For the first time since being forced into service as the Devil’s temptress, I’d reached a doorway in Hell that I couldn’t enter.
With its industrial gray paint and silver knob, the door was nearly identical to every other one in Hell, yet it made me pause. It had been labeled ‘Authorized Personnel Only,’ and mounted above it was a single, red light bulb in a metal cage.
For the most part, the Hell I traveled appeared like a dreary office building. With its endless corridors, flickering fluorescent lights, and scuffed walls, Hell was more depressing than intimidating. But I wasn’t fooled. Ever since I’d been hit by a car and died seven months before, I’d seen enough of the place to know a nightmare lay underneath the façade.
My mind went back to the final moments of my life. Even after all this time, I relived those seconds over and over again. As I crossed the street, my eyes were glued to my cell phone screen and the dirty picture that I was texting my stepsister. A flash of white caught my attention, and I glanced up to see the Volvo speeding towards me. It was too late to run, and to my horror, the car never swerved. A second before it hit me, I got a look at the driver – a grim-faced man dressed in white. Then my feet were knocked out from under me, and I flew up and hit the windshield. It was like being run over by a charging elephant. The impact knocked the shoes off of my feet and my soul out of my body. One minute, I was walking on Earth, and the next I was deep in the bowels of hell.
Now, I was facing a door that I couldn’t open.
Afraid that I’d made a wrong turn, I looked to my succubus for help. My succubus was the demon who had possessed me since I’d been forced into service for the Devil. How do we get past this door? I asked her. She doesn’t speak to me directly, but sends me mental signals. Right then, she was begging me to run away.
“We can’t leave,” I said, irritably. As much as I didn’t want to tempt someone into doing the Devil’s dirty work, I also didn’t dare not do it, either. If I disobeyed Helen Spry, my demon overlord, she wouldn’t hesitate to show me how awful the real Hell could be.
I blamed my great-great-great-great-great grandmother, Sarah Goodswain, for getting me into this mess. Back in the 1700s, she had made a deal with the Devil to get out of being hanged as a witch. The deal had included not only her, but all of her female progeny as well. Now, I was stuck serving the Devil until I could find a way out of that contract.
Despite the door’s ominous vibes, I put my hand on the doorknob and prepared to turn it. My succubus panicked. She yanked hard on her reins, and my hand swiped to the left.
“What’s your issue?” I demanded. Normally, doing the Devil’s work thrilled my inner demon, but something about this door upset her. In fact, she was more agitated now than she had been on those occasions when we’d gone into Heaven. Because Hell boosts her strength, she once again took control of me. Despite my efforts to move forward, I was forced back a few steps. When she begged me to leave a second time, I agreed. If she was so concerned about that doorway, then something must be wrong.
I double-checked the note that Delilah, Miss Spry’s new assistant, had given me. My job was coaxing people into doing the Devil’s work, and Delilah’s was to come up with the names of those people and make appointments for me. Because I’d been complaining that I couldn’t read her writing, she’d taken special pains to print clearly. She’d also added a hand-drawn map. Even so, I couldn’t find my client.
Not that it mattered now. The appointed moment had already passed. These temptations were always timed down to the minute since it was crucial to approach the victims when they were most vulnerable to temptation. Even being a few seconds late could result in a missed opportunity.
Frustrated, I crumpled the note and shoved it into my pocket. Missing the temptation didn’t upset me, but Miss Spry was not an understanding or forgiving demon. Even though the bungled assignment wasn’t my fault, she’d use it as an excuse to punish me just as she had in the past.
Although it was probably pointless, I decided to pay a visit to Delilah and see if we could salvage the job. I left the ominous door and retraced my steps. The identical hallways made Hell labyrinthine, but luckily, my succubus worked like a supernatural GPS system, and within minutes, I found Delilah’s office.
I knocked once, then walked in. Delilah glared at me from behind her desk. A large woman with dark skin and dreadlocks, she was far different from Patrick Clerk, the man she’d replaced. Today, she wore a bright yellow dress and, as always, armfuls of silver bangles. “Don’t tell me,” she said. “Something went wrong.”
Delilah’s bad mood most likely resulted from her impossible job. Mr. Clerk, Miss Spry’s assistant for many years, had become an expert at reading the complex blueprints mapping out each human’s life. Delilah, however, had been working for only a few weeks. Her nerves must have been frayed.
“I couldn’t find the right door,” I said.
“I drew you a map.”
“I know, but it led me to a door that said ‘Authorized Personnel Only.’”
She looked alarmed. “You didn’t try to open it, did you?”
“My succubus wouldn’t let me.”
She sighed, relieved. “Good.”
Asking questions in Hell was frowned upon, but curiosity drove me on. “Why? What’s behind it?”
“Nothing you need to worry about,” she said sternly. “If Miss Spry marks a door as Authorized, then stay away from it. Now, let me see that map.”
When I handed her the paper, her face sagged. “This note wasn’t meant for you.” She shuffled folders and notes on her desk until she uncovered another slip of paper. “This was the one you needed.”
“It’s okay,” I said, sighing. “Don’t worry about it.”
Her expression tightened. “No, it’s not okay. Making a mistake is understandable, but making a stupid mistake is just…stupid.” She met my eyes. “I am not a stupid person.”
“I know you aren’t,” I said. “This job is overwhelming. That’s all.” Mr. Clerk had left abruptly, and Delilah had been dumped into his position without so much as a how-to manual or employee orientation.
“I don’t need you to tell me about my job,” she said. “Besides, this job is only part of the problem. Miss Spry also wants me to schedule her appointments, write her letters, and even make her damned tea!” Delilah’s jaw muscles bunched. “I think I’m doing pretty well considering.”
In reality, Delilah’s success rate hovered at twenty-five percent, but I didn’t mention it since I was determined to stay on her good side. The more friends I could make in Hell, the better. “Don’t worry. You’ll get the
