A Hand in Hell

"It's late," I said, my voice a sudden rumble of thunder in the silence, and I couldn't even muster the energy to be amused when Lauren nearly jumped right off of her bar stool across from me. The incessant throbbing of my fried synapses had drained what little remained of my enthusiasm after the day's many events. "Shouldn't you be getting to bed?"

"I thought you'd enjoy the company," she said once she'd recovered, nonchalantly crossing one leg over the other and leaning against the counter. "Besides, I don't even know where you want me to sleep."

I smirked, and I hoped it looked more real than it felt. "We'll be sharing a bed, of course. We're married, after all."

Her nose wrinkled. "Just this morning, you strapped me to a table and cut me open. No."

I chuckled around the massive chunk of beef I'd just taken out of my hamburger. "Fair enough," I said, then swallowed with the help of a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle. "But, to be fair, if it had really bothered you all that much, I'm pretty sure you'd be gone by now." I watched intently as she dropped her gaze to the counter that separated us, imagining that her eyes desperately searched for some excuse to explain her presence. I hoped she found it. I hoped it was the truth.

"My being here has nothing to do with not being bothered by that," she said softly, seriously, and I paused in opening my mouth to take another bite. "Everything you've done has bothered me. You kidnapped me, you tortured me, you've threatened my family, you—" Her voice hitched, and she swallowed. "You killed my best friend." Boldly, she met my gaze, and I lost myself in those blue depths, in trying to figure out just what that feeling was that gave them their piercing glow. "I hate you, Vera. I really do. I hate you with every fiber of my being for everything you've ever done."

I studied her carefully as I dropped my half-eaten burger to its plate and picked up the napkin beside it. "Why, then," I began calmly, even as I dabbed at my greasy lips, "are you still here?"

She lowered her eyes again. "You saved my life once," she said softly. Her eyes flicked to mine, and she shrugged. "That means something, I guess."

"We both know it doesn't mean nearly enough when the person saving you is also the person who nearly got you killed," I said derisively, letting the napkin flutter to perch atop my sandwich. "I would've been more likely to believe you if you'd said something more along the lines of 'Now that you've exposed me to a world full of demons, I have to stay with you or the Demon Council will cut me open, grill my entrails, and serve them up as a nice snack.'"

She scowled. "That's a reason, too."

"But obviously not the main one, or you would've said it yourself." I put my elbows on the counter and rested my chin in my upturned palms, eyeing her suspiciously. "What are you really doing here? Why are you sitting down to a midnight dinner with the demon who ate your friend and nearly ate you?"

She spun on her stool to put her back to me, and I stared at the back of her head, waiting. Her hand drifted upward suddenly, and I jumped at the sound of a gently jingling bell. I'd completely forgotten about the collar, and now that I remembered, it only added another layer to my confusion. She was still with me and she was still wearing the thing I'd put on her to mark her as my possession? Just what in Satan's name was wrong with this girl?

"A lot of things are keeping me here," she said after a moment, her voice just as soft as the bell that still tinkled to the beat of her ceaseless fidgeting. "You saved me once, you're still saving me by just being with me, and…" She hesitated, the jingling finally fading away. "And I'm still hoping that I can stop you from hurting anyone else. No one deserves to go through what I've gone through. No one."

I continued to stare at the back of her head for a moment, my mind blank with confusion. That was it? Really? A sense of self-preservation and because she, a tiny human, thought she could stop me, a big, scary demon, from taking, torturing, and raping any human I so desired?

I didn't buy it.

"You're going to kill me in my sleep, aren't you?" I finally blurted, and she whirled on her stool, her eyes wide when they met mine.

"What? No!"

"Aha!" I exclaimed, jabbing a triumphant finger at her over the counter. "I'm right, aren't I? You denied it too quickly! And you look too guilty! You're trying to lull me into a false sense of security so that I'll let you share my bed with me, and then, the second I'm asleep, bam!" I slapped my palm on the counter with a loud smack, and she jumped so hard this time that she actually did fall off of her stool, but I had no shits to give. "Dead Vera juice all over the house!"

I slipped off of my own stool and rounded the counter, crouching at her side just as she sat up, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in terror. "You thought you were going to get away with it, didn't you?" I went on in an intense whisper. "You've probably been trying to decide just which knife you were going to use all day. But you—"

"Why would I turn down your invitation to share a bed with you if that's what I wanted?" she interrupted me, her shocked expression shifting into a glare of pure contempt.

"You know I'm too smart to leave an opening on our first night together," I said in that same whisper. "You're working on luring me into a deep, deep sense of security. You don't want any resistance."

She rolled her eyes and got to her feet, and I followed her up to loom over her, still in my heels. "I already tried to stab you once," she said as she slid back onto her stool. "I know just how well that approach will work for me."

"Then you're going to burn the house down with me inside, aren't you?" I accused her. "Going to tie me up and pretend it's for some kinky foreplay, then—"

"No!" she interrupted in an exasperated shout.

"Summoning another demon, then?" I suggested.

She stared at me, utterly incredulous, and whispered, "You really don't get it, do you?"

My certainty and good cheer faltered. "Don't get what?"

"I just want to be your conscience, Vera," she said with such sincerity to her eyes that it almost physically hurt me to look into them. "You need one."

"You're saying I need you, then?" I said, awestruck.

Color rushed to her cheeks, but she didn't look away. "Until you understand that people aren't here for your amusement…yeah, I guess that's what I'm saying."

Intently searching her beautiful blue eyes, I knelt at her feet and gently took one of her hands in mine. Her blush deepened, yet she didn't pull away. "Lauren," I began in a murmur, "I…" Her breath caught; her pupils dilated. "Really think we should tie each other up for some kinky foreplay."

"Ugh!" she cried in disgust, tossing my hands away from her and turning on her stool to slide off of the other side. "I don't even know why I married you!" she yelled as she threw her hands up in the air and started through the living room. "You can't take anything seriously!"

Cackling, I called after her, "Pick whichever bedroom you want. I promise I'll only tie myself up tonight!"

"We're getting a divorce!" she countered, and then her footsteps disappeared at the top of the stairs. There was only the occasional creak of the floorboards overhead to keep me company now, and I sighed, my smile slowly melting away.

I sat on her stool, still warm with her body heat, and snagged my bottle of whiskey from the opposite side of the counter. "Look on the bright side, Vera," I murmured to myself as I uncapped the bottle. "At least now you know that you'll have a fresh young plaything until you finally break down and eat her. Who cares why she's here?" I took a large gulp of whiskey and cringed, following the burning all the way down into the pit of my stomach.

I couldn't shake the feeling, though, that there was more to her being here than she was telling me. But did it matter? I mean, what could she really do to me?

"Who knows?" I muttered to the bottle, watching the dark liquid as I swirled it around. "I guess we'll find out eventually, eh, Jack?"

-?-

"Vera?" I stirred at the call but didn't open my eyes, just barely crossing the line into consciousness. Ugh. Why did my back hurt so damn badly? And my arms? And my legs? And my head…Oh, my head. "Vera, where are you?" came that voice again — Lauren's, obviously. "I keep hearing 'Welcome to the Jungle,' and I have this really weird feeling that it's your ringtone and has been since the invention of cell phones."

I heard her footsteps thumping on the stairs, and I opened my eyes as I slowly pushed myself up. The kitchen counter shined blindingly in the light of the overhead lamp, and, squinting, I looked down at myself. Still sitting on a bar stool, still clad head to toe in leather, still wearing a pair of painfully high-heeled stilettos…

The fuck?

Of course, a quick look at the rest of the kitchen filled in a lot of the blanks — sea of empty bottles, anyone? — and what remained unanswered, a small peek at the day before easily clarified — namely the throbbing ache that permeated every inch of my brain, caused by that bitch Mishakkon, if I was remembering correctly. I knew it couldn't be the booze because, well, frankly, I was a fucking demon. I could empty twice as many bottles of tequila, and while I would probably pass out on the counter again, I would never get a hangover. Ever. I could barely get drunk.

"Actually, technically, I don't think I ever get drunk," I muttered to myself, and just then, Lauren appeared in the doorway across from me.

"What?" she asked as she stepped into the room, eyeing me quizzically.

"Nothing," I sighed, letting my eyes drift shut and beginning to massage my temples with the tips of my fingers. "Did you find my phone?"

"Yeah. It was on the couch." I felt her offer it to me, the swift lift of her arm sending her clean scent wafting over me, and I plucked it from her palm without opening my eyes.

"You've showered already?" I asked, already steeling myself for the blinding flash that was soon to come. But when I let my eyes drift open, I found myself in as much darkness as the kitchen could afford with an uncovered window above the sink, and I looked at Lauren, standing by the light switch, bathed in what little light the window offered.

"Well, it's noon, so yeah," she remarked with a roll of her eyes. "I've done a lot already."

"Except for finding me passed out in the kitchen," I pointed out, and she glared reproachfully at me as she slid onto the stool across from me.

"If I counted right, you finished off, like, thirteen bottles of booze." She crossed her arms, and her look somehow managed to darken further. My lips twitched into a smile. Aw. Look at my little human, trying to be all motherly! "You're going to kill yourself if you keep doing stupid stuff like this."

I chuckled, dropping my phone onto the counter and languidly leaning on an elbow. "Ah, yes, the good old boozey baker's dozen. It's a binge-drinking tradition I'm quite familiar with."

"Vera," she warned, but I only laughed again and slid from my stool with the refreshing click of heels on tile.

"Come on, sweetcheeks," I said lightly as I rounded the counter to stand behind her, taking her small shoulders in my hands and beginning to rub them even as her muscles tensed beneath my fingers. "We both know it'll take a lot more than too much Jose to end my reign of terror, and we both know that you wouldn't give two shits, anyway."

She pulled her shoulders from my hands under the pretense of twisting to look up at me, her lips pursed. "Does the alcohol even affect you?"

"Not really, no," I answered nonchalantly as I began to study myself in the reflection in her eyes. Did my hair really look that bad?

"Then why do you drink it? Isn't it just a waste of money and time?"

I shrugged, turning my focus from my reflection to her. "I have plenty of time, and I can always get more money."

"But why?" she asked earnestly, and I frowned, the pulsing ache in my head redoubling.

"Because I like the taste."

"So much that you drank thirteen bottles of it at once?"

I went back to my stool and unzipped one of my boots, beginning to slowly wiggle it off of my foot — anything to keep from meeting her gaze. "You make it sound like I chugged a bunch of full ones. They were all pretty much empty. A fifth left, maybe a fourth at the most." One shoe clunked to the floor, and I began to work on the other one.

"Those still count as a few full bottles," she said flatly, obviously skeptical — and rightfully so. How much had I drank? "That's way too much, even for you. I can't even make up a reason for why you'd need that much. I can't even figure out why you seem to have to take a shot every five minutes."

"Because I like it that way," I snapped, glaring at her over the counter as the final boot dropped to the floor. "What's the big deal? I'm a big girl. I can make my own decisions. And if my decisions involve a never-ending fountain of bourbon, who're you to judge?"

She frowned, all reproach gone from her gaze to leave only a gentle sadness. "Alcoholism is a disease, you know. I don't know how or why it would start in a demon, but —"

"Oh, stop," I said, rolling my eyes as I sat straighter on the stool. "I don't have alcoholism. My drinking does nothing to impede or otherwise alter my life, and honestly, considering I can't even get drunk, I highly doubt I have fucking alcoholism, of all things." My stockinged feet hit the floor, and I grabbed my cell phone from the counter and started for the door without looking at her. "Now, this discussion is over. I have more important things to worry about." I paused in the doorway and glanced back, finding her still frowning at me from her stool. "And don't ever bring this up again. Do you hear me? Ever," I said, deathly serious. "I don't need a human attempting to diagnose illnesses I don't have and judging me for activities that have nothing to do with her." I sighed, my demeanor softening as her concerned frown continued. "We may be dating, but I don't think our relationship is quite to that level yet."

I turned from her and resumed my walk to the stairway, only to pause just as I put my foot on the very first step when she called after me, "I thought we were married?"

I smiled to myself even in spite of the dull, pulsing pain in my skull, secure in the knowledge that she couldn't see me from where she sat. "Oh, you wish. You're gonna have to work harder to win me over, if that's what you want."

"I bet I could do it easily," she chirped, but I only chuckled and continued up the stairs.

As I slipped through the bathroom door, I checked my phone, wondering just what I'd missed while in my blacked-out state. I paused with my hand on the doorknob when I saw that I had a missed call from someone named Jake. The bartender? I had his number? And I knew his name?!

The memory of our deal sent a chill slithering along my spine. If he was calling, he had information. And if he had information, it was probably about the demons I'd already been informed about — the ones I was already preparing to fight this coming evening.

Two demons — lovers, even, protective of one another like any lovers would be — against little old me — formidable for a demon, but always standing alone. I could die tonight.

The words sent another shiver rippling through me. I could die. It was nothing new, certainly nothing that had ever bothered me before. Death was death. Death was merely the end of existence. Why worry about it?

So why, now, did it leave the feeling of dread, heavy like a stone, nestling in the pit of my stomach? Had I…found something to live for?

Clenching my phone tightly in my hand, I returned to the top of the stairs. "Hey, Lauren?" I called down into the silence, wondering if she'd finally run away like an intelligent human being.

But I heard her light steps upon the carpet only a moment later, then her airy voice calling back to me, "Yeah?"

"You, uh…" I hesitated. What the hell was I even doing? "You…wanna do something today?"

She peeked up at me from the bottom of the stairs, grinning mischievously. "Like, go out on a date? You want me to prove that I can get you to marry me?"

I smirked. "Are you accepting my invitation, then?"

"Damn right! I'll clean the kitchen up a bit while you get ready," she said with a teasing wink, then skipped off.

I laughed softly to myself and returned to the bathroom. As I shut the door with a soft click, I looked down at my cell phone, still tightly held in my fingers. My smile faded, and I sighed.

Taking on two demons at once I could understand, but...a date with a human? What the hell was I thinking?