Hell's Belles. Jackie Kessler

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      A harrowing ride later—bless me, if all Boston drivers don’t have death wishes, then they’re certifiably insane—Chicken Neck deposited me in front of a sprawling building laden with Ionic columns, topped by a huge clock tower. South Station, I presumed. The granite structure seemed to take up the entire city block—it curved, as if it were either circular or oval, looking more like an amphitheater than a place that harbored trains. Looking up at the clock mechanism, complete with a massive bird spreading its stone wings as if ready to take flight, I was struck by just how small I was.

      How did mortals reach such heights without wings? Or at least a decent levitation spell?

      The sculpture atop the clock seemed to look down at me. An eagle, maybe—or an owl. For a dizzying moment, I saw superimposed over the building’s façade the towering mountain complex of Pandemonium, home to all creatures of the Pit. The stone bird launched itself off the clock and spiraled down at me, its talons spread wide, murder shining in its black eyes. I bit back a scream as the creature transformed into the half-owl, half-woman shape of Queen Lyssa, goddess of madness and fury, her beak opened as she released a piercing hunter’s cry.

      Screwing my eyes shut, I told myself that I wasn’t in Hell. Even in the deepest part of the Abyss, it didn’t smell this bad. Risking a look, I opened my eyes. Once more, the bird was trapped in its stone prison.

      Minor panic attack successfully averted. Get going, Jezebel.

      Herds of people marched into and out of the massive doorway, all wrapped up in their lives, trying to make their way to their destinations. Gripping my suitcase handle tightly, I joined the flow and allowed myself to be swept inside, caught in the current of human commuters. People swerved around one another as if their feet knew choreographed steps; I, new to the dance, tripped over my own feet and stumbled into fellow travelers. Bags and valises and backpacks and other assorted carrying cases surrounded me, crushed me as we moved forward into a grand concourse.

      And there I stopped, too flabbergasted to move. Storefronts and signs and tables and, above all, people milling about, filling almost every available space with color and movement and sound. And the stench! Body odor mingled with perfumes and colognes and deodorants and other camouflages…and that was just from the humans. From the building itself wafted ammonia, soap, and other cleansers, barely dampening the deeper, richer smell of dirt and decay, buried within the structure’s foundation. I inhaled, trying to focus on the earthy scent—something to ground me, help me through the assault on my senses. Someone jostled me from behind, yelling something unintelligible at me as I got shoved to the side.

      Glaring, I tried to find the person who’d bumped me, but I would have had an easier time picking a specific grain of sand from an hourglass. Bless me, I knew there were billions of humans on the Earth, but did the better part of that number have to loiter in one building?

      I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and walked forward. Now that the initial shock of the place had worn off, I felt amazed instead of overwhelmed. So many stores! Food sellers—many of which seemed closed, but McDonald’s and the Boston Coffee Exchange were open and, from the look of the lines of people waiting for service, they must have been giving away free samples. A place called Au Bon Pain also had a lot of business, and as I saw rows of muffins, bagels, and other assorted pastries lying on display, my stomach lurched and rumbled. Saliva pooled in my mouth, and I swallowed it down. It took me a moment to identify the sensation I was experiencing.

      I was hungry! And not for sex. Wow…that was a first.

      Ambling inside the pseudo-French boulangerie, I paused in front of the baked goodies. My stomach growled again. I grabbed two large muffins, considered the sounds my belly made, and took a third. Following the cues of the humans around me, I stood in a line until it was my turn. The key to blending in, I discovered, was acting as if I knew what I was doing. Apparently, maneuvering through real life was just like sex: When all else fails, fake it.

      I showed the cashier my selection. Taking my pastries and putting them into a paper bag, she asked me, “That all? Any coffee today?”

      I’d never tried it before, although I’d heard mortals talk about coffee like it was an exquisite pleasure. I could use a bit of pleasure. Maybe the coffee came with a side order of Cabin Boy to watch me drink it. “Sure, coffee would be great.”

      “Large?”

      “Um, okay.”

      “Milk and sugar?”

      “No milk,” I said quickly.

      She pushed a covered, wax-coated paper cup my way, along with the bag of muffins. “That’ll be seven twenty-nine.”

      Right, payment. I opened Caitlin’s bag and produced her wallet. Inside the billfold were three tens, a twenty, and a few ones. I handed the cashier a ten, took my change along with my purchase, and returned the wallet to the purse.

      I just bought my first thing as a human! Woot! I wanted to do a happy dance, but I thought that might call attention to myself.

      Suitcase in tow, I hurried out of the shop, managing not to slam into anyone as I searched for a place to sit and eat. Seeing an empty table, I made a beeline for it and threw myself into the seat just as another woman approached. She shot me a filthy look as I placed my bag and purse on the table. I bit back my initial reaction, which was to zap her and giggle as she fell to the floor, writhing as an orgasm savaged her body. Not only was I in disguise, I also had my shieldstone nuzzled between my breasts, which wouldn’t allow me to use my power even if I really wanted to. So instead I smiled sweetly at her as I opened my bag of food. Scowling, she turned away, looking for a place of her own. Suck it up, sweetie. I was here first.

      Feeling very proud of myself for using such restraint, I took out a muffin. The large pastry had some fruit in it—cranberries and orange pieces, I thought; I’d just grabbed the first ones I’d seen without pausing to read their names. I tore off a chunk and popped it in my mouth.

      Chewed.

      Swallowed.

      Oh…unholy СКАЧАТЬ