Knocking on Helen's Door

by Eve Langlais

  Even better, Hell had Julio.

  Their conveyance stopped without mishap, and the door to the carriage opened. The devil swept a hand. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I need to check the children. Their mother has them this morning, along with a nanny trained in the fighting arts. Just in case.”

  “You fear an attack?” Helen asked.

  “Yes. It’s my wife you see. She’s not well. Not well at all,” he grumbled. “And this is why I had to hide Muriel, only I couldn’t keep her and her magic down forever. And Jujube is already stronger. What can I do? I love them both.”

  On that cryptic note, the devil left.

  They were alone.

  Julio leapt out first and turned to offer a hand. For a supposed minion of the devil, he had a courteous method. She took his hand and got a different peek at the place she’d been taught to fear.

  In Heaven, they spent a lot of time solitary, contemplating stuff that she really had no interest in. On Earth, and now here in Hell, chaos reigned. Everywhere she turned she heard noise, saw color, felt life. It energized her in a way she’d never imagined. She wanted to see and touch everything.

  They’d left the pier behind for a sidewalk comprised of cobblestones, each the size of a fist, tightly place together to form a boulevard that could have accommodated several people wide. Between it was a smooth street with light traffic. Demons—who looked rather human if one ignored the horns and occasional fang—rode what looked like Earth horses with wings. Plodding manticores pulled wagons because even Hell had to fix and replace things.

  But who made the supplies? Because now that she knew Elyon didn’t create the cherubs, she had to wonder about the rest.

  As she craned to eye the building that loomed high into the clouds of ash overhead, she asked, “Did the devil make all this?”

  “No, we have workers that do the building or manufacturing. Although some stuff is imported from Earth.”

  “Your society isn’t slovenly in other words.”

  He snorted. “It’s Hell, not a free ride. If you want something, you work for it.”

  “Or steal it.”

  “Stealing is still work.”

  Massive rusted doors inset with smoked glass slid open at their approach, and she assumed the mechanism was the same as that on Earth. Once she stepped through, she realized, as she glanced back, that small demons with tails and limbs that wrapped around a pole were the ones to slide it open and shut.

  Julio caught her staring. “Machines don’t always work like they’re supposed to in Hell. Something about the laws of psychics not being stable. You’ll see lots of modern amenities done in a rather physical way. Kind of like The Flintstones.”

  “The what?”

  He blinked at her and smiled, a long thing that transformed his entire face into something soft for her. “It’s a television show I think you’ll like. I can explain the parts you don’t understand.”

  It implied that they’d be spending more time together, which suited her just fine.

  The lobby reminded her of the one in Bambi’s building with a grand space broken up by soft lighting and a desk for the guard. Only in this case, the guard turned out to be a rather massive demon. Thick. Muscled. Fanged. His red eyes flicked in their direction, and a lip peeled back.

  “Who are you? Where are you going?” The high-pitched squeak almost made her laugh.

  “I am none of your fucking business, going to more of none of your fucking business.” Julio’s profanity didn’t bother her. Words were words. And his use gave a certain elegance to them.

  “Aren’t you a prize today. Good thing for you I knew you were coming. Probably before her because you’re a selfish prick.”

  “Fuck you,” Julio declared.

  “Kiss my hairy arsehole.”

  Helen blinked. Especially as they erupted into laughter.

  “What room does she have?” Julio asked when it died down.

  “According to my instructions, the angel gets the penthouse. But there ain’t nothing set aside for you.”

  “No need because I’m with her.”

  The guard snorted. “Like fuck you are. She’s way too pretty for the likes of you.”

  Helen’s mouth rounded. Pretty?

  “This pretty angel is my wife, so put the word out that messing with her is messing with me.”

  “Married.” The guard snorted. “My condolences.”

  “You’re just jealous because, with your ugly mug, even your hand looks away when you jerk off.”

  “I hope she gives you clamhellia.”

  Julio’s final reply was a finger.

  Helen waited until they got into the elevator to whisper, “Is everyone going to be that vulgar and aggressive?”

  He snorted. “I guess you missed the part where we were joking. We’re usually worse. Baezel is one of my buds. We used to play poker every Sunday when I lived at the guild.”

  “It seems an odd way to express a friendship.”

  “I didn’t know there was a proper way,” he said as the elevator jolted during its ascent.

  She glanced dubiously around her. “This doesn’t feel very safe.”

  “Nothing in Hell is. But you get used to it. Elevators beat the stairs, trust me. The penthouse in this place is nothing to joke about.”

  “You’ve been here before?”

  “Nope. Way above my pay grade. I saw a televised special about it. The bathtub in the master bedroom is like a plunge pool.”

  Given he seemed enthused about it, she couldn’t wait to see.

  The elevator stopped with a shudder, and the doors slid open. She emerged into a vast space, too vast it seemed. She grabbed hold of Julio as he stepped out. Immediately, his cloak and presence wrapped around her.

  It took her a moment to absorb the details—the massive room with high ceilings and windows on every far wall and more furniture than she’d ever seen—before she said, “This is for me?”

  “Yup.”

  “And who else?”

  “Me if you’re okay sharing.”

  For some reason that eased her tension. But she found herself annoyed, and it took her a moment to realize why before she blurted aloud, “Why does Hell have nicer things than Heaven?”

  “Who says Heaven doesn’t have them?”

  She opened her mouth to deny it, only to say, “There are angels living in places like this, aren’t there?”

  “Even if there weren’t, you have to admit this is way nicer than what you described.”

  She glanced at him. “I hate it when you point things like that out.”

  His lips quirked. “Funny how the truth in this conversation is the problem. Isn’t your God all about not lying?”

  The pinch of her lips acted as a reply. She moved into the space, taking in the details. The fluted chimney came down into an egg-shaped fireplace split in the middle to show off blue flames. Only as she neared did she notice it emitted cold air, not hot. It helped with the sweltering dry heat she’d experienced outside.

  A large curved couch wrapped around part of the coldplace, smooth and cream colored. A counter flanked the other side. Beyond it was the kitchen.

  Julio whistled as he opened the fridge. “Damn, you got a working one. Even better, you’re being spoiled. Cold beer for me, and for the lady, a spiked lemonade.”

  “Sounds painful.”

  “It’s delicious. Here.” He handed her a bottle, and she took a sip to find it tangy and sweet with a bite.

  “This is more of that fire water,” she exclaimed, holding it out from her.

  “It’s called alcohol, Curls.”

  “Drinking is a sin.”

  “Are we still keeping count?” he asked, heading for the wide bank of windows. Once more, he uttered a low whistle. “Check this out.”

  As she stood by his side, gazing outward, she blinked. For one, she’d expected ashy clouds. After all, the windows remained dark, but the blackness was only because they looked upon a unive
rse.

  Sort of.

  Peering out she saw the ball of Earth with its moon and planets and stars and sun. At the same time, within, and yet not, as if a mirage she could only see if looking a certain way, she saw Hell. Her mind sought to understand the inverted sphere of its existence—and failed.

  Then there was a gray fog of nothing. Could it be the fabled Limbo?

  Within, and not at the same time, were the rigid lines of Heaven. Lattice upon axis upon vertices.

  That wasn’t the end of it, though. There were more places of existence. Some purely made of liquid. Others of fire. Ice. Something she couldn’t even name.

  This couldn’t be real.

  She touched the glass, and the image in the window stabilized to that of Heaven. Zoomed in almost dizzyingly fast before hovering above the nursery. She’d never seen it from this angle, and yet she recognized it.

  “What is that place?” Julio asked, standing behind her.

  “That was my home.” Did he notice her use of the past tense?

  “Seems”—he cocked his head—“very clean.”

  “It is. Pristine and mostly white. Color is chaotic.”

  “I’m surprised you’re allowed hair, skin, or eye color,” he noted.

  “That’s not something that can be changed, although some nannies choose to shave their hair.” She ran a hand over her curls. “I didn’t because I like it.”

  “Me, too.”

  His words made her shy, and she ducked her head. “Hell is not what I expected.”

  “And you’re not what I’d have expected either.” He pulled her against him.

  She tilted her head to keep their gazes locked. “Is it wrong I like being here with you?”

  “You need to reevaluate your concept of right and wrong.”

  “How?”

  “By experiencing things, because you ain’t seen nothing yet.” He dropped a light kiss on her lips, and her eyes closed in anticipation of more. Instead he tapped her buttocks and snapped, “Let’s go exploring, Curls. I know a psychic who makes a mean souvlaki and can tell you your future at the same time.”

  The only future she wanted was standing right in front of her.

  But she went exploring with him. Ate some of the best souvlaki. Met the very pregnant Sasha, who, at times, appeared to be arguing with someone she called the future. Sometimes she would spout vague things such as numbers at random, but she said the weirdest thing as they were leaving. “Don’t let her swallow it.”

  Who swallow what?

  Sasha the psychic never said.

  As they walked back to the gate to return to the second ring, because only the devil’s family or highly placed minions got the first, she held Julio’s hand. Her heart full. Her lips pulled in a smile. This was happiness.

  She’d turned to say something when she heard a strange sound overhead. A glance showed a long pink shape gliding past.

  “What is that?” she exclaimed.

  “Dragon.”

  “They don’t exist.”

  “You just saw one. Care to rephrase?”

  “But it was pink. In the stories they are green or gray, red only in fiction.”

  He snorted. “That’s the devil’s doing. He gave the pink dragon to his granddaughter. I hear his daughter Muriel was pissed. Apparently, the kid is a bit of an escape artist.”

  “The devil has more than one child? And a grandchild?” The concept was odd given Elyon only ever had the one son. Although she’d heard rumors after his imprisonment there might be another. And it wasn’t an immaculate conception.

  “He does have family, but rumor has it his kids don’t live to be old. He kills them the moment they start coming after his throne.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “He’s the devil,” was his reply.

  A devil who proved to be complex. Actually, everyone she’d met had layers to them that made engaging with them fascinating. But the one that intrigued her most accompanied her into the home she’d been given in Hell.

  Julio said, “You should have a bath.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’d prefer a quick shower.” She enjoyed Earth’s hot water that emerged from a spout rather than the cool basins for bathing in Heaven.

  “You only think that because you’ve never been in a Jacuzzi plunge pool. Come on, I’ll show you how it works.”

  He took her to a wall of windows, only for her to realize the windows slid aside to reveal a bathroom with a water hole in the floor.

  Julio had shed his shoes already and dipped a toe in. “Perfect temperature.”

  She followed his example and, after removing her footwear, tested the surface of the water.

  Hot.

  Fragrant, too, she noticed, sniffing the steam.

  “Get in.”

  Since he seemed insistent, she stepped down into it, noticing the stairs underwater.

  Julio laughed. “You were supposed to take your clothes off first.”

  “But you’re here.”

  “Bodies are a natural thing. Clothes aren’t, or we’d be born with them.”

  The argument forced her to think. “Nudity is a sin.” What she fell back on since she didn’t have a good rebuttal.

  “I thought we’d agreed most of your rules are bullshit.”

  “If bodies are natural, then why are you dressed?” she blurted out.

  “I thought you’d never ask.” It didn’t take him long to divest himself, but she stopped watching after the shirt came off and showed off the slabs of muscle across his chest. His cloak remained but was just a shadow at his back, that did nothing to hide his body.

  A glimpse was enough, though, to heat her blood. She heard rather than saw him slip into the water. When she opened her eyes, it was to find him in front of her, a half-grin on his lips.

  “Hey, Curls. You gonna get comfortable?”

  “I’m fine,” she lied. She wasn’t okay. She throbbed between her legs. She wanted to reach for him. Wanted to ask for another kiss.

  They were married now. Except for one thing. “We never consummated our vows.”

  His eyes widened. “No, we didn’t.”

  “Isn’t that part of the ritual to ensure the marriage can’t be dissolved?” She’d seen it in a movie.

  “Are you saying you want to have sex with me?”

  The bold manner in which he asked had her suddenly shy. She licked her lips. “I think I would like it if you kissed me again.”

  He groaned as he swept her into his arms and plundered her mouth. The heat inside her ignited, as did a throbbing pleasure. She grabbed him and touched. Felt the skin of his broad shoulders and strong back. The firmness of his flesh.

  Gasped as his hands divested her of her clothes. The water felt great nude. His stroking fingers felt even better.

  She moaned into his mouth as he kissed her. Writhed as he touched her and made her yearn for something more.

  Sin. Sin. Sin.

  The word chanted inside her head, and yet she didn’t care. She felt good and alive. Wanted more.

  When he sat her on the edge of the tub, her eyes opened. He’d remained in the water, level with…

  She blushed as he parted her. She put her hands against her mound.

  He nudged them with his lips and said, “If you move them, I can make you feel really good.”

  “Better than I feel now?” she asked.

  “So fucking good.”

  Such sinful promise in that claim. She placed her hands on the stone rim of the tub and closed her eyes before he touched her.

  With his mouth. Down there.

  She cried out. Her hips bucked. Only once and then he held her. Gripped her as he kissed her below and made her writhe with pleasure. Squirm against her need.

  When that peak of ecstasy hit, she cried out, and her body undulated. He wasn’t done.

  He licked her and pushed fingers against her, the strangeness of it drawing pants. He emerged from the water, sleek and wet, his expre
ssion smoldering hunger.

  She understood that hunger. She kissed him and pressed her body to his. He grabbed her around the waist and carried her to the couch, where he lay her down before he covered her with his frame.

  His lips sought hers. His hand went between their bodies and stroked.

  Soon she writhed under him, moaning and panting. Needing something.

  She stilled as something hard pressed against her. Her eyes opened, and she met his gaze.

  Intent, yet he paused.

  She put her arms around his neck and drew him close for a kiss as he pushed into her. She cried out at a sharp pain. There and gone, erased by a spreading pleasure as he filled her.

  Literally. She could feel him inside her, and she quivered.

  He groaned. “Fuck me, Curls. If you do that again, I might come too quick.”

  “Do what?” She shuddered, squeezing him.

  He uttered a sound and began to move inside her, and she cried out. Dug her fingers into his shoulders as he thrust his hardness into her. Stretched her and struck at something that made her tighten.

  Until she exploded and found herself floating above herself but not alone. He was there in that moment, surrounding her with his warmth.

  When she came back to herself, she remained warm and snug in his arms.

  He kissed her lightly. “Guess that makes our marriage official.”

  “Meaning what?” she asked.

  “I’m not letting you go. And anyone that tries to take you will get a fight.”

  The promise had her kissing him again. The hunger she now understood as lust filling her.

  They didn’t make it to the bed. The coldplace bathed their heated skin as she sat atop him, rocking her hips, sinning in the most delightful way.

  His hands touched her all over.

  Her fingers dug into his chest as she found true heaven.

  In his arms.

  18

  Julio was in love. With an angel, of all things.

  Fucking crazy. He knew it, and yet he couldn’t help it. Something about Helen sucked him in, and he didn’t intend to fight to escape. He wanted to remain married. It might have been done under duress to save her, but he wanted it to be real.

  Had hope she might want to stay with him as well.