See You in Hell Read online

  Nybbas nodded slowly. "I could do that." He waved his arms experimentally, looking relieved.

  "And keep your hands in front of your chest the whole time," Mel suggested, trying not to smile.

  "I can do that, too," he replied. He stared at her. "But...I don't see why I should redo the whole presentation and record it again just to do the hand signals better. It seems such a tiny change. I'm sure the regional office staff won't notice the difference..."

  Mel coughed delicately. "I think you'll find the small change in hand gestures will make a significant improvement to your overall delivery. I really do think it's worth it." Please don't make me say it any more plainly, Mel prayed.

  Nybbas frowned at her and opened his mouth to protest.

  "It's up!" Sil announced, striding into the room. Nybbas closed his mouth. "I uploaded it at my desk and it's on the network. I'll pull it up now..."

  Mel closed her eyes and inhaled as she waited for the file to load. Sympathy for a devil was a terrible thing and she couldn't conscionably let Nybbas embarrass himself like this without attempting to intervene.

  She bit down on her lip as the picture appeared. Nybbas' arms were held stiffly at his sides, his hands level with his pelvis, perhaps a sock's width apart. Every time his hands made a stiff guillotine chop, they neatly framed his open pants fly. The slight pull on his pants fabric made the unbuttoned gap in the front of his boxers pop open, revealing a tantalising glimpse of flesh.

  "...ladies and (chop) gentlemen. Today (chop) I'm here (chop) to tell (chop) you how excited (chop) I am!" It was very clear from the lack of bulging that he was either not the slightest bit excited, or his excitement was contained within a very small space.

  Mel forced herself to continue watching, if only for Nybbas' benefit. She didn't dare laugh.

  "This (chop) package (chop) will make you gasp (chop chop) in awe..."

  The demon on the screen placed his thumb and forefinger a finger's width apart and shook them at pelvis level for emphasis, before returning to chopping.

  "Just (shake) one (shake) little (shake) thing (shake) that will change (chop) the way you work forever (chop). I'm (chop) so (chop chop) excited to be giving it to you, I can barely contain (chop) myself. You're going to love (chop) it. And we'll be rolling it out across all the offices..."

  Mercifully, Mel reached over and paused the video.

  "Holy Hell. I can't believe no one told me. I almost showed my dick to the whole corporation..." Nybbas' eyes looked wider than the distance between his shaking fingers in the presentation.

  "And told them it was only an inch long!" Sil burst out, laughing.

  Mel kept her voice level. "Sil, could you go get that camera? I'll help Nybbas record a more appropriate training package." She kept her eyes on Sil until the trainer hurried out of the room, mumbling her assent.

  "I'll be in your debt forever for this, Mel," Nybbas vowed. "Eternally grateful...anything you need, you just ask. And if you help me do the presentation again without telling everyone about my tiny package, I'll be your personal slave for life."

  Smiling uncertainly, Mel waved away the offer. "It's really not necessary. I just like to help."

  Nybbas' eyes grew round. "Is it because you think I'm tiny? Honestly, I'm not. I may not be as big as Lord Lucifer, but it's not small and I definitely know how to use it. I helped build the Thai adult film industry, I'll have you know. Here, let me show you..." He unbuttoned his pants and dropped them to his ankles.

  Now Mel laughed – albeit gently. "It's okay – I believe you. I really don't need to see it. Put your pants back on – you'll need them to do your presentation. And make sure that zip's secure..." Mel averted her eyes as he complied. Over her shoulder, she continued, "Would you like to do it right away, or would you prefer to do your presentation some other time?"

  "I have to send it out as soon as possible, so I'd better do it now. With HR booking the room every day to work on their group Christmas presentation, I'll never get this meeting room again," Nybbas replied, sighing. "OH! Right after I feed the imps. The last time I was late feeding them, we had horny demons all over the place. Would you like to meet them?"

  "Ah...horny demons? No, thank you, I think I've met more than my fair share already and..."

  Nybbas laughed. "I mean the imps. Didn't you ever wonder how we manage to hide our existence from humans and blend in so well?"

  "Yes," Mel admitted. "Sure. I'd love to meet your imps."

  "Come with me. I'll show you where we get their food," Nybbas said, striding out of the training room. He held the door to Reception open for Mel and she thanked him. "Have to go downstairs." He punched the button for the lift, which opened precisely three seconds later. Both he and Mel entered and travelled to the ground floor, before Mel followed him into the shopping arcade beside the HELL Corporation building.

  "Their favourite is the peri-peri chips from Nando's in the food court," Nybbas explained. "I get two seriously large serves with extra chili salt once a week. Other days, they get the spiciest Thai I can find. I'll let you give them the chips – they'll love you for it. They don't normally take too well to new people, so their favourite food will help..."

  He helped himself to the chips on their lift ride back to the office, before leading the way to IT and the server room. At the door, he passed the chips to Mel and fished through his pockets. Nybbas withdrew a key with his peri-powdered fingers and poked it into the server room door. "They live in here. It has better climate control than the rest of the office." He opened the door and frigid air froze Mel's fingers. "Come on in."

  Mel carefully stepped inside the server room, which had a wall occupied by blinking racks of equipment that looked like the office's computer servers. Blue umbilical network cables connected them through the ceiling to the whole corporation, and hanging from the cables were what looked like black bats.

  "Chip day, boys," Nybbas called, letting the door close behind them. Wings unfolded and leathery faces peered out, but none relinquished their grip on the cables. "Hold up the bags," he murmured to Mel.

  She did, but their response didn't change. Mel set the bags on the small, empty table in the middle of the room and ripped one bag down the front. The spicy smell of the salt wafted up, tempting even her.

  Claws ticked on the laminate as a bat landed beside her hand. The creature regarded Mel with soul-searching eyes that belonged to no bat she'd ever met. She smiled in response. It extended a claw toward her and she took it in her fingers.

  "Respect, lady," she heard the creature say, though its mouth never moved.

  "Thank you," her spirit replied, equally silently. She glanced at Nybbas. "Can the demon hear us?"

  "Demons poor soul-readers. Not like you, lady. For illusion-weaver, soul-talk is simple."

  "Illusion-weaver?"

  The creature showed her images of his people. "Unweave illusions for you, lady. Sptlk show?"

  Mel understood that the string of consonants was the imp's name. "Sure."

  Sptlk gazed deeply into Mel's eyes and she could feel the imp's soul touch hers. "Lady now can see illusion or reality. Respect, lady. See demon or batman." Mel followed the imp's glance to where Nybbas had stood only minutes before, but he appeared to have vanished. In his place stood a demon so dark he blended into the racks behind him, only visible because he blocked the blinking lights. With his pointed horns and wings, he did look cartoonish. Batman, indeed.

  She turned startled eyes on the imps above Nybbas' head. Instead of bats, they looked more like small, round, winged demons, in varying shades of red and black. Sptlk himself was deep burgundy and he sported a pot belly. He patted it happily. "Many chip days."

  Mel laughed and the sound was loud in the enclosed space. She blinked carefully and the imps were bats once more. Another blink and she saw Sptlk's very human fingers reach for a chip. He saluted her with it. "Thanks, lady." Sharp teeth demolished chip and chili salt quickly.

  "Just like you like 'em, right,
Spike?" Nybbas asked, grinning at the imp.

  Sptlk nodded and the other imps seemed to decide this was their cue to celebrate chip day, too.

  "So these are imps? And they keep you hidden...how?" Mel asked carefully.

  Nybbas shrugged. "No idea how they do it. They weave some sort of illusion that people can't penetrate – it even works on us. Hell, they even do it in Hell. Lord Lucifer said they were living in Hell when he got there and they agreed to help him run the place. No idea what he offered them in return."

  Sptlk winked at Mel. "Illusion for illusion. Illusion-weavers build illusions for Hell. Illusion-weavers holiday here with humans. Illusion of intimacy and privacy. Much comedy. Lord of Hell very seductive man. Or woman."

  Luce in a skirt. No, Luce in stockings and a corset. Seducing how many while the imps watched and laughed? Mel managed a smile. "I'm sure he is," she replied silently.

  "Soul-reader who can see through illusions sees deep truth beneath lies. Respect, lady, and hope."

  "Thank you," she said, hoping the imp could sense the depth of her gratitude.

  The imp nodded sagely in response.

  "Wow – they sure like you. I've never seen Spike acknowledge anyone else who's come into the server room. You're not like anyone I've ever met, Mel." Nybbas blushed.

  "Maybe you don't meet many angels," Mel suggested.

  He shook his head. "No, I've met a fair few angels. None like you, though. You're definitely different. Hell, I don't know any angel who'd have helped me with my presentation. We should probably leave these boys to it and do that video. I'm so happy it'll be just you watching this time, Mel."

  Mel saw Sptlk hide a grin. "Demons fun to watch." She smothered her own laugh as she followed Nybbas back to the training room so he could present his package. Hopefully, with his fly zipped up this time.

  "Mel, come to lunch with us," Merih said, glancing at Gerry and Lili. There were a fair few other people grouped behind them, too, all carrying sunglasses.

  "Hmm? Oh, no, I brought a sandwich," Mel said.

  "You can't sit in the office and just eat a home-made sandwich on Melbourne Cup Day. You have to go out to lunch. If we have to drag you out kicking and screaming, you're coming," Merih insisted. He grabbed her wrist.

  Mel felt the jolt of energy that flung Merih back against the wall. It probably hurt her as much as it had him, but he'd taken the full force of it so she barely moved. "Are you okay?" she asked, concerned.

  Merih rubbed his arm as the others backed away, murmuring about how they'd meet him there.

  "No wonder angels never see any action. Can't even touch them without getting burned," someone muttered.

  "I'm sorry," Mel said. "That's never happened before." She stared at her hand, touching her fingers to the desk to see if there was any further discharge. No, not even the slightest spark of static.

  "Well, if there was ever any uncertainty about you being an angel, that's gone now," Merih said with a weak grin. "Damn, I forgot about that. It's been ages since I tried to touch an angel and almost never since I started working in the Pit. Didn't you know angels burn demons on contact? Something about the difference in souls – negative and positive energy annihilating each other. Ah, the engineers in Infrastructure can explain it better than me."

  Mel frowned. "But I shook hands with Lili when I first started here and she didn't get hurt. And I'm sure I've bumped into or brushed against people here and not hurt anyone..."

  "That's different." Merih shrugged. "Angels can control it – shield themselves, somehow, if they want to. Demons can't. Or maybe it's something about intent – an accidental touch doesn't set it off unless there's intent to harm. It's not body contact so much as souls touching. It also means none of us can jump you in the photocopy room without your consent." He sighed.

  Mel laughed. "No one's tried that yet." Except Luce and his attempts at issuing orders, she thought, but that wasn't the same as using force. For all his arrogance, he hadn't attempted to touch her. Perhaps she was safer here than Raphael had thought.

  Merih's voice brought her thoughts out of Luce's office and back to her own cramped cubicle. "It's still hard to believe you're an angel, though, even after..." He flexed his hand, wincing.

  It had to be the first time anyone had ever doubted she was an angel. "Why?"

  "Well, you talk to us," Merih admitted. "Treat us like people, like you're one of us and not one of them."

  Mel tried not to laugh, but she couldn't keep the gentle smile off her face. "What do you expect me to do? Wander around pretending you don't exist? I know there are differences between angels and demons, and now that I know I can hurt you if I touch you I'll try to be more careful, but I can't see why I'd want to ignore you. Why would other angels do that?"

  "I haven't had much luck getting answers out of them," Merih said. "But from what they say to each other, they're afraid they'll be tainted by contact with us. Even just a word or a glance. Like I'd want to touch some snotty, stuck-up angel who'd probably scream and faint the first time she saw a pair of hairy balls and a stiff prick..." He coughed. "Sorry."

  This time Mel did laugh. "I can't recall ever fainting at such a sight. Screaming, perhaps, but that came later..." She glanced up at Merih, registering his shock. "What? Haven't you seen an angel blush before?"

  Merih swallowed and licked his lips, looking like there were a few things he wanted to say, but didn't dare. "You've got to be the most unusual angel I've ever met." He eyed her hands warily. "If I can't drag you, I guess I'll have to appeal to your sense of charity."

  Mel stared at him. Demons didn't support charity.

  "You know how wonderful the coffee here is?" he began. Mel smiled and nodded. "Alright, we actually have better coffee in Hell. The instant stuff here is part of some government contract that doesn't expire for another three years, so we can't get out of it. But the German Beer Café up the road is hosting a huge Melbourne Cup lunch and we've all bought tickets. There are all sorts of giveaways, including a brand-new coffee machine – one that uses those little capsule things. We figure that the more of us who go, the better our chance of winning one and we'll pay whoever wins a share of what the machine is worth to use it, so we aren't drinking shit any more."

  "Then good luck. I hope you get it," Mel replied. She turned her eyes back to her computer screen.

  "We won't unless you come," he said bluntly. "We only go into the draw if our table has at least ten people and we're nine without you."

  Mel sighed. "So I have to come to save you from bad coffee?" Her fingers skipped across the keyboard, locking access to her computer. Swinging her access pass lanyard down from the shelf, Mel said, "There's a story in the making – an angel saving a demon. If it were more interesting, maybe someone might write a book about it one day. Ah, the coffee would have to be pretty foul to be worth sticking in a story."

  Grabbing her mug, she downed the dregs of cold coffee, almost choking as the sludge hit her tongue. "Honestly, I think this stuff could have come from the sewers in Hell. Not even the damned deserve to drink this. Let's go."

  "Great! You brought her. Now we're ten and we're going to win that coffee machine." Gerry waved the hostess over. "Table for ten from HELL Corporation, please." He turned to Mel and Merih. "We've all ordered. Tell the girl at the counter what you want and don't forget to enter the sweep!"

  The others trooped off in the hostess' wake as Merih stepped up to the register. "I'll have a jug of the darkest house beer you have and...how does the food work?"

  The harassed-looking woman at the register eyed the queue behind them. "If you're on a company table, then it's twenty dollars a head for food, and drinks are extra," she said. "How many horses do you want in the sweep? Just one?"

  "Sounds good to me," Merih replied, handing over his credit card.

  The woman processed his payment and held out a basket full of folded paper slips. "Pick your horse," she said.

  Merih dipped his hand into the basket, his n
ails scraping against the bottom, and pulled out a slip. "Red Cadeaux!" he announced, then frowned. "Never heard of it."

  "And you, miss?" the woman asked, looking expectantly at Mel.

  "Oh, just a glass of your lightest wheat beer – the Weihenstephaner, please. I'm on the same corporate table and...I need a horse, right?"

  "You don't have to," Merih jumped in, looking worried. "It's not like you need to gamble if you don't want to."

  "You can't enjoy the Melbourne Cup properly without one," the woman said, giving Merih a dirty look. "It's dull if you're not screaming for your horse for that last lap of the race."

  Mel laughed. "I'll take the lunch, the beer and the horse, please. I wouldn't want to miss an opportunity to do a bit of screaming." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Merih blush as red as the Beck's shield on the wall behind him. She handed over her money.

  "I hope you pick a winner, then," the woman said, offering the basket.

  Mel shrugged. "Green Moon will win, but it's about enjoying the race, so I'll take..." She selected a slip. "...Lights of Heaven. That's a well-named horse for me."

  "You never know. It's the Melbourne Cup. Any horse could win," the woman said.

  Mel just smiled and followed Merih to the crowded table where their colleagues sat, already munching on the first round of garlic bread.

  The two remaining free places at the table were right beside the window. One of the chairs was bathed in the bright, near-noon sun. Merih sat in the shaded one as Mel reached for the other, only to recoil the moment her fingers touched it: the surface of the metal chair was hot enough to fry her lunch on.

  Someone sniggered, but Mel heard Merih say, "We should ask for another chair. Mel shouldn't have to..."

  "I'll be fine," Mel cut in. She nudged the chair away from the table with her foot, careful to only touch the scorching metal with her shoe. She reached for the jug of iced water and poured it carefully over the chair, making sure she didn't wet her colleagues. Steam rose and a few chunks of ice clattered to the concrete floor, but she didn't flinch until the jug was empty. She reached for the other jug and did the same. Nine demons watched in silence as the puddle on the floor started to evaporate.