Читать книгу Hell's Belles - Jackie Kessler - Страница 11

As I shut Caitlin’s door behind me, I realized I had no idea where I was going. I adjusted the shoulder strap to my purse, grabbed the handle of the suitcase, and walked exactly three steps before someone called to me.

“Hey, Cait, good morning!”

I turned to see a little man exiting the house next to the witch’s. A scrawny thing, he was dressed in a brown suit that screamed polyester and begged to be returned to the 1970s. With a chicken neck and no chin, the man was a far cry from Adonis. But his smile was genuine, and I found that oddly appealing. His hand was up in a wave.

Flashing him a smile, I said, “Morning.” Far as I could tell, other than the spectacular shower, there was nothing good about the morning so far.

“Wow, you look terrific!” A mad blush exploded across his face, staining him from ear to ear. “I mean, you always look terrific. But there’s something different about you. Did you change something?”

Heh. A lot of somethings. “There’s no fooling you.”

“Got your hair cut?”

“Styled it differently.”

He grinned, showing overly large front teeth. “I knew it! It looks really good this way.”

“Thanks,” I said, fiddling with the suitcase’s retractable handle. The blessed thing was halfway up, and I couldn’t get it to open all the way.

Locking his front door, he said, “Say, it looks like you’re going on a trip. Business or pleasure?”

Survival. “You could say a little bit of both.”

He chuckled, a sound that was far too attractive for his looks. “That’s the right attitude! You headed to the airport?”

Trapped on a flying coach, with no way out? Er, no. “I like traveling on the Earth instead of over it.”

“Know what you mean. Besides, security’s a real bitch these days. Pardon my French.” Tucking a briefcase under one arm and picking up the newspaper on his doorstep, he said, “If you’re going to South Station, I’d be happy to give you a ride. It’s on the way to the office.”

I had no idea what or where South Station was, but if Chicken Neck thought it was where I was supposed to go, I was willing to run with it. Smiling warmly, I said, “Aren’t you the nicest neighbor a girl could have?”

His blush deepened. “Say, let me help you with that,” he stammered, walking over to me and taking the suitcase. He did something to the handle, a quick push in and out, and the thing worked perfectly for him. Huh. Must be a mortal thing. With a thick newspaper tucked under his armpit, his briefcase in one hand and the suitcase’s handle in the other, he looked ridiculously comical…and rather sweet.

Ugh, it had to be the milk. I couldn’t be this nice in real life.

Next to his large, blue minivan, he released my suitcase to rummage through his jacket pocket. Removing a set of keys, he pointed a device at the car and pressed a button. The minivan beeped twice, and the back door slid open.

Unholy Hell, these mortals were amazing. Such nifty little gadgets! The Almighty really did make humans in His own image, didn’t He? Mortals definitely had the creation bug in their genes, whether making babies or making gizmos.

But they also had other genes in them too, didn’t they? Darker genes that ate at them like a cancer…

Quit it, Jezebel. That’s what got you in trouble in the first place. Just leave it alone.

“Say, Cait—you okay?”

I glanced over at Chicken Neck, who threw my suitcase onto the backseat. “Sorry. Lost in thought.”

He smiled at me, then shut the door. “You look way too serious for such a nice morning. I know that look. You’re thinking about the business part of the trip instead of the pleasure part, aren’t you?”

“You could say that.” Feeling the weight of my new body pressing down on me, I tried to smile, but suddenly I felt completely drained.

“Try not to think about business. Think of it as a grand adventure!” He shrugged, looking embarrassed and proud at the same time. “That’s what I like to do. Who wants to go to a convention for dentists? That’s boring. But if I think that I’m on my way to someplace new, someplace where I could escape from my life and start over new if I wanted to…well, that makes me feel like I’m doing something fun.” He lowered his voice. “Actually, I pretend I’m doing something dangerous.”

His brown eyes sparkled with joy as he revealed this tidbit, and I couldn’t help but smile at his excitement. He was so endearing, like a pet. I resisted the urge to pat him on his balding head. “Sounds like you make the best of it.”

“Exactly!” He opened the passenger door for me, and I slid onto the seat. “Say, you never told me where you’re headed. What’s your destination?”

“Someplace fun,” I said. “Fun, but dangerous.”

He barked out a laugh. “Let me guess—New York City, right?”

Why not? I needed somewhere to go. “You got it.”

“New York, New York,” he sang, “it’s a hell of a town.”

Perfect.

A harrowing ride later—bless me, if all Boston drivers don’t have death wishes, then they’re certifiably insane—Chicken Neck deposited me in front of a sprawling building laden with Ionic columns, topped by a huge clock tower. South Station, I presumed. The granite structure seemed to take up the entire city block—it curved, as if it were either circular or oval, looking more like an amphitheater than a place that harbored trains. Looking up at the clock mechanism, complete with a massive bird spreading its stone wings as if ready to take flight, I was struck by just how small I was.

How did mortals reach such heights without wings? Or at least a decent levitation spell?

The sculpture atop the clock seemed to look down at me. An eagle, maybe—or an owl. For a dizzying moment, I saw superimposed over the building’s façade the towering mountain complex of Pandemonium, home to all creatures of the Pit. The stone bird launched itself off the clock and spiraled down at me, its talons spread wide, murder shining in its black eyes. I bit back a scream as the creature transformed into the half-owl, half-woman shape of Queen Lyssa, goddess of madness and fury, her beak opened as she released a piercing hunter’s cry.

Screwing my eyes shut, I told myself that I wasn’t in Hell. Even in the deepest part of the Abyss, it didn’t smell this bad. Risking a look, I opened my eyes. Once more, the bird was trapped in its stone prison.

Minor panic attack successfully averted. Get going, Jezebel.

Herds of people marched into and out of the massive doorway, all wrapped up in their lives, trying to make their way to their destinations. Gripping my suitcase handle tightly, I joined the flow and allowed myself to be swept inside, caught in the current of human commuters. People swerved around one another as if their feet knew choreographed steps; I, new to the dance, tripped over my own feet and stumbled into fellow travelers. Bags and valises and backpacks and other assorted carrying cases surrounded me, crushed me as we moved forward into a grand concourse.

And there I stopped, too flabbergasted to move. Storefronts and signs and tables and, above all, people milling about, filling almost every available space with color and movement and sound. And the stench! Body odor mingled with perfumes and colognes and deodorants and other camouflages…and that was just from the humans. From the building itself wafted ammonia, soap, and other cleansers, barely dampening the deeper, richer smell of dirt and decay, buried within the structure’s foundation. I inhaled, trying to focus on the earthy scent—something to ground me, help me through the assault on my senses. Someone jostled me from behind, yelling something unintelligible at me as I got shoved to the side.

Glaring, I tried to find the person who’d bumped me, but I would have had an easier time picking a specific grain of sand from an hourglass. Bless me, I knew there were billions of humans on the Earth, but did the better part of that number have to loiter in one building?

I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and walked forward. Now that the initial shock of the place had worn off, I felt amazed instead of overwhelmed. So many stores! Food sellers—many of which seemed closed, but McDonald’s and the Boston Coffee Exchange were open and, from the look of the lines of people waiting for service, they must have been giving away free samples. A place called Au Bon Pain also had a lot of business, and as I saw rows of muffins, bagels, and other assorted pastries lying on display, my stomach lurched and rumbled. Saliva pooled in my mouth, and I swallowed it down. It took me a moment to identify the sensation I was experiencing.

I was hungry! And not for sex. Wow…that was a first.

Ambling inside the pseudo-French boulangerie, I paused in front of the baked goodies. My stomach growled again. I grabbed two large muffins, considered the sounds my belly made, and took a third. Following the cues of the humans around me, I stood in a line until it was my turn. The key to blending in, I discovered, was acting as if I knew what I was doing. Apparently, maneuvering through real life was just like sex: When all else fails, fake it.

I showed the cashier my selection. Taking my pastries and putting them into a paper bag, she asked me, “That all? Any coffee today?”

I’d never tried it before, although I’d heard mortals talk about coffee like it was an exquisite pleasure. I could use a bit of pleasure. Maybe the coffee came with a side order of Cabin Boy to watch me drink it. “Sure, coffee would be great.”

“Large?”

“Um, okay.”

“Milk and sugar?”

“No milk,” I said quickly.

She pushed a covered, wax-coated paper cup my way, along with the bag of muffins. “That’ll be seven twenty-nine.”

Right, payment. I opened Caitlin’s bag and produced her wallet. Inside the billfold were three tens, a twenty, and a few ones. I handed the cashier a ten, took my change along with my purchase, and returned the wallet to the purse.

I just bought my first thing as a human! Woot! I wanted to do a happy dance, but I thought that might call attention to myself.

Suitcase in tow, I hurried out of the shop, managing not to slam into anyone as I searched for a place to sit and eat. Seeing an empty table, I made a beeline for it and threw myself into the seat just as another woman approached. She shot me a filthy look as I placed my bag and purse on the table. I bit back my initial reaction, which was to zap her and giggle as she fell to the floor, writhing as an orgasm savaged her body. Not only was I in disguise, I also had my shieldstone nuzzled between my breasts, which wouldn’t allow me to use my power even if I really wanted to. So instead I smiled sweetly at her as I opened my bag of food. Scowling, she turned away, looking for a place of her own. Suck it up, sweetie. I was here first.

Feeling very proud of myself for using such restraint, I took out a muffin. The large pastry had some fruit in it—cranberries and orange pieces, I thought; I’d just grabbed the first ones I’d seen without pausing to read their names. I tore off a chunk and popped it in my mouth.

Chewed.

Swallowed.

Oh…unholy Hell, who would have thought a morsel of food could be so succulent? I’d eaten mortal food before, but all as part of the job—it never had any real taste until now. And such taste! Sweet as a man’s soul on my lips, solid as a man’s shaft ramming inside of me. I ripped off another piece and ate it, savoring the way my saliva began to break down the food even as I chewed, masticating until the bite was nothing more than mush. I swallowed it down and broke off another section, shoving it in my mouth and barely touching it with my teeth before I swallowed, already reaching for more.

Before I knew it, the muffin was gone. As I reached into the bag for another treat, a male voice asked, “Is this seat taken?”

Hovering next to the empty seat across from me stood a tall man in a white T-shirt and jeans, a steaming paper cup in one hand, a jacket slung over his shoulder. Crowning his head, his light brown hair was cut short, but it was just long enough to curl slightly around his ears. His face was broad, with sculpted cheeks and a strong jaw. Small, expressive sea-green eyes regarded me. Poet’s eyes…and a fighter’s nose, which had clearly been broken at least once in his life.

One side order of Cabin Boy, as requested. Yuuuuum.

His thin lips, already curved into a pleasant smile, quirked into an amused grin as my gaze lingered.

“Not taken,” I said, finally remembering to answer his question. “Help yourself.”

He draped his jacket over the back of the chair, then sat, taking a sip from his cup. “Thanks.”

I smiled at him, admiring how his throat worked as he drank. Then I mentally rolled my eyes. What was I, a former succubus or a wannabe vampire?

To cover my fluster, I removed the plastic cover from my coffee cup and took a careful sip of the hot liquid. Oooooh…yum, again!

I must have said something aloud, because the man said, “Sounds like your coffee’s better than mine.”

“I think it’s the sugar. Wow, that’s good!”

Looking at the advertising on my cup, he said, “With a reaction like that, from now on I’ll get my coffee at Au Bon Pain, too.”

We shared a laugh. His was warm, and hearing it made my stomach flutter and my heart beat a little faster.

He extended his hand. “I’m Paul.”

When his fingers touched mine, I felt something electric dance over my skin, and the temperature suddenly rose about a million degrees. Instead of telling him Caitlin’s name, I gave him the human nickname I’d picked up over the years. “Jesse.”

His eyes flicked to my suitcase. “Going or coming?”

My breath caught in my throat as I heard another voice, a deep voice, whisper to me: Going or coming? In my mind, I saw a large man, a blue bandana holding his long, red hair away from his lean face. He opened his mouth and asked…

“Jesse? You okay?”

Feeling the blood drain from my face, I withdrew my hand from his and placed it between my knees as I shivered. “Sorry. I’m okay. You just…reminded me of someone.”

Thoughts flitted across his eyes, but all he said was, “Oh.”

Shaking off the shreds of memory, I flashed him a smile, but it felt strained around the edges. “I really should go, get my ticket.”

“Okay.” He raked his hand through his hair, as if he was used to it being longer. A frown marred his brow. “Sorry I spooked you. It was nice meeting you.”

“You too, Paul.” I grabbed my suitcase and purse and dashed off, not knowing where I was going, just trying to get away from that husky voice inside my head. But even as I finally found the Amtrak board and got in line to purchase a one-way ticket to New York, I still heard that voice inside my mind, repeating the last thing it had said to me:

You’re mine.

Collapsing on a red, high-backed seat on the Regional Service Amtrak train, I wrapped my arms around myself. Bless me six ways to Salvation, I was a former demon. I didn’t get afraid. I caused fear. And wet dreams, but that was a side effect.

But I couldn’t deny that I was terrified, down to my fragile human bones. How long could I avoid the malefic bounty hunters on my trail? If the Coveter hadn’t been lying—always a toss-up when it came to demons—then I was worth a lot to whomever, or whatever, returned me to Hell. With such a high price, how long could I trust the witch’s spell and the shieldstone to protect me?

And what would they do to me if I returned?

I inhaled deeply, then let out a shaky breath. I was not going to mind-fuck myself. Caitlin’s nasty potion would work because she said it would, and I had to believe her. All I had to do was not use my powers, and the peridot hanging between my boobs took care of that. I could do this.

I would do this.

Feeling a tad better, I struggled to put my suitcase on the luggage rack over the seat. The blessed thing was too heavy. I hefted and grunted and shoved, and let out a few colorful curses. Suddenly the trunk flew out of my hands and into the rack.

Blinking, I wondered if I had accidentally cast a spell somehow—maybe the suitcase had a charm on it? Then I saw Paul grinning at me as he lowered his hands.

“Hope you don’t mind,” he said. “Looked like you could use some help.”

My grin must have eaten my entire face. “Thanks. Fancy meeting you here.”

“So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to start over. Is this seat taken?”

With a laugh, I said, “Nope.” I scooted to the window, and he sat next to me. Up close, I noticed how broad his shoulders were, how his arms were nicely muscled…how he had a musky scent that permeated his entire being. My right arm lay parallel to his left, each on an armrest, and I was fascinated by how tan his skin was, how golden his body hair was, compared with my pale flesh and dark hair. His hand could have swallowed mine and come back for seconds.

“I didn’t see any luggage for you,” I said, suddenly burning with curiosity about this mortal—this man with a poet’s eyes and a fighter’s nose. “You travel light.”

He smiled, close lipped. “Boston was a one-day thing. Came last night. Glad to be leaving now.”

“You live in New York?”

“Yup. You?”

I bit my lip, which was still sore from when I’d bitten it earlier. “I will be. Maybe.”

He didn’t say anything, just looked at me with those lovely eyes. A silence grew until I filled it with, “I’m getting a fresh start.”

“Fresh is good.” Something darkened his eyes for a moment. “Sometimes we have to leave stuff behind, do something new.”

My heart somehow wound up in my head, because all I could hear was it thumping like crazy in my ears. “Exactly.”

We stayed like that for a small eternity, our gazes locked and tongues tied, silently sharing secrets that we didn’t dare speak aloud. The spell broke when the train started moving, and the conductor announced that all tickets should be ready for collection. Smiling sheepishly—and feeling stupid and goofy and excited, all mixed up into a big knot in my belly—I turned away to dig through my bag for the ticket I’d bought with Caitlin’s credit card.

Placing the ticket on my lap, I saw that Paul had his ready to go too. He cast a glance at mine, and I could see his mind working. Did he notice the name on the ticket said “Caitlin Harris” instead of “Jesse Something”?

The ticket-taker came and went, and I placed the stub inside my purse. For a moment, I leaned back into the seat and watched the scenery outside the window as we rolled past, leaving a blur of color streaming behind. My eyes slipped closed, just for a moment, as I felt the train’s vibrations tickle my spine and work its way into my neck.

And just over four hours later, I awoke with my head on Paul’s shoulder as the conductor announced over the loudspeaker that we’d arrived at New York City’s Penn Station.