1 Straight to Hell Read online

  We both sighed.

  “So are we still friends,” I asked.

  He looked offended. “We were never friends. There are no friends in Hell.” Then he softened. “But I would miss having someone to watch Real Housewives with.”

  That was good enough for me. I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror. “Wish me luck. I’m going to go see Miss Spry.”

  “I’m afraid it will take more than luck,” he said. “She’s not happy about last night. Not happy at all.”

  This didn’t come as a surprise, but I’d certainly hoped for better news.

  I paced back and forth in the hall outside of Miss Spry’s office for a few minutes, gathering my courage. Then, I knocked.

  “Come in.”

  I entered and meekly stood in front of her desk where she was sitting and writing in a ledger with a fountain pen. “I wanted to apologize for last night.”

  She looked up sharply. “Would that be for keeping company with William or ruining your assignment?”

  I winced. So Mr. Clerk had already filled her in. “Both. But on the bright side, I told William to get lost, and my assignment jumped out of the window.” The thought of it pained me, but I was sure it must have thrilled her. “That was what you wanted him to do, right?”

  She slammed her pen down, leaving a dark ink blot on the pages of the ledger. “Yes, he killed himself. But I wanted him to do it in a state of regret, humiliation, and anger which would have landed him here with me. Your little stunt, however, made him repent. Moments before he jumped off that balcony, he gave himself to the other side. So guess where he is right now?” She jabbed the pen into its holder. “You cost me a very good bookkeeper, Lilith.”

  “I’m sorry. I really am.”

  Her thick eyebrows knitted together. “No, you’re not. Not really.” She knew me so well. “In fact, I’m beginning to wonder if you really do work for Him.”

  “I swear I’m not doing that,” I said. “Cross my heart and hope to, er…”

  “I get the point,” she said drily.

  “Give me another assignment,” I said. “I swear I’ll do whatever you say.”

  “Really?” She leaned back in her chair and tugged on her pearls. “All right, then. Get rid of your family.”

  I gaped at her, too surprised to speak.

  “Turn your daughter over to your ex-husband, hand your niece back to her mother, and send your step-sister and that metal-faced boy packing. All their love is poisoning you. It’s making you weak, and it’s why you can’t properly do your job.”

  Although Miss Spry hadn’t invited me to sit, I sank down in a chair. My stomach clenched and my mouth was dry. “Give up my family? My daughter? I can’t do that!”

  “You just said that you’d do anything I told you to.” Her eyes were cruel.

  “Yes, I know, but…”

  “And you do want to do your job, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Even I could hear how uncertain I sounded.

  “I want you to be my succubus, Lilith Straight.” She softened her expression. “Technically, you’ve already broken your contract a number of times, so I have the right to move on to the next in line, but I want you. Not only is your replacement not ready to take over the position, I have a feeling that you’ll make a fine temptress. But that won’t happen unless you stop letting your human side trump your demon one.”

  “How about anything other than that,” I said. “I’ll tempt a senator, or try to start a war.”

  “Those things generally happen without our help.”

  “Please! I can’t give up my daughter.”

  Miss Spry picked up a little, silver bell from her desk and rang it. Immediately, Mr. Clerk stuck his head into the office. “Send in my next appointment.”

  “Of course.” He disappeared.

  “Miss Spry, I’m not joking about this. I’ll do anything you want other than leave my daughter.”

  “I know you’re not joking, Lilith. Which is why I am no longer going to waste my breath trying to convince you.” The door behind me opened. “Carrie,” she said stiffly. “I have one last assignment before you’re released.”

  Turning around, I saw my mother standing in the office.

  She looked like she had the last time I’d seen her alive. Unruly, naturally gray hair that hung to her waist, no makeup, and a henna tattoo of a butterfly on her chest. She wore a red, hand-crocheted sweater in which the sleeves were too short and the waist too long, and a ruffled skirt that fell to her ankles. Like always, she smelled of sandalwood.

  I rubbed my face, like a child who can’t believe her eyes. “Mom?”

  “In the flesh, dear. Or nearly so.”

  I nearly tripped over the chair in my haste to reach her. Not once in my life had I been as happy to see my mother as I was then. I hugged her, bending over to press my cheek against hers. She was reassuringly solid.

  “Don’t cry,” she said, patting my shoulder. “Whatever you do, you can’t cry.”

  I nodded, sucking in my cheeks to keep my tears at bay.

  “Carrie, you know what I expect of you,” Miss Spry said. Her eyes were seconds away from going hot.

  My mother straightened her spine, reaching her full five feet. “I no longer work for you, Helen…” Miss Spry glowered “…but I’ll talk to Lilith just the same since I actually agree with you on this.” My mother took my hand. “Let’s you and me go for a walk.”

  Mr. Clerk wheeled in a tea tray. “I thought we could all use a cup.”

  My mother took his hands in hers and leaned up to kiss his cheeks. “Patrick, you always were such a dear. I hope you’re treating my daughter well.”

  He shot an anxious look at Miss Spry. “I try.”

  “See that you do,” my mother said. She dropped his hands and together we walked out of the room.

  Although we should have entered the hallway outside Miss Spry’s office, we were instead on an unpaved path that ran between a row of bare-limbed trees. Dead leaves scuttled in front of us, and overhead, clouds clawed at the moon. I looked around, confused. “Where are we?”

  “In the same place we were a moment ago, but this time you’re looking at it from my perspective.” She took my arm. “The otherworld is very malleable. We can make it look any way we like. I believe your influence is over there.” She pointed, and in the distance, I saw the strange waiting room I’d ended up in the first time I’d come to Hell. And sure enough, Tommy’s sister remained on the couch, wrapped in her silent grief.

  I couldn’t bear the sight of her, so I guided my mother in the opposite direction. “I missed you,” I said.

  “I saw you crying at the funeral.”

  She was a head shorter than me, and with our linked arms, walking was difficult. Even so, I kept hold of her, afraid she’d leave if I didn’t.

  “I also saw that awful little man from that dreadful band,” she said, considering. “He even had the nerve to say he missed me. He missed me! As if he never even left me stranded in customs at the Belize airport with that box of exotic birds and that makeup case full of dirty pictures.”

  I let the comment pass by. Over the years, I’ve learned that it is simply not in my best interest to ask questions.

  “And I watched you meet William, too.” She gave me a devilish smile. “Handsome man, isn’t he? Certainly better looking than your Dr. Ted.”

  My mother had never liked Ted. Now, of course, I understood why. “I don’t know what to think about William,” I confessed. “One minute, I want to let him sweep me off my feet, and the next I want to beat his brains in.”

  She laughed. “He likes to keep women off balance.”

  “Even you?”

  She shook her head. “We never had that kind of chemistry. William and I were good friends, but that’s all. No, I much preferred Simon.”

  My stepdad over William Darcy? I couldn’t imagine it. I loved my dad and everything, but even thirty years younger, I couldn’t imagine him competing with a
n incubus.

  As if reading my mind, my mother said, “Yes, Lilith, Simon was very handsome. And kind and generous.”

  “But you left him anyway.” My mother and I had been getting on so well, but that comment dredged up a memory from those awful months after she’d taken off. Although I was too young to remember much, I did recall standing outside my dad’s bedroom door, sucking my thumb, clutching a teddy bear, and listening to him cry. “You broke his heart.”

  “It hurt me, too. Much more than you can imagine. But you’ve met Helen, and you know what she thinks about love.” My mother looked up at me. “It’s a weakness she’ll use against you, Lil. Every time.”

  The tortured moon gave enough light for me to see how old and frail my mother was. And, most startlingly, how sad. For no matter how brief and infrequent my mother’s visits had been, I had never seen her unhappy. Not until now.

  “I want to give you some advice,” my mother said. “I know this is going to be very hard for you because it nearly killed me.”

  I tensed. “You want me to give up Grace don’t you? That’s what all of this is about.”

  “Not want. I could never want that for my granddaughter.” My mother tightened her grip on my arm and stopped walking. “But you must. There’s no other way. Helen’s right. You can’t be a succubus and a mother, too.”

  I started to argue, but she hushed me. “Believe me, Lilly, I tried. I really did. But it didn’t work. It couldn’t work. You probably don’t remember when you and I used to live together, but there were times, as young as you were, that I had to leave you alone to fend for yourself. One time, you had turned on the stove. I don’t know how you managed it since you weren’t even walking at the time, but you did. And another time, I left you sleeping in your crib, but came home to find that you’d climbed out and hit your head. You were lying on the floor, screaming.”

  Nothing could have shocked me more. I’d always believed Carrie to be the most carefree, reckless woman on the planet, and now I was finding out that she’d done the only responsible thing she could: she had turned me over to Simon and run away. Just to keep me safe.

  “So you did want me after all?”

  “Want you? Dear gods, girl, I would have moved heaven and earth to keep you to myself.” She hugged me much tighter than I would have thought possible for such a small woman.

  “Now, I can’t make you do anything,” my mother said. “But I can at least try to talk sense into you. Don’t be selfish, Lilith. Do what’s in Grace’s best interest. If you love that little girl, then find a safe place for her and go about your business.”

  So it was either hand Grace over to Ted or risk leaving her over and over again so I could continue working as a seducing demon. The choice should have been obvious, but even so, I could never, ever, give up my daughter. “I can’t!” The words came out punctuated with a sob. “You may be right, but I can’t.”

  My mother patted my arm. I thought she’d be angry, but she looked proud.

  “It’s time that I leave,” Carrie said. “Adventures await!”

  It was exactly what she used to say every time we met when I was a kid. Back then, of course, I didn’t understand it. Now I did. Only too well. “No!”

  Carrie gently removed my arm. “I’m sorry, but it’s time for me to move on.”

  “Where? To Hell?” The idea of it made me tremble.

  My mother squeezed my hand. “I’m not sure, actually. But I imagine that it’s someplace where even Miss Spry can’t reach me.”

  I could sense the inevitability of her good-bye, so I bent over and hugged her tightly.

  “Tell Simon I love him. I don’t think I ever thanked him for what he did for us.” She pinched my cheek. “And enjoy William, but do be careful around him. That boy’s a pill.”

  “Will I see you again?”

  “Maybe. Once you die, perhaps. Who’s to know for sure.”

  She slipped from my arms like smoke, leaving me hugging nothing but air. “Bye, Mom,” I whispered.

  When I looked up, I saw that I was standing across the street from my townhouse. To my shame, my Christmas wreath still hung on the door nearly two months after the holiday had passed. And to think I used to complain to the homeowner’s association about people like me.

  Now that my mother was gone, I noticed the biting cold. Shivering, I ran across the street, up the steps and into the living room.

  Chapter Eleven

  Like I promised my mother, I thought about giving Ted custody of Grace. For five whole minutes.

  I pictured my daughter living with her dad where she’d have her own room in a nice house. Then I thought of her attending the private school she loathed. And being shuttled from one afterschool activity to another by her overbearing Grandma Adelaide who would spend each car ride lecturing my daughter on why a B+ in math instead of an A was substandard. And why playing second-string lacrosse instead of first meant Grace wasn’t trying hard enough. Adelaide would top off her lecture by telling Grace that she was fat. Later, Ted would decided that a raw diet was the only way to improve Grace’s mental and physical defects, so my poor baby would be forced to eat carrot/wheat germ/raw egg smoothies for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

  Over my dead body.

  I didn’t care what Miss Spry or even my mother said. I could be a mother and a succubus. I just needed to get organized and set some rules for myself.

  So, I did what I do best in times of stress. I made a list.

  Things I Will Not Let My Demon Do

  My demon cannot…

  1. Seduce free food from the grocery store clerks.

  2. Tell my landlord his toupee is sexy so that I don’t have to pay rent.

  3. Force Jasmine to get a job.

  4. Tempt Ted into shaving his head bald.

  5. Make Ari tell me where she gets her cigarettes.

  6. Charm my way to the front of the line at the secretary of state’s office.

  7. Use its allure to get me a free mani/pedi.

  I chewed on my pencil as I regarded my list, then erased numbers four and six. There was no point in going overboard, after all. Then I made another list.

  Things I Will Let My Demon Do

  My demon can…

  1. Follow Miss Spry’s orders no matter what.

  2. Drive William crazy with lust so that I can call him my plaything.

  3. Protect my family. And Tommy.

  4. Terrorize my neighbors when they turn up their music too loud on a Wednesday night.

  These were good rules. Now all I had to do was follow them. I could do this, no problem.

  I continued to chew the pencil.

  No problem.

  Two weeks later, I received a call from Grace and Ari’s school, but instead of telling me that Ariel had been caught tossing spit wads into the cafeteria’s mac and cheese or tying up the first graders with their own jump ropes, the principal offered me a long-term subbing position.

  “One of our first grade teachers is taking an early maternity leave,” Alan said. “Most likely, she’ll be out until the end of the school year. Are you interested?”

  Was I interested? Because I was determined to stick to my list, I hadn’t allowed my demon to pay my bills. The insurance company still hadn’t paid off on my policy, and despite what Tommy was contributing, I was broke and had been living off credit cards. I’d long ago started screening my phone calls because I hated getting harassed by creditors. In fact, I was so desperate that, the day before, I’d stolen two dozen tampons from a public restroom with a broken dispenser. Yes, I was interested.

  The next morning, as I scrambled to find a pair of unwrinkled pants, Grace came into my room. “There’s nothing to eat for breakfast.” I vaguely remembered her saying the same thing the previous day. And, at dinner time, I seemed to recall that she’d made herself a ketchup sandwich

  “There must be something,” I said. As I fastened my pants, the button popped off and rolled under the bed. Cursing, I chase
d after it. “Be creative. Eat some salsa and chips. Or a salad.”

  “The lettuce is slimy,” she whined. “And we’re out of salsa.”

  Unable to find the button, I rooted in my dresser drawer for a safety pin. “Well, there has to be something.”

  “Well, there isn’t.” This was from Ariel who had joined the conversation. She narrowed her eyes. “The milk is sour and there’s no cereal.”

  Grace folded her arms over her chest. “Dad always has food at his house.”

  After the divorce, I promised myself that no matter how much of a prick Ted was, I’d never speak ill of him in front of our daughter. But right then, it was all I could do to walk out of the room and keep my mouth shut.

  Thinking both girls were exaggerating, I checked the fridge and cupboard, and – I’m quite ashamed to admit – found nothing. Not nothing as in “there’s nothing I feel like eating.” No, this was nothing as in, “someone call social services because these kids have no food”. It was a splash of cold water in the face, a wake-up call that alerted me to other realities: the piles of mail and old newspapers that covered the kitchen table, the overflowing trash can, the sink full of dirty dishes, the gut-clenching stench of Drinking Tea’s litter box.

  The girls were like street urchins from a modern-day Dickens’ story. Grace had dressed herself in a rumpled t-shirt so short that it barely covered her belly and flip-flops, despite the fact it had snowed the night before. Ari, her nose still bandaged and her eyes still dark with bruises, looked like a survivor from a natural disaster.

  With a shock I realized that I’d been so focused on the otherworld, that I’d neglected the real one, and problems had slipped in like a cockroach infestation. Now, I looked around the kitchen with a growing sense of horror. I realized that, as a teacher, I’d be obligated by law to report a parent whose situation resembled mine.

  Both girls were looking at me expectantly. “Well,” Ariel said.

  “Okay, we’ll stop by the ATM and the bagel shop on the way to school,” I said. This pleased both girls who tumbled into the car, but when I drove up to the automatic teller and inserted my bank card, the machine spat it back out.