A dotty old man peered over the smoke-filled aisle. “Sorry” he called out, his face as red as a beet. “These newfangled ignition systems are touchier than a blind man reading a Braille comic book.”
The cashier grabbed a small fire extinguisher from beneath the counter and trotted over to douse a series of blazes burning from the Whee! Gee! Ouija Board section.
With the cashier away Yojuanna crawled atop the delivery form, stopping above the “To” field, and rappelled down. She hovered over the address and changed it from “Thera Grandit at Cloud Two, Heaven” to “The Grabbit at Circle Two, Rapacia,” then modified the quantity, increasing it from one “Smash ’n’ Flash Atom Cannon” to two.
Yojuanna tucked a strand of silver hair back into the cinched hood of her reflective bodysuit and kicked the submit button with her toe. A new window replaced the form.
Order Complete.
Smiling, she climbed off the new window and arranged the folders on the computer’s desktop in a clean, even, horizontal line. Yojuanna stood on top of a folder on the screen’s edge, crouched low, then ran for all she was worth. Leaping from folder to folder, she dove spectacularly off the screen and into the air—again breaking up into a misty cloud of data bits—until collecting her discombobulated self on Mallvana’s towering plasma display.
Yojuanna uncinched her glossy hoodie and shook out her sleek silver hair. She clapped, summoning a throbbing dance beat, and tugged above her ear, pulling out her telescoping microphone headset.
“I do what’s bad so well, so well,
takin’ it all, to sell, to sell.
If you want it, then I got it, but you gotta get it right.
Like a bunny—what’s so funny?—I can hop it outta sight!”
21 · HARE-BRAINED
SCHEME
MARLO, LYON, AND the carbuncled demoness guard hovered outside the Grabbit’s warren. From inside came a dreadful, grating rhapsody: not the Grabbit’s usual monotone soliloquy, but something that bordered on rhythmic. Almost … rapping.
“If you want it, then I got it, but you gotta get it right.
Like a bunny—what’s so funny?—I can hop it outta …”
“Excuse me, Grabbit,” the demoness interrupted after a dry cough. “I brought the two burgling bobby -soxers you requested.”
The Grabbit grinned its cold metal grin. Marlo noticed that the dingy white paint of its teeth was beginning to peel.
“Thank you, guard, you’ve done your bit
and brought me back these girls so quick.
They’re like a gift without the bow.
In any case, you’re free to go.”
The demoness gave a creaky curtsy and backed out of the metal rabbit’s warren.
“Is this about our little extracurricular shopping excursion?” Marlo asked. “Because if it is, we never thought that Poker Alice would—”
“It’s all Marlo’s fault,” accused Lyon. “It was her dumb idea, then she tried to escape, and—”
“You lying bleach-blond toilet brush!” screeched Marlo.
The Grabbit’s spooky voice boomed through the burrow.
“Okay, girls, that’s quite enough.
You’re here because you stole.
But it seems to me you have the stuff
to help me with my goal.”
“Your goal?” Lyon replied.
“I’ve heard there’s something very dear
that’s soon to be transported,
and I think that with you two girls here
this mission can be thwarted.”
Marlo bit her lower lip in concentration. With its permanent grin and flat, soulless eyes, the Grabbit’s true intentions were impossible to discern.
“So you want us to steal something for you—” Marlo asked with a quaver.
“—and expect us to believe that we’re going to be all hippity-hoppity ever after?” Lyon interrupted with a sneer. The Grabbit oscillated, essentially motionless to the naked eye, but the distressing reverberations it sent out were some bad vibes indeed.
“Two precious gems are on their way
to someplace very grim.
I’d like to cause some disarray,
tho’ chances, they are slim.
Heck’s in trouble, yes indeed,
these gems are meant to stop it.
So if you both can sate my greed,
this place is in our pockets.”
Marlo and Lyon studied one another out of the corners of their eyes, each looking—without looking as if they were looking—at the other for guidance.
What does any of this mean? Marlo wondered. Is the Grabbit really some kind of ally, cutting us in on a heist that will sign the pink slip to this place over to us?
Lyon held her head up haughtily and stepped forward.
“We need to, like, discuss the chain of command here, first,” she said, her jaw squared, yet her lower lip trembling. “There’s no way I’m trusting … her,” she snarled, extending her finger toward Marlo without actually setting eyes on her. “And if you expect me to take orders from someone with more roots than a big outdoor place with trees and plants—”
“A forest,” seethed Marlo.
“A forest,” continued Lyon, “then you can take your plan and stick it in one of your way-too-long-to-suit-your-build ears!”
Marlo stormed forward, brushing past Lyon in angry strides. She didn’t want to work with Lyon any more than Lyon did with her, but the Grabbit’s proposition was too intriguing to screw up.
“Forgive Lyon,” Marlo said. “She actually ate today and her brain is all muddled, trying to sort the calories. What she meant to say is that wouldn’t it be more efficient if we used our skills … independently … so that neither of our personal snatching styles cramps the others?”
“That isn’t what I—” Lyon blurted before Marlo stopped her with a sharp jab to the ribs. Another round of bickering was cut short by the Grabbit’s hollow, booming voice.
“Two coaches take our treasure,
led by Byron and by Keats,
to a place devoid of pleasure
save two precious, priceless treats.
But time is short, work must be swift.
So, as part of my grand scheme,
each of you shall use your gift,
while leading your own team.”
Smiles of satisfaction spread across Lyon’s and Marlo’s faces. “You’re on,” they said in unison before spinning around to openly fume at each other.
“I’m glad it seems you’re both aboard,
and now we plan our blitz.
The stakes are high for this reward …
So—”
“Sign for both your kits?” interrupted a voice from the doorway.
The girls turned. A deliveryman, wearing immaculate white shorts and a cap with little wings on the side, stood with two large boxes on a dolly.
“HCW Express,” he continued. “I have a delivery for”—he scowled at his clipboard—“the Grabbit?”
Though it was impossible, Marlo swore that the Grabbit’s tin grin grew wider, brighter, and creepier.
“If one of you could sign for these,
it would help me out immensely.
Then leave and hone your expertise,
for we’ll need it most intensely.”
Marlo took the deliveryman’s clipboard, signed for the packages, then shuffled out of the Grabbit’s warren with Lyon, leaving the deliveryman to help the freakish, immobile machine to assemble its new toys.
Marlo’s brain flickered with flashes of warning, like faraway lightning muffled by brooding storm clouds. But the rest of her—her arms, her legs, her heart, and the lattice of nerve endings that held them all together in its high-voltage web—coursed with excruciating excitement. She tried to ignore the warning in her head. After all, what did her brain know, anyway?
Maybe the Grabbit’s plot to steal these important jewels really will shake things up down here, Marlo considere
d. Wait … two jewels? They must be the Hopeless Diamonds … the most precious gems ever produced! And I would be the girl—the Grabbit’s favorite—to make it happen, pulling off the biggest jewel heist in history! Milton would be proud … Milton.
She bit her lower lip with her fang, pushing the sadness that her brother’s name inspired aside with sharp pain. Marlo would hatch the perfect plan and execute it flawlessly. She’d show Lyon, Poker Alice, Bea “Elsa” Bubb—everyone—that you should never, ever underestimate a greedy girl with loads of nerve and precious little common sense. When Marlo set her mind to something, there was no limit to the amount of mischief she could stir up. And, as Marlo knew firsthand, where there was chaos, there was often opportunity.
22 · HUNG UP AND
ON THE LiNE
“IT’S THE OPPORTUNITY we’ve been looking for,” Bea “Elsa” Bubb whispered into her new No-Fee Hi-Fi Faux Phone, basically two tarnished thimbles—one each on the thumb and pinky of her claw—that she held to her ear and mouth.
The congested, snooty voice of Lilith Couture echoed down the hall.
“Of course, Luci,” she giggled sharply into her own No-Fee Hi-Fi Faux Phone (a far more stylish model built into her beautifully manicured nails). “I miss you, too. But you’re the one that sent me to this nauseating nursery school in the first place, silly.”
Bea “Elsa” Bubb could feel an itchy rash creeping up her neck and around her ears like an invasive vine.
“I know you’re still there, because I can hear you breathing,” Damian said flatly over the phone. “Either that, or a donkey is trying to inhale your phone with a rusty tuba.”
“Shh …,” Bea “Elsa” Bubb admonished as she ducked around the corner, down the hallway from her not-so-secret lair.
Lilith clopped languidly down the hallway on her imported hooves. Her erratic steps brought to mind a horse happily under the influence of a tranquilizer.
“Oh, Luci. You are terrible!” she cooed. “But don’t you dare stop!” Lilith rested her sharp, protruding shoulder blades against the wall and wilted girlishly, pouting with her whole body. “Fine, I suppose we must mix a little business with our pleasure,” she scolded playfully. “So, I just received the itinerary for the transfer of the Hopeless Diamonds to Sadia. Two diamonds, two stagecoaches. Brilliant, as always.”
Bea “Elsa” Bubb thrust her curled claw around the corner so that Damian could better hear the conversation.
“And the timing is impeccable,” Lilith continued. “The Grabbit suddenly announcing some big ceremony in Mallvana on the very same day. How did that freaky bunny thing get the Powers That Be to allow it to use Mallvana as a venue? Well, I guess it doesn’t matter as long as it diverts attention from the main event in Sadia … oh, that’s brilliant: the chairman of the Netherworld Soul Exchange himself, using the ceremony as a platform to announce the successful transfer of the diamonds, thus stabilizing the underworld economy in one fell swoop!”
Principal Bubb crab-walked away from the corner and whispered into the phone. “Did you get all that?” she wheezed.
“Yeah. I heard her,” Damian replied. “She sounds like a babe.”
The principal scowled and gritted her fangs.
“Something about two stagecoaches to Sadia,” Damian continued, “and the Grabbit hosting a big ceremony the same day. Got it. Now what does all this have to do with me?”
Principal Bubb rubbed her throbbing temples. Good help was so hard to come by down here.
“What it means is that I made a call to a friend of mine in Rapacia—Poker Alice,” the principal explained in hushed tones. “She was more than willing to work with us if it meant the undoing of Marlo Fauster and her brother. You’ll be Rapacia’s newest teacher’s aide, keeping one eye on Ms. Fauster and the other on this strange ceremony of the Grabbit’s. Its behavior has been erratic as of late, and—like everyone in the underworld—it must have some kind of agenda. You got all that?”
“All except the part where anyone who isn’t legally blind believes that I’m a little girl, much less a helpful one,” Damian replied.
Principal Bubb grinned, exposing yellow fangs that had never felt the bristles of a toothbrush.
“Considering that nearly every cosmetic surgeon who has ever lived is down here, I think we’ll have no problem drawing out your feminine side.”
An intoxicating cloud of Lilith’s perfume wafted by The mist of clove, vanilla, exotic spice, and musk tickled Bea “Elsa” Bubb’s snout.
“Okay, I get it,” Lilith said. “I’ll be seeing you tonight, then. Hugs.”
Lilith grinned a sleepy grin, as if she were a kitten that just woke up from a nice nap. Then, with a brusque tug on her dress, her soft and peaceful expression evaporated, leaving behind the usual pattern of severe angles and sharp features that made up Lilith’s “work” face.
“Principal Blob!” she barked. Her voice ricocheted down the hallway like a sniper’s bullet searching for its target. Bea “Elsa” Bubb recoiled as Damian laughed heartily on the other end of the line.
“Blob!” he chortled. “That’s priceless!”
The principal seethed. Her thumb thimble beeped, alerting her to another call. “Excuse me, Mr. Ruffino, but while I so enjoy the sound of Heck’s poster bully laughing at me, I have another call to take.”
“I’m sure if they’re calling you, then it’s a wrong numb—”
Bea “Elsa” Bubb hung up on Damian with a flick of her claw. She answered the other line.
“Hell—”
She glanced down at the caller ID on her pinky thimble and started: 1-666-666-DEVL.
“—oh!”
“Principal Bubb,” the voice—as smooth and dangerous as an electric eel—crooned on the other end. “This is—”
“I know who this is, Luci—” Though no actual rebuff was uttered through the receiver, Bea “Elsa” Bubb could sense one nonetheless. “—-fer,” she stumbled. “Lucifer. And might I say what a pleasure it is to talk with you…”
“You might,” the Big Guy Downstairs replied coolly “And you just did.”
Bea “Elsa” Bubb laughed with more gusto than the devil’s bon mot deserved.
“Principal Bubb,” the Big Guy Downstairs continued, “let’s cut to the chase.”
Bea “Elsa” Bubb nodded, though, of course, there was no way for the devil to know that. “Firstly,” he said calmly, “your job is very much on the line. This should come as no surprise to you. What may come as a surprise is that I have faith in your ability to turn this around.”
Bea “Elsa” Bubb blushed inside, outside, and everywhere in between.
“Why, thank you, sir,” she stammered.
“Your bungled handling of the Milton Fauster Incident has heaped a lot of attention upon Heck. But when the afterlife serves you lemons, you make something, something …”
“Lemony?” Principal Bubb suggested.
“Don’t interrupt me,” the Big Guy Downstairs snapped, his voice cracking like a whip. “The transfer of the Hopeless Diamonds to a circle of Heck is the first major event to occur down here since … since the last major event to occur down here. Only this time, all will go according to plan. Heck will be held up as a symbol of sinister security, a sweet beacon of hopelessness. And nothing is going to interfere with this.
Capiche?”
“Bless you.”
“Do you understand?!” the devil roared.
“Yes … of course,” the principal replied, flustered.
“Good,” the Big Guy Downstairs continued. “So you’ll need to step back and let Lilith handle the dual shipments to Sadia.” He paused, and Bea “Elsa” Bubb could hear his face crack into a leer. “It takes one treasure to handle another, I suppose.”
Bea “Elsa” Bubb’s face cracked as well, splintering into a jagged grimace.
“I need you, Bubb, to keep tabs on one of your vice principals,” Lucifer continued, “who I fear may be turning madder than a March hare, if you ca
tch my drift.”
“Drift caught,” Principal Bubb murmured. “Already on it like an Easter bonnet.”
There was a sharp pause.
“Really?” the Big Guy Downstairs said with admiration. “Excellent. You may turn this around yet, Principal.”
Bea “Elsa” Bubb nearly swooned.
“The Grabbit has always been eccentric,” Lucifer added. “But now it’s positively erratic. I guess that’s what we get for putting a cursed object that we never fully understood to begin with in a management position. But, still, that bunny just keeps going and going… Tremendous work ethic. Its recent predilection for rhyme and limericks, though. Quite disturbing. Just keep an eye on it during its little to-do.”
“You can count on me, Master of the Flies, Father of Lies and Deceit, Old Scratch—”
“Yes, yes,” Lucifer said wearily, “a devil by any other name still smells of heat. Now, don’t trip over yourself getting up off the ground. Got me?”
“I wish,” the principal whispered dreamily.
“What was that?”
Bea “Elsa” Bubb cleared her throat demurely. “I said, ‘I wish you’d stop worrying and trust that I will do thy bidding,’ ” she replied.
“Hmm,” the devil said dubiously. “It seemed so much shorter the first time. Oh well. I guess the devil’s due for a hearing test. You’ll lead an assembly in Rapacia to assure that everything goes down as smoothly as Courvoisier. I’ll make the arrangements. Goodbye, Bubb. Mark well my words.”
The Big Guy Downstairs hung up the phone.
Bea “Elsa” Bubb leaned against the wall as if she were about to faint.
Though her chat with the Big Guy Downstairs was meant to be a dressing-down of sorts, it only served to prop up the principal’s resolve. She was determined to get in his good-for-nothing graces, but she realized that she would need to take an alternate route. Bea “Elsa” Bubb wouldn’t earn his respect through fawning, prostrating, or kowtowing. She had to prove her mettle, and meddle she would.
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