Hell in Heels Page 4

  I toned down my magic, drawing it into myself as her eyes narrowed again. So, she’d felt it too. Not good. It meant she was probably stronger than I had anticipated. Hopefully, she would just assume I was another witch or at worst, a demon. I wasn’t sure how the witch grapevine worked, but I hoped there weren’t any missing persons fliers with my face plastered on them. Being a demon had given me one hell of a poker face and I kept my innocent look as her eyes zoomed in.

  Evan looked at the both of us, a frown marring his face. “Are you guys wearing the same dress?” he asked curiously.

  “No,” I said smoothly at the same time that Bri replied, “yes.”

  They both looked at me in surprise and Bri’s eyes narrowed again. What had once been a Betsy Johnson white, summer frock adorning my hips, was now a white, sheer Gottex swimsuit cover-up. Similar style, but different.

  Evan’s eyes widened a bit. “Sorry, Helena. It must be the light in this hallway. I could’ve sworn you two had on the same dress.” He laughed at my indignant look and nudged me in the side. “Good thing you’re not though. I know how women feel about wearing the same dress to a party.”

  I looked into his gorgeous face. I knew the feeling as well. Bri’s eyes were boring holes the size of Mars into my back and I turned around to face her. She flexed her fingers and for a moment, the air around me zinged, crackling with a purplish tint. I gasped at the intensity of the magic and my nostrils flared.

  The little bitch had tried to hex me. Me! She stood there and literally tried to use black magic against me. Hand behind my back, I snapped my fingers, effectively cutting her power supply. She frowned and flexed her fingers again, frustration written on her face.

  I wanted to laugh when she realized how futile her efforts were. She was dealing with someone who was raised on black magic. I may have needed a spell to figure out a cell phone, but black magic was ingrained in my soul. She had no idea who she was fucking with.

  She held out her hands again but before she could do anything else, Evan broke the silence that was quickly becoming awkward.

  “Helena, Bri and I were just going downstairs for a few drinks. Wanna join?”

  A tingling sensation resounded in my head as I was about to answer and my mouth almost dropped open. Not only had this crazy bitch tried to hex me but now she was trying to influence me. The word ‘no’ resounded in my head in Bri’s saccharine sweet voice, but years of a telepathic link with the hellhounds had made my mind rather strong.

  With ease that I looked into Evan’s baby blues eyes. “Of course, a drink does sound nice.” I received two rewards for my response. A smile of pure pleasure from Evan and a look of pure hatred from Bri. Life didn’t get better than this.

  We walked over the elevator and just as I was thinking about tripping over my heels, Bri let out an agonized cry. I looked over and raised a sardonic brow. She lay sprawled on the floor, her leg twisted beneath her. Her ankle was at an odd angle and perspiration dotted her forehead.

  Evan rushed to her side before stooping down. “Oh, damn, Bri.” he said sympathetically. He held her foot in one hand and looked at me apologetically. “I am so sorry Helena. Can we get a rain check on that drink?” He looked away before I could answer.

  I glanced at Bri in time to see the slight smile on her face before she erased it with a grimace. My eyes narrowed and I scanned the air. Sure enough, there was a tinge of purple. The cunning bitch had hexed her own foot and now she had Evan as her own personal nurse. She feigned helplessness, crying out as Evan touched her ankle, then moaned, and wrapped her arms around his neck as he bent down to pick her up. She started crying even before he did anything and buried her face in his chest. Envy burned through me. Dammit! That was my plan. Everything she was doing was what I had wanted to do and had thought about doing a split second before she did.

  “Helena, do you think you could get my door?” Evan asked as he shifted the crying woman closer. I swallowed my anger and walked over to his door. I wrenched it open and then turned to wave him through. As he passed, I thought about giving him a goodbye hug simply to feel his body against mine, but before I could, Bri let out another heartfelt moan and Evan hurried past me.

  As he walked into the apartment, Bri lifted her head and her eyes met mine. She winked; a triumphant look on her face.

  I opened my mouth to ask Evan to stop by later, when Bri moaned again.

  “Evan,” she sniffed, “do you think I could crash here?” She sniffed again. “I don’t want to be alone. My ankle hurts so badly.”

  Evan nodded. “Of course, you can stay here.” He hurried out of the living room muttering something about a pillow and a blanket.

  I had the sneaking suspicion that Bri was reading my mind. I conjured a mental picture of Evan in the Jacuzzi yesterday and my eyes narrowed as Bri suddenly flushed and swallowed. I concentrated and closed my mind off. The little bitch was reading my mind. I smiled at her. Two could play that game. Now that I knew about her little trick, I would be careful to make sure I thought nothing but mundane thoughts around her or nothing at all.

  Evan came back into the room. He propped the pillow behind Bri’s head and covered her with the blanket before he walked over to me.

  “Helena, I am so sorry,” he apologized again.

  I shrugged. “No big deal,” I told him with a laugh. “But you owe me.”

  He smiled at me and reached out to tuck a stray curl of red hair behind my ear. He froze and his hand lingered on my face for a moment. I stared into his eyes and held my breath, my heart beating wildly. He leaned towards me for a fraction of a second. Yes! Yes! Do it. Kiss me. Before he could close the gap and touch his lips to mine, Bri moaned again and the spell was broken.

  Evan looked over at his hurt neighbor and sighed. “Perhaps I should call the doctor,” he said as he glanced at her ankle peeking from beneath the covers. “It really does look bad.”

  I threw Bri a disgusted look as I walked out the door. “Perhaps,” I said before muttering a quick spell. I smiled as her triumphant look changed to worry. She had something to worry about all right, I thought, then smiled again. Bri started to cough as her face started to become red and flushed. It was going to a good night after all.

  *

  I woke as soon as the hand touched my front door. My eyes popped open without warning and although my brain had yet to start functioning, I was moving toward the door, the spell already working itself on my lips. Carefully, I peeked through the peephole and almost swooned when I saw Evan.

  He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a polo shirt and looked delicious enough to eat. I smoothed my hand over my hair and stuck my finger in my mouth to smell my breath. With a quick spell, I smelled like a rose and looked like a peach. I opened the door and smiled at him.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself,” he said with a grin.

  I decided to play nice even though I was feeling far from it. “How’s Bri?”

  He frowned. “It was a weird night. She had a fever and an allergic reaction at the same time. I had to call the ambulance and they took her to the hospital. The nurse called me earlier to tell me she was feeling a lot better and they were going to keep her in the hospital for a few days for observation. I think she’s probably going to be on crutches for a while and may not be able to hang out.”

  Poor Bri, I thought unsympathetically as I batted my eyes at him. That bitch. I moved closer to him and rubbed his arm. “You’re a good guy,” I told him with a smile.

  He smiled back and took his time as he looked me over and I gave him back as good as I got. I took in his blond hair swept back from his face, his blue eyes and dusky pink lips. My eyes dropped to his wide shoulders, down his flat stomach and across the bulge in his jeans. I thought I saw the bulge twitch, but then again, it could have been my imagination. I brought my eyes back to his and smiled.

  “Very nice.”

  He blushed. It was adorable really. A ruddy shade of red that started at the collar of his s
hirt and moved up his face.

  “What are you doing tonight?”

  “Tonight? Nothing. Why? What’s up?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I wanted to invite you to a discussion I am having tonight at Miami College.”

  I raised my eyebrows. Discussion at a college? Pretty fancy stuff. “Ohh, spiffy,” I told him with a laugh.

  He looked at me and smiled. “Nah, just doing my job. I’m just a glorified teacher.” He laughed. “I mean, I work at a college and it is anything but glamorous.” He shrugged again. “I’m up for tenure, so I have to hold this open forum discussion.”

  He cleared his throat and I realized that I hadn’t answered him. “I mean, I know it is last minute and all, but you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Evan, trust me on this. I never do anything I don’t want to do.” I stressed the ‘anything’ in case he didn’t get the hint. The slow smile on his face told me he did. “I would love to come to your forum tonight,” I told him.

  He smiled. “Just be prepared because it may be kind of boring.”

  I laughed. How boring could an open forum discussion at a college be? I held my sarcasm in check. “What’s the topic?” I asked. Hopefully, I could Google it or something, so I could at least follow the discussion.

  He ran his hand through his hair. “Lucifer and the Disparages between Heaven and Hell.” He laughed at my shocked look. “I told you. Boring stuff. It’s okay really if you don’t want to go.”

  I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. I want to go. Honest.”

  “Alright, suit yourself, but I did warn you.” He opened his mouth to say something else and hesitated. Then he winked at me, waved goodbye and walked off towards the elevator.

  The man of my dreams was also an expert on hell. What a coincidence.

  *

  “So, you see, the canonization of the Bible and the political affiliations of the writers at that time relegated Lucifer to the pits of Hell and associated him with evil. But we fail to realize the extent that the early writers of the Bible would go to just to ensure that their beliefs were upheld. John the Baptist in exile writing the book of Revelations is a prime example of how satiric the Bible actually is. We cannot assume it has any basis in reality. In fact, one could argue that it is just a really good story.”

  I frowned as I watched Evan stride across the stage area. He was still in his jeans but had exchanged the polo for a button up shirt and a jacket. Sans tie, with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. He exuded confidence and power and seemed well in control. He was good. Too good. The only power my father had was in the amount of souls he got in hell. But in order to go to hell, well, you had to believe in hell. And tonight, Evan was doing a damn good job at convincing his audience that hell did not exist.

  The auditorium was filled to capacity and the crowd hung on his every word. Even now, they were nodding and jotting down notes. I had to turn this thing around and fast. I bit my lip before I raised my hand. A reporter with unkempt brown hair and round owl glasses turned towards me and jotted some information on a yellow notepad balanced on his lap. A short Asian woman brought the microphone over to me. I watched Evan’s face and he smiled encouragingly.

  “I understand the justification that the prophets would use their common enemy satirically,” I said, “but to claim that hell does not exist is not very good science. You cannot prove that it doesn’t exist.”

  Evan’s lips twitched as he looked at me. “Well, I also can’t prove it does exist. Some experts claim that hell is more of a state of mind and that death is the release of life, which in itself can be hellish.”

  I saw heads bobbing in agreement. I wanted to shout, ‘hell does exist. I know this because I live there,’ but that was probably a bit melodramatic.

  “Well, what about the cultural aspects of hell? Many cultures seem to have similar endings for lost and evil souls. Most have their version of hell as a place under the earth where final judgment is passed.”

  He nodded. “True, but trade and intermarriages between tribes and cultures may have passed on these stories. I am not saying that it is a definite certainty that hell does not exist, I am only saying that many of the descriptors and imagery in the Bible are the result of anger, resentment, overactive imaginations and in some cases, lots of cheap alcohol.”

  I nodded and sat down, knowing he was right. A lot of it was bullshit, but Hell—true Hell—still existed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the reporter writing furiously.

  Evan nodded to the Asian lady and she walked to the front of the room and passed him the microphone. “That’s all I have for tonight folks. Remember, Miami College has evening and weekend classes for those of you interested in taking the Occult Studies course with me this summer, even if you are not an enrolled student. Registration ends soon. Thank you all for coming. Have a great night.” He started to gather his papers as the audience started to file out.

  *

  A graduate student sat at a table near the entrance, selling copies of his book. I paid the twenty dollars and purchased a copy. It was a fair size book, not overly ostentatious. The front cover showed the stereotypical red horned creature with the forked tail known as Lucifer. I rolled my eyes. If only my father could see this. He wouldn’t find it as funny as I did, but he would be amused.

  I flipped the book over and stared at the back cover. Evan’s picture was a tiny stamp in the upper corner. Not vain, after all. I glanced at the stage. He was still surrounded by a throng of people and I guessed it would be a while before he was done. I sat down in one of the chairs and waited for him, opening the book and skimming a few pages.

  “You know, I could always autograph it.” Evan’s voice made me jump. I was engrossed in reading his material and did not notice how much time had passed. It was pretty fascinating, and there were surprisingly few inaccuracies, although he was unaware of many aspects of demonology. I looked up. The auditorium was empty except for a few prospective students talking to the college representatives.

  I turned to him and smiled. “I may take you up on that offer.”

  He laughed. “Oh, the woman is feisty. Well, here’s another offer,” he winked. “Drinks at Scene. It’s a local bar near here.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “A drink and an autograph? Will wonders never cease?”

  He laughed again and grabbed my hand. “Come on. I am dying to know how you ended up in Miami.”

  *

  “So tonight I realized something monumenta l.” Evan looked at me through the dim light of the bar. I expected it to be more of a guy hangout, but Scene was pretty decent if I had to use my limited knowledge of human nightlife. It seemed like a typical South Beach club in regards to the loud music and party atmosphere, but it was little off the beaten path, and had a few less people. The bar itself was a two story building that held a bar and pool lounge on the second floor and another bar and a dance floor on the first.

  Evan and I were seated at one of the faux granite tables housed on the second floor. I smiled at him. “What did you realize?”

  He swirled the drink he had in his hand before he looked at me. “I realize that I don’t know much about you at all.” He took a sip and I watched the long line of his throat as he swallowed.

  “Well, all you had to do was ask,” I replied coyly as I took a sip of my drink. It was sweet concoction that summed up what I wanted to do to Evan. Sex on the beach. It was delicious. And the alcohol was starting to go to my head a little bit.

  He arched an eyebrow. “Hey, it wasn’t for lack of trying, but we always seemed to get interrupted somehow. So, before we get interrupted again, how about you tell me a little about yourself and why you are more knowledgeable in the study of the occult than my actual students.”

  I smiled at his good humor. “Well, I am originally from a really small island in the Caribbean,” I lied. “My brother, Luc owns the condo I’m staying in but right now he is in L.A….on business.” I fiddled with m
y napkin. Normally the lies spewed out my mouth, growing crazier by the second but I didn’t want to shock him or scare him off, so I took my time. “My family is in…sales and marketing and we’ve managed to do well.”

  He nodded. “Mine too. My parents are more than comfortable. My family got into real estate and got out before the housing bust. So, they made money and still have money. I bought my condo from my parents.” He signaled the bartender to get another drink. “So did you study the occult in college, or were you one of those weird kids who looked it up in high school?”

  I laughed at that. “No, believe it or not, my family is very religious and we actually have had family discussions on religion and heaven and hell. And because they had money, I had a lot of tutors and access to really obscure stuff growing up. ”

  He laughed at my pained expression. “Poor baby, sounds like you were tortured.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “No, not me. But my parents tortured others.” I answered, tongue-in-cheek.

  “I like you, Helena,” he said as he sobered. “It not often I find a woman I actually want to hang out with. Especially on South Beach.”

  My lips widened as my smile grew. He reached over and gave my curls a playful tug before he skimmed his fingers across my face.

  I closed my eyes for a second and let the sensations course through me. His fingers were surprisingly rough for a professor and I wondered at what he did in his free time to maintain that physique. I felt the heat leave my face as he pulled back and he cleared his throat.

  “Sorry about that,” he said wryly. “I couldn’t resist. Your skin looked so soft.”

  I looked back at him. I had wanted this man naked and in a bed since I met him and he was apologizing for brushing my face. I smiled. “Hey, no worries. You can touch me anytime.” I waggled my eyebrows suggestively.