1 Straight to Hell (16 page)

“So what part did I almost break?”

Miss Spry flipped through it.  When she found what she was looking for, she took a magnifying glass from her desk drawer and, with its help, examined the page.   “It’s right here.  You are not to love.”

I gaped at her.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean exactly that.  No loving.  It’s against the rules.”  She closed the book.  “This is a standard clause with all of our contracts.”  Mr. Clerk nodded in agreement.  “Demons,” Miss Spry continued, “cannot love.  We’re superior to humans in that way.  You, however, will always struggle with that since you are now both human and demon.”

She looked amused, and I hated her for it.  It seemed to be as William said.  Miss Spry loved watching me stumble over my conscience and was finding my soul’s corruption very entertaining indeed.

“You see,” she continued, “love is a particularly nasty weapon that our enemy has devised to thwart us.  He knows that love makes humans vulnerable.  He’s clever, our advisory.  Clever, cruel, and very, very difficult to get rid of.”

Strangely, that was similar to what the minister had told me at Carrie’s funeral.  Only, he’d said it to try and comfort me.  The thing was, I tended to agree with Miss Spry about God’s cruelty.  After all, if He really was such a great guy, why wasn’t He here right now, bailing me out when I needed Him?

Miss Spry was waiting for my reply, but I refused to give the answer she wanted.   “Forget it.”  I stood up and planted my hands on her desk.  “I’m through being a succubus.  I never agreed to sign your damn contract.”  She was still smiling, so I added, “And if you don’t like it, then I’ll go work for the other side.”

Mr. Clerk drew in a sharp breath, and Miss Spry’s eyes glowed hot once more.  “Don’t even joke about such a thing.”

I hadn’t meant it seriously.  It had just slipped out.  But now, seeing her venomous look, I knew I was onto something and held my ground.  I was tired of caving in and had the feeling that if I didn’t stick up for myself now, she’d keep demanding more and more.  It was time to push back.  “I’m not joking.”

Neither was she, as it turned out.

The moment the words were out of my mouth, Miss Spry began to grow.  Within moments, she was too large to fit behind the desk.  A second more, she’d reached the limits of the room.  Her back touched the ceiling, and her enormous head thrust towards me.  I backed away as far as I could, shielding my eyes with my arm so I wouldn’t have to look at her dreadful eyes and the cavernous mouth that I was sure would swallow me whole.

“I want to make one thing absolutely clear.”  Her thunderous voice made the floor shake.  “You do what I tell you.  Always.”

I slumped to the floor and curled up in a fetal position.  “Yes, ma’am.”  My voice quavered.  I’ll say anything, I thought.  Anything you want.  Only, please, go away
.

“You are mine, Lilith Straight.  Mine to do with whatever I please.”  Her hand, so cold it nearly burned, wrapped around my wrist.  “You are my slave.  My will is your will.”

“Okay, I understand.  Just please don’t hurt me,” I begged.  “Please.”

“She’s gone.”

I peeked through slitted eyes and saw Mr. Clerk straightening his sweater.  He, too, looked pale.  I would have thought he’d be happy to see me get into trouble, but he didn’t.  He held out his hand and helped me to my feet, and then got me into a chair.

“She’s terrible when she’s really angry,” he said.  He poured me a glass of water from the carafe on her desk.  “Demons have very bad tempers.  It isn’t wise to cross them.”

I used both hands to pick up the glass, but even so, I trembled hard enough to slop water over the sides.  “I can’t live this way for the rest of my life.  It’s too awful.”

 “Now, don’t get too upset.  It isn’t so bad, really.”

“How can you say that!”

He looked surprised.  “It’s easy.  I simply do what she tells me to.”

When I’d finally gotten myself together, Mr. Clerk escorted me out of Miss Spry’s office, leading me from one empty hallway to another until, at last, we reached my kitchen.  “Don’t look so discouraged,” he told me.  “You’re better off without William, believe me.  He’ll tell you anything you want to hear, use you, and cut you loose without a second thought.  It’s what he does.”

“Are you speaking from experience,” I asked, wondering if Mr. Clerk was like me: only half demon and still able to love.

“Of course not,” he said.  But he refused to meet my eyes.  “Besides, even if William was genuinely interested in you, there’s one thing you should always remember about Hell, Lilith.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ll never get what you want.  Miss Spry will see to it personally.”  And from the pain in his expression, it was clear that he knew exactly what he was talking about.

That night, as I tucked Grace into bed, she wrapped her arms around my neck.  “I love you,” she told me.

I squeezed her back.  “I love you, too, Honey.”  I didn’t care if love did make me weak and vulnerable, or even if it was a terrible weapon invented by a sadistic god.  I needed it.  “No matter what, I’ll always love you.”

My demon rumbled uneasily within me, but I ignored it.  Miss Spry could go to hell if she thought I would ever change on this issue.

The next morning, I’d started another load of laundry when the phone rang.  It was Alan Matthais, the principal at Grace and Ariel’s school.  The sound of his voice made me cringe because I knew this call had to be about Ariel.

“What is it this time,” I asked.  “Did she make another teacher cry?  Or try to flush her papier-mâché project down the toilet again?”

“She’s not in trouble,” Alan said.  “But we’re worried about her.  Can you come in for a consult with the social worker?”

Of course I could.  Within fifteen minutes, I walked into the principal’s office.  Sitting there was Ari’s fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Wallace, a gray-haired tank of a woman who’d fought enough class room battles to make her a five-star general at the school, and Alan, who was a balding, jolly, Santa-Claus of a man who had the patience of a saint when it came to kids like Ari.  Miss Calloway, the social worker, was a thin, young woman with a shiny new engagement ring on her finger.  She sat on the edge of her chair, frowning over Ariel’s file.  When I took a seat next to her, she glared at me.  I disliked her immediately.

Everyone looked at Alan to begin the meeting, but it was Mrs. Wallace who started.  “Ariel’s been trying to get the other students to beat her up.”

I immediately leapt into contrition mode.  “I’m so sorry!  I never encourage violence at home, and  I hope she didn’t hurt anyone…”  I was halfway through my apology before Mrs. Wallace’s message finally clicked.  Ari wasn’t hitting anyone.  She was asking other kids to hit
her.
  This was a whole new level of crazy, even for Ariel.

Seeing my confusion, Alan stepped in.  “Apparently, she does this on the playground at lunchtime.  She gets some of the boys in her class to try to hit her or pull her into the jungle gym while she defends herself.”

“She calls it her fight club,” Mrs. Wallace said.

“That is also the name of a violent movie,” Miss Calloway said.  She glared at me.  “A
very
violent movie.”

It wouldn’t surprise me if Ari had seen the movie since Tanya didn’t care if her daughter ate breakfast let alone watched an R-rated movie.  But letting other kids beat her up didn’t seem like Ariel’s style.  She was usually the ‘S’ in the ‘S&M’ equation.

“So what do I do,” I asked Alan.

He gave me a world-weary sigh.  He and I had shared more conversations over my niece in the past few months than we’d had about Grace in the entire four years she’d been at the school.

“Well, I know what
I
would recommend,” Miss Calloway said.  “That girl needs to be labeled as ‘emotionally impaired’ and put into the special needs class.”

Both Mrs. Wallace and I started to object, but I was quicker.  And louder.  “Ari has problems, but she’s also smart and a very good student.  I don’t want her labeled as EI.”  It had taken me nearly three weeks to convince Alan that Ari could function in a regular classroom, and I wasn’t about to fight that battle all over again.

Luckily, Mrs. Wallace had my back.  “Ariel’s behavior has really improved over the past few months.  She’s gotten much calmer and cooperates well with the other students.”

Miss Calloway wasn’t convinced.  “Fight club doesn’t sound like cooperation.  It sounds like abuse.”  She flipped through the folder.  “Plus, she’s been written up for giving a cigarette to a kindergartner, peeing in a bathroom sink, and stealing candy from another student’s backpack.  Why this child hasn’t already been labeled as emotionally impaired is a mystery.”  She fixed Alan with an icy stare.

Alan took out a handkerchief and mopped his sweating forehead.  “We all want what’s best for Ariel.”

I’d subbed in the special needs classroom enough to know that Ari didn’t belong with those students.  They were sweet kids, but they couldn’t write their own names, didn’t read, and spent much of their time learning how to tie their shoes and zip up their coats.  Ari would be so bored that she’d act out more, not less.  “Let me talk to her,” I begged.  “Give me a few days.  Please.”

“She belongs in the special needs classroom,” Miss Calloway said.  “And if you were really concerned about this girl, you’d stop being so selfish.”

“If I was really concerned for her?”  I gripped the arms of my chair.  “Do you realize what I’ve already done?  I took her in when no one else would.  I’ve clothed her, fed her, and made sure she did her homework.  I’ve put up with her drawing graffiti on the walls of my house and taking apart my computer to see what makes it run.”  I stood up and crossed over to the social worker, ready to slap the condescending look from her face.  “I listen to her swear at me, had her hit me, and put up with her stealing from me.  I’ve…”

Alan cleared his throat.  “Lilith.”  At the sound of my name, I blinked and realized that my nose was only an inch away from Miss Calloway’s pert, little one.  Bewildered by my own behavior, I pushed my hair out of my face and backed away.

“Are you all right,” Alan asked.  His face was pale, as if he’d seen a monster.

I was mortified.  I’d handled this situation all wrong.  Instead of going into succubus mode and working to charm everyone in the room, I’d gotten angry.  In fact, more than a little angry from look of Miss Calloway.  She was pressed into her chair, eyes wide.  Even the tank-like Mrs. Wallace seemed afraid of me.

I slunk back to my chair.  “Give me two days,” I begged Allen.  “Please.”

He sighed and nodded.  “Okay.  We’ll meet again next Monday.  Mrs. Wallace will keep me up to speed.”

When we stood, Ari’s teacher patted my shoulder.  “You’ve done wonders with your niece, Ms. Straight.  I know Ariel’s going to be fine.”

I wished I had half as much confidence in myself as she did.

When I was back in the hallway, I was greeted by a small voice.  “Hello, Ms. Straight.”

Sitting on the bench outside the principal’s office was the little boy who had found me hunched in the bushes the day before.  He dressed like he was going to church, but his overly large sneakers hung on the ends of his stick-like ankles like clown shoes.

I sat next to him, drained.  “Are you in trouble?”

He shrugged.  “I fell asleep in class again.”  He did look tired.  Like he could hardly keep his eyes open.  He leaned a little closer to me and whispered, “Did you find that demon in your bushes?”