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

When Mel returned to her office, there was a note on the computer keyboard:

If you need anything, anything at all, call me – Nybbas.

Beneath the scrawled letters were his extension number and a mobile phone number, too. Mel flipped the note over and tossed it into her empty in-tray. Time to get some work done. She switched on her computer and reached into the top drawer for a pen and something to write on.

Nothing. The bottom drawer now held her lingerie, but the top one was empty. So was the one in the middle. It seemed that the desk had been ransacked during the guerrilla stationery wars in her first contract here and nothing had been replaced. At least she knew where the stationery storeroom was – surely there'd be supplies in it by now.

Mel pushed open the door to the storeroom to find it occupied by an unusually thin man. The only sign of stationery was the cup of pens on the desk, beside his bony elbow.

"Oh, excuse me," she said, backing out. "I thought this was where the stationery was kept. I must have made a mistake."

"Honoured by Lady's visit," the man replied, twisting out of his seat. Short and skinny, he barely came to Mel's shoulder. His protruding eyes seemed huge in his emaciated face. His mouth didn't move as he continued, "How can Sptlk serve Lady?"

She laughed and blinked away the illusion. Sptlk the imp stood on the desk, not the carpet, and the malnourished man didn't exist at all. "You're looking very fit," she said, nodding at his flat belly, which she remembered being a lot rounder.

Sptlk made a disgusted noise in his throat. His voice sounded in her head: "Demonic cost-cutting. No chips and less staff. Agreement with Lord makes imps stay. Payment will be exacted." Images spun rapidly in his thoughts as he showed Mel what had happened in the HELL Corporation offices while she'd been in Hell.

The imps were on the brink of mutiny. They hadn't been paid – in Lucifer's unconventional terms, or in monetary ones – since Luce had left. Beelzebub had sent staff in increasing numbers back to Hell. Staff were required to buy their own stationery if they wanted it – and their own padlocks to keep it from being stolen by the other demons. The last chip Sptlk had eaten had been at Mel's farewell morning tea – until he'd decided to create the illusion of a starving human. With the illusion, an hour's begging at lunchtime yielded him enough money to feed himself and the other imps.

"I'll fix this, Sptlk," Mel vowed. "So, I take it I'm not going to find any stationery in the office? I'll need to get my own?"

Sptlk hesitantly answered in the affirmative.

Mel lifted her chin. "To Hell with that. I'll get Luce to make me the new CFO. I'm in the right office already. All cost-cutting measures will need my approval and I'll be damned before I let this sort of stupidity continue. Tell me: was it Beelzebub or Persephone who made things like this?"

"Demon ordered. Nephilim did nothing. Plays and giggles only. Business trips to Hell."

"Do you know where Persi went? Or why?" Mel figured it was a faint hope, but one worth investigating.

"Nephilim never saw imps nor spoke. Too busy with fallen angel twins." Sptlk's amusement coloured the images of Persi cavorting with Samael and Camael in Luce's office.

Mel held up her hands. "Stop."

"Apologies, Lady." The images vanished and the memory faded a little in her mind. Nowhere near as much as she'd like, though. "How can Sptlk make amends for forgetting Lady's distaste for lust?"

Mel laughed. "Not all lust. Just the hedonistic sort and watching it in graphic detail. After all, I manage to satisfy Luce just fine and that's probably a miracle in itself."

"No miracle. Lord fortunate having Lady's attention."

Mel caught the edge in the imp's tone, revealing more than Sptlk had perhaps intended. Cautiously, she probed his thoughts and sorrow tinged her own tone as she said, "I'm sorry, Sptlk. I had no idea."

Sptlk laughed bitterly. "Lady loved by many, yet chooses Lord. Lucky Lord. Yet love remains and loyalty. Honoured to be at Lady's service in anything."

"The honour is mine," Mel responded. "And I hope never to ask too much of you. But any work you do for the HELL Corporation must be paid for as if you were any other employee. I'll see to it. And I recommend you move out of this storeroom because I'm going to fix the stationery situation, too. Thanks, Sptlk. Oh, have you had lunch today?"

The imp shook his head.

"Go to Mephi's desk and tell her I authorised your use of her corporate credit card for a catering order. Head downstairs and make sure you get plenty for everyone." Mel winked. "I'll tell her on my way back to my desk."

"Working with Lady pleasure indeed." Sptlk grinned.

That's what Luce had said, too. Mel hid her smile and headed back to her office. She had a whole mess of problems to sort out before the afternoon was over.

"Someone's violated a directive and there'll be Hell to pay!" a male voice shouted.

Luce rubbed his temples, hoping to ease the building headache. He'd had enough of work to last him all week. From what he'd discovered, he suspected Persephone hadn't done a single work-related thing in his absence. Heaven only knew what she had done, in between her jaunts to Hell to taunt him.

"This'll blow our budget by thousands of dollars this month alone! I won't answer for it!" the voice continued.

Luce gave up and pulled on his jacket. He wanted to lose himself in Mel's arms and forget everything but the bliss he found there.

"Lord Lucifer, it's not my fault!" The voice soared up an octave as the demon who owned it dropped to his knees. Turiel, who dealt with intellectual property and copyright law.

Luce snorted. He was certain he'd made the right decision on Turiel's appointment. After all, who knew better than the demon who'd made copyright infringement an art back in the 1950s? He'd even called the bloody thing a grimoire, as if the obsolete word would give his bastardised book the legitimacy it lacked.

"Who'd you copy this time, then?" Luce asked with a chuckle.

Turiel shook a sheaf of papers so hard they rustled like the maple leaves in the autumn wind outside. "I did nothing! Someone's ordered so much stationery we don't have anywhere to put it! I checked at the delivery centre and the order definitely came from inside HELL. When I find out who placed this order, I'm going to…"

Luce waited, but Turiel seemed to be all out of consequences. And complete sentences. "Kiss them? Make them a bouquet of fresh-sharpened pencils?"

"More like stab them with pencils," Turiel muttered.

Mel appeared in the doorway, her beaming smile and shining eyes claiming Luce's attention. "Pencils? Ooh, have they arrived already? I was hoping I'd have some stationery before I left today. I know I can make notes on my computer, but there's nothing like the feeling of writing task lists by hand and crossing them out when they're complete."

"She did it!" Turiel whined, pointing.

Ignoring the demon, Luce asked, "So what miracles have you worked today?"

Mel lowered her gaze. "Not many. Coffee beans will arrive in the morning because the warehouse was closed by the time I got hold of the delivery rep. Stationery was an easy online order. I found some of the old orders in the previous CFO's files, so I put in an order for what I estimate is about three months' worth – enough to make up the shortfall from no one having ordered any. Nobody's paid the imps, so I made arrangements with HR and payroll, which includes back pay, and I've allocated them a catering budget again. Luce, the company can't operate without a Chief Financial Officer. Hell, I can't even find records of an accountant here. All your financials are a mess."

Luce shrugged. "All in a day's work for an angel. I think you've done enough for today – time to head home for dinner."

"What about punishing her for the stationery?" Turiel demanded.

Punishing Mel for ordering pencils? Luce stared at the demon. "And why should I do that?" He kept his voice calm, but the dangerous undercurrent wasn't far from the surface.

"Because it's not my fault!" he bleated.

"Are you the supply and contracts officer?" Mel asked. "Um, I couldn't find a name on any of the invoices. Just your job title."

"I'm Turiel, and yes, I'm the supply and contracts officer," he snapped. "If you want to purchase something, you need my approval first, so we don't blow the budgets!"

"What budgets?" Mel asked bluntly. "No one's set one for anything this financial year. A lot of big, fat zeroes are all I saw in the accounts spreadsheets."

"Those are the budgets!" Turiel insisted. "And you've just blown them, stupid angel. What do you think Lord Lucifer's going to do to you for that?"

Luce saw red. "Go to Hell. No one insults Mel in front of me."

Turiel's eyes widened in fright before he disappeared, leaving behind a smoking pair of shoes.

Luce dusted off his hands. "Sorry about that, Mel. I'll make sure Mephi sends out a memo to all staff, reminding them not to question you. I wondered why we had no pens left. What kind of stupid idea is it to try and run an office without stationery? It beggars belief. And I think I'd like to take my new CFO out to dinner, if you're willing."

Mel sighed. "Well, I already have the office and I don't think the previous one did much anyway. But dinner will have to wait until after we've been to Persi's place."

"Persi's place?" Luce repeated as his heart turned to ice. Not the nephilim.

"The penthouse that used to be yours. And now I've just looked through all of HELL's financials, it appears it's yours again. The penthouse belongs to HELL as the CEO's official residence. So if you're the CEO, it reverts back to you. But I want to search it for Persi, or clues to where she might be."

"And if we don't find her?"

Mel smiled. "Then you can move back in at your leisure."

"Tonight," he replied instantly. "We can have dinner at the Old Brewery Restaurant, and afterwards we can make love in my bed until dawn. Then we'll watch the dolphins playing in Matilda Bay."

"An ambitious plan," Mel said with a smile. "We'll see. First things first – we search for Persi."

Luce turned the key, pushed open the door and moved aside to let Mel enter the penthouse first. Some might call him a coward, but Luce didn't much care. He didn't want to be the first person to encounter Persephone in his old apartment. Mel could handle the girl far better than he could, and Persephone wouldn't be hostile to Mel. At least, he hoped not.

"Persi, honey?" Mel called. "It's me, Mel. Just coming to check on you because no one's seen you for a while and you had us all worried. Persi?" She wandered through the apartment, calling the girl's name, but she got no answer. "Luce, can you check the living areas? I'll do the bedrooms and bathrooms."

Luce nodded and peered under the dining table. Nope, no nephilim. Maybe in the lounge.

How well did Mel know Persephone? Luce wondered as he heard the angel's gentle tone calling for her cousin again. Surely she couldn't know everything about her. Not the kinky, sadistic stuff the girl was into, surely. Mel hadn't even agreed to do anything with him when a simple pair of handcuffs were involved.

Luce headed for the kitchen. A quick search of the cupboards revealed nothing unusual. Even the pantry looked just as he'd left it. Had she even lived here at all?

He opened the cupboard behind the bar, where he used to keep his best whiskies, and met the eerie sight of dozens of glittering eyes. Clicking on the light, he breathed a sigh of relief and felt his pumping heart relax as he realised the eyes belonged to an army of china dolls. Some of them showed their age with yellowing lace and cracked varnish on their faces, while others were so glossy and pale they looked brand new. Every single one of them looked like a corpse – the blank faces anything but lifelike. The crazy nephilim had turned his liquor cabinet into a mausoleum.

"Hey, Mel!" he called.

"Mmm?" Her hand touched his back before her fingers began kneading out the tension across his shoulders. "There's nothing to be afraid of here, Luce. I won't let her hurt you."

He snorted, but he knew he couldn't fool her. His locked-up shoulder muscles gave him away. "What's with the weird dolls? Does she have a fetish with death?"

"With death? Why do you say that?" Mel's fingers dug deeper, ironing out all the stress of the day.

Her fingers were magic. Nothing short of miraculous. "The dolls look like dead children. The tattoo she had on her nether regions is a copy of Renaissance artwork depicting the netherworld. The way she always wore black, the same colour as her hair. And how she visited me in Hell, even my lair, when no one else could get in. Well, except you, of course, but I'd never want to keep you out. Just everyone else." He moaned softly.

"Well, there was that unfortunate incident when she was very young. Hades kidnapped her and dragged her into the Underworld for a time. It was very traumatic for her and I'm sure there were lasting effects on her psyche. If my terror at public speaking has lasted this long…" Mel laughed shakily. "Well, Persi might be afraid of death, and this is how she deals with it. Maybe her coping strategy is more effective than mine. When we find her, I must ask her."

"She's not here, is she?" Luce asked.

Mel shook her head. "The place looks exactly the same as we left it, when we came to collect your things."

"So she's been missing since then?" Even as he said it, he knew it couldn't be true. Persephone hadn't been missing when she was harassing him in Hell. She'd gone missing while he and Mel were in Heaven. He wondered if it was because she was jealous of Mel.

"There should be dust, but there's none. That means she must have been here less than a week ago, surely."

Luce hesitated, but knew he'd have to say it. "I have a cleaner. Someone who comes and cleans the place once a week, every Friday. I had an email from her saying her invoices hadn't been paid, so I fixed that today. She was here last Friday…or at least she said she was and I paid her for it. If the place isn't dusty, it's because of the cleaner." His brain kicked into gear. "Wait. If Persephone's been here since Friday, the beds will be made differently. She always does them like hospital beds."

Luce hurried to his old bedroom, the one with the incredible view he wanted Mel to wake up to. He ran his hand down the corners of his bed and relaxed a little more. "Your cousin didn't make this bed. The sheets were fresh on Friday and haven't been touched since. I'll check the guest beds, too." The other two beds yielded the same result: no sign of Persephone having slept in them. A swift check through the walk-in wardrobes revealed a few items of women's clothing, a huge collection of shoes and many empty spots where things were missing. Her suitcase was nowhere to be found, either. He returned to the lounge to report this to Mel. "So she must be travelling somewhere," he concluded, settling onto the three-seater.

Mel sank onto the seat beside him. "Her favourite sex toys are gone. All of them. That means she intended to travel for some time."

Luce shot upright. "You know about those?"

Mel laughed softly. "I'm hardly innocent, Luce. Just because I've never used them, doesn't mean I'm ignorant of their form or function. I could say the same about certain parts of your anatomy, too."

To his own surprise, Luce blushed.

"Let me show you," he suggested, hearing the lust in his voice but not caring. Mel could handle him. Or not, as she desired.

She pushed him away and rose. "After dinner. We have to head back to my place to pick up some clothes and stuff for tomorrow, then I'd like to eat. I'm willing to bet you know a place nearby that serves oysters, just the way you like them."

He laughed. "Sure do. Are you saying I'll need them?"

Mel wet her lips. "Perhaps."