Date With Death (Welcome To Hell) (7 page)

Mictain jogged through Hellpark, weaving around the towering pillars of red rock that towered amidst the gnarly, almost leafless trees. He needed the mindless adrenaline of exercise to forget the events of the morning.

Bloody Lucifer. It’s his fault I’m sweating in Hell instead of naked on top of Marigold.
Mictain didn’t give a fuck who Marigold’s father was. He needed he
r—
in his bed, in his arms, in his life because Felipe was right. He liked her. It was the only explanation for how quickly she’d already taken up residence in his heart.

How pathetic am I? A god worshipped in blood and lives, mooning over a witch who doesn’t want me.
Of course, that didn’t mean he’d surrender that easily. He’d give her the space she seemed to want, but the war to gain her heart was far from over. He’d pay her a visit later once she’d had a chance to cool down, and hopefully, come to miss him.
And if she’s still cranky, I’ll let my tongue talk to her other mouth until she cums around again and again.

His hellphone, strapped to his hip, beeped, signaling an incoming text message. Mictain ignored it, not in the mood to work today, the prerogative of a retired god who worked to dispel boredom and not because he had to. However, ignoring the message was apparently not an option
because the damned phone went ballistic, beeping nonstop until Mictain stopped jogging and grabbed it to peer at its screen.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
With a curse, he popped out of Hades and appeared on the mortal plain atop a building rooftop. The sudden change in temperature made him shiver as his sweaty body cooled, but he ignored the chill as he strode across the concrete surface toward the woman perched on the edge, poised to jump.

“Get your ass down off that ledge,” he bellowed.

His shout startled Marigold and her arms windmilled wildly as she tried to keep her balance. In a heart-stopping flash, Mictain was at her side. He swept her off the precipice into the safety of his arms and hugged her tight.

Then he shook her. “What the fuck were you doing? Since when are you suicidal? Things aren’t that bad, dammit.”

“Hi,” she said, and then she grinned impishly him. “Thanks for answering my call.”

“What?” He stared at her with incomprehension for a moment before understanding dawned. “You mean you faked a suicide
attempt just to get me back here?”

She nodded
, and Mictain, his heart filling with happiness that she’d wanted him back, no matter her strange method, laughed. “How about I leave you a phone number so next time you can just call me?”

“How boring is that?” she teased, twining her arms around his neck. She made a moue of distaste and pulled back. “Eew. You’re all sweaty.” She narrowed her eyes and looked him up and down. “It better be from exercising,
alone.
”

“I was jogging, so you can get that jealous gleam out of your eye.”

“I am not jealous,” she huffed. “And don’t go thinking just because I was trying to get your attention that this means anything.”

“Then why call me?”

“Because contrary to what I said this morning, my itch still needs scratching.”

“I’ll scratch that and more. It’s what boyfriends are for.” Mictain acted cool, but her words made him want to rip the clothes from her body and sink himself into her glorious sex.

“Whoa. Slow down. I never said we were dating. That implies emotional involvement.”

Mictain held his temper as he leaned against the concrete parapet and folded his arms. “So what are we then?”

“How about friends with benefits?” she said, sliding up to him and tracing a finger down his chest.

Not quite what I have in mind, but it’s a start.
“Fuck buddies, huh? Sounds good to me, but just so we’re clear,” he said, leaning forward so his mouth hovered barely an inch from hers, “I don’t share.”

“Neither do I,” she said as she tiptoed up to brush her mouth across his. “So you’d better get a half dozen donuts when you get our coffee.”

It took him a second to get her joke. She skipped out of reach, but not quick enough to avoid his swat on her ass. She giggled and turned to waggle her bottom at him. He lunged, but she danced away. “Nope. You don’t get to play with these buns until you feed me. So get moving. And bring a blanket too.”

“Yes,
general,” he replied with a salute. He’d let her think she could order him around, for now. There was time enough later to battle over who would wear the pants in their relationship, although his true preference was that they wear none and stayed naked in bed for at least the next decade or so. Of course, first, he’d have to change her mind about their relationship. Fuck friends indeed. Marigold was his whether she wanted to accept it yet or not.

Mictain planned his seduction as he jogged down the twelve flights of stairs to the street. He smiled at the cashier as he bought them two large café mochas along with a dozen donuts. He got hard when he quickly popped back to his place to grab a blanket for them to picnic o
n—
and then fuck. He became enraged when he emerged onto the rooftop and saw Marigold fighting for her life.

How dare
someone touch my woman!

*

Marigold leaned on the cement parapet as she looked down at the street. She saw Mick emerge from her apartment building, moving briskly to the coffee shop. She smiled, unable to stop the warm glow that suffused her. Her crazy plan to call Death had worked, although she’d been somewhat worried she might get one of Mick’s co-workers. But her very own angel of death arrived, swooping in to save her from herself. Much as she wanted to remain aloof and just use him for good sex, she knew she was falling for him. Judging by his capitulation, it appeared like he might have already tumbled.

Not that he’d said any actual words, but then again, they hadn’t really had time to talk much. Something she planned to rectify over coffee, donuts
, and then during the afterglow of good sex.

Which
, judging by the sudden stench of brimstone, might end up delayed. Marigold whirled, expecting a visit from the big man. She got a surprise instead. A not so good one, which was kind of ironic because how many people would prefer a visit from Lucifer?

“Holy shit.” Her breathy expletive
was heard by the five demons advancing on her, or so she assumed by their matching grins. Not a pretty sight, especially for the human in their path. “Looking for someone?”

“Are you Marigold?”

“Uh, no.”

A nasty chuckle met her refutation. “Nice try, witch. Be a good girl and don’t try to run. It will go harder on you if you do.”

“What exactly is it that you want?”

“Blood. Pain. Mayhem. All three. My friends and I aren’t picky.”

They also didn’t bathe judging by the malodorous scent wafting her way. “Listen. You really don’t want to do this.”

“Oh yes, we do,” said the squattest of the demons, his dark green
skin adorned with warts and pustules. “Your father’s going to regret pissing us off.”

“But I don’t even know who my father is.” Marigold wanted to scream in frustration.
When I find out who that deadbeat is, I’m gonna blister his ears until he goes deaf, and kick him in the shin for messing up my sex-life.
And punish him for the damage to her face because somehow, she doubted the menacing demons would treat her gently.

“Not our problem,” it replied, approaching along with its companions.

“Stop where you are!” she ordered imperiously. “My boyfriend will be back any minute and you really don’t want to piss him off.”

“Then we’d better kill you quick.”

With a squeak, Marigold dove to the side and away from the claws swinging at her. They still snagged on her shirt, tearing a hole, but at least it wasn’t her skin. She ran, but there was nowhere to go. The door to the building was behind their advancing line, leaving her only with a choice of fight or a swan dive off twelve stories.

I just need to hold them off long enough for Mick to get here. He’ll kick their asses for me!
She might be a witch, but her powers lay in potions, not lightning bolts zapping from her fingertips. As for her newfound power to shatter glass, she tried to imagine the demons imploding to no effect.

Fast and tricky, it
was what she needed to stay out of reach of a very painful death. A great plan against humans, but against demons, she didn’t stand a chance. And they knew it.

They toyed with her, barking with guttural laughter as they spun her from one slimy grasp to another, their sharp claws leaving scratches that stung all over her body. Her vision blurred, and dizzy, she sank to the ground, unable to prevent her knees from buckling. Between the spined and scaled legs, she saw the door to the rooftop open. Coffee and donuts went flying as Mick charged at the group of demons
with a fierce bellow.

“Bastards! You’ll pay for your actions.”

Pay how much?
she wondered inanely. Marigold tried to keep her eyes open, she so wanted to watch her lover in action, but her lids fluttered shut against her will, pulled down as if cement blocks were tied to her lashes. She listened to the grunts and meaty smacks of Mick exacting vengeance.
Ha! Take that you nasty creatures.
She wished the muscles in her face would move so she could smile.

It
took too much effort. Darkness beckoned and she allowed herself to slip in its numbing embrace.

Fury boiled the blood in his veins. Gone only minutes to fetch his witch sustenance and he returned to find her getting pummeled. Unacceptable. Did they not know who they messed with? Did these lower caste demons not have any respect for their elders anymore?

They would once he was done with them. T
he demons who’d dared to touch
his
witch learned what it meant to raise the wrath of a god. He demolished them with his fists—meaty, bone-crunching blows no mortal creature could have withstood. His rage gave him extra strength, enough to rip limbs free and then swing them as a club, knocking the unworthy creatures around until they crawled, dripping ichor and blubbering for mercy.

As if he’d give them any.

Mictain dragged them back to face more of his justice, not satisfied until they cried, begged, and pleaded for death. Then, and only then, did he send them to Hell where he knew Lucifer would make them suffer some more. In his mind, an eternity wouldn’t be enough, not for what they’d done to his Marigold.

Speaking of whom, she didn’t look too healthy.
He knelt at her side, wincing at the cuts and bruises blossoming all over the visible parts of her body. Gray of complexion and unconscious, he cursed as he realized her human side was reacting to the toxin from the demons’ claws. He picked her up and cradled her carefully in his arms. He began heading toward the stairs leading down to her apartment when he realized Marigold wouldn’t have the unguents and remedies needed to help her.
But I’ve got some back at my place
where I can also keep her safe.

However, his translocation magic didn’t allow him to bring a passenger. Only a few demons could create a portal strong enough for more than one entity. Much as it galled him, he called upon his boss.

“Lucifer!” It might have appeared strange for him to call the Devil’s name out loud, but no stranger than having a reply in the form of a kilt-wearing, bare-chested Lucifer wielding a golf club, wearing a tam with a cigar hanging out of his mouth.

“What the fuck is it now?” growled the
lord of sin. “I was in the midst of practicing my swing.”

He would have been better served hiring someone to dress him. “I need your help.”

It was only then Lucifer noticed Marigold’s shivering form. “What the fuck, Mictain? I thought you liked the girl.”

“I didn’t do this. Some of your demons did.”

“Not under my orders,” was the indignant reply.

“Renegades then. Doesn’t matter. I’ve sent them to dispatch for processing. But can we forget the who and how and get to the help part
? She needs medical attention.”

“So take her to a hospital.”

“You know as well as I do that they’re not equipped to deal with demonic poisonings.”

“True. But she should have enough supernatural blood to help her pull through.” She whimpered and Lucifer added, “Maybe.”

“She’s suffering.”

“And?
What do you want me to do about it? I’m a destroyer, not a fixer. If you wanted pansy healing magic you should have called Gaia.”

“She’s your girlfriend. You call her.”

“Can’t. She’s on some spa day, girl’s retreat thing with Muriel. No phones allowed. But she’ll be back tomorrow.”

Mictain’s head just about exploded. “Then why tell me to call her if you knew she wasn’t available?”

“I didn’t. I was just saying that in this type of situation, should it ever happen again—”

“Alright. I get it. Can we move on? Time is a ticking.”

“Fine. Be that way,” Lucifer huffed. “Try to give some guy advice and he jumps all over you.”

“Sorry. Happy now?”

“Not really.”

“I’ll buy you a grog next time we go out. Okay?” Because Lucifer was a cheap bastard who hated to pay for drinks. “Now, p
op us back to my place, would you? I’ve got some stuff that should do the trick or at least alleviate the worst of her symptoms.

“I don’t know. Maybe I should just take her straight to her father. You haven’t done too good of a job protecting her so far. Two demon attacks in two days? You’re slipping, old man.”

“Like hell. Who do you think saved her? As for taking Marigold to her dad, you heard her before. She’s got no interest in the man.”

“But she’s injured now. That changes things.”

“I can fix this. Don’t get her father involved.” Not when Marigold was at her weakest. She’d blow a gasket for sure when she recovered, and Mictain had enough apologizing to do as it was, starting with him not being around to protect her when she needed him most.

“If she dies…”

“Um, hello? Grim reaper her. I’ll just refuse to collect her soul.”

Lucifer snorted. “That’s a dumb answer even for you. Good thing we’re friends or I’d punish you for it. As for taking her back to your place, I’ll give you both a ride, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

What was the worst this so-called father could do?

The question took a back burner as the familiar rush of cold air followed by stifling hot and brimstone
-tinged rushed past his face. In seconds, Lucifer had popped them to Hell, right into his bedroom. Mictain placed Marigold gently on the bed. How he wished he could have introduced her to his blue satin comforter under nicer circumstances.

Not liking her pallor at all,
he ran to his bathroom and his first aid kit, which despite his assertion to Lucifer, proved disappointingly bare. Apparently, the shit had an expiration date. The potions for combating poison and increasing the rate of healing had dried out from disuse. Gods had little use for healing aids, and it seemed he’d owned his a tad too long.

“Fuck!” He
raced back to his bedroom and checked on Marigold, who breathed shallowly. There was no help for it. He’d need to leave to get the medicine he needed. He kissed her lightly on the forehead. “Hold on, little witch. I’ll be right back, and I promise you’ll get better.”

A part of him really
didn’t like leaving her alone, but there was no safer place for her than in his loft, which was only slightly less secure than Lucifer’s personal quarters. Mictain did so prize his privacy.

Checking the wards first on his condo and finding them secure,
Mick translocated himself right into Hell’s apothecary, startling the hunched wizard-turned-pharmacist sitting behind the long, wooden counter.

“My
lord, you do my shop great honor,” said the wizened figure as he stood and bowed. “What may I help you with today? Perhaps a love agent to make the ladies swoon? We also have a new product sure to please; Hiagra two, the drug ensured to give you a monstrous cock, which unlike the first version, doesn’t include the fangs.”

Mictain restrained a shudder at the reminder of Hiagra 1. While he’d never tried it, the results of its use had horrified even the nastiest of denizens in Hell. “Thanks
, Mungo, but what I really need is your strongest healing cream for a half-human and a counter agent to demonic poison.”

“Hmm. I’ll have to mix up a fresh batch. There’s been an uncommon amount of demonic attacks lately.” Mungo scurried to his lab in the back and Mictain paced, impatient at the wait even knowing it would take hours for the poison
’s effect to become irreversible. He couldn’t help a nagging sense that something was wrong.
What a sap I’m turning into. She’s safe at my place and I won’t do her any good coming back without the medicine.

Despite the alarm bells ringing madly in his mind, Mictain waited as Mungo carefully measured, stirred
, and incanted. Finally, Mungo handed the two vials to Mictain, who with a terse “Thanks,” popped back to his bedroom.

And an empty bed.
Are you fucking kidding me?

“Lucifer!” Mick yelled his patron’s name and didn’t receive an answer. Not surprising
given Mictain was sure he somehow had a hand in Marigold’s disappearance.

Mictain popped himself so that he stood
outside Lucifer’s gate and rang the buzzer. No one, not even allies, could translocate directly into the compound. It was a pity no one had figured out how to prevent Satan from doing the same.

There was no answer to the buzzer, but the gate did swing open with an ominous creak
. Lucifer carefully controlled the ambiance of his home and there was a strict rule against greasing the hinges on doors. Mictain strode up to the bronze front doors that stood close to twelve feet high. Lucifer received the strangest guests sometimes, and the features in his home, like oversized rooms and doors, were just a small indicator. The doors swung open with a metallic screech that made him wince.

Taking the gaping entranceway as an invitation,
Mictain entered and strutted across the red slate floor directly to Lucifer’s office. Satan’s goblin secretary, her shiny green skin warted and her pointed teeth rouged for attention, just waved him through. As if she could have stopped him. Mictain wasn’t in the mood to argue his lack of appointment, not with Marigold missing.

In he
walked and found the Lord of Hades golfing; actually, he was putting, of a sorts. Lucifer held the leg of a demon as his club and appeared to be using the head as the ball, while the hole he aimed for was his pet hellhound who lay flat to the floor with its mouth wide open for its next treat. Familiar with the fate of others who interrupted—painful, and blood
y—
Mictain waited as Lucifer lined up his shot. Even silently cheered because he recognized the body parts as belonging to the fiends who’d attacked Marigold. What a way to go, dismembered, eaten, and then turned into hellhound shit. Satan had an eloquent sense of justice.

The foot at the end of the leg connected and the head rolled with an erratic wobble into the waiting maw. With a crunch, the dog devoured the head whole and Lucifer laid his makeshift club aside to pay him attention.

“Mictain, what a surprise,” Lucifer said with a mocking smile.

“Where is she?” growled Mictain.

“Are you talking about the little witch? Yes, her father was most displeased with your lack of care. He decided she’d be better off with him after all.”

“Get her back.” Mick restrained an urge to shake Lucife
r—
one didn’t lay hands on the Lord of Hades and expect to live to tell about it.

“Impossible.”

“Then tell me where she is.”

“Face it, Mictain, you’ve lost her. Now run along. I’ve got a court session with a recently deceased BP executive. I want to make sure I’m in the proper mood
.” Lucifer rubbed his hands together with a sadistic smile.

Mictain exploded. “Dammit, Lucifer. She’s my woman. If you know where she is, then tell me so I can at least try and talk to her father.” Mictain hated feeling helpless. It wasn’t something he’d encountered much in his lif
e—
or unlife. Despite knowing he should hold his temper, he couldn’t rein it in, not with his emotions running so high. “I’m getting fucking tired of you meddling in my love life. It’s none of your fucking business. Now tell me where the hell she is!”

It didn’t take the smoke pouring from his ears for him to guess he’d gone too far.
Lucifer turned to him with the fires of Hell snapping in his eyes. “Listen here, boy. I’ve tolerated your attitude because of our friendship, but you’re really pushing it. Go home before you do something stupid. Forget the girl. She’s out of your reach.”

But Mictain wasn’t about to forget Marigold. He couldn’t; she’d
gone and done the impossible. She’d stolen his heart. So, what was a god to do when he needed to find someone and the most powerful demon in the realm refused to help?

Mictain
didn’t bother saying goodbye. He just strode out of Satan’s office and headed for the nearest open area where he could call upon his translocation magic. There was someone, make that a trio, who could possibly help him. The only problem was the price they might ask in return. Mictain didn’t care.
I’ll do or give anything
. He needed to find Marigold. Needed to make sure she was safe. Needed to hold her and never let her go.

Taking a deep breath, he popped to the top of
Mount Purgatory. He landed on a barren plateau open on three sides. From the fourth side, carved into the mountain itself, gaped a cavernous opening. Welcome to the home of the Moirae, more commonly known as the Fates. The Moirae, like him, had lost all their followers as time marched on, but they still retained their powers. Although looking around him and where they’d chosen to live, Mictain wondered about their abilities. Unlike himself and other gods of ages lost to dust, the sisters did not seem to embrace modern times and its conveniences. He also had to wonder at their sanity at choosing to live in a dank cave dug into the very rock of Hades itself. Yet, doubt them as he might, he still needed their aid. He stood at the entrance to their home and called to them.

“Atropos, weaver of the beginning, I call upon you for aid.” A warm breeze blew from the dark opening and swirled around his body, tickling him. “Lachesis, measurer of life, I call upon you for aid.” Scent surrounded hi
m—
spicy, sweet,and sou
r—
the various flavors a life should take. “Clotho, severer of life, I call upon you for aid.” Deep cold came pouring forth, making his teeth chatter. The numbing chill of it sucked his breath away. Impressive tricks for a human; as a god,Mictain saw them for what they wer
e—
a sensory prop to make them seem more intimidating and mysterious.