To Hell and Back (Mel Goes to Hell Series Book 4) (12 page)

Mel cuddled up to his side as Luce relaxed. If Patrick could save him from having to see Persephone again, he'd give the saint all the attention he wanted.

"Right, so Mel called me, asking if Persi was here with me, because Persi had said something about me calling her. First up, I said it must have been some other bloke called Patrick. It's a popular name, after all. And when Mel said Persi was in Ireland, the odds went up. Every year hundreds of new parents here call their son Patrick. And then Mel says the girl's missing. All I had to go on was the day she arrived in Heathrow and went shopping in Omagh. And a mention of someone called Patrick."

Patrick took a sip of his tea. "I could have looked up every motorcycle club and armed IRA group in both countries, asking if they had a member called Patrick and a recently arrived, tattooed girl who called herself Persephone."

Luce snorted. It sounded like a good way for the saint to get himself killed. A plan only some Heaven-cloistered angel could come up with. No wonder Mel preferred him to the naïve saint.

"Not as crazy as it sounds. I have contacts everywhere. I could have looked them up, I said, but I didn't. She wouldn't fly halfway round the world for some biker without telling Mel. Not even Persi's that stupid."

Luce suppressed another snort. Yes, the nephilim girl was stupid enough to do anything.

"And Omagh isn't exactly the place she'd go for that, either. So I called a friend who works security at the City of Derry Airport. And he had this funny story about a security scare a few weeks ago. It was a Ryanair flight and the baggage handlers called him because, when they were unloading the suitcases, one of them was buzzing. Standard protocol and everything, though there's usually no danger. Someone's shaver turning on. Those buttons are very sensitive, he tells me. So he and a couple of other fellows take the suitcase away from the plane and the terminal buildings, figuring they'll open it and switch the shaver off and everything will be fine. There's these three kitted-up blokes standing around a purple, glittery suitcase and one gingerly pops the lid. The buzzing gets louder, but nothing blows up, so the bloke nearest to it starts rifling through the suitcase so he can switch the bloody thing off. Anyway, he pulls out the buzzing shaver, takes one look and drops it on the tarmac. Now all three of them can see it – a vibrator with an enormous, black dildo on the end, knocked half off when it hit the ground, slapping the surface like it's spanking it.

"They just piss themselves laughing and no one knows what to do. Finally, my friend picks the thing up and switches it off, but not before he notices the dildo's got a name written down the side. Must be the model name or something – he didn't know. Anyway, this one was called Beelzebub.

"Now, standard procedure is that they have to check through the luggage for any other dangerous devices, so the third bloke who hasn't gotten his hands on Beelzebub's vibrator draws the short straw and it's his turn. He finds a case hidden under all the shoes and it's full of…oh Hell, you'll never guess. More of the things, all different shapes and sizes, each with a demon name on it. Satan, Pluto, Mephistopheles…and one weird-looking thing the bloke told me he found out was something you put up your arse. I mean, who sticks things up their arse? That one was the littlest, he said, and the tiny letters on it said it was called Lucifer."

Mel smothered her laughter. "Oh, my love, I'm sorry, but you have to admit it's funny."

Lucifer the butt plug. Funny as Hell. He wasn't laughing. Right now, he'd like to shove all of Persi's toys up her back passage at the same time and see how she liked being tormented.

"Anyway, after finding nothing more dangerous than sex toys and stilettos, they had to pack the whole thing back up again and take it into the terminal. My friend was curious, wondering what sort of girl would need all that equipment, so he volunteered. And when he got to the luggage counter, there's this skinny little brunette in a skirt that barely covers her backside, and boots on stilts, bemoaning the loss of her luggage. So when he gets there with the glittery purple thing, the girl squeals and throws herself at my friend. She's kissing him and he's trying to push her away, because he has a wife and kids and the last thing he needs is her purple lipstick on his shirt collar for the rest of the work day or when he gets home, and he sees the attendant at the luggage desk choking. So he manages to peel the crazy suitcase girl off him and goes to help the other woman. Turns out she's choking because when the girl was trying to climb him like some sort of crazed monkey, the woman saw the girl had nothing but a tattoo under her skirt. He said it was like a painting on a church ceiling, except on her arse. What a place to put it, eh?"

Luce thought he was going to be physically sick all over Patrick's timber floors. Just the thought of the nephilim's Hellish tattoo was enough to make him lose his bacon sandwiches.

"It's all right, my love," Mel soothed. The nausea disappeared under her stroking fingers. She sighed. "Yes, that sounds like Persi."

Luce could feel Patrick's eyes on him but he didn't look up. He kept his gaze on Mel's hands. It was one thing to admit weakness to her, another entirely to let some saint see it.

"Why are you looking for her, anyway?" Patrick asked. "Shouldn't you delegate that to Raphael or someone else who can do the legwork? Surely you have better things to do."

Mel swallowed. "She's disappeared, but before she did…she made Luce's life a living Hell. As his PA, she messed up every task he gave her until I made her call me from wherever they were, every day, to make sure she did her job. She developed an unhealthy obsession for poor Luce where she demanded he sleep with her, despite his frequent refusals."

Please don't mention the time I gave in to temptation and let her touch me, Luce prayed. He'd had flashbacks that ended with her biting it off.

Mel's hand squeezed his. "When I…when Luce and I first bonded, she came after him again. Spread lies to her mother and Michael and Raphael, saying he'd done things that he hadn't. She even tried to keep him out of Heaven. When he retreated into Hell instead, she followed him. I don't know how. We all know no angel's been far into Hell and come out the same…well, except me, of course." She laughed shakily. "But she tormented him in his lair. Turned up at odd times and entered the place when no one else could. And then she just disappeared. Raphael can't get hold of her and he was desperate enough to ask for my help, because he knows that Persi will always see me, no matter what she's done." Mel's voice dropped lower. "And I need to see her. To make her leave Luce alone. I should never have agreed to let her take over my position, so I bear some of the responsibility for her mistakes."

"The Hell you do!" Luce growled. "That nephilim bitch wasn't obeying your orders when she was taunting me in Hell, telling me you'd never love someone like me, or telling tales of rape to any angel who'd listen. Lying through her damn teeth!"

After a few moments' silence, Patrick cleared his throat. "Ah, okay." More silence, followed by, "Do you want to hear the rest of this? Or should I just give you the rough summary?"

"I'd like to hear the rest, please," Mel said softly. "But…could you leave out the descriptions of Persi? We all know what she looks like."

"Sure." Patrick nodded and continued, "Anyway, she dragged her luggage over to the hire car desk and he didn't see her again. That's all my friend told me. Now, it's only an hour or so's drive from there to Omagh, so I figured I needed to go to Asda, too. I wandered around, grabbed a few things, and then went up the sweets aisle. The Toffee Crisps were on special and I remember you saying they don't have those things in Australia, so I thought I'd see if I could get a box for you to take home, because I know how much you like them. There were only a couple left on the shelf, so I asked one of the staff if they had a box out in the storeroom. The girl laughed and asked me if I was going to Purgatory, too."

Mel nodded knowingly, but Luce was lost. "You need chocolate to bribe your way into Purgatory?"

"She was talking about St Patrick's Purgatory," Patrick explained, which left Luce more confused than ever. Before he could demand more explanation, Patrick went on. "The Sanctuary of St Patrick is an old monastery on Station Island in Loch Dearg in Ireland. About half an hour's drive from Omagh, a few miles past the border. I remember it as a remote island in the middle of the lake. I'd take a
curach
– ah, that's a little boat – out there, where I'd live in a cave and catch fish in the lake. I only did it once when I was alive, but when I returned here on Mel's orders it became a regular retreat. Mel called it a sabbatical and said I was entitled to it, much as she was to hers, but it truly was just a holiday. I thought it was my secret, but a local farmer spotted me sitting in front of a campfire, cooking my catch, and hopped in his own little boat for a look-see. When I returned a few years later, there were stories in the local village about how the apparition of St Patrick had been seen on the island, praying to protect them from the fires of Hell in the cave. My island had a dozen pilgrims on it, making a Hell of a racket, loudly praying for a visitation of their own. Their Latin was terrible. I must have made some comment about it being Hell and Purgatory for the poor saint, seeing as I couldn't sleep a wink that trip. Centuries later, someone got it into his head to build a monastery on the spot to plug the hole to Hell and it's been slowly expanding ever since. The monastery, not the hole. They probably filled the cave in when they built over the top of it.

"With Mel's permission, I visit the place every year if I can. But I had to promise no miracles." Patrick laughed. "Anyway, now the place is called St Patrick's Purgatory or the Sanctuary of St Patrick, though it's a far cry from the little slice of Heaven I had all to myself all those years ago. And once with Mel."

Mel burst out laughing. "That's the first time you've ever referred to that trip in the same breath as Heaven. I still remember that storm. I said I wished I had a cup of milk to help me sleep so I wouldn't keep waking up with every roll of thunder. You dragged your boat out to the lake and insisted you'd be back with my milk." She glanced at Luce. "You know what he did? Two hours later, he returned with a goat. A live nanny goat. I don't know what he traded for her, but it cost us most of our clothing before we left the island and returned her to the farmer Patrick had bought her off. She ate everything we weren't wearing and then she'd start nibbling on my skirt when I wasn't looking. I tried tying her up with my last spare stocking and she ate that too!"

"I'd forgotten about the goat," Patrick admitted.

Luce fought down the jealous demon trying to claw its way out of his gut. He needed to take Mel on a holiday with just the two of them, he decided. One where they could have hilarious hijinks with farm animals. He could be the hero who persuaded Mel to slip her stockings off to use as restraints. No goat necessary…

"I know that look, my love, and I'd love to know what's inspiring it. Later," Mel murmured in Luce's ear, pausing to kiss his cheek before she raised her voice. "Sorry, Patrick. Now Luce is up to speed on why there's a monastery named after you, can we continue with what you've found out about Persi?"

"Sure," Patrick replied. He tilted his mug, but it was empty. "Can we take a quick tea break? I might have some biscuits somewhere."

"I bought some cakes with my coffee," Luce offered. "There should be enough for all of us to share." He glanced down in surprise to find he'd finished his tea, too.

Patrick took the empty mugs to the kitchen, promising he'd return with tea and cakes to continue the story.

Luce wasn't fussed. Mel was a warm weight beside him and he was happy just to be with her. To Hell with nephilim, goats and monasteries.

Patrick's polite cough intruded and Mel ended the passionate kiss, to Luce's chagrin. "Later," she whispered before turning her attention to the platter in Patrick's hands. "Ooh, an almond croissant. Can I take it? Do you mind?" She looked from Patrick to Luce as her hand hovered over the pastry.

Both men shrugged in synchrony. There was no way Luce would deny her the pleasure of eating her treat, or himself the pleasure of watching her as she enjoyed herself.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake." Mel seized the croissant and bit into it, closing her eyes as she hummed happily. After she swallowed, she said, "There is nothing erotic about me eating cake." She took an exaggeratedly large bite and Patrick turned red. Luce just chuckled.

Patrick coughed. "There's…um, there's a couple of Toffee Crisps, too." He pointed at the orange-wrapped chocolate bars Luce hadn't noticed until now. "The shop assistant found a box for me and it's in the kitchen. Make sure I remember to give it to you before you leave."

Mel swallowed the last of her croissant. "You're wonderful. Thank you, Patrick." She snagged both bars from the table and offered one to Luce, who shook his head. She tossed it back, set the second one on the arm of the couch and reached for her tea. "Now can we please go back to Purgatory? Or Asda."

"Right. Asda. The bars. Well, it was odd that the girl at the supermarket mentioned Purgatory, so I asked her whether she got many pilgrims. She said they didn't, except when they were lost, like the strange foreign girl a few weeks ago. This girl came in and loaded a trolley up with all the Toffee Crisps they had, insisting she needed them to take with her. She said she was going to Loch Dearg and she needed directions because she was lost. The shop assistant…her name was Orlaith. Very traditional name. And she looked like one, too. She was very helpful and showed Persi where to go, then asked why the girl needed so many. After all, it was only a three-day retreat – she could come back on the way home. Persi said something about a gift for her cousin in Australia." Patrick grinned. "What a coincidence, huh?"

Luce snorted. "Luck, surely."

"Angels' luck," Mel said softly. "When it's not for personal gain, everything goes right. It's what won me the HELL Corporation coffee machine, Luce. But it doesn't answer the question of where Persi is. Three weeks ago, she bought me a box of chocolate bars, but she hasn't come home to deliver it. So where is she?" Plastic crackled as she unwrapped a bar and bit into it. "Mmm."

Patrick and Luce sat in silence, just watching her. Luce's mind spun through the possibilities of Mel, some warm chocolate and all the pleasurable noises she could make. One day he'd try to persuade her to try…

Without opening her eyes, Mel said, "Me eating chocolate isn't erotic, either. This is getting silly." She held the bar out to Luce. "Here, you try some. If you'd gone for years without one, wouldn't you be savouring the taste and texture just a bit, too?"

Unable to refuse, Luce took a bite, crunching through the gritty, gooey aggregate of caramel, biscuit and chocolate. Sure it was sweet, but nowhere near as sweet as the thought of licking warm chocolate off Mel's bare skin. Maybe she'd even be willing to reciprocate.

The crackling of plastic brought him out of his daydream as Mel dropped the empty wrapper on the coffee table. "That's the last time I eat a chocolate bar in front of you boys. Thank you again, Patrick, but…"

Patrick laughed. "Ah, you're irresistible when you're enjoying yourself. You just don't do it enough,
Mel meum
."

Luce agreed. "As soon as we sort out this mess with the nephilim, we're going to change that, Melody."

Mel inclined her head. "You're both very sweet, but there's still Persi to find. So where was she, Patrick? Purgatory?"

"She was," Patrick replied. "I spoke to the prior and he definitely remembers her. A snippy little thing, swearing about getting stuck in a flock of sheep on one of the roads. He thought she was going to stab him with one of her spiky heels when he suggested she take her shoes off, she was so angry. She snapped that she wasn't one of his pilgrims – she was looking for Patrick's place. She raged and swore a bit, saying I went there every year and she wanted to see my place. Of course, the prior doesn't know who I really am – though he knows me as a regular visitor. So he told Persi that I'd already done my pilgrimage this year but he'd be happy to help her with hers. He gave her a map of the grounds and sent her off. As the day progressed, he heard an increasing number of complaints from pilgrims about a loud, foul-mouthed girl in high heels who seemed to have traversed the whole island and every building on it, upsetting everyone as she went. When the last boat of the day left the island, she was on it."

Luce snorted. "I'd have kicked her off the island, too. Not exactly the sort of person to help with religious contemplation or whatever people do there."

"No, he didn't have to. She left of her own volition, he said. Whatever she was looking for, she hadn't found it and she departed in high dudgeon. Apparently, she broke one of her heels, so she'd spent most of her day barefoot, too." Patrick laughed. "Seems angelic luck doesn't apply to little Miss Persi. The prior said her eyes seemed almost red by evening, as if she was possessed."

"But demons can't possess an immortal's constructed body," Mel objected. "If Persi left it for a day, it'd disintegrate into dust. Perhaps he imagined it."

"I saw her eyes flash red, too, when she came after me in Hell," Luce offered. "She had to get in there somehow. I figured it was the power I signed over to her that did it."

Mel shook her head. "No. You can't sign over Hell – just your corporation and all your Earthly possessions. Your soul, too, if it came down to it. But to relinquish your responsibilities in Hell itself, you'd have to speak to your angelic superior to be relieved of your duties, and a replacement would need to be found. But not Persi. Persi will never be the ruler of Hell."

"I don't think one of your superior angels would care about whether she's a good choice or not. None of the higher angels like me and they'd happily take power off me if they could, especially if they could replace me with someone as submissive as that nephilim." Luce leaned forward. "Not all angels are as practical as you, Mel."

Patrick burst out laughing and even Mel managed a small smile.

Luce got the impression he'd said something stupid. "Okay, what's funny?"

Patrick pointed at Mel. "She's your superior and the one who picks your replacement. The Domination of Heaven, Earth and Hell. If Mel says Persi will never rule Hell, then she won't. But that doesn't explain the red eyes. A tainted or demonic soul does that. Is it possible that Persi…Persi herself is a demon?" The tightening worry lines around his eyes betrayed his pain at the possibility.

Silence reigned for a few seconds, through which Luce could faintly hear the traffic downstairs. He shifted uncomfortably. No one had mentioned what he'd done to the girl yet, but it was only a matter of time. Better to admit it than wait for Mel to reveal the truth.

"I did give her the dark souls that shrouded mine," he said. "If she welcomed them into her soul, she could be a demon."

"Summon her, then," Patrick said, taking a biscuit from the dwindling tray of cakes. "If she's a demon, then the Lord of Hell can summon her to do his bidding." He returned Mel and Luce's stares. "What? It beats you two haring around after her. And if you can't summon her, then she's not a demon."

"Yet," Mel said softly. She gripped Luce's arm. "Do it please, my love. If Persi's a demon, I need to know. Maybe I can help her. The sooner we find her, the better."