Now Playing On The Jukebox In Hell Part 6

"Is that supposed to be a joke?"

"Really, Devlin. Just because I'm a demon doesn't mean I want to hear about cow parts."

"Cow lips," I said darkly. "And pig lips. And lungs and hearts and ears and..."

"There are cultures that eat dogs. Everything's relative."

I didn't want to talk about it anymore. "Go away, Monica."

Obligingly, she parked herself behind my desk and made herself at home.

"I'm serious," I growled. "You're starting to wear out your welcome. Weren't you supposed to go away after Ca.s.sie outed me?"

"I did. I got bored. I came back."

"Can you do that?"

It was a stupid question; her eyes started glittering in a particularly nasty way. "I can do anything I want. Besides, you're not as out as you think you are. All bets are still on. I can still make your life unbelievably interesting."

"Don't threaten me. Vanessa checkmates you, remember?"

"She's an idiot."

"Yes, but she's our idiot."

Monica didn't say anything to that. I took advantage of the temporary peace to start the coffeemaker. Maybe if I just stuck my tongue under the drip, the caffeine would get into my system faster.

The local line buzzed. And buzzed. And buzzed.

"If you're going to pretend to be my admin," I told her, "you can start by answering the phone."

Monica made a point of swiveling the chair around, turning her back on it. Muttering, I went over to pick it up. "Kerry."

"Wolfe."

Trouble of some kind, by her tone. "What's up?"

"I have demons. Do you have demons?"

I glowered at the chair back. "Yes."

"Mine wants to go to the meeting with us. Do you know what she's wearing?"

"Do I have to?"

Brief, aggravated silence. "We're coming up."

"Fine, but..."

Before I could finish the sentence, Vanessa popped in out of thin air. I dropped the receiver. She was dressed up in a Catholic-schoolgirl uniform, but wearing it in a way that it was never meant to be worn.

"I told you," Monica said sulkily, returning to her perch on the edge of the desk. "She looks like a secondhand virgin."

Vanessa tossed her head. "Oh, tut. You're just jealous because you can't wear plaid. What do you think, Devlin? Do you like the kneesocks? Should I b.u.t.ton the shirt just a little?"

I wasn't fool enough to answer a question like that. Fortunately, Ca.s.sie stormed in just then. She didn't seem to be armed, but I had no trouble picturing her with a really big stick -- or, say, a couple of knives.

"There are no exorcists in the phone book," she said direly, glaring at the demons. "I just looked. But as soon as this meeting is over, I'm getting on the Internet. You two want to keep your broomsticks handy."

Vanessa hopped up on the edge of the desk next to Monica and leaned close to speak confidentially. "Hangover."

"I could cure that by taking her head off," Monica remarked.

That was a point. But Ca.s.sie was glaring at me now, so I had to do something about it. "Don't even think about touching her," I warned. "She's in a really, really bad mood."

Ca.s.sie yanked me close for private speech. "You're supposed to threaten her."

"I just did."

Uncertain whether that was a compliment, she loosened her grip on my lapel slightly.

"C'mon, Ca.s.s, let go. Let's leave this for later. How about tomorrow? It'll be more fun when we feel better."

"I feel fine," she lied.

I checked my watch. We were going to be late if we didn't go now. Time to distract her. "I love you."

She didn't look distracted, but she didn't look like she minded either. "Are you up to something?"

"Yes," I said, and leaned in to kiss her.

But she foiled the plan by kissing back, which had the effect of distracting me. So I didn't see the men in the doorway until long after they'd seen us -- and the demons perched on my desk.

Howard Abner looked as though he'd been hit on the head with one of those cartoon anvils. Jack was a professional, though; he didn't even blink.

"That's them, Howard," he said earnestly. "All of them. They're the Devil."

(c) 2000, K. Simpson To Part 6 The Devil's Workshop (c) 2000, M.C. Sak Disclaimers, Credits, & E-Mail: See Part 1.

CHAPTER 6.

Jack said "the Devil,"

and everyone--everyone--looked at me. I didn't appreciate it. There were actual demons in the room, so how was that fair?

"No horns; no hooves. Knock it off," I demanded.

Caught, Ca.s.sie patted my shoulder in apology. Then she turned on the intruders in the doorway. "Why aren't you locked up, Jack?"

He started to answer, but Abner intervened. "Don't speak to them directly. Don't try to dialogue with Satan. Let me handle this."

I couldn't believe it. "Dialogue with?" Who taught him English? A cow? "Dialogue with?"

Abner ignored that. "Don't look at them directly, either."

"Oh, for crying out loud," Vanessa complained. "And I went to all this trouble to look so cute today."

I just managed to grab Ca.s.sie's sleeve in time. "If we're not talking and looking, Jethro, how are we going to communicate here?"

"Wait outside, Harper," Abner said importantly, reaching into his coat. Something metal flashed under the fluorescent lights. A gun? A knife?

Acting on sheer instinct, I shoved Ca.s.sie out of the way and threw myself over her. The last thing I saw before we hit the floor was Monica raising her arm, an exquisitely bored expression on her face. Then there was a flash of very bright light, followed by a weird crackling sound.

"Stay down," I warned Ca.s.sie.

She muttered something vaguely threatening and tried to push me out of her way. Intent on staying between her and whatever was going on, whether she liked it or not, I didn't even bother to check what had happened to Abner until she froze, staring over my shoulder.

I blinked a few times, certain that I couldn't be seeing what I was seeing. But it was no good.

Monica still looked bored; Vanessa was rolling her eyes.

"Wh...? Wh...?" Frustrated, I waited a few seconds for my language skills to kick in again. "What is that?"

"Salt," Vanessa said.

"Salt?"

"Salt. As in a pillar of. Trite, huh?"

"I was making a statement," Monica protested, with heat.

Vanessa snorted. "What statement? That you don't have any imagination? Turning people into pillars of salt is so 30 centuries ago."

"What else were we going to do with him? Turn him into a newt?"

Ca.s.sie's demon seriously considered the question. I was really interested in hearing the answer, but Ca.s.sie snapped out of it just then and grabbed my collar hard. "Tell me I'm dreaming, Devvy. Tell me it's the ouzo."

"Sorry, sweetheart. It probably is the ouzo, but you're awake." As gently as possible, I pried her loose. "He's a pillar of salt. What do we think? Do we like it?"

She thought about it. "We don't hate it. Where's Jack?"

"Hiding behind the door," Monica said. She flicked a talon in that direction, and the door swung shut, revealing Jack pressed flat against the wall. He tried to squirm the rest of the way through it. "What would amuse you, Devlin? I could turn him into a pillar of pepper, if you like."

The symmetry of that appealed to me. The cleaning people would have an awful mess to sweep up that night, and they'd surely ask questions. But if my demon could go around turning people I didn't like into condiments, there was no reason not to have some fun.

On the other hand...

"Let them go," I told Monica.

"I don't think so. They're annoying. And they bore me."

"That's not the point. You can't keep pulling these little stunts. I'm running out of explanations."

"You've managed so far."

That wasn't the point either. It had taken all my powers to explain away the troubles before Thanksgiving. Fortunately, n.o.body at the TV station had believed Lisa Hartwell's story. The film had come out blank, for one thing. Also, the cameraman had been high that day and couldn't be sure what he'd seen. J/J/G's bad rep had helped, too; everyone knew the place was a madhouse, so people were just shrugging off the rumors.

Still, it hadn't looked good for Jenner, Jack, and Kurt to go out on medical leave at the same time, and not everyone was really buying my stress-epidemic story. Walt, for example. He'd been giving me the fish-eye lately, and although he was dumb, it was only from the neck up; he had a certain animal instinct about things that I'd never liked.

"I'm tired of managing, Monica. Let them go. n.o.body's going to believe Abner if he tells, and Jack..." I glanced at him for confirmation. "You won't say anything. You're under medical care. For all you know, this is your medication talking. Right?"

He swallowed a couple of times. "I hope so. I keep seeing things. I saw Elvis the other night, did I tell you?"

"I think we'd better get him back to the hospital," Ca.s.sie said worriedly. "Can we sneak him down the service elevator?"

Vanessa sighed and snapped her fingers. Jack vanished. "He's back. Just in time for group."

"Spoilsport," Monica accused.

"Naaaah, he'll like it today. That redhead's going to tell how she lost her virginity."

Monica raised an eyebrow in question; Vanessa leaned closer to whisper.

"No. Really?"

"Really," Vanessa a.s.sured her. "And humans call us names."

Impatient, I checked my watch again. "Look, we're really late for a meeting. Would you just change Abner back now so we can go?"

"You were more fun before Blondie there got hold of you," Monica grumbled.

Ca.s.sie smirked and made a point of getting closer.

"I'll remind you who started it," I told my demon. "This is all your own doing. And by the way, thank you. Now change him back."

She folded her arms, sulking. "No."

"If you don't, Vanessa will, just to spite you."