by Julia Mills
“Ah..ah…ah, now, now, no name calling.” The Devil waved his cigar back and forth before standing and slowly walking towards me.
Trying to shrink away but only managing to almost slide out of my chair, I held onto the edge of the table as Lucifer leaned over me, put his face just inches from mine and with a sinister grin purred, “I was going to kill you for plotting against me and mine but you’re such a cute little thing, I’ve changed my mind.”
I batted my eyes trying to clear my vision, took a quick breath as he leaned back and prepared for what, even in my drunk and drugged state, I could tell was coming by gripping the table with what strength I had left.
Taking another puff off his cigar, Lucifer threw it over his shoulder, snapped his finger making it disappear into thin air then reached forward, lifted me up as if I weighed nothing and threw me over his shoulder while chuckling, “I’m going to keep you for myself.”
Unable to speak, my world not only growing dark but now upside-down, I let Lola take over only to groan when she lisped, “Woohooo what an assth,” and pinched the Devil on the butt.
Chapter Eight
Prying my eyes open, praying for a drink of water to quench a thirst that felt like I’d spent weeks in the Sahara, I immediately slammed them shut again. Counting to ten, I slowly opened one eye and then the other only to find my original perception had been right…I was indeed handcuffed to the wall in the room of a 1970’s pimp.
Before I tell you what I saw, I’d like to assure you that this is the first time I’ve ever awakened with a headache, wearing fur-lined handcuffs and not sure how I’d gotten there…but I can’t. I’d also like to tell you that it’s only the second time this has ever happened…but I can’t do that either. I can tell you that the first two times don’t count because what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. So, now that we have that straight, here goes.
Directly in front of me was a heart-shaped bed decorated with enough red satin to cover Wrigley field, surrounded by a red mesh curtain that fell down from the ceiling and was tied to the four posts rising out of the floor with leather straps. The bed sat upon long, black shag carpeting so thick my grandma’s pet poodles would’ve gotten lost in it and had mirrors hanging overhead.
Lou Rawls singing ‘You’ll Never Find’ was coming out of two six-foot speakers positioned on either side of the bed as the turntable atop a console style stereo turned round and round. Candles were lit in groups of seven on every available surface and oh, before I forget, the walls were covered with blood-red crushed velvet and I was in a black leather bra and panties which any other time wouldn’t have bothered me but since I had the feeling I was about to become the Devil’s plaything, I was a bit freaked out.
Pulling on the cuffs at my wrists and the shackles at my ankles while looking for a way to escape, the sounds of scratching on the other side of the wall just to the left of my foot had me doing my best impression of a Stretch Armstrong doll (Sue me. I was stuck in the seventies and that’s the first action figure that popped into my head.) to get away from whatever was burrowing through the wall. Thinking my only way to escape the beastie at my feet and Lucifer himself was to chew off my own arm, I was pleasantly surprised when Bert’s big green head popped through the velvet.
“Hey Heidi. How’s it hanging?” The imp joked. Any other time I would’ve laughed, and later we did, but at that moment all I could do was growl, “Get. Me. Out. Of. Here.”
“Okay, okay, you don’t have to be mean,” he grumbled. “It’s not me who got drunk with the Devil and is now paying the price. Sheesh. That’s gratitude for you.” The rant continued as he pulled his squatty body out of the wall, produced a key from his pocket and quickly unlocked my shackles and cuffs. (I thought about asking why Bert had a universal handcuff key but decided that was a can of worms better left closed.)
Rolling the stiffness out of my shoulders, I knelt down and kissed the top of his head, despite the smell and said, “Thank you, Bert. Sorry for being a bitch.”
Blushing, he nodded before whispering, “No problem.” Clearing his throat and shaking his head, the imp tried to sound commanding and directed, “We need to find you some clothes. You’re not gonna wanna crawl through this tunnel on your bare knees.”
“Crawl?” I croaked then pointed. “Through that tunnel?” I shook my finger that was still aimed at the hole in the wall. “That you just came out of?”
Looking a bit exasperated, Bert put his hands on his hips and tapped his foot, “Do you have a better idea to get out of Lucifer’s private quarters without being seen?”
Pulling back my finger and biting the inside of my cheek, I admitted, “Well, since you put it that way…”
Spinning one way and then the other, looking for a dresser or a closet or anything that held clothing, I had to stop and grab the wall to keep from falling over and throwing up, and the room kept turning even after I’d stopped. Whatever the Devil had roofied me with sure carried a kick. “Not to mention the bottle and a half of wine you downed, you big lush,” Lola grumbled.
“Shut up, Lola,” I whispered, noticing a door hidden behind one of the humungous speakers.
Pulling Bert along, I threw open the door and groaned when I found a hundred pairs of black silk pajamas with matching smoking jackets. “Does he really think this shit is sexy?” I complained, grabbing a pair of the pjs and a robe.
“This is only one of a thousand ‘theme’ rooms the Devil has for ‘entertaining’.” Bert made air quotes that made me consider hurling for real that time and we made a pact right then and there to never tell a soul what we’d seen. (A thousand? Really? I mean he is good looking but overkill, much?)
Finally, dressed with the waistband of the pants rolled up four times at my waist and the legs even more than that with the shirt hanging down to my knees, I wrapped the arms of the smoking jacket around my waist and followed the imp to the hole in the wall. Down on my hands and knees, with my face mere inches from Bert’s butt, I alternated between holding my breath and praying he didn’t fart while we made our way through the hot, sticky, musty, stinky tunnel. Along the way, the imp explained what he’d learned from the hags.
“It took some doing and I had to make a few promises I’m praying Luci can fix for me but I finally found a troll who knew a crone who directed me to a witch who was friends with Tildy and Trixie when they were younger.”
“Tildy and Trixie?”
“Oh, sorry.” He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Matilda and Beatrix went by Tildy and Trixie when they were younger. I think they still do, at least to each other. That’s all Winona called them and I guess it just got stuck in my brain.”
(Tildy and Trixie? Did they have a burlesque show? Damn! Now, I’ll never get that image out of my mind. What about you?)
I guess my nod was all the recognition Bert needed, because we were once again moving and he was chatting away. “Winnie, oh sorry, Winona, said she talks to Beatrix every other week and that she’s still collecting the wayward witches in the hills of West Virginia. I had to laugh when she said, Trixie…I mean Beatrix, even has a twang in her voice now.”
Although all of this was great news, I still had no idea what the plan was, there was a bass drum beating inside my brain and my knees felt more like raw meat with every forward movement. Stopping to take a breath, I grumbled, “Just tell me you got the directions to where Beatrix is staying.”
With his head bouncing up and down like the bobble-heads my grandpa used to have in the window of his pickup truck, Bert quickly replied, “Yes, absolutely, of course I did. I even have the magic word to unlock all Beatrix’s cloaking spells and traps.”
“Magic word? That shit is real?”
Nodding again with big eyes and a bright smile, the chubby little imp chirped, “Sure is. Hopefully, we won’t have to use, but if we do, we have it.” Throwing his thumb over his shoulder, he added, “Now, follow me. We’re almost outta here and I have another surprise for you.”
Once
again on my knees and trailing my new bestie, I sort of grinned and put as much happy in my voice as I could as I said, “Thanks, Bert, but I’m really not much for sur…”
I never got to finish my statement as Bert disappeared out of the darkness into a bright light that left me blind and blinking my eyes so quickly they were starting to water a split second before big strong hands slid under my arms and pulled me out of the tunnel. One look into Hunter’s beautiful baby blues had me wrapping my arms around his neck, slamming my lips to his and kissing him for all I was worth. Our kiss went on and on and somewhere before Bert clearing his throat broke us apart I decided that maybe surprises weren’t so bad after all.
Catching my breath, I slid down Hunter’s body until my feet were on the floor, turned towards Bert and asked the only thing I could think of at the moment, “But how?”
Having the decency to look embarrassed, the imp shrugged, cocked his head to the side and said, “A bucket of cold water…who knew?” Then hurrying to explain when Hunter gave a little growl from behind me, Bert rambled, “I came back, found you gone, Hunter still a Wolfman and that.” He pointed to the table and chairs Lucifer had left behind before continuing, “I’ve seen it before, knew it was the Devil and freaked out. Trying to turn my wagon around and come looking for you, I got flustered, bumped into the table, turned too quick and dumped the buckets of water meant for the hellhounds all over Hunter.”
My Hunky Hellhound’s hands closed around my upper arms and I immediately knew he was still a bit miffed over his impromptu bath but working hard to control his temper. Laying my hand on over one of his, I was happy to hear his growl turn to more of a happy rumble. Bert was also pleased to not be in the crosshairs of Hunter’s temper and went on, “So after hiding under the sink until he calmed down and found me, I came up with a plan.” His pensive expression turned to a smile as he threw out his arms and said, “Ta-da and now, you’re free.”
Of course, as with everything down here in Hell, his levity was short lived as he walked forward, grabbed my free hand and pulled, “But you have maybe thirty minutes before the Devil figures out that you escaped and comes looking. So, hop to it. I’ve packed supplies. You just need to get dressed.”
Before I could answer, Hunter was spinning me around, picking me up and racing into my room. Opening my closet, he snatched my favorite leather pants, a black T-shirt and black leather duster from the hangers, grabbed my thigh biker boots off the floor and began tossing the clothing on my bed. “Hurry up, Heidi. We have to get to the East Gate and open the portal before my dad or the Devil come looking.”
Without thinking, I ripped of Lucifer’s jammies and chucked them over my shoulder just before my Hunky Hellhound had his body pressed against mine, his hands over my leather covered breasts and his lips on my throat. Nipping and tasting until I was squirming against him, Hunter pushed me forward with a snarled, “I’ll wait outside.”
I couldn’t help but smile. My Hunky Hellhound was as attracted to me as I was to him. Not only did I get dressed and hop into the next room with a spring in my step but to say Lola was happy at the thought of finally having sex with Hunter was a very serious understatement.
“And then we have to…”
“Enough, Lola,” I interrupted with a whisper before announcing, “Okay, I’m ready,” to Hunter and Bert. “But…I think I should go alone. Bert can hel…”
“No way!” The ‘men’ in my life adamantly objected in unison.
Exasperated, I slammed my fists to my hips and asked, “And why not?”
“Because it has been a while since you were topside and then you were alive.
Maneuvering the world as a creature from Hell on a day pass can be disconcerting in the best of circumstances.” Hunter’s concern was sweet and sounded even better with his dreamy accent, but it still pissed me off that he thought I couldn’t take care of myself. Then he added, “I can’t go. I’ll be missed.” And just knowing he wanted to go with me made things a bit better.
“But I won’t,” Bert beamed, making it clear they’d practiced this speech. “Besides I’ve been topside hundreds of times and Winona gave me all the details.” He lifted his packed messenger bag off the floor and put the strap over his head. “So, whatcha say? Road trip?”
With no time to continue arguing, I sighed, “Whatever,” before looking over my shoulder and cocking an eyebrow at my Hunky Hellhound. “Lead on, but we will talk about this crap later. I am not the little woman.”
Kissing the tip of my nose as he walked around me, took my hand and led the way, he chuckled, “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
Chapter Nine
Getting out of Hell was easier than I would’ve guessed, well…at least for Bert and me. As for Hunter, he had to go all Wolfman again to fight off two of Lucifer’s henchmen, also known as Cockatrices, which for those of us not in the know are seven foot creatures with the body and tail of a serpent, wings of a dragon, head, neck and tail of a cockerel and the face of a rooster. I, of course, freaked out. Not only because of the Cockatrices, (Yes, I know, funny name but if you’d seen them you’d have a whole different view on the subject.) but because my Hunky Hellhound was once again the Wolfman.
Thankfully, as I was crying and trying to go back through the portal while Bert planted his huge, wide feet on whatever it was we were standing on and held on to the hem of my duster to keep me from returning to Hell, he also explained that because I was not the one who’d caused Hunter to ‘wolf out’ that once the Cockatrices were dealt with, he would go back to the Hunky Hellhound I knew and *cough* loved. (Just read very quickly over that last word. I’m not ready to discuss it nor will I entertain any soul searching advice, counseling or sex tips. Got it? Good.)
Following my little buddy, Bert’s new position in my world, we made it safely out of the weird grey void into St. Louis Cemetery, New Orleans, La. right next to the tomb of the great Voodoo – Hoodoo Queen, Marie Laveau. I wasn’t surprised to find worshippers at her gave, even in the middle of the night but I was shocked to be able to see weird lights, almost like kaleidoscopes, dancing all around the humans in attendance.
My face must’ve shown my concern because Bert, pulled on my sleeve, and when he had my undivided attention said, “Since your dead and just visiting from the Underworld, you can see things the humans cannot. Like their auras, or false faces they may be wearing, or, and this one will freak you out, a demon’s true form should you run across one squatting in a human’s body.”
Pulling me away from the congregation, Bert ducked inside an open mausoleum, closed the door and took a deep breath. “Just need a minute to get in disguise,” he chuckled, while pulling a short trench coat, a big floppy hat that looked like something my grandpa would’ve worn while gardening and a pair of leather gloves out of his messenger bag. “Wouldn’t do to have someone freak out when they saw me,” he added before opening the door, poking his head out to make sure the coast was clear and motioning for me to once again follow him.
Traipsing through a creepy haunted cemetery in the middle of the night had never been my thing. It wasn’t that I was a scaredy cat, it was just that if you remember – I hate surprises – and having things jump out at me was technically a surprise and therefore, something I did not like. (Yes, that was lawyer double speak but I deserve credit for trying.) But this time was different. This time, it didn’t bother me. With my new Hellian eyes, (My term, I’m using it. Don’t mess with me.) I could see the ghosts hovering about the ground, the gremlins climbing the trees, throwing pine cones at people and generally creating mischief and the zombies slowly meandering about looking for whatever it was zombies look for. (On a side note, zombies are not mindless. Hollywood has been misleading us and I, for one, am not happy about it. However, until they get organized and form their own government with plans to overthrow ours, I’ll just sit back and keep a close eye on them.)
We left the cemetery and had been walking down side streets and alleys for what seemed l
ike forever when I finally asked, “Are we going on foot all the way to West Virginia?”
“No,” Bert barked out a laugh, still hiking as fast as his fat little legs would carry him. “We’re on our way to the car Winnie arranged for us.”
“A car?” I asked, a bit shocked at the normality of our mode of transportation but apparently my question freaked out my little buddy for he stopped dead in his tracks, (Excuse the pun.) spun around and with true fear in his eyes, asked, “You can drive, can’t you?”
“Yeah, of course.”
Leaning against a dirty brick wall, Bert took off his hat and fanned his face with the brim while sighing, “Whew, you had me worried there for a minute.”
“Oh, sorry, I was just surprised we weren’t taking a broom or calling for another portal or flying on a magic carpet. A car is just so…well…umm…normal.” I shrugged.
Smiling like he thought I was a brimstone shy of a load, Bert nodded, “Okay good,” before looking over his right shoulder then back at me and adding, “It’s just a few more blocks.”
“I’m right behind you. Let’s get going.”
With a renewed vigor, Bert trudged on until we got to a small white cottage with bright blue shutters, pink and blue flowers and Satan help me, a white picket fence. Keeping step with my little buddy but sure we’d taken a wrong turn, I nearly fell off my four-inch heels when a Jessica rabbit look-alike, complete with long flowing red hair and eyelashes for days, opened the door and squealed, “Hey y’all. You must be Bert,” she bent down and hugged him into her boobs which I am sure was the thrill of his long life, then came at me with open arms and a huge smile, singing, (Yes, you read that right, singing.) “And you must be Heidi.”
Ducking her hug and holding out my hand while smiling as big as the muscles in my cheeks would allow, I nodded and said, “Yep, that’s me, Heidi.”
Gripping my hand with the strength of a wrestler, the witch with the yellow, orange, pink and white aura, cheered, “I’m Cassandra, Cassie for short, Tildy and Trixie’s sister.” Pulling me close, she added with a whisper and an exaggerated pout, “I’m the white sheep of the family.” Her pout deepened. “Can’t do black magic to sell my soul.” She wiped away an imaginary tear. “So, I opened this little shop to do love charms and tell fortunes and help my older sisters whenever I can. It’s the least I can do.”