3 Straight by the Rules

Straight by the Rules Copyright © 2012 by Michelle Scott

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the

author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living

or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

An Urban Fae Publication

Livonia, MI 48152

Edited By: Nancy Fulda

Paperback ISBN: : 978-0615708669

First Edition • October 2012

For the first time since being forced into service as the Devil’s temptress, I’d reached a doorway in Hell that I couldn’t enter.

With its industrial gray paint and silver knob, the door was nearly identical to every other one in Hell, yet it made me pause.  It had been labeled “Authorized Personnel Only,” and mounted above it was a single, red light bulb in a metal cage.

For the most part, the Hell I traveled appeared like a dreary office building.  With its endless corridors, flickering fluorescent lights, and scuffed walls, Hell was more depressing than intimidating.  But I wasn’t fooled.  I’d seen enough of the place to know a nightmare lay underneath the façade.  At times, I swore the heat of its brimstone fires baked the worn carpeting beneath my feet.

Afraid that I’d made a wrong turn, I looked to my succubus for help.  My succubus was the demon who had possessed me since I’d died for the first time seven months before.  How do we get past this door? I asked her.  She doesn’t speak to me directly, but sends me mental signals.  Right then, she was begging me to run away.

“We can’t leave,” I said, irritably.  As much as I didn’t want to tempt someone into doing the Devil’s dirty work, I also didn’t dare
not
do it, either.  At least not yet.  I was determined to get out of the contract my great-great-great-great-great grandmother, Sarah Goodswain, had made with the Devil, but I had to be careful.  If I disobeyed Helen Spry, my demon overlord, she wouldn’t hesitate to show me how awful the real Hell could be.

Despite the door’s ominous vibes, I put my hand on the doorknob and prepared to turn it.  My succubus panicked.  She yanked hard on her reins, and my hand swiped to the left.

“What’s your issue?” I demanded.  Normally, doing the Devil’s work thrilled my inner demon, but something about this
door upset her.  In fact, she was more agitated now than she had been on those occasions when we’d gone into Heaven.  Because Hell boosts her strength, she once again took control of me.  Despite my efforts to move forward, I was forced back a few steps.  When she begged me to leave a second time, I agreed.  If she was so concerned about that doorway, then something must be wrong.

I double-checked the note that Delilah, Miss Spry’s new assistant, had given me.  My job was coaxing people into doing the Devil’s work, and Delilah’s was to come up with the names of those people and make appointments for me.  Because I’d been complaining that I couldn’t read her writing, she’d taken special pains to print clearly.  She’d also added a hand-drawn map.  Even so, I couldn’t find my client.

Not that it mattered now.  The appointed moment had already passed.  These temptations were always timed down to the minute since it was crucial to approach the victims when they were most vulnerable to temptation.  Even being a few seconds late could result in a missed opportunity.

Frustrated, I crumpled the note and shoved it into my pocket.  Missing the temptation didn’t upset me, but Miss Spry was not an understanding or forgiving demon.  Even though the bungled assignment wasn’t my fault, she’d use it as an excuse to punish me.

Although it was probably pointless, I decided to pay a visit to Delilah and see if we could salvage the job.  I left the ominous door and retraced my steps.  The identical hallways made Hell labyrinthine, but luckily, my succubus worked like a supernatural GPS system, and within minutes, I found Delilah’s office.

I knocked once, then walked in.  Delilah glared at me from behind her desk.  A large woman with dark skin and dreadlocks, she was far different from Patrick Clerk, the man she’d replaced.  Today, she wore a bright yellow dress and, as always, armfuls of silver bangles.  “Don’t tell me,” she said.  “Something went wrong.”

Delilah’s bad mood most likely resulted from her impossible job.  Mr. Clerk, Miss Spry’s assistant for many years, had become an expert at reading the complex blueprints mapping out each human’s life.  Delilah, however, had been working for only a few weeks.  Her nerves must have been frayed.

“I couldn’t find the right door,” I said.

“I drew you a map.”

“I know, but it let me to a door that said ‘Authorized Personnel Only.’”

She looked alarmed.  “You didn’t try to open it, did you?”

“My succubus wouldn’t let me.”

She sighed, relieved.  “Good.”

Asking questions in Hell was frowned upon, but curiosity drove me on.  “Why?  What’s behind it.”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” she said sternly.  “If Miss Spry marks a door as Authorized, then stay away from it.  Now, let me see that map.”

When I handed her the paper, her face sagged.  “This note wasn’t meant for you.”  She shuffled folders and notes on her desk until she uncovered another slip of paper.  “
This
was the one you needed.” 

“It’s okay,” I said, sighing.  “Don’t worry about it.”

Her expression tightened.  “No, it’s
not
okay.  Making a mistake is understandable, but making a
stupid
mistake is just…stupid.”  She met my eyes.  “I am not a stupid person.”

“I know you aren’t,” I said.  “This job is overwhelming.  That’s all.”  Mr. Clerk had left abruptly, and Delilah had been dumped into his position without so much as a how-to manual or employee orientation.

“I don’t need
you
to tell me about my job,” she said.  “Besides, his job is only part of the problem.  Miss Spry also wants me to schedule
her
appointments, write her letters, and even make her damned tea!”  Delilah’s jaw muscles bunched.  “I think I’m doing pretty well considering.”

In reality, Delilah’s success rate hovered at 25%, but I didn’t mention it since I was determined to stay on her good side.  The more friends I could make in Hell, the better.  “Don’t worry.  You’ll get the hang of it eventually.  Besides, things could be worse.  Hell does have nice accommodations.”

Delilah had transformed the former assistant’s austere office by adding wood paneling and black leather furniture.  A stunning sepia-toned photograph of a thunderstorm rolling across an African savannah took up one wall.  Another had a window overlooking a cityscape.  If you believed the illusion Delilah had created, we were several dozen stories up in a downtown skyscraper.

Delilah finally laughed.  It was a tired, unhappy laugh, but it was better than her typical glare.  “Decorating your office in Hell is like painting a gallows pink.”

“Maybe you should get a computer,” I said.

“How would that help?”  She went back to cranky.  “What software am I going to use?  I’m pretty sure Microsoft doesn’t make a program for finding the best way to make people sin.”

“I only wanted to help,” I told her.

“If you want to help, explain to the boss lady about what happened.  I can’t deal with her right now.”  We both glanced at the door leading to Miss Spry’s study.  Since taking on Delilah as her assistant, Helen had also changed the layout of her office.  She and her former assistant used to work next door to each other, but now Delilah also played the part of receptionist.

No one liked to deal with Miss Spry, but I decided to give the overwhelmed assistant a break.  “Okay.  I’ll go.”

Delilah picked up her phone and pushed a button.  “Lilith Straight to see you,” she said.  “Go right in,” she told me, hanging up the phone.

Taking a deep breath, I went to face the woman whom I feared more than anyone else on Earth or in Hell.

“Lilith!”  Miss Spry greeted me like her oldest and dearest friend, but I wasn’t fooled.  The old she-demon hated me as much as I hated her.

“Hello.”  As I took one of the chairs in front of her desk, I glanced at her couch, searching for the bloodstains I’d tracked in a few weeks before.  Luckily, they’d been cleaned up.  Once again, the place was quiet and elegant.  Miss Spry looked glamorous as well.  Her herringbone trousers, white shirt, and cardigan gave her a Katherine Hepburn style that was both mannish yet very feminine.  She even pulled off the short, overly-permed hairstyle.

A tea tray sat on Miss Spry’s desk, and when she offered me some, I accepted.  Ordinarily, I’m a coffee drinker, but I could never resist her tea.  “Can you tell me where you get this?” I asked.  My dad, the tea expert, had a birthday in a few days, and the tea would make a perfect gift.