Hell Inc. (34 page)

I
took a deep breath and felt my face split into a grin; I hadn't
messed up a single word. Diamokina was looking at me, but she was
far away, lost in whatever magics she was using. She didn't look
like she was doing much of anything though, sprawled out across the
bed as she was.

I
waited, twisting my hands together and rocking back and forth on my
heels nervously. Even with her reassurances that as my genie, the
words could be vague enough that she could fill in the missing
pieces, I was still worried.

I
watched the seconds tick by on the nightstand clock and tried not to
freak out. I wanted to ask her if everything was going okay, but I
was terrified of what might happen if I interrupted her process.

I
didn't have to wait long.

The
first thing that I noticed was a weakening in my knees; they were
wobbly and unstable. It felt like I was trying to balance my weight
on wooden pegs rather than legs. I stumbled against the dresser, my
arm flying out to catch me when I lost feeling in them, too. I
vaguely heard the sound of books and cans crashing to the floor, but
my eyesight was already changing. I was seeing shapes that weren't
there and starting to lose sight of what was. Diamokina and the bed
faded from my view to be replaced by a strawberry blonde in a hooded
gray sweatshirt and jeans.

Her
eyes were bright, a cool green, confident and uninhibited. Despite
her age, there was an immense amount of amount of power behind them.
From the looks of her, she couldn't have been more than sixteen. I
focused on her eyes, used them as an anchor to bring myself into
consciousness. It didn't hurt nearly as terribly as I'd thought it
would. In fact, it felt rather good.

I
slumped onto the floor with a moan, my cheek pressed uncomfortably
into an itchy Persian rug. My body shook and spasmed while my soul,
spirit, or whatever it was that made me, me, fell into place. Dirty
white tennis shoes approached slowly, and the girl knelt down next to
me. She poked me in the forehead with a cold finger.

“You
in there?” she asked, a yawn catching in her throat. I didn't
answer. I couldn't. My entire body was shaking, and sweat was
pouring down my forehead. The air here felt thin and cold, nothing
at all like Hell. “Bother,” she groaned, puffing out her
cheeks. “I hate when I forget the soul.” She reached
behind her and pulled out a very shiny and very dangerous looking
scythe with an obsidian handle complete with carved skull. Oh shit.

I
tried to scream or at the very least move so that she could see that
I was in there, but my body still refused to respond. She stood
slowly, raising her arms in a stretch as she yawned again. She held
the scythe to her right and lifted it above her head, muscles
bunching as she prepared to drop it directly on my exposed neck.

The
curved metal came swooping down at me, and my adrenaline rush finally
kicked in. I rolled over, attempting to avoid the blade. “Stop!”
I screamed, hoping she had enough strength in those skinny arms to
halt the weapon's path. Recognition glinted in her eyes seconds
before the scythe hit my neck.

It
was too late.

Again,
it wasn't very painful to die. It truly wasn't. I barely felt a
thing. I stood next to my severed body and tried not to cry as I was
suddenly struck by the image of my mother. I couldn't help but blame
her for all of this though. If I had known I wasn't alone in my
visions, I might not have been desperate enough to sell my soul. And
become a demon's bride.

My
own head stared up at me, eyes glassy and empty, and I felt my
stomach protest. I turned away and tried to throw up, but nothing
would come out.

“Don't
worry. It's not just you. Nobody gets to throw up after they die.
It's one of the downsides.” I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and
stared at my murderer/necromancer.

“Are
you fucking insane?” I snapped at her. I wanted to wrap my
hands around her throat and throttle her. She was lucky I was
transparent. I turned away from her and surveyed the room. It was a
living room, nothing out of the ordinary about it. There was a white
sofa and loveseat, round glass coffee table, and several bookshelves
stuffed to the brim. It was fairly sparse; there wasn't even a T.V.
I stumbled over to one of the couches and tried to sit but ended up
passing right through it and landing on my butt on the floor.

Where
the hell was my stupid fucking genie when I needed her? I reached my
hand into my pocket and pulled out the little pink bottle. It
followed me wherever I went, dead or alive. Lucky me. I crawled
over to my body and dipped the bottle into the puddle of my own
blood. It was morbid, but I was just glad that the bottle didn't
pass through it.

The
necromancer was watching me crawl around, a perplexed expression on
her face and the instrument of my second death clutched in her hand.
I glared at her while I waited for my genie.

“I'm
really sorry about ... ” She gestured at my body with her
scythe. “You know.” She didn't sound sorry; she sounded
bored. I turned my head away from her and crossed my arms.
Any
minute now ...
“I
have this really bad habit of reanimating the body without the soul,
and I
really
hate
zombies.” Maybe if I concentrated enough I really could get my
hands around her neck ... “I would resurrect you again if
I could, but I've only got enough power to restore a soul once.
Besides, I used most of it changing your body back from French fry
status.”

“I
don't need a fucking reminder,” I growled, tapping my foot
impatiently and squeezing the bottle in my hand. What was the point
of the word competent in the wish? The girl wasn't competent. She
was a freaking idiot.

Diamokina
finally appeared in a swirl of pink and purple smoke, lounging on one
of the girl's white couches and grinning ear to ear with her pointy
teeth. “My apologies, girl, that didn't go quite as well as
I'd hoped.” I gaped at her.

“You
think?” I screeched, ignoring the necromancer's surprised face
and stomping over to the couch. “What am I supposed to do
now?” Dia stretched languidly.

“Don't
burst an artery. We'll just try again.” She cast a glance at
the girl. “You gonna help us out or what?” Dia wiggled
her white eyebrows up and down and summoned a glass of red wine into
her hands. The necromancer opened her palms in an apologetic
gesture.

“I
can only raise a person's soul from the dead once. The second time
is exponentially harder. I've never actually met anyone that had the
power to do it.” She shrugged as if that were that and tucked
some strands of shimmering blonde hair back into her hood. “When Helena brought me the body, I didn't
even think that I could do it. You're lucky I even got this far.”
I turned around to face her, trying not to show how surprised I was.
There had to be more than one person in this town with the name
Helena, right?

“Helena?”
I asked, the anger slowly draining away in my curiosity. “Tall,
long dark hair, vampire?” I hadn't even given a thought to the
idea that this girl could see supernaturals. Maybe that should've
been my first question.

She
pulled back her hood, and I was shocked to see pointed ears, like
Vae's. Elf. The necromancer laid her staff against the wall and
stepped towards me, head cocked to the side.

“What
gives you the right to ask
me
questions? I wasn't even going
to resurrect your body. I was only considering it because I owe
Helena a favor.” She pointed a skinny finger at me. “You
bewitched me!” She turned her angry green eyes to Dia who
stared back with little to no interest. “How dare you use your
powers on me. You should be ashamed of yourself.” Dia
shrugged and magicked a magazine into her hand. This time it was
titled
Wishers Weekly
. I was going to have to ask her where
she got all of that crap.

“I
did what my master asked me to do is all. Don't be ridiculous.”
The necromancer fumed, her pale cheeks turning a bright pink. I was
suddenly glad she had put down her scythe. I cleared my throat and
drew her attention.

“Look,
I'm sorry my wish made you do something against your will and all,
but I mean, you had my charred remains in your house anyway. Don't
you think that's a little weird?” She stuck her lip out and
whirled around, face twisting in disgust when she stepped in the
widening puddle of my blood. It was rather gruesome, and I had to
turn my face to keep from being ill. It was my corpse after all; I
had a right to be disturbed.

“All
Helena brought me was a pile of ashes. She said you were needed for
something. I was just considering it. And it's not weird to have
someone's ashes. People keep them all the time.” I watched as
she leaned down and picked up my severed head. Her nose wrinkled.
“Though I don't know what I'm going to do with this. I really
like living here, and I got this condo for a steal.” She
glanced back at me, irritation still plain on her face. “Thus,
the favor to Helena.” Great. At least I knew we were talking
about the same woman.

“Well,
isn't there something else that you can do?” I asked her,
trying to keep my voice pleasant just in case she had some other
trick up her sleeve. “I mean, I kind of need to be alive
again.” If I didn't get myself back into a body soon, it was
onto the next world for me, and I wasn't sure that I was really ready
for that. The thought just made me pissed, so I pushed it down and
tried to school my lips into a smile. It wasn't easy.

The
necromancer eyed me warily and put my head back down next to my body.

“What
are you going to do for me?” she asked, straightening and
turning back to face me. It was at that moment when I met her eyes
that I realized that I was completely and utterly wrong about one
thing. This person was no
girl;
she was old. Far older than
me. I could tell from the depths of her eyes. I guess 3
^rd
Century Realty did specialize in condos for retirement ... This
girl was really a spinster. Albeit a peach skinned, wrinkle free
one.

“What
do you want?” I asked, hoping it was something that was in my,
or rather Diamokina's power to give. The necromancer grinned, her
pale lips pulling back to reveal square, straight teeth.

“Oh,
I'm sure that I can come up with something.”

Something
was an incredibly generous supply of shoes. And when I say generous,
I mean a myriad, a plethora, a smorgasbord, a veritable feast of
shoes in all sizes, shapes, colors. It was a rather ridiculous thing
to see a girl, sorry, woman, rolling about in fits of giggling in a
mammoth pile of footwear. “Hey Marji,” I said, using the
name the elf had introduced herself to us as. “I don't mean to
be rude, but can we please get on with this? I've got less than ...
” I leaned out of her bedroom door so that I could see the
black and white Felix clock on the wall. His creepy yellow eyes
watched me with hungry intent while his belly told me it had been
thirty hours since my first death. I shivered, both at the clock and
the impending deadline. “Eighteen hours until I pass over.”

Marji
ignored me, holding one decidedly hideous pink Ugg boot to her face
and rubbing on it. She sighed in pleasure and then squealed,
abruptly dropping the boot and exchanging it for a pair of orange
flip-flops with daisies. Marji rubbed her face on the soles while
Diamokina and I watched, bemused.

“I
thought the whole elf/shoe thing was made up?” I asked,
examining her. Her tall stature, pointed ears, and beautiful alien
face were more like
Lord of the Rings
elf than leave out the
milk and cookies at the cobblers type of elf. She snatched an azure
slingback against her breast and glared at me.

“What
are you talking about? It is made up. I just like shoes.”
She gave the pile one last fond glance before rising to her knees
with a groan.

“Gods,
I'm getting too old for this.” Marji waded painstakingly
slowly through the mound towards her closet. She forced the door
open only to be rained upon by more shoes. I'd heard of shoe
addictions before. Heck, Erin had a shoe addiction, but this? This
was madness. I glanced over at Dia, but she was too busy reading
another bizarre looking magazine with two naked women on the front.
I neglected to ask.

Marji
let out an, “Aha!” before diving beneath the pile and
reemerging with a tiny, emerald green box. It looked like the type
of box that might hold a diamond engagement ring. I only hoped what
was inside mine was half as nice. Marji tossed it to me, and I
caught it against my breasts. I was surprised it hadn't passed
through my hands. She winked at me.

“It's
not of this world, either. Don't worry. You can use it as long as
you concentrate.” She grasped the edge of the closet door and
made a halfhearted attempt to close it before turning back to her
flooded room and surveying it with pride.