The Holiday From Hell (9 page)

Rounding the first corner, they were greeted by a length of rope tied between two bushes. A hastily handwritten sign swimming in a sodden plastic folder said:

Track closed due to rain.

The clearing skies belied the words – it wouldn't rain again until they were well past this place.

Luce looked at Mel. "Well, that sure looks official," he said, lifting the rope to let her pass underneath. He followed, brushing aside a spider's web that stretched across the track. Evidently the other visitors had fallen for the sign and taken the boring route back to the car park.

Birds chattered loudly overhead, invisible in the canopy far above. Were they laughing at him or warning him? He looked askance at Mel.

"Ring-neck parrots," she said, raising her eyes. "Noisy!" she addressed them and they responded with another melodic chorus that made her laugh. She stepped into a patch of sunlight and time stood still. Her mussed hair and fluffy white sweater caught the light, haloing her like the angel she truly was.

Too good for him, Luce told himself, forcing his feet to move forward. The track turned oddly green and blue and Luce didn't have time to process what that meant before he was ankle-deep in the pool that had reflected the sky until he splashed into it. He squelched out just in time to stop Mel from making the same mistake.

"Look, there's stepping stones," Mel said, pointing.

Not stones so much as sawn-off sections of tree trunks, but they probably served the same purpose, Luce decided. He hesitated for an instant before sweeping Mel off her feet and into his arms. Over her laughter, he said, "I want to be a gentleman and carry you across. Now, are you going to let me or not?"

Mel inclined her head. "That's very sweet of you. Of course I will, Luce."

Three steps in, he regretted his gallant gesture. The wet wood was slippery, and carrying Mel messed with his balance. The water slopping out of his soaked shoes didn't help, either. He had to stretch for the fourth one and it wobbled under his foot, then tipped over and threw him into the pool. He landed painfully on his hip, sending water splashing onto the bushes. The water was just deep enough to soak him completely, but Mel had somehow landed partially on top of him and partly on a wide stepping stone that sat just above the surface.

She rose and planted her feet firmly on the slippery wood. Mel spread her arms wide, her sympathetic eyes looking down on him from where she stood, high and secure on her pedestal. Her clothes were immaculate and her shoes looked like they'd received one tiny droplet between them. Even as he watched, it rolled down the surface of her sneaker. Just like the day they met – he and Lili were covered in coffee and none of it touched her.

An angel who could live among humans for fifty thousand years and not be tainted. Next to her, he was nothing.

"Take my hand, Luce, and I'll help you rise."

God, how much he wanted to, but maybe it was time to face facts. "How many times do I have to stumble and fall, Mel, before you won't help me any more?"

She laughed, leaned down and grasped his hands, lifting him effortlessly to his feet. "As many times as it takes for you not to stumble ever again."

Luce snorted, looking down at the water that lapped his knees. "I'll never be perfect, Mel."

Her fingers wove between his and she leaped for the next timber island. She tugged at his arm until Luce splashed to her side. "You don't need to be." Her feet glided to the next step…and the next, as Luce sloshed along beside her. "And I will always come to help you. Another fifty thousand years and more. Until the world ends or you no longer need me."

They reached the bank without further incident and Luce had had enough. The way his wet pants clung to him as he walked felt way too tight. They had to go. And if the pants went, damned if he was wearing any of the rest of it. He made quick work of his clothes and shoes, bundling them up and shoving them under his arm.

With one baleful glance at the once again reflective pool, Luce set off down the track, stark naked.

Mel's footsteps sounded softly behind him. "Aren't you cold, Luce?"

"No," he snapped. "As long as I'm the Lord of Hell and I'm this pissed off, snow will turn to steam on my skin." As if to illustrate his point, a wisp of steam rose from the wet clothes under his arm.

"So you don't mind if I walk behind you instead of beside you, so I can admire your arse? Seeing as it's on display and all."

Luce grinned and swung his hips as he walked, unable to resist giving Mel a good show. Right up until he tripped on a big rock sticking out of the soil and landed on a particularly prickly bush. Some sort of stunted palm tree. What kind of palm tree lived in a freezing cold West Australian forest, lurking in wait to slice up passers-by? Luce swore until he ran out of breath.

Above, the parrots cackled again and it sounded suspiciously like laughter. Luce swore at them, too.

Mel's hands snaked around his torso, yanking him out of the knife-edged leaves and against her soft, clothed body instead. A few deft touches sealed his cuts and the only remaining injury was to his pride. Which he didn't have anyway, he fumed, because the imp thought it was an illusion.

"Would you like me to summon clothes for you, my love? I'm cold just looking at you. Even though…well…" She blushed as her eyes drifted down.

It's not like he had any pride left to lose. "Yes," he bit out, then added a softening, "Please. If it's not too much for you, Mel. If it is, I'll be fine until we get to the car. I always keep spare clothes there."

She screwed her face up in concentration and Luce felt the slight change in air current across his skin. The pants were thick, grey cotton, but the t-shirt was much softer and lighter. He felt Mel slump against him.

No. He pivoted and caught her before she fell.

"I'm sorry," Mel whispered, waving at his yellow shirt. "It's all I could manage."

"It's more than enough," he replied, realising that the pants and shirt really were all she'd summoned – his feet were bare and he was comfortably commando. He lifted her in his arms again. "This time, I won't fall."

He strode confidently along the remainder of the track, pausing to glare at the official sign that declared the track closed. Where was the official sign at the other end, where it was needed? Muttering, he swept past it to take Mel to the car.

He patted down his pockets in search of his keys, before realising that everything – his car keys, wallet and phone – was still with his wet clothes, which he'd dropped during his fight with the guerrilla palm tree.

"Go back and get them. I'll be fine here," Mel said, sinking onto the timber barrier that marked the border between car park and bush.

Luce nodded and set off at a run. The feel of damp leaves and soil under his feet was oddly refreshing. He kept his eyes on the ground so he wouldn't be ambushed by another camouflaged rock. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he ran barefoot anywhere. Hooves in Hell and expensive shoes everywhere else. The more time he spent with Mel, the more he found himself doing things differently…and he couldn't deny he liked it.

He found his clothes lying in a heap behind a shrub smothered in a purple flowering vine. His shoes, phone and wallet were there, too – everything except his keys. Swearing, Luce looked around, but there was no glint of metal to be seen. He kicked at the leaf litter, stirring up what seemed like a million surprisingly large creepy-crawlies, but no keys.

He glared at the deceptively pretty pool. Surely he hadn't dropped his keys in there. Oh Hell, if he had…

Good thing Mel hadn't given him shoes. The drill pants were easy to roll up past his knees so Luce could wade into the cold water, combing through the mud with his toes. Twice he seized things that scuttled away in the water and he wondered idly what they'd taste like, steamed and sauced for dinner. Next time he saw marron on the menu, he'd order it. Especially if the bloody things had buried his keys.

After twenty minutes of digging his toes through every inch of the pool with nothing to show for it, he stomped back to the car. At least he had his phone – he could call Mephi to arrange for a spare set of keys and someone to search the whole damn national park for them. With metal detectors.

He had to wait for a tourist coach to pass, gears grinding over the low rumble of its engine, before he could cross the road to where Mel was sitting beside a pair of birds. One launched into the chattering, musical melody he'd heard when he fell into the pool. So those were ring-neck parrots, he thought, deciding that their black heads perfectly matched their mocking black hearts for laughing at his misfortune.

As he approached Mel, the green birds took flight, skimming just over his head as they hooted. He wanted to swat the noisy nuisances out of the air, but Mel's sweet smile somehow softened his anger a little. Enough not to kill a couple of birds, anyway.

"Did you find everything?" she asked, nodding at the bundle in his hands.

"Everything but my damn keys," he answered. "I'll call the office and get someone to bring the spares down. At least I found my wallet, so I can get you a drink from the ticket office while you're waiting."

Mel lifted her arm. The silvery glitter as the keys caught the sunlight made him wonder how Mel had managed to summon them to her when he hadn't been able to find them at all. "They were still in my pocket from when I went to get my sweater."

Luce snatched them with a relieved, "Thank you," and deactivated the central locking.

While Mel slid into the passenger seat, he popped the boot to find some suitable footwear. He'd always kept a couple complete sets of clothes – one casual, one business – in there, just in case he spent a night away and needed them in the morning. He had an image to uphold and barefoot didn't cut it. He fingered the set of casual clothes that had been bagged up with his less shiny pair of shoes. Black, of course, and a lot smarter-looking than Mel's gift of hiking clothes. Funny how she turned things her signature colour when she was tired. He'd treasure the gold sheets and towels in his lair in Hell, if he ever returned to pack his things before the new bloke took over, whoever that was.

Luce lifted the hem of his t-shirt and sniffed the butter-coloured fabric. She'd been nestled against his chest, so it was no surprise that the scent of her perfume lingered. In one smooth movement, he pulled the shirt over his head, folding it neatly before placing it in the front pocket of the bag of clean clothes. He wouldn't be wearing this precious shirt today – he wanted to keep it safe.

The black, HELL Corporation polo shirt was rough against his skin – hardly the soft cotton Mel had chosen for him. He thought about changing his pants and possibly putting some underwear on, and he undid the button on his pants, sliding them over his hips.

"Keep going, big boy!" an elderly voice cackled.

Luce glanced in the direction the catcall had come from. The pensioners milling around the coach were watching him avidly.

"Oh my, do you think he's going to bare himself right here? I'll call my son. He's a police officer. He'll have him charged for indecency…"

Oh Hell. While ordinarily he wouldn't mind baring his arse and all his bits to any admirer, even the appreciative elderly crowd, Luce knew getting arrested would spoil Mel's day. He pulled the pants back up and fastened them again to howls of disappointment from the onlookers. He grinned and waved as he slammed the lid shut and carried his shoes to the driver's seat so he could put them on.

As soon as he closed the door, Mel said, "I'm sorry about the shirt. I know it's not your colour. I'll change it when I'm feeling a little…stronger."

Luce reached for her hand, squeezing her fingers as he tried to heal her without her noticing. He figured he was getting better at this because she didn't tell him to stop. "Don't you dare. It's your colour and it's perfect as it is. I don't want to get it dirty, is all, in case I fall into any more creeks today. It's safely wrapped up in the boot." Despite sitting in the sun while they were underground and tramping through the bush, the car's interior was decidedly chilly. Luce reached over and clicked the heater on.

"If you say so," Mel responded. "Where to next?"

Luce grinned and backed out of the parking bay, not saying a word.

A few minutes after they reached Caves Road, Luce turned off it again. Mel seemed happy to maintain the silence, so he kept his mouth firmly closed until they pulled up outside a modern building. When they got out of the car, she eyed him askance over the dark roof.

"I could do with a coffee," he admitted, jerking his head toward the tearooms next door. Mel nodded and that's where they headed.

Luce ordered his standard espresso and looked expectantly at Mel.

"Ooh, they have milkshakes with ice cream," she exclaimed, her eyes on the menu.

The man behind the counter grinned. "We sure do. They're a legend in these parts."

Luce laughed. "You want a milkshake instead of a coffee? Are you sure you won't fall asleep on me?"

Mel lifted her chin. "I'll have both. A milkshake and a macchiato, please."

"What flavour?" When the man saw Mel's blank look, he started reeling off a list of choices.

Mel managed a smile. "Vanilla, please. And only half as much syrup – I'm not all that sweet. Hell, the milk and the ice cream alone are enough for me."

Luce let his raised eyebrows convey his disbelief. Had he caught her in a lie? He paid for their drinks, keeping his eyes on Mel's deepening blush. It wasn't a lie if she didn't believe she was sweet. He returned his credit card to his wallet and pulled Mel over to a table by the window.

He leaned across the table and kissed her, not letting up until the sounds of coffee and milkshake making were loud enough to hide his words. "Sweetest angel I ever tasted." When he pulled back, he grasped her hands instead, reaching automatically for her soul. Damn. This morning's brightness had faded as if a whole night's rest had never happened. At least he could heal her body and reduce the stress on her soul that way.

Luce glanced up to find Mel's eyes on him. Unfathomable grey depths he longed to lose himself in. Her voice was a seductive whisper. "Sweetest devil I ever tasted, and the sweetest angel, too." She lifted their joined hands and kissed his. "Taking such good care of me."

He searched her eyes for a double meaning – should he take the words at face value or was it her idea of a gentle rebuke for the setbacks from his stumbling this morning? Doubt settled like a stone in his stomach. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Their drinks arrived and Mel made short work of the frothy, white, milk concoction. Luce was barely halfway through his coffee when she nudged the empty cup aside and slid her macchiato closer.

She smiled at his stunned expression and leaned closer to whisper, "Kiss me and see if I'm any sweeter."

How could he refuse? Luce tasted the piercing note of vanilla on her lips and the ice cream chill lingered on her tongue. The forced sweetness from the sugar was nothing compared to his Melody – no, not even if she'd drunk the whole bottle of syrup. He licked his lips and grinned. "No. You couldn’t be."

She snorted softly into her coffee.

When they were done, they rose together and proceeded through the squeaky glass door to the near-noon sunshine outside.

The bigger building next door proclaimed its purpose as the ticket office for Lake Cave and the cave museum for the region. The breeze had picked up, slamming the door behind Luce before he could pull it shut. At the counter, Luce asked for two tickets, expecting another mp3-player guided tour like the one they'd been offered at Mammoth Cave which allowed them to explore the cave at their leisure.

"You've just missed the last tour. Next one's in two hours, at one," the cheerful man in ranger's greens told them.

Luce waved away the thought of a tour. He and Mel didn't need some human pointing out the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite as they described rocks as various parts of his anatomy. The suggestive stalagmites in Mammoth Cave had been funny at first, but some of them were disturbingly accurate in both size and shape. As if some mocking imp had sneaked in and sculpted the damn things. "Just two tickets. No tour guide needed."

The ranger coughed out a laugh. "I'm sorry, sir, but you don't get in to Lake Cave without a tour. And the next one's at 1pm."

Luce squinted at the obstructive government employee. He sounded like one of the HELL Corporation demons. If he was, then he'd recognise him and soon change his tune. He leaned over the counter with his best authoritative stare. "Don't you know who I am?"

"Nope!" the man replied cheerfully. "And it won't matter if you're mining magnate Ginger Rhinestone, the Prime Minister or the Queen herself. Not even Satan would dare interrupt Sandy, today's tour guide, while she's on her lunchbreak, or she'll slip up and tell all the tour groups the real name of Satan's Little Finger."

Those damn imps got everywhere, Luce fumed. But he still wanted to take Mel into the cave. This one had to be better than the last one – after all, it had a lake. It said so on the sign. "Two tickets for one o'clock, please," he said grudgingly. And if the tour guide dared call a cave formation anything but his finger, well…he'd show her the cave's scale representations were woefully inadequate when compared to the reality.

They wandered through the museum, looking at photos of caves Luce recognised as adjacent to some of the caverns of Hell. He'd gone exploring on occasion, during the many boring millennia, and even caused a collapse once while there were humans inside. He heard that some big Hollywood director had made a movie about that – but he'd bet no one on the film crew knew about his involvement in the incident. He hoped Mel didn't, either.

Luce glanced at his watch. They still had over ninety minutes to kill.

"How about we follow the tour guide's example and have an early lunch?" Mel suggested. "I really liked some of the things on the tearooms' menu. The barramundi burger looked tempting."

Time to return to the tearooms.