Straight to Heaven

by Michelle Scott

He looked away. “I finally realized something. My child is dead whereas yours is living. And the woman I married is not the woman I love any more.”

  I held perfectly still. Even my heart seemed to stop beating. “William, what are you saying?”

  He put his hand under my chin and lifted my face to meet his. He was completely human. Every bit of otherworld shine was gone. Instead of answering my question, however, he kissed me. Then, while my eyes were still closed, he slipped into the otherworld, leaving me behind.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next few days were a hellish flashback to the last time my house had been demolished, and I’d had to scramble to find a place to stay. Ted took Grace in, and after I bullied him, reluctantly allowed Ariel to come as well. No matter what I told him, he seemed to think that Ariel had tried to burn down my house again.

  After endless phone calls to rental offices, I found an apartment that was considerably nicer than the townhouse I’d squatted in after the fire. This one was in a subdivided mansion in Grosse Pointe. With its plaster ceiling medallions, hardwood floors, and marble sills, the place displayed the kind of elegance that newly-constructed houses could never equal. Not only was it gorgeous, it also had four bedrooms. A necessity since both Tommy and Jasmine were moving in with me and the girls.

  That had been Jasmine’s idea. She told me that Tommy couldn’t live with his mother, and he had nowhere else to go. Jasmine had also insisted that she’d move in as well in order to take care of Tommy. I was only too happy to agree.

  Once I signed the lease, I called Ted to get the girls back. “I’m having furniture delivered today,” I told him. “So why don’t I pick them up tonight?”

  He agreed, but there was a reluctant note in his voice that I chose to ignore.

  When I hung up the phone, someone knocked on the door. I was surprised to see Harmony, Craig’s guardian angel, standing there. She handed me a bottle of wine that had been topped with a bow. “Housewarming gift.” She peeked around my shoulder. “Nice looking place.”

  I reluctantly let her inside. Harmony wandered around the empty living room and peeked out the window at the garden down below. “I heard about how you saved your daughter and Tommy.” She grinned. “Good for you!”

  “I wouldn’t have had to save him if his guardian angel had been doing his job! How come Heaven sends an angel to help a wacko like Craig, but can’t bother to guard the best man on the planet?”

  She looked wounded. “We act on orders, the same as you. If no one was assigned to take care of Tommy, then God had a reason for wanting him injured.”

  Her answer infuriated me. “‘God wanted it that way’? That’s Heaven’s excuse for everything, isn’t it?”

  She met my glare. “Is it any worse than, ‘The Devil made me do it’?”

  Touché.

  I glanced at the bottle of wine. To my surprise, it was a very good pinot noir. “Thanks for the gift. Is this because there are no hard feelings that I won?”

  “Oh, there are plenty of hard feelings,” she said, “but not about you.”

  “Who, then?”

  “William Benedict.” Her jaw tightened. “That night you finally tempted Craig, William told me that he was turning himself in. That liar!”

  I thought of the wanted posters hanging in Heaven. “What kind of reward do you get for bringing in a demon like William?”

  “The satisfaction of saving a damned soul is reward enough,” she said without irony. “Plus, I’d thought that if William was turning himself in, I might have a chance to save Patrick as well.”

  “You gave up on Craig in order to help Miss Spry’s secretary?”

  “Yeah, I know. And believe me, if it had been anyone else, I wouldn’t have done it.” She sat in the window seat. “But I’ve known Patrick my whole life, and he’s like family.” She smiled fondly. “He’s my dotty old uncle from Hell.”

  I’d grown up with a dotty uncle as well: my father’s best friend Glen who’d gone to law school with my dad and then worked for the same law firm. Unfortunately, Glen hadn’t come out of the closet until after he’d married. Once he’d gotten divorced, Glen celebrated every Thanksgiving and Christmas at our house since his wife and daughter refused to speak to him.

  Harmony sighed. “At least I now understand why Patrick left Heaven. William Benedict is very alluring. Patrick must have found him irresistible.” She sighed again. “I certainly did.”

  I patted her shoulder to console her, but she shrugged off my hand and went to the door. “I know that Patrick doesn’t want to come back to Heaven, but we’re not giving up on him. And we’re not giving up on you, either, Lilith Straight.” She winked at me and left.

  Before I brought the girls home, I had to settle a score with Mr. Clerk.

  I found him sitting at his desk with a cup of coffee. Everything in his dreary office had been restored to order. The charts were all neatly arranged in the racks. The scraps of paper had been cleaned up. The wastebasket was perfectly lined up next to the battered desk. Mr. Clerk was also looking much better. His white shirt was ironed, and his white tie was perfectly knotted.

  “Hey there,” I said.

  I startled him so much that he nearly spilled his coffee over the desk. He scrambled to cover up whatever he’d been looking at. Although, he had nothing to be embarrassed about. As far as I could tell, he’d been studying another chart and transparency, and not the sexy male models in a GQ spread.

  “What brings you here?” He moved to the front of his desk, continuing to block my view.

  “I have a present for you,” I said. Although I was getting very good at moving about the otherworld passages, I hadn’t mastered the trick of pulling things out of thin air like he could. Plus, my gift was very large. I had to get behind it and use both hands to shove it into the office. Once it was in there, it made the room look twice as small.

  “You don’t need to buy me anything, Lilith,” Mr. Clerk said, alarmed. “I have everything I need right here.”

  I looked around his dingy office. “Sure you do. Go ahead. Open it!”

  Gingerly, he untied the blue bow. Then, carefully, he tore away the white paper. “What is it?”

  “It’s a massage chair,” I said. I yanked at the flaps of the box and ripped the cardboard away from the staples. Within minutes, I had pulled the chair free of the packaging and plugged it in. I handed Mr. Clerk the remote. “Go ahead! Try it out.”

  He still looked uneasy. “Really, Lilith. This is too much.”

  “Sit, sit!” I pushed on his shoulders until he perched on the very edge of the seat. “I promise that once you try this, you’ll be in Heaven. Er… You know what I mean.”

  Once again, he made a pained face, but instead of standing up, his hands appreciatively rubbed the padded armrests, and his nostrils flared at the smell of leather. A moment later, he slid back into the chair, and then as if by accident, his thumb found the button on the remote that turned on the massage feature. He closed his eyes and finally smiled.

  “So you like it after all?”

  He opened one eye. “You’re taking this back. I can’t accept it.” Then he closed his eye again and sighed happily. “I’m not kidding,” he added, then upped the vibrations on the chair.

  Seeing that this could go on for a while, I sat behind his desk. I glanced at the chart in front of me. With a jolt, I saw the name LILITH STRAIGHT in the upper, right-hand corner.

  Keeping my eye on Mr. Clerk, I carefully slid his top desk drawer open, and took out the magnifying glass for a better look. My life was a mess. Lines and arrows and dashes and swirls covered the page. There were notes and asterisks and dotted circles and even a few notations in what looked like Cyrillic.

  The transparency, on the other hand, contained a single, continuous line punctuated by several tiny starbursts. One coincided with my birth. Another one lay right on top of my Date of Death when I had come face-to-grill with the Volvo and ended up in Hell.

  I dropped t
he magnifying glass and grabbed the upper corner of the transparency, trying to figure out whose life I was looking at.

  “Lilith Straight!” Mr. Clerk struggled to get out of the chair. “You have no business doing that!”

  Ignoring him, I read the name out loud. “Patrick Clerk?” I held him off with one hand while I continued to look at the transparency. “Why does your life intersect with mine?” Besides the birth and death dates, there was a third, very recent, intersection. It coincided with Tommy’s death.

  “You’d better explain yourself!” I stood up, my face hot. My hands closed tightly over the edges of the chart. “What’s going on?”

  Mr. Clerk shrunk under my glare.

  “TELL ME!” My demon was outraged, and my body was changing, straining against my own skin as it threatened to grow.

  He held up his hands in front of his face. “Please! Calm down, and I’ll explain.”

  Breathing deeply, I ordered my demon to back off. Slowly, I unclenched my hands. Some of the blood left my cheeks. “Go on,” I said.

  “I was there on the day you died.”

  There had to be more to it than that. Then I remembered. On the day I’d been hit by the car, I had caught a glimpse of a man in dressed in white. “Was that you? The one driving the Volvo?”

  He nodded miserably.

  “What about this?” I jabbed my finger at the more recent incident.

  He wrung his hands. “Helen ordered me to find a berserker and put it in your house. I tried to talk her out of it, believe me, but she wouldn’t hear of it.”

  I looked over my chart, seeing it in a new way. Mr. Clerk, one of my only friends in Hell, was also my enemy.

  “And here?” I pointed to my birth.

  His blue eyes met mine. “I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not your father. I went with Carrie to the hospital on the day she delivered you, but you and I are not related.”

  “Even so, I’ll bet that whatever you did that day ruined my life.”

  He didn’t deny it, but stared at the floor. “I always do what Helen tells me. I have no choice.”

  The Devil made me do it. Jasmine had been right. That wasn’t a reason; it was an excuse. A very cowardly excuse.

  Mr. Clerk was now watching me very closely. “Be careful where you let your thoughts take you,” he said. “Helen doesn’t like her staff to think for themselves.”

  At that name, something in me stiffened. “You know what? I don’t care what Helen Spry thinks,” I said. “I will find a way to beat her. One way or another, I’m getting myself out of that damned contract!”

  Something sparkled behind Mr. Clerk’s dull eyes. “Every woman in your line has said that at one time or another, but I’ve never believed them. Until now.” He paused as if struggling to find the right words. “You’re stronger and better than the rest of them. Even better than your mother. I’m honored to have known you, Lilith Straight.”

  I smiled and thanked him, then left his office, still thinking about how I could break free from my contract. It wasn’t until I returned home that I realized that what Mr. Clerk had said to me had sounded a lot like goodbye.

  I knew right away that something was wrong when I went to pick up the girls at Ted’s house and heard nothing but the distant drone of the TV. Usually, Grace was waiting for me in the kitchen. Ari would have been in my car before I’d even made it up the walk.

  “Where are the girls?” I asked.

  Ted swallowed. “For Grace’s sake, I don’t want to make this difficult, Lilith. No lawyers, no judges, okay? Can we agree on that?”

  “No. I will not agree to that. Where are the girls?”

  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I’m taking Grace to France.”

  “The hell you are!”

  “Listen! Grace wants this trip more than anything. Four weeks. That’s all I’m asking.”

  I caught a flutter of motion by the doorway and saw that Grace was hiding behind the corner, hanging on every word. Ted was right. Grace wanted this more than anything else in the world.

  I closed my eyes and drew in my breath. “One week. Not four.”

  “Three,” he insisted.

  “Ten days.”

  He pressed his lips tightly together and fumed silently. “Fine,” he finally agreed.

  Both of us glared at each other.

  From around the corner, Grace squealed happily.

  As Grace and Ariel gathered their things, Ted said, “Lilith, Grace will have the time of her life. I promise. ”

  At least I could keep an eye on her. And if anything bad happened, I would send a rogue demon to beat the shit out of my ex.

  Come to think of it, maybe I’d do it anyway. Just for fun.

  After the girls went to bed, I sat on the new couch in the dim living room, listening to a Nina Simone CD, petting Drinking Tea, and reading the headlines of the Free Press. According to a lead story, J.T. and Craig hadn’t given up on their plan to kidnap a reporter. Only this time, they’d gone after Detroit’s most beloved newspaper columnist. Big mistake. They’d been caught before they could even make it through the lobby of the building.

  At the glimmer of an otherworld doorway opening, Drinking Tea hissed and fled. My heart leapt, hoping it was William. I hadn’t seen nearly enough of him over the past few days. I got the feeling that Miss Spry knew what he’d said to me in the hospital corridor and was purposely keeping him very, very busy.

  Instead of William, however, my visitor was a large woman with dark skin, a head of wild dreadlocks, and enough turquoise and silver jewelry to start her own boutique.

  “Lilith Straight?”

  Too surprised to speak, I nodded.

  “Miss Spry has an assignment for you,” she said.

  “Who are you?”

  “Delilah. Miss Spry’s assistant.” She defiantly stuck out her chin.

  “Miss Spry’s assistant? But where’s Mr. Clerk?”

  She frowned. “I don’t know anything about a Mr. Clerk. All I know is that I’m supposed to give you an assignment. Now are you going to do your job, or am I going to have to report you?”

  “I’ll do it,” I said, stunned. “But can you at least answer one question?”

  “I do not know any answers to any questions,” she said. Then she handed me a note and disappeared.

  THE END

  Loved Straight to Heaven?

  Then turn the page for an exclusive extract from the first novel in the Lilith Straight series

  Straight to Hell

  Chapter One

  A year ago I, Lilith Straight, was the woman you always wanted to be.

  I was married to someone better looking than your husband, and his salary climbed into figures so high that you’d have to be married to six men before their incomes equaled his. We lived in that house you always wanted but never could have afforded, and drove cars that would have made you ashamed of yours. My husband and I went to those exclusive parties you read about in the newspapers – yes, those parties – and we rubbed elbows and other body parts with actors and politicians and professional athletes – yes, those athletes, the ones you also read about in newspapers. My daughter attended a small, very exclusive, private school where your child would not have been allowed even if you could have afforded the tuition.

  Within the span of twelve months, however, all of that changed. My marriage dissolved, my house burned down, and the only job I could find, substitute teaching, hardly paid for a week’s worth of bills. On top of that, I’d suddenly gained custody of my antisocial, eleven-year-old niece Ariel when her mother dropped her off at my doorstep and drove off without a backward glance. A week later, my bent-for-hell stepsister Jasmine moved in after her mother kicked her out of the house.

  So when I was hit by a car and died for the first time, I thought that my life couldn’t get any worse.

  Boy, was I wrong.

  The day I died was a Monday. Specifically, the Monday after a two-week Christmas school bre
ak, and all of us – even Drinking Tea, our cat – had slept through the alarm. Had I still been married, this never would have happened since Dr. Theodore Dempsey, my ex, woke me up every morning at five by groping me under the covers. However, my recent divorce gave me certain privileges, such as being able to sleep in without having someone squeeze my breasts like they were testing mangoes for ripeness.

  When I finally did wake up and realize what time it was, I leapt out of bed and shouted orders to my daughter and my niece. “Grace, get up! Ariel, move it!”

  My old house had more square-footage than the city library, but after Ariel accidentally set it on fire, I had to relocate. The only place I could afford was a seedy townhouse with walls so thin that my voice carried through them with no problem. At the same time, however, those thin walls allowed me to hear my daughter’s whine of, “Do I have to go to school?” followed by my niece’s muttered, “FU.”

  Luckily, I didn’t have to be at work that morning. As a substitute teacher, I picked my own hours, and I’d given myself the day off. If I got the girls out the door on time, I still had a chance at a peaceful day.

  I spared a moment to throw on my robe, then ran downstairs, so intent on getting into the kitchen that I almost didn’t notice the stranger sprawled on my couch. He was a broad-shouldered young man dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers. The large demon tattoo on his chest, and the line of metal rivets punctuating his forehead lent him a sinister air. As did the twin gauges in his earlobes whose holes were so large I could have put my thumb through them.

  Jasmine! My stepsister knew my rules, but paid them no mind. Each time I lectured her about not letting strange men sleep over, she swore she wouldn’t do it again. Yet, in the past three weeks, seven guys had paraded in and out of her bedroom. I would have charged into Jasmine’s room right that minute and ordered her to pack her things, but the girls and I were already behind schedule.

  The stranger yawned and scratched, keeping his eyes closed. He was the most hairless creature I’d ever seen. Not only was he bald, but his legs were so smooth that I was jealous. His chest was as pink and clean as a newborn’s. He had no eyebrows. Nor, for that matter, armpit hair, a fact I realized when he raised his arms over his head to stretch. I eyed his boxers, wondering just how far the hairless area extended.