Hell's Belles. Jackie Kessler

before I could help myself.

      Golden eyes gleaming, he said, “Oh yes. There’s quite the price on her head—either attached or not. So if you see her, little witch, tell her to come back to Hell before it’s too late. Or better yet, don’t say a word. I’d rather be the one to find her before the others do.” He grinned, then disappeared in a puff of sulfur.

      Slamming the door against the stench of rotten eggs, I slid down to the floor, shaking so violently that I thought my teeth would fall out.

      Others.

      How many were after me?

      I rubbed the amulet between my thumb and index finger. It was cool to the touch; nothing Evil was nearby…at least, nothing Evil that intended me any harm. For the moment, I was safe. Three cheers for the former demon.

      But I couldn’t stay. My disguise wouldn’t fool everyone; some entities saw the truth of the matter, no matter how deeply or cleverly it was hidden. I needed to lose myself in a sea of humanity, preferably in a place where sinners walked hand in hand with saints. And, if I could swing it, a place where I could get a sweet pair of shoes.

      Thanks to my rash action, I was stuck in Caitlin’s body. More accurately, I was trapped in a body that was a dead ringer for Caitlin. The lady herself was still leaping in the fields of Slumberland, blissfully unaware of how close she’d been to having a demon of Covet as an enemy.

      Since that would’ve been my fault, I was sort of glad things didn’t turn out that way. I might have felt obligated to make things right. Not because I liked Caitlin (I did) or thought of her as a friend (I didn’t) but because that would have broken one of the Ten Great Rules. Paraphrasing Rule No. 3, demons could fuck with mortals only if said mortals were slated for Hell, or begged a favor of Hell, or courted the demons of Hell. Caitlin didn’t fit any of those categories. Worse, technically she was protected by the Hecate. Smart demons didn’t piss off goddesses, period.

      I touched my flesh beneath the gem and blew out a relieved sigh when I found the skin unmarred. Mental note: Even if it feels like you’re in the Lake of Fire, your body doesn’t burn from contact with an active shieldstone.

      Mental note, part two: Never ever, ever remove the Shield Against Evil.

      Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to stand. The demon had been right—I reeked of sex. Couldn’t help it; it was an aftereffect of using my power on Caitlin before I drank her vomit-worthy potion.

      Right. First things first: Time to bathe.

      It took me a few minutes to find which room had the bath (none), and a bit longer to figure out the shower stall. I’d taken my fair share of showers in my time, but they’d all been for (and with) clients. They’d never been about getting clean, just wet. After learning the hard way that twisting the single knob all the way meant scorchingly hot water, I adjusted the temperature, reviewed the various soaping options, and grabbed two dark blue towels from the small closet outside the bathroom. Then I proceeded to take a delicious shower, staying under the water until my skin wrinkled.

      Mental note, part three: Showers aren’t just for sex.

      Toweling dry, I pawed through Caitlin’s various toiletries and cosmetics, frowning over the very slim assortment of goodies. It took longer to apply makeup by hand than it did by magic, but I figured I’d get faster with more practice. Turning my thick black hair into a tight French twist, I fastened it with two long bone-colored pins, allowing some tendrils to frame my round face. Then I found Caitlin’s bedroom and ransacked her closet and bureau.

      Next time I go on the lam from the Underworld, I’m turning to a supermodel for help. Maybe her accessories will lack that certain magical oomph, but I bet she’d have a killer wardrobe.

      Finally, I decided on a light blue cotton blouse, dark blue jeans, and brown open-toed sandals. For giggles, I wore a white lace bra and panties. In all of my existence, I didn’t think I’d ever worn white intimate garments. Men always seemed to prefer red and black. Maybe white made them think of angels—or worse, marriage.

      Finding a suitcase with a set of wheels and a retractable handle (bless me, these mortals were fucking ingenious), I piled in an array of clothing that I deemed bearable, leaving behind the long, flowing skirts, matronly blouses, and dowdy sweaters. Maybe Caitlin was an über witch, but she was also in serious need of a fashionista.

      I shoved Caitlin’s makeup and personal items into a travel bag and dumped that inside the suitcase as well. In went two pairs of boots, one pair of athletic shoes, and all-purpose black pumps. After scanning her small house, I also added two jackets and a few books from her library. One title in particular had me rolling on the floor: Lucifer’s Hammer. Heh. King Lucifer never used a hammer.

      That thought stopped me cold. In my mind, I heard King Lucifer’s voice, decreeing the Announcement to all of Hell. And I remembered the softest brush of lips against mine, the faintest whisper of words: You really believe that your friend isn’t an enemy?

      Shoving the memory aside, I grabbed Caitlin’s purse and flipped open her wallet. Then I rolled my eyes. Leave it to me to borrow the identity of the one adult in all America that didn’t have a driver’s license. What was I supposed to do with a State ID—pick my teeth?

      Hmm. But she did have some cash, at least. And ooh, lookie at all the credit cards.

      Crap. I should’ve had Caitlin tell me what her PIN was before I drank that nasty potion. Now I couldn’t command her without activating my power—which meant removing my amulet. And it would be, pardon me, a cold day in Hell before I did that. Oh well. I’d make do.

      Before I walked out of Caitlin’s life, I covered her sleeping body with a blanket. She murmured some nonsensical sleep stuff and rolled over.

      Sweet dreams, Caitlin. And don’t cancel your credit cards before I max them out.

      Chapter 3

      South Station

      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.”