Page 4 of Devils and the Dead
The werewolf stayed and helped us clean up, which was absolutely not something he would have done a year ago. The guy even waited for Kristin and me to lock the door, and made sure we were safely in our cars before leaving. I’d grown up thinking the werewolves were assholes. Now I thought differently. Yeah, some were still assholes. I really wasn’t fond of Clinton’s father, Dallas, although his new wife Tink was a hoot. But whether I liked them or not, I was a Perkins witch, and taking care of Accident was kind of my birthright. If I couldn’t help Clinton myself, I’d research, ask my sisters for assistance, and find someone who could do the job. It’s what we did. Few seldom called upon me and my weird magic, and in all honesty I was kind of flattered Clinton had turned to me.
Chapter 3
Hades
“We’ve got a problem.” Eshu wrung his hands together, looking upward.
I eyed him over the blueprints for a project to improve the Cliffs of Despair and increase the misery, making them even more hopeless. The demon before me acting out the Cassandra routine wasn’t actually a demon. He was older than Satan himself, and on par in power and abilities with the dark lord, although you’d never know it from the way he acted. Eshu was our messenger—which was a more important role than it sounded. He was the only being who could freely go between heaven, hell, and purgatory, as well as the mortal realm. Convenient, but as he was also a bit of a trickster, the messages, both sent and received, were often not quite what was intended.
“Go on. Tell me the problem,” I prompted, knowing he wouldn’t reveal this information unless asked.
“Remember the souls that were summoned away, only to be returned after a couple of hours?”
I nodded, musing over the blueprints as I listened.
“Well, one didn’t come back.”
I looked up once more. “Nonsense. I personally counted them. Six. They all came back.”
Eshu smirked. “Hell’s returned. Purgatory’s returned. Not all of heaven’s returned.”
I shrugged, not really caring if heaven was missing a soul or not. “Sucks to be them.”
“They’re pissed. They’re blaming hell.”
That got my attention. “Hell had souls vanish as well. Why would they think hell had something to do with it?”
It was Eshu’s turn to shrug. “Maybe because they’re the one missing a soul and we’re not? Either way, there’s an emergency meeting right now, and the boss wants you there.”
“Me?” This had to have been one of Eshu’s mistakes. Satan had said to send his son, Lucien, and somehow in that rollercoaster of a brain, Eshu had heard Hades.
“You.”
This was ridiculous. I had no clout here. I wasn’t even a demon, didn’t report through the hierarchy of hell like the others here did. As an independent contractor, I answered only to the big guy. At least, that’s how it was originally. Tens of thousands of years had blurred those lines. The very places I’d built and managed had somehow become my full-time job, and I did get called upon now and then to do things that hadn’t been in my original contract.
Just in case Eshu was right, I pushed the blueprints aside and got to my feet. It wouldn’t hurt to go to this meeting, but it certainly would hurt my paycheck if I refused and found out later there was some weird convoluted logic that made Satan think I was his guy in this matter.
I followed Eshu out of hell and to the human world. He led me to a place called Bob Evans. It was a restaurant where octogenarian humans gathered to have breakfast and talk about the good old days over bottomless cups of coffee. I nodded at a pair of reapers over in a corner booth, who were eating pancakes and watching the room. No doubt two customers were soon to meet their maker.
I’d half expected there to be a private room in the back for this meeting, and was surprised when the server led us to a large table where four angels sat. The two who’d already called dibs on the end chairs glowed with a golden light that indicated they spent a great deal of time in heaven. The other two, who sat next to each other, bore the silvery auras of purgatory.
Everyone had a cup of coffee, but nobody seemed to be drinking it. I gave mine a sniff, then a sip. Eshu pulled out a flask of whisky and added a splash before passing the flask over to me.
“Where is she?” One of the angels was glaring at me, so I supposed the question was also directed toward me.
“Let’s start with introductions and the meeting agenda before we get into accusations.” One of the purgatory angels said, eyeing the flask with some regret. “I’m Waffa-El, and my associate is Cruici-El. We’re both from purgatory.”
Eshu snorted and elbowed me so hard I nearly spilled my coffee. “Waffle. They’re Waffle and Crucial. Who thinks this shit up?”
“I’m Hades, and this is Eshu. We’re both here to represent hell,” I said, trying not to laugh. Waffle. Poor guy.
“I’m Remi-El, and this is Zari-El from heaven, and if Mary Jane Hoffman is not returned within the next seven Earth days, we will attack hell and bring her back ourselves.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions without hearing all the facts first,” Waffle interjected. “All we know is that several souls were missing from each of our areas on the exact same date and time, and that all of those souls have returned except one.”
“Mary Jane Hoffman. She went by the nickname Maude when she was living.” Remiel stood. “Return her immediately.”
“Why would hell want one of your souls?” I asked. The question really at the top of my mind was why wasIhere and not Lucien?
