I wake up the next morning even earlier than I usually do. Not willingly, of course, but it’s hard to sleep when you have a succubus shaking your shoulder.
“Claire,” Mona whispers, “Giuseppe wants to see you.”
“Now?” I mumble at her, sweeping my sleep-strewn hair out of my eyes, “It’s the middle of the night.”
“Hurry and get dressed,” she starts throwing clothes at me, “We don’t have much time.”
“Fine,” I sigh. Mona can poof me anyway. At least she’s giving me a chance to change out of my Green Acres jammies first. I pull my clothes on and walk quietly to the bathroom. After nature, teeth and hair are taken care of, Mona grabs me in a tight hug.
When the smoke clears, I see we’re in another ladies room. There’s loud hip-hop thrumming through the walls and the place smells like a lot more goes on here than just dancing.
And it’s crawling with demons.
“Make sure you’re cloaked well,” Mona warns me, shimmering herself into a sleek ice-blue dress with replicas of my crystal shoes on her feet. I barely noticed what she put me in back in the dorm, but as I glance in the mirror, I see I’m in an amethyst dress that vees down to my navel.
“Holy crap, Mona,” I clutch the ends together, “Why did I bother getting dressed at all when I’m showing this much skin?”
“Oops,” she reaches into the vee and tugs a zipper up. It’s hidden by the shirring of the fabric. But it doesn’t go high enough up for my peace of mind.
“Hurry,” she grabs my hand, “Don’t forget to cloak.”
And she drags me through a very crowded nightclub. A lot of the patrons are male and most of them are at least slightly drunk. We have to evade grabby-hands and grinding bodies as we make our way to the back of the club. She swipes her thumb over a sensor next to a door marked in Italian. I’m assuming it means “Employees Only,” as a green light glows above the pad and she hurries us through.
Once inside, she leads me down a hall and through another secure door. Then we go down a flight of stairs, through another door and into a small waiting room.
“Mona,” the demon guarding the door in front of us nods and motions for us to sit. He taps lightly on the door and waits until he hears a response. Then he opens the door and ushers us through.
Whatever I was expecting to see when I met Giuseppe, it certainly isn’t this.
The arch-demon in front of us looks like Dumbledore. Exactly like Dumbledore – down to the half-moon glasses and the long robe.
The image is further enhanced by the fact that he has a full-on chemistry lab going and is currently heating up something that looks like powdered mustard in a crucible over a Bunsen-burner.
“Mona,” he says, “Would you be so kind as to slice off a millimeter’s worth of sodium from the block in that tub next to you?”
“Of course,” she nods and sets the block on the slicer. She adjusts the dials and pulls the lever, slicing off a perfect square.
“Thank you, my dear,” he takes the slice and drops it into a wide-mouthed beaker. The chemical reaction with the liquid makes it froth and turn a bright lime green. The escaping carbon dioxide blows his hair around a bit before he returns to his crucible, “Just a moment, please. Another few degrees and I can put the final ingredient in and then we can talk.”
Mona and I wait patiently. I look around the lab. From the angle we’re standing at, I see a wave-machine, a couple of lasers and something that looks a bit like a flux-capacitor. Before I can convince myself that I’m just making that up, a whoosh and a puff of smoke come from the table.
YOU ARE READING
Sinners and Saints
FantasyHell has demons, imps, succubi and incubi. Not to mention Don Lucifer and Doña Lilith. What does Heaven have to combat that nefarious, meticulous bureaucracy? Overworked priests mired in scandal and an outdated rule book and angels as disassociat...