I'd like to share a preview of my upcoming novella Hell is Where the Heart Is
The door flew open without so much as a knock. Oh, Home and
damnation! Didn’t anyone respect privacy anymore? Vik snapped his fingers,
banishing his PlayStation and Black Veil Brides posters back to the ninth level
of Hell where no self-respecting upper level demon dared go. While the sixth
level ruler didn’t embrace the trappings of modern humanity like heads of other
levels did, lately she’d learned a new human word: slacker—and wasn’t afraid to
use it. After all, any son who’d reached the ripe old age of two centuries
should be out of the parental cave by now.
A flickery little fire minion hopped up onto the coffee
table and bowed low. He’d better not leave any ashes or scorch marks. The maid
service would have Vik’s hide. “Your Royal Highness, Prince Noorvik Metlakatla
Hoonah Emmonak, Master of the Sixth Level of…”
Yeah, yeah. Yadda, yadda. Vik wafted out a puff of smoke. A
minion didn’t deserve a full-flame snort, and what the Home had Mother been
thinking to hang a guy with so many barely-pronounceable names? Writing his
name and phone number on matchboxes at bars gave his quarry too much time to
get away.
“Can you call me Vik like everyone else?”
“But sire, I’m on official business, summoning you to a
private audience with Her Supreme Highness, the Most Glorious Sovereign of the
Sixth Level of Hades, Mistress of All Things Dark and Sinister, Anaktuvuk
Iliamna—”
“Mom. Go ahead, say it. She’s my mom. The Big Fucking Deal
of the Sixth Level.” The only level worth inhabiting, in his mother’s eyes.
Lower levels fell to chaos and ignorance, and the denizens of the upper levels
grew too snooty to tolerate. She carefully guarded her turf from outside
influences. Big Fucking Deal, indeed.
The fire minion shaded from red to blue, his edges tinged
with white. He dropped his already hissing voice to a lower susurrus. “Don’t
let her hear you say that…”
Vik emitted another sigh, offering up a touch of flame
through his nostrils. Pompous ass of a minion. Why couldn’t Mother simply
install intercoms or hand out cell phones? Sometimes the temperatures reached a
bit on the high side on the sixth level, but surely someone could figure out
how to make a cell phone work in the netherworld. Oh yeah. Her Royal Badness
was the biggest technology snob ever. With single-minded determination she kept
her people in the Dark Ages, where men were men, demons were demons, and Grand
Theft Auto were three words that had yet to be used together.
Ah, no use crying over old times. Old times. Hah! Back
before the rulers of levels five and six had some kind of falling out, declared
a silent war on each other, and sealed the passageways between the two domains.
What glorious times Vik once had, entertaining himself on the fifth level.
There was this one young prince named Diomede…He and Vik had gotten up to a lot
of mischief behind the brimstone pile.
Yes, those were the days, spent with a handsome young demon
prince with blue skin, yellow eyes, and an endless fascination for Vik’s body.
Whatever happened to Prince Diomede? Diomede. Heh. Vik had certainly yelled his
name enough in the past.
For fifty years or so Vik had tested the wards between the
levels. The resulting scorch marks served as visible reminders of his failed
attempts. Whoever sealed the doors didn’t mean for them to be breached.
Sigh.
Diomede. Vik’s very own “Big Blue.” Where was he now? Did he ever think of Vik,
or had he moved on, like Vik tried to do, burying himself in video games and
the occasional hookup?
The messenger cleared what passed for a throat on a fire
minion. Oh, yeah. Not alone. Vik stopped his hand midway up his thigh where it
seemed to have wandered on its own while he’d recalled his exploits from years
gone by. He’d save those memories for later and some privacy.
“So what brings you down here?”
The minion sucked in air, his little chest heaving. “As I
was saying, The Mistress of All Things Dark and Sinister cordially requests
your presence.”
“In other words, she screamed, ‘Get my slacker son’s ass
down here—now!’”
The minion’s flames shaded to green. “Something to that
effect.”
Ah, Home. No hope for it now. When the BFD called, Vik came
trotting. He passed by a mirror on his way out the door for a fang and zipper
check, and added a bit more eyeliner to highlight his glowing golden eyes.
Maybe the sexy new lieutenant would be in attendance tonight. Vik would love to
get his mitts on Lt. Sex-on-Legs. That is, as long as his mother didn’t find
out.
Two centuries were a long time to stay in the closet, but
somehow Vik managed. Mostly because his mother, the workaholic, was too busy
wreaking havoc on humankind to pry into his personal life. She had underlings
for spying on her son, and they could usually be bought off with movie tickets
and a day pass to the surface—another transgression to hide from Mother.
The residents of level six were an easy lot, with a
voracious appetite for human vices. Vik had even dodged a scandal of epic
proportions with a pack of chewing gum once, given to a very dense fire minion.
Too bad it melted in the little cretin’s mouth. Gobs of greenish goo oozed from
a ball of rainbow-colored flames. Took a month to clean up the mess.
“Ah-hem,” the current fire minion said. “We mustn’t keep her
waiting. You know how she can be.”
Yes, Vik did. Last time he pissed her off the resulting
earthquake formed a new island off the coast of Pakistan.
He closed his apartment door on the conjured image of a
Manhattan high-rise, for as long as the illusion lasted. It’d take another
decade or so to learn long-distance glamour maintenance, or how to maintain the
façade while sleeping. One more reason to kick out his one-night stands before
they actually spent the night and quite literally woke up in Hell.
From the semblance of a big city to the very real caverns of
Hades: outside his front door the scent of brimstone overrode his patchouli
incense and the rough stone walls were hot to the touch, hinting at his true
location. He’d love to extend his glamour to the rest of the immediate area,
but the re-creation of a human city would tip his mother off about his
continued surface exploring. Plus, he pretty much sucked at glamour.
He followed the fire minion, taking care to step clear of
the trail of live sparks the servant shed like cat fur. What did Mother want
this time? Vik had been on his best behavior since his last foray to the
surface, when he’d made tabloid headlines by getting caught in a photographer’s
lens and ending up on the cover of a tabloid. “Demons Exist!” the headline
blared. Bah. It wasn’t even a good likeness. Still, it’d cost him a huge
portion of his DVD collection to arrange the cover up. Greedy little minions.
The closer they came to headquarters, the livelier the
minion bounced. He hopped into a broad chamber, lit by strategically placed
flames. Crystal stalagmites rose from the floor of the cavern, their inner fire
cast flickering light along the wall. Her Supreme Highness, the Big Fucking
Deal of the Sixth Level—although the unofficial title wasn’t used to her
face—reclined on her stone throne. No way could a hunk of carved brimstone be
comfortable. The gorgeous lieutenant was nowhere in sight, just two ugly
bodyguards who could pass for trolls. A handful of hangers-on mingled at the
far end of the chamber, bearing silent testament to his mother’s foul mood.
“Hello, Mot—”
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