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Chapter 27

Jezerael arrived precisely where she wished to be—inside a shopping mall restroom—wearing one suit of Hellwear, and carrying a huge amount of cash and a large leather backpack full of maps and information. She strolled out of the restroom, picked an expensive women's boutique, walked through the doors and said, "Outfit me. I need everything, and I want everything top of the line." After a suitable tip, the two women who ran the boutique were more than happy to close up for the rest of the day and give her their complete attention. They were equally happy to recommend a hairdresser, and set up an immediate appointment for her, and to call a cab to get her there.

Because Jezerael had never been human, she had never known the sort of pampering money could buy. She hadn't gotten it in Heaven, and certainly not in Hell. She liked it—liked it enough that she thought she would rather stay in North Carolina than return to Hell. Even if Lucifer offered her a promotion. She decided she wanted Agonostis' Earthside job. He could take back Lust and Fornication—hell, he could have Plagues and Diseases for that matter. Although it would please her much more if he ended up as a damnedsoul screaming in the Pit.

So there was another goal. Stay on Earth. See Agonostis fry. Throw Dayne Kuttner to Lucifer and his dogs.

The woman cutting her hair said, "So what do you do?"

"Disease research," Jezerael said before she'd had a chance to think about it.

"Oh, my." The plump little bleached blonde looked impressed. "Are you a doctor?"

Jezerael wrinkled her nose. "No. A scientist."

"You have the strongest nails I think I've ever worked on," the girl doing her manicure said. "And they're so long."

You should have seen them before, the fallen angel thought. They could rip out a liver with one swipe—very convenient when doing biopsies. She didn't say any of that, of course. It might be amusing to assume her true form in front of these pitiful mortals, but if she did, she'd get a lousy haircut, and her nails would have to be re-done.

"So . . . do you think the light red . . . or the clear?"

Jezerael looked at the two nail polish shades the girl held up for her approval, and said, "Neither. I want a dark red. Something . . . dangerous."

Both women tittered. "Hot date, huh?"

Jezerael smiled slowly and said, "Those are the only kind, aren't they?"

Both women laughed and agreed that they were. The topic of conversation drifted, and settled back into what had been the day's major groove—Hell in North Carolina.

"Did you know Sadie Pickers and her husband put their house up for sale?" the cosmetologist asked the manicurist.

"You're kidding! They'd have to be crazy. Nobody's going to buy a house in North Carolina now. My husband said we ought to put the wheels back on our trailer and drag it on up to Virginia, and I'll tell you what—I never thought I was going to be grateful we lived in a trailer, but I am now."

"Don't tell me you're going to move."

"I reckon we are. His family is real religious, and they don't like the idea of sharing the state with Hell."

The cosmetologist said, "I guess if we could get anybody to buy the farm, we'd probably move. . . ." She sighed. "I don't know, though. That farm's been in our family for nigh onto a hundred and fifty years. I don't know that I'd want to see it go into somebody else's hands."

"But what about those devils and all?" The manicurist frowned and shook her head.

"I kind of figure it all depends on why God put 'em here. Maybe that little nurse was right, and they're here so we can help 'em find Heaven."

"Well, that devil last night said they were here to corrupt us and drag us all down to Hell."

"Shirley, I'll tell you what. I don't figure they can do anything to us now they weren't doing before—only now we can see them and catch them at it. And we know they're real for sure now, so we have every reason to live straight and treat each other right."

Jezerael smiled up at the cosmetologist. "Lucky for the Hellraised not everyone is as sensible as you, or Hell would be an empty place."

When they were finished, she looked stunning. What's more, she'd successfully passed as human, and she'd had a chance to listen in on real humans up close.

The cosmetologist had been right for the most part. Humans who knew what she was would avoid her seductions—and the doom of Hell—unless what she offered was something a fallen angel could offer, but a human could not. She did not know yet what she could offer Dayne Kuttner, either as a human or an angel, that Dayne would willingly sell her soul for—but she would find something. There was always something.

Every human had one impossible dream. She had a bit less than a month to find Dayne's.

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Contents
Framed

Back | Next
Contents

Chapter 27

Jezerael arrived precisely where she wished to be—inside a shopping mall restroom—wearing one suit of Hellwear, and carrying a huge amount of cash and a large leather backpack full of maps and information. She strolled out of the restroom, picked an expensive women's boutique, walked through the doors and said, "Outfit me. I need everything, and I want everything top of the line." After a suitable tip, the two women who ran the boutique were more than happy to close up for the rest of the day and give her their complete attention. They were equally happy to recommend a hairdresser, and set up an immediate appointment for her, and to call a cab to get her there.

Because Jezerael had never been human, she had never known the sort of pampering money could buy. She hadn't gotten it in Heaven, and certainly not in Hell. She liked it—liked it enough that she thought she would rather stay in North Carolina than return to Hell. Even if Lucifer offered her a promotion. She decided she wanted Agonostis' Earthside job. He could take back Lust and Fornication—hell, he could have Plagues and Diseases for that matter. Although it would please her much more if he ended up as a damnedsoul screaming in the Pit.

So there was another goal. Stay on Earth. See Agonostis fry. Throw Dayne Kuttner to Lucifer and his dogs.

The woman cutting her hair said, "So what do you do?"

"Disease research," Jezerael said before she'd had a chance to think about it.

"Oh, my." The plump little bleached blonde looked impressed. "Are you a doctor?"

Jezerael wrinkled her nose. "No. A scientist."

"You have the strongest nails I think I've ever worked on," the girl doing her manicure said. "And they're so long."

You should have seen them before, the fallen angel thought. They could rip out a liver with one swipe—very convenient when doing biopsies. She didn't say any of that, of course. It might be amusing to assume her true form in front of these pitiful mortals, but if she did, she'd get a lousy haircut, and her nails would have to be re-done.

"So . . . do you think the light red . . . or the clear?"

Jezerael looked at the two nail polish shades the girl held up for her approval, and said, "Neither. I want a dark red. Something . . . dangerous."

Both women tittered. "Hot date, huh?"

Jezerael smiled slowly and said, "Those are the only kind, aren't they?"

Both women laughed and agreed that they were. The topic of conversation drifted, and settled back into what had been the day's major groove—Hell in North Carolina.

"Did you know Sadie Pickers and her husband put their house up for sale?" the cosmetologist asked the manicurist.

"You're kidding! They'd have to be crazy. Nobody's going to buy a house in North Carolina now. My husband said we ought to put the wheels back on our trailer and drag it on up to Virginia, and I'll tell you what—I never thought I was going to be grateful we lived in a trailer, but I am now."

"Don't tell me you're going to move."

"I reckon we are. His family is real religious, and they don't like the idea of sharing the state with Hell."

The cosmetologist said, "I guess if we could get anybody to buy the farm, we'd probably move. . . ." She sighed. "I don't know, though. That farm's been in our family for nigh onto a hundred and fifty years. I don't know that I'd want to see it go into somebody else's hands."

"But what about those devils and all?" The manicurist frowned and shook her head.

"I kind of figure it all depends on why God put 'em here. Maybe that little nurse was right, and they're here so we can help 'em find Heaven."

"Well, that devil last night said they were here to corrupt us and drag us all down to Hell."

"Shirley, I'll tell you what. I don't figure they can do anything to us now they weren't doing before—only now we can see them and catch them at it. And we know they're real for sure now, so we have every reason to live straight and treat each other right."

Jezerael smiled up at the cosmetologist. "Lucky for the Hellraised not everyone is as sensible as you, or Hell would be an empty place."

When they were finished, she looked stunning. What's more, she'd successfully passed as human, and she'd had a chance to listen in on real humans up close.

The cosmetologist had been right for the most part. Humans who knew what she was would avoid her seductions—and the doom of Hell—unless what she offered was something a fallen angel could offer, but a human could not. She did not know yet what she could offer Dayne Kuttner, either as a human or an angel, that Dayne would willingly sell her soul for—but she would find something. There was always something.

Every human had one impossible dream. She had a bit less than a month to find Dayne's.

Back | Next
Contents
Framed