Hell and Hexes
Debra Dunbar
Copyright © 2019 by Debra Dunbar
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Also by Debra Dunbar
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter 1
Eshu
“Where’s the couch-witch?” I looked around the living room, even kneeling to check under the furniture. Just to be thorough, you know.
Lucien scowled. “As I was saying, blah-blah. Blah blah blah. Blah.”
I was pretty sure he didn’t actually say that, but I wasn’t paying attention. It was my dubious honor to spend my immortal life as a messenger because not only did the denizens of hell and the inhabitants of heaven refuse to communicate with each other, they often refused to communicate among themselves. Million-year-old fights and the inclination to hold an incredible grudge made my job possible.
“Got it. Tell Boor to give Malias an extra hour in the boiling oil and let heaven know that you think we got this Elijah guy in error. Now, where’s the couch-witch?” I went over and looked in the closet, but all I saw were coats and boots. No witch.
“Sylvie went back to her home.”
Lucien’s scowl grew to the point where I was pretty sure his face was going to freeze like that. I knew his foul mood this time didn’t have to do with business or me, but the fact that his main-squeeze witch was not happy about her sister returning home. Cassie made no secret of the fact that she didn’t think her sister was completely healed from some accident, and that she needed the elder sister’s continued suffocating attentiveness. Sylvie felt differently, but she also felt beholden to her sister and flattered by the love and care bestowed upon her throughout her life.
See? I occasionally paid attention.
“Where is the couch-witch’s home?” I tried to make that a casual question, but clearly failed from the deepening scowl on Lucien’s face.
“You need to leave her alone. She’s not interested in you.”
Actually, I got the impression my couch-witch was interested in me. I’d been trying to woo her from the first day I’d showed up to collect and deliver messages and found the gorgeous witch sleeping on the couch in a pair of pajamas with Pikachu on them, her dark hair a tangled mess, drool dampening the pillow as she snored.
But to woo her, I’d need to pull out the big guns. I might not have Lucien’s lofty pedigree or good looks, but I had one thing going for me. It was my ace in the hole.
No, not my giant schlong, you pervs. My sense of humor. Although I’ve been told my schlong is a considerable asset. In this case, I went with humor, because I got the idea that pulling my trouser snake out would have been something that resulted in my being fried to a crisp by both a witch and a demon, then banished from the house.
Plus, I knew that was not the best way to woo my couch-witch. Humor first, then once I knew she was totally smitten, I’d whip out the grade-A salami in my pants.
I’d made her laugh. And with that first laugh, I’d been lost. What I’d hoped would be a fun diversion took a right turn into Seriousville that would normally have sent me running. I couldn’t run, though. When she’d laughed at my joke, her bright blue eyes meeting mine, my heart leapt right out of my chest and into her hands.
Two weeks I’d seen her on that couch. Two weeks I’d come up with any excuse necessary to show up two or three times a day to deliver or pick up messages. I’d never taken my job so seriously in my life.
Actually, I wasn’t taking my job seriously. I still gave messages to the wrong people and frequently bungled what I was supposed to be relaying. There was a war in the third circle because of me. Oh, well. It was hell. Not like anyone was actually going to die-die. Not unless the big guy himself got involved, that is.
But now she was gone, and I was completely uninterested in messages and intensely interested in finding out where she lived. I had a new limerick to tell her about a man from Nantucket. I was pretty sure she’d find it so funny that I’d be able to show her my massive pole and then we’d go straight to her bedroom.
At least, that was the fantasy running through my mind right now.
“Eshu! Did you hear a word I said?” Lucien snapped.
“Yep. Tell Bartholomew that Matt needs to get out of the hot tub and let heaven know we’ve got Elijah and we’re not giving him back without a fight.”
The demon dropped his head in his hands with so much force I heard it smack. “That’s not what I said.”
He then repeated what he said. I think it had something to do with a demon named Bob. Hell if I knew. I wasn’t paying attention. I was too busy wondering where my couch-witch lived and thinking of how beautiful she was when she laughed.
Chapter 2
Sylvie
“And how does that make you feel, Alberta?”
The troll shifted; her gaze fixed on something outside the window. “Well…”
“Make sure you look at Shelby when you say it,” I instructed her.
The troll looked over at the werewolf next to her and her expression softened. “It makes me afraid that you’re gonna leave me. Like maybe you think you made a mistake giving up your pack to come stay with me and that you wanna go back.”
There. I sat back in my chair as I saw Shelby quickly wipe away a tear. In reality, I was holding back my own tears. This was such a win. Alberta had trust and abandonment issues. I mean, most of us had abandonment issues, me included, but Alberta had a hard time articulating them to the werewolf she loved. And Shelby, like most werewolves, kept every emotion except for anger close to the vest. She’d been sneaking out at night after Alberta was asleep, running on four legs as close to the mountain as she dared and listening to her former pack howl and yip as they hunted or partied. It had taken a lot for her to admit it to Alberta. And it had taken a lot for Alberta to admit that the little passive-aggressive things she’d been doing the last two weeks came from a place of fear and self-doubt.
“I made a choice, Alberta. Twice I made a choice and both times I chose you. It’s just…” The werewolf ran a hand through her short hair. “It hurts every time I go up there to listen. It hurts and I know I shouldn’t do it, but I can’t help myself. It’s torture to hear them and remember that I’ll never have that again. It’s like slicing open a raw wound and digging the knife in deeper.”
“Then why?” Alberta’s eyes searched hers. “Why can’t you just stay in bed with me? Aren’t I enough?”
Shelby hesitated, biting her lip.
“A love that doesn’t allow room for other things isn’t healthy, Alberta,” I gently told the troll. “Hobbies, friends, a career—activities that don’t include the love of your life actually enhance your relationship. They give it strength. They breathe fresh air into a union that might otherwise suffocate.”
They both looked at each other for a long mom
ent and I waited, feeling that something big was about to happen.
“I don’t feel like I can mourn the loss of my pack with you,” Shelby finally blurted out. “You’ll internalize it and think it’s your fault I can’t hunt with them or see them anymore. You’ll blame yourself, and I don’t want you to do that ‘cause it’s not true. I made the choice. Me. That’s how important you are to me, Alberta. I gave up everything for you ‘cause I love you and I knew that the life I was going to have with you would be a thousand times better than my life with the pack. But there are times when I’m sad, times when I need to mourn what I left behind.”
Alberta’s lips quivered. “I’m so glad you chose me. I love you and I’m so glad.”
Shelby reached out and took the troll’s hands. “I love you too. And until they accept you as my fated mate, I’m never going back. Do you hear me, Alberta? I’m not going to leave you for them. Not now. Not ever. I love you.”
“Next time, wake me up and take me with you,” Alberta said softly. “Or if you need to be alone, then wake me up when you return home so I can mourn with you.”
Shelby was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. I will. And I promise I’ll talk to you when I’m feeling homesick and not bottle it up. Just know it’s not your fault. I’m not complaining, and I’m not blaming you. I just miss it all sometimes.”
They hugged and I watched on in silence, thrilled at the breakthrough.
“You’ve both made great progress today,” I told the pair as I looked up at the clock and pulled out my appointment book. “Same time next week?”
“I think…” Alberta reached out and took Shelby’s hand. “I think maybe we could wait and schedule something for the following week?”
Shelby nodded enthusiastically, and I marked the appointment down in my book, murmuring the words that would render my notes indecipherable to anyone except me only to have nothing happen.
Crap. For two weeks, this sort of thing had been occurring—or rather not occurring. It hadn’t been a big deal when I was recuperating on Cassie’s couch, but now that I was resuming my life, my lack of magic caught me by surprise and sent a bolt of panic through me.
I took a calming breath and tried to think rationally. Maybe my magic would return as I healed, but in the meantime, I’d need to learn some sort of code or shorthand or get another safe to lock my appointment books and files up. What a royal pain in the butt.
I pushed down the frustration and fear and presented a composed demeanor as I finished my notes and wrapped up the appointment with my clients. Making sure both Alberta and Shelby still had the charms I’d created months ago for my clients—charms that allowed them to come and go from my office without notice—I saw them to my door. Privacy was so important in a town full of supernatural creatures. No one wanted the gossip mill talking about how they were seen going to the sex therapist.
In reality, discussions involving sex were a minor part of my practice, but it was the most salacious part of my job and thus what everyone thought I spent every therapy session on. I kinda was to blame for some of that. It was so much fun to see how flustered people got when I calmly and clinically discussed kinky practices. Despite that, I was glad my practice wasn’t sex therapy all day every day. That would get boring fast.
Most of my clients were like Alberta and Shelby—people just trying to work through relationship issues and needing a little guidance. Other clients were more on the life-coach side of my practice where I assisted with things like a vampire’s mid-life crisis, a gnome who wanted to confront his fear of flying, a sylph who was contemplating a career change, or a pixie who wanted to learn better confrontation techniques. In Accident, I was the go-to for people who had problems in their lives.
Which was really funny since my own life was a complete and utter disaster. Two weeks ago, I’d died. And although I’d come back to life, things hadn’t been truly right since that night when I got electrocuted trying to microwave a bottle of hot fudge.
I’d died, and my twin sister Ophelia had made some sort of deal with a reaper where I’d been brought back to life. She was now dating that reaper. In fact, he was living in her house in a crazy whirlwind romance that seemed to be how my sisters rolled lately. I was okay with it since Nash seemed like a pretty cool guy, and he clearly loved Ophelia. And I did owe the guy big time for stuffing me back in my body when I should have been heading toward the light.
Shelby and Alberta were my last clients of the day, so I locked up the office, scrawling a hex on the front door just in case some goblin got ideas. I went to charge it, only to feel…nothing.
Crap. Checking the locks, I hoped that any nosy goblins would see the hex symbol and decide not to try to call my bluff. Then once again, I shoved the frustration and fear deep down inside and headed down the stairs to slowly make the four--block walk to my house.
By the time I reached my door, I was exhausted and wishing I’d driven to work. Maybe Cassie was right. Maybe I wasn’t ready to leave her couch and come back home. But my clients needed me. I’d already had to reschedule two weeks of appointments and couldn’t continue to do that. And, I was going crazy on Cassie’s couch. She was fussing over me like…well, like I’d been at death’s door. I was bored and tired of watching movies on my laptop and reading books. Plus, I knew I was putting a serious cramp in my sister’s love life, and, given my reputation as a sex therapist, I didn’t want them to be stuck doing quiet missionary position up in their bedroom as they tried not to disturb me.
But leaning against my front door and trying to summon the energy to open it and walk inside, I kind of missed Cassie’s fussing and her couch.
And I missed Eshu. He was a demon that apparently worked with Lucien down in hell or something. I wasn’t really sure what his position was, except that he was in and out of Cassie’s house meeting with Lucien several times a day. He annoyed the heck out of Lucien, which I thought was funny. He also told the most horrible jokes, which I also thought was funny. The guy made my convalescence more than bearable, and I missed his silliness. I missed how he made faces at Lucien behind his back, how he deliberately annoyed a demon who was the son of Satan and evidently a big wig in hell. Eshu was a rebel, a joker, a contrarian. He took nothing seriously, made fun of everything, and did it all with a conspiratorial wink my way that made me feel like we were about to run away together and pull off a caper.
I missed Eshu. But I wasn’t going to be that needy witch moping around my sister’s house, trying to catch a glimpse of the demon. I was sure he was just as funny and charming with everyone he met. There was no need to read anything into his flirting and joking and embarrass myself by asking after him. Besides, I wasn’t in any sort of condition to be dating right now. I’d died. I was still healing. My magic was on the fritz, although I hadn’t told anyone about that little fact. I could barely walk from my office to my home.
Pulling myself straight, I managed to get my key in the lock, open the door, and stagger inside. There on my foyer table was a jug filled with green liquid and an index card with the words “drink me” looped around the top.
Glenda. I smiled, even though I knew the contents of this jug would be completely vile. With a shaking hand, I popped off the top and gulped down a few swallows, managing not to promptly throw it back up on my floor.
It tasted like latex paint and dog crap with some cotton fuzz for texture. But the moment it hit my stomach, I felt a surge of energy. Glenda’s healing elixirs always worked their magic, even if they tasted horrible. The high of the potion had settled out by the time I’d walked to the kitchen and stuck the jug in a cabinet, leaving me feeling not like a superhero but at least somewhat normal.
Normal enough to go over to Pistol Pete’s and hang out? It was Thursday night, and I hated to spend another evening in my pajamas on the couch, but I really didn’t want to push it too far and end up a couple of miles from my house, ready to pass out. I glanced in my near-empty fridge and realized I’d need to go out tonight
anyway to grocery shop. Hanging out at a bar my first day back would probably be pushing things a bit. Maybe tomorrow, when a band would be there. Yeah. If I felt good enough tomorrow after work, then maybe I’d get a burger at Pete’s and hear the first set or two of the band.
I didn’t bother taking a shower or freshening up my makeup, but I did change out of my pants suit and put my long hair up into a ponytail. Just as I was filling out my grocery list, there was a knock on my door. It opened to reveal two of my sisters. Cassie was carrying three plastic grocery bags, and Glenda was right behind her with an additional two.
Yes, all my sisters have a key to my house. My cousin Aaron as well. It’s not like Cassie couldn’t open my door with a wave of her hand and a quick incantation, and it made sense that the rest of my family could drop things off or pick things up without having to track me down for a key. My office I locked up like the treasure room in a castle, but my house didn’t hold anything valuable or anything so personal that I didn’t want my family to see. Plus, they were all terrified to snoop, convinced they’d find drawers full of sex toys and a blow-up doll in my bedroom.
They weren’t wrong. About the sex toys, that is, not the blow--up doll. Although my “wild” sex toys only consisted of two vibrators, an anal plug, some lube, and a pair of nipple clamps that I’d quickly decided weren’t for me.
“Haloooo!” Cassie cheerfully called. “How did your first day back go?”
I glanced over at Glenda, who put her finger to her lips and winked.
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