Page 1 of Hell and Hexes
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-witchwasinterested 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 schlongisa 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 witchanda 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.
