pair of paperweights – the skulls of those who dared defy him – to hold down its corners. Ysabel stood and leaned over to verify it, noting her signature: a giant ‘Y’ – the only letter she knew how to draw at the time – the blood having dried into an almost black color.

  “Why are you showing me this?” she asked.

  “Read subclause forty-nine, paragraph C, section VII.”

  Her eyes scanned the document, her lips moving as she read, a skill she’d not owned at the time of signing. She’d had someone impartial brought in to read it for her, a powerful witch by the name of Nefertiti. She’d apprenticed under the sorceress for a time after her arrival, but Nefertiti’s brand of magic – sex based orgies for power – wasn’t something that appealed.

  Oddly enough, though she’d read hundreds of contracts for other souls, this was the first time she’d actually read her own. The more she read, though, the more she wished she’d paid attention at the time instead of being so focused on vengeance. But then again, impartiality was hard to achieve with memories of her skin flaking off and the imagined scent of her own roasted body making her hungry for chicken.

  “If I’m reading this right,” she said slowly, trying in vain to control her temper, “it says that if within my five hundred years of service, should one of the five I bargained to have cursed and sent to Hell manages to escape, then the terms of my employment are extended until the soul in question is caught.”

  “Keep reading,” he replied. “And keep in mind, this is a standard contract.”

  Eyes flicking back to the document, she read the rest before grabbing the closest paperweight and throwing it at him. “You jerk! The prison breakout was by one of the souls I had damned to an eternity of suffering, wasn’t it? Which means I am going to have to relive the moment of my death, daily, until the soul is caught.”

  She couldn’t help bitching. “This is unfair. Why the hell am I being punished? Your lackeys are the ones who slacked on the job. Punish them.”

  Lips tight, his eyes glowed in a way that sat her back in her chair, the heaviness of his power pressing on her. “Oh, they are reaping the rewards of my displeasure, fear not. But, enough about them. We need to fix this. If we’re to be free of each other in a week, then you need to get moving.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes you. You just read the contract. The same way you cursed those people and dragged their souls to me upon their untimely deaths, now that they’re missing, it’s up to you to bring those souls back.”

  “Souls? Are you telling me you lost more than one?”

  The Lord of The Pit actually looked sheepish. “What can I say? Good minions are hard to come by. Ever since the problems of the past few years with Lilith and that revolt, well, the demon army still hasn’t recovered its numbers yet. And the mortal realm doesn’t make soldiers like they used to. Ah for the days when Vikings roamed the seas and pillaged whole villages. I even miss those feisty Spartans. Now those were some souls with substance and skills.”

  Ysabel slapped a hand over her forehead. “I don’t believe this. I’m the one scheduled to catch fire every day until I fix your mistake and you’re giving me excuses and reminiscing? That’s fucking priceless. And just how am I supposed to find and catch the escapees?”

  “There are five of them and if you tag them with this pin,” Lucifer slid a metallic box in her direction. “Then they’ll be taken straight to processing.”

  “Yay, so I’ve got an easy way to get them back,” she drawled sarcastically. “You still haven’t mentioned exactly how I’m supposed to find them.”

  “Don’t you have some witchy method for tracking people?” he asked. “I had the guards collect some of their skin. Of course, I don’t know whose is whose given we wiped it off the lashes after they disappeared, but DNA is still the best identifier.” He smiled.

  She glared.

  A big sigh left him. “What do you want from me? This wasn’t done on purpose, I assure you. I’d like nothing more than for you and I to be rid of each other. But even I can’t break the contract.”

  In that respect, he told the truth. If a person swore an oath in Hell and then signed it with blood, it couldn’t be broken until the terms of the contact were complete. No one knew why, not even Lucifer. It seemed there were more powers out there than just those of Heaven and Hell.

  “And if I say screw you and the souls stay free?”

  “You will burn, every single day, at the time of your death, one extra minute per day, the pain growing more and more excruciating with each day that passes.”

  “Is that all?” she queried sarcastically.

  “No.” He bore a serious expression which frightened her more than his words. Lucifer always spoke with a smile – evil smile, naughty grin, provocative leer. She didn’t think she wanted to hear what came next.

  “If you don’t bring those souls back, you’ll go mad. Lose your mind. Go completely off your rocker. It’s not pretty. I’ve seen it before. It happened to Bambi’s mother. I had to throw her in the abyss myself. You’ve met my eldest daughter, Bambi haven’t you? Won Biggest Slut in the world five years running, you know?”

  Yes, she knew. Everyone knew Bambi. The males all wanted a turn with Hell’s most famous succubus, while the females did their best to keep their men away. While the reminder of Bambi’s skills in the boudoir made her shudder, his mention of the abyss gave her a chill.

  What few people earth-side knew was Hell didn’t mean the end of a person’s life, for damned souls at any rate. Once a mortal sinned and died, changing their residential address to Hell, they could technically live forever. Sounded like a great prize, right? Not really. Eking out any kind of existence in the Underworld took a lot of work. Housing sucked. Jobs rated even worse. And forget killing to free up some room or take someone’s spot.

  Mortal wounds, while painful to the recipient, couldn’t kill the damned. Nor decapitation or any other torture devised – a great trick that Lucifer used to punish the truly wicked. Only one thing alone could put a spirit to rest. The abyss.

  At the very center of Hell, nestled within the spirals of the nine circles, the great gapi
ng hole was where a soul went when they were conquered their fear of the final death. When the tedium of day to day living in the Pit finally got to them, or they’d atoned for their sins, they could make the pilgrimage to the abyss, toss themselves in and, eventually, end up reborn again.

  Or so the rumors stated.

  Witches bound to Lucifer before death, didn’t quite own their souls – and no one knew where he hid them – so uncertainty prevailed, along with numerous debates, on what would happen to them if they jumped in. She’d rather not find out. But if the pain became too much, would she still feel the same?

  Something of her thought process must have been reflected in her face because Lucifer gave her a paternal smile meant to reassure. “I’m sure you’ll manage to capture them before you go nuts. And if not, I know a place that sells straitjackets for cheap.”

  She covered her face with a moaned, “Why me?”

  “Oh no. Cut the girly crap right now. You know I hate it when women get sentimental. So let’s stick to business. You need to catch those souls or you’re going to be a very unhappy witch, which in turns means I’ll have to listen to you bitching and moaning because you’ll still be working for me. If I can’t get rid of you, it will cut into my golf game. With Mother Earth visiting her tree groves for her spring inspection, I only have a limited amount of time to practice before she gets back and insists we work on our relationship. Blech.” He made a face.

  “This is impossible, you know,” she said. “I don’t know how you expect me to find that many souls by myself. Are you sure the burning thing will be that bad?” Actually, even the mention of it brought a shudder. And it was supposed to get worse? She needed to find those souls pronto.

  “I’d love to help you, but I’m understaffed.” His big, white toothed grin screamed, ‘I’m lying.’

  “I’ve got a video of you doing the Macarena.”

  He scowled. “I hate you. You’re just like another pesky daughter to me. Fine. Twist my arm. I’ll give you a tracker to use. But it will cost you.”

  She arched a brow.

  “Or not. Now get out.”

  “In a second. Hold on to your storm trooper boots. This burning thing – how long will it last each day?”

  “At precisely eight forty-seven p.m. each day, you will catch on fire.”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s two forty seven p.m. or was when I walked in.”

  “We’re on Eastern Standard time here. Not Central European. Now, as I was saying, each day, at the time of your death, you will catch fire, reliving the moment. The burning will last one minute the first day, then increase each day by another minute. Anything you wear will burn to a crisp. The good news, though, is that your hair and body will remain untouched, you’ll just feel it. And once the flames extinguish, it might take a few minutes for the pain to fade.”

  “That sounds lovely,” she replied, her face twisting in a grimace. “Anything else I should know?”

  “Well, it goes without saying that if during your quest to find the escapees you end up on the mortal plane, stay out of sight. Human authorities might get a little weirded out if you catch fire and walk away.”

  “I guess I’m shopping for practical clothes,” she muttered with a moue of distaste. She rose from the chair. “Send your tracker to my place in about six hours. I want to get started on this right away.”

  “Good luck,” the devil said quietly, and if she didn’t know better, she’d have said he sounded sincere.

  Nah. Probably more like morose that they might get stuck with each other past the expiry date on her contract.

  Not if she could help it.

  But first she needed to go shopping for flame retardant clothes that would go well with soul hunting. Lucky for her, she’d swiped her boss’s credit card, so the sky was the limit. And she had a whole spare bedroom that could handle the extra garments.

  Chapter Two

  Whistling, Remy strolled to Lucifer’s office. Getting called to see his boss could mean only one of two things. Either he was in trouble – which considering he’d not slept with any of his Lord’s daughters seemed unlikely – or he was getting a special assignment. The latter would totally work right now given he’d just ended a few relationships, mostly because they found out about each other.

  Females – they could act so irrational when it came to sharing him. Didn’t they know he had enough stamina to please them all? Yeah, that was one line he’d have to strike from his repartee list. Not one of them liked it, no matter how engaging his smile as he said it. As his one lady friend – a hot blonde demon who could suck a golf ball through a garden hose – dumped his clothing out of the window onto a pile of refuse, he came to the realization that perhaps the time had come for him to concentrate on one lady at a time. The thrill of a variety of pussy, once all he could think about, had worn off. Surprising, I know. He never thought that would happen. But truly, he’d come to realize, all females were the same in the end; same to please, same to scream, same to drive him nuts. So why continue with the headache that came with juggling several?

  Why, he might even settle down with one lucky female and pop out a demon spawn or two. He snorted at the thought. Let’s not get crazy here. Deciding to bed one female at a time was one thing, at one hundred and four years, he was still kind of young to be thinking of starting a family, even if a lot of his buddies seemed to have jumped into that particular hot pan. And happily, too.

  Remy couldn’t imagine wanting to consign himself to a life with one female, because while fooling around as a single man with more than one lucky lady was accepted, once a demon decided to start a family and bind himself into their version of matrimony, cheating was out of the question – if he wanted to keep his balls intact. Demon wives took a strict stance on cheating, and abetted by other wives, and even mothers, made sure the males didn’t cross that line – or else. Knowing that, it was a wonder to him any man every chose to mate with one female.

  It’s probably some kind of insanity that grips them when they get to a certain age. Or a spell. Lucky for him, Remy had a resistance to magical attacks on his person.

  Arriving at the vestibule for Lucifer’s secretary, he gave his name to the shriveled crone manning the desk. Ugly, old, misshapen, and possessed of an odd smell, rumor said Gaia herself chose the woman for the position after Lucifer’s last secretary came to work one too many times in sheer blouses, braless of course. Last he heard, the blonde bimbo, who’d given more than one demon in the ranks a wild ride, was on latrine duty for the women’s prison. It didn’t pay to piss off his Lord’s on again, off again, girlfriend.

  Hey, I wonder if I can get any clues on whether he’s going to pop the question to his old lady. A great amount of betting currently existed in all the nine circles based on when their Lord would finally get the guts to ask Gaia to marry him. Remy had several paychecks riding on his date of August thirteenth, two thousand thirteen, a date that fast approached and with nary a jeweler claiming credit for an engagement ring design at this point.

  While he waited to be admitted to his Lord’s inner sanctum, he looked around, noting the closed door with the gold embossed title, ‘Satan’s Assistant,’ and etched underneath, ‘Go Away.’ With that kind of welcoming attitude, he counted himself lucky he’d never come face to face with his boss’s damned soul relations manager. He’d heard the terms harridan, witch, bitch, along with a whole list of other not-very-nice adjectives used to describe the zealous female in charge of keeping Hell’s contracts in order. But, the woman who scared the crap out of even the hardest criminals in the pit dealt with damned souls only, not demons, so he thankfully never had to meet with the obviously ugly shrew with the not-so-shining personality everyone spoke of.

  Striding into his Lord’s office, he snapped to attention. “First class demon, Remy Crafir, reporting as ordered, sir.”

  “At ease, soldier.”

  As if, Remy almost said aloud. Only demons with a death wish let themselves re
lax in the big man’s presence. His boss, dressed in his usual business attire, drummed his fingers on his massive desk.

  “You’ve been working for me how long now, soldier?”

  Odd question since Lucifer already knew. “Since the eighteenth year of my birth, sir.”

  “And you are now…”

  “One hundred and four, sir.” And in my prime, he thought puffing out his chest lest his boss think he was getting old.

  “You’ve seen a lot of danger I would imagine during your tenure.”

  “Sir?”

  “Just talking to myself. I know what you’ve accomplished, some of it at my direct behest. Your commanding officers have only positive things to say about your service. Bloodthirsty. Single minded. Thorough. And a panty-dropper among the ladies.”

  Who could resist a grin at having the Lord of the Pit shoot a conspiratorial smile at the last bit?

  “Ever think of settling down, soldier?” Lucifer leaned forward and steepled his fingers on his desktop.

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  “Settle down with a female. Make some babies. Your mother was about your age when she had you.”

  “Sir, with all due respect, she is a little crazy. And her decision to have a human as my father wasn’t exactly a sound one.”

  “Got a problem with only being a half demon, soldier? My son is a half demon.”

  Oh shit, he’d insulted his Lord. “I am quite glad to be a half demon?” He said it questioningly, and when his boss didn’t decapitate him, but kept staring, waiting for more, he thought quickly. “There’re a lot of advantages to my half demon status. I, um, can use my magic on the mortal plane.” At Lucifer’s encouraging nod, he kept going. “I am long lived like a full demon.” But thinner skinned, so more prone to injury, which sucked. “I heal quickly. I’m strong. I’m impervious to fire.” A trait he got from his mother, an almost pure blooded fire demon.