Undead and Unfinished (Undead #9) 3

Chapter 32

We were back in the tacky office-waiting-room section of hell. The devil wasn't kidding about how her will shaped reality here. Not that she was much of a kidder anyway. Although it seemed like we'd been walking and talking for hours, she turned us around and took something like three whole steps and boom! There was the waiting room again.

"As Betsy surmised, this room is symbolic of your ability to travel. As I said, your brains simply can't-"

"Since you said it, a few times, I think, why are you saying it again? Let's get this abortion over with."

"Watch your mouth," Laura said, looking irritated.

"Sorry. I guess being in hell where my sister has to smack me to teleport through space and time to avoid going insane has made me a little grumpy."

"That's enough, drama queen," Satan said, nicely enough.

"It's vampire queen. And I'll be the judge of what's enough if you don't mind. And even if you do." I brightened. "Especially if you do."

"To leave, open a door and step through." Satan pointed.

I walked over and inspected the closest door. Pretty standard. It even had a red neon EXIT sign above it and an old-fashioned handle. There were at least half a dozen in the room, each spaced about two feet apart.

"To come back, Laura, you'll use your Hellfire sword to cut a doorway for you to return through."

Laura nodded. "All right, Mother. I'm not very good with it ..."

"Yet," Satan said.

"I try not to use it."

"I trust that will change." Satan was unsmiling, even a little tense. "Your life will depend on it."

"Gosh, Satan. I've never seen this sentimental side of you. And I won't deny this; I feel cheered up. It doesn't sound like one single thing could go wrong with any of that. Sure, I was nervous at the start of the tour. But now all my worries have been thoroughly laid to rest."

"It may take several tries for you to make it all the way back," Satan cautioned, "but you know what they say about practice guaranteeing perfection."

"Nope," I said. "Nothing at all will go wrong. How could it? It's all so simple. So easy. So free of potential disasters."

"My hope," Satan continued, ignoring me, "is that eventually you will move all about the universe simply by thinking it. That you will need no props"-a vague gesture at me-"and no weapons."

"Speaking as the prop," I said, "aren't you going to give us a panic button or something? What if we're stranded somewhere dangerous?"

"Oh, I expect you will be," Satan said, terrifying me. "But you won't learn if I rescue you."

"But we could-" Wait. That wasn't the way to her black, black heart. "But Laura could get seriously maimed. Or killed. Or kidnapped by nuns and forced to marry Jesus. Or exposed to ... uh ... horny Boy Scouts."

"I know. It's a risk I'm willing to take."

The scary part? She was not kidding. At all. She'd really given it some thought and weighed Laura's possible demise against what her daughter could learn, and judged it worth the risk.

And I thought the Ant's maternal instincts were poisonous.

Chapter 33

All right," I said, tapping one of the doors. "You wanna make with the teleporting, or should we find out how awful the restaurants are in hell?"

"I guess we'd better. The first one, I mean." Laura looked and sounded doubtful. And who could blame her? Never had an office waiting room looked so sinister to me, and that included the time I had to go to the DMV two days in a row to pass my driver's test. "So ... I'll just ..." She stretched out a hand and turned the knob. Which didn't move.

I tried it myself, which was as dumb as hitting the elevator button when I'd just seen someone else do it. It's like we all think our magic fingers will do the trick.

"So. Make with the strong physical contact."

Laura reached toward me with tented fingers. She rested them on my chest and sort of eeeeeased me back, then tried the door again. No luck.

"Strong physical contact," the devil reminded us.

"You're supposed to let her figure this out for herself, so back off. C'mon, Laura. You can do it." But I wasn't sure I wanted her to. If she couldn't pull this off, if she was too human, we could go home! Before more death and weirdness! I'd be able to give Tina a good laugh by describing hell.

For that matter, if I could have gone back to the mansion and grabbed someone to bring with us (assuming Satan would have obligingly played interdimensional taxi cab), it'd be Tina. She was supersmart and she didn't rattle, two qualities I didn't have, and thus admired.

"Um ..." Laura gave me a friendly chuck on the shoulder. No joy.

"I think I'm going to leave," the devil said, sighing. "If I have to watch any more of this, I may vomit. Or kill one of you."

"Quiet back there. Laura, have I mentioned those nightmares you've been suffering have wreaked havoc on your complexion? You have serious bags under your eyes."

"Oh, I believe it. That's one of the reasons we're here. I can't thank you enough for being here with me."

Well, great. "And your clothes don't match. And your shoes are dead to me."

"Really? I know you don't think I should buy shoes at Target, but they're very pretty and inexpensive. What's wrong with my clothes, though?"

She glanced down at herself: conservative long-sleeved navy T-shirt, faded blue jeans. A wide, beat-up man's leather belt, I assumed one of her dad's (her adopted dad, I meant), made her waist seem even smaller than it was.

I would have looked like Owen Wilson if I'd tried to pull that off. But the masculine touch at Laura's waist just made her seem more beautiful and feminine. I pinched my nose and shook my head. Some days, it really didn't pay to get out of bed. Maybe Laura could master time travel really quick and take us to two days ago, and then I wouldn't be in hell trying to goad the Antichrist into socking me in the eye.

"I admit the jeans are a little big, but then Dad said I could borrow-"

"There's nothing wrong with them," I sighed. "You look beautiful." Damn the luck. "But ... your midwestern accent! You sound like a cross between Frances McDormand in Fargo and Ed Rooney's secretary in Ferris Bueller's Day Off."

"Wasn't she terrific in Fargo? So earnest and nice, but really smart, too. She's soooo talented. Did you see her in North Country?"

"Hells yeah! Can you believe that was based on a true-dammit! Let's try to focus."

"Okay."

"You have bad breath. And ... your hair ... is stupid."

She looked shocked and covered her mouth with her long, tapering fingers. This was getting us nowhere. I'd known my sister was good-natured bordering on comatose, but this was just stupid. Which was how I felt right now.

"Do you think I should switch toothpastes?"

"Fuck it," I said, and hauled off and slapped her face. The sharp crack seemed to fill the room. There was an even louder crack as her fist crashed into my nose.

I think I just got my second concussion of the night, I thought, observing that the room was getting wavy and ... was that right? Yes. The room was going away.

Good-bye, weird office lobby in hell, good-bye ...

Satan's laughter was the last thing I heard before the hell fell away from us.

Chapter 34

Stop me if you've heard this before," I said, too scared to open my eyes, "but I hate everything."

"I'm so sorry! You surprised me. And it really stung! But you're not bleeding. If that, um, makes you feel better."

I cracked an eye open. Laura was bending over me, possibly starting a future crow's foot, she was frowning so hard. Oh, who was I kidding? She'd never have a wrinkle. "Don't do that. Your face'll freeze that way. Where are we?"

I sat up.

And instantly wished she'd hit me harder, so I could have enjoyed an hour or two of unconsciousness.

We were in the past, all right. Her first jump ever and she'd pulled off time travel. If the big, ancient-looking church wasn't a tip-off, ditto the eighty zillion horses and horse-drawn wagons, what I didn't see or hear would have given me the answer.

It was too quiet. No cars. No background hum ... no horns, telephones, no ring tones. No streetlights. No motorcycles or mopeds. No ten-speeds.

I could smell the ocean, but, more surprising, nothing really stank. I won't deny surprise; in addition to no motorcycles, there was no deodorant, hairspray, or strawberry body scrub from the Body Shop. But the salty air was surprisingly clean and refreshing. And the town looked tidy and sweet. These old-timers were serious about keeping the place tidy.

I wondered if everywhere in America smelled like this right now. Smelled real, before we forgot what even dogs know and started shitting where we ate.

There weren't many forest sounds, though there were enormous trees just past the main street or path or road or whatever it was. An occasional bird call, but that was it.

Mostly what came to my ears were raised voices. Angry voices and frightened voices. Shouts and threats. Begging. Crying. Hectoring.

And it was all coming from the church, which appeared to be the focus of the town ... it wasn't off to the side or tucked away. It was smack in the middle of everything, and it sounded like most of the townies were inside. Which made sense, since there were a number of horses hitched just outside the big white building. Lots of wagons "parked." And nobody but us time travelers on the street. No, the action was inside the church, which was a huge break for us.

"Okay, so ... should we go?" I let Laura haul me to my feet. "Do you know where we are?"

"Sure. We're in Salem, Massachusetts," she said.

"I'm not that ignorant." Well, I would have guessed a state that started with M for sure, though my first guess might have been Michigan. "Is that one of your supersecret devil powers? You always know where we end up?"

"No." Laura pointed over my left shoulder. I looked.

Plastered on what would be a bulletin board if it had been made of cork was the front page of the Salem News.

17 WITCHES HANGED; 58 MORE ARRESTED

TRIAL TODAY

June 10, 1692

"Ohhhh, shit."

Laura nodded. "Uh-huh."

"This is not a good place for two gorgeous and unhanged chicks like us to be."

"Betsy, I'm with you a zillion percent."

"Excellent! So. We know you can time travel. Good job, by the way. Remind me to mention your name to the Nobel committee. Now cut a door with your evil sword from hell and bring us back to your mom's house. In hell."

"Okay." Laura sucked in a breath and nodded. "I've never done this before. But now would be a good time to learn, I think."

"Please! It is not true! Please!"

"A very good time," she added. And all at once, her sword was in her right hand. It was like watching a bunny leap from a magician's hat. An evil, horrible bunny from a hat of purest evil. And as always, her sword glowed so fiercely, I could hardly peek at it. It was dazzling and dangerous. Rather like my kid sister.

"I am no witch! I am innocent! I know nothing about it!"

I glanced at the closed church doors.

"I do not hurt the children. I scorn it!"

Laura's lips were moving. "What?" I asked, most of my concentration elsewhere.

Again that same voice, the high pitch of a woman with her back to the corner and nothing but hyenas in front. "If I must tell, I will tell. It was no spell, it was a Psalm."

"Okay, Betsy. Here goes."

"Great, good, that's fine, whenever you're ready."

"It is all false. I am clear!" Whoever was speaking was still afraid but now beginning to be angry as well. Which I thought was kind of cool.

"I never afflicted a child. Never in my life. And all here know this!"

Laura was waving her sword around and talking. Probably to me. I was pretty sure to me. She was prob'ly ready to take us back to hell, or maybe she wanted to steal a horse.

"You do not know my heart. But I know yours. A sad thing, your vengeance. A pitiful thing."

She had some balls, this ancient woman from a zillion years ago.

"The only devil I ever saw was you, William Putnam. And you only saw the devil in me when I would not sell you our farm."

"What?" Ye gods! I knew the Salem witch thing was a bunch of uptight, sex-starved, religiously obsessed idiots killing dozens of innocent men, women, and children, but I hadn't known some people got killed-got hanged!-because other townspeople coveted their property.

"If I am guilty, God will discover me. So hang me, coward. Kill me, butcher. Send me to God, thief. But never will I admit to a sin I did not commit."

"Awesome!" Then, to Laura, "Stop waving that thing around. We're staying for a few more minutes."

My sister lowered her weapon at once. "What are you talking about?"

"Can't you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Then for the horrible crime of witchcraft, which you practiced and committed on several persons, it is the ruling of this court that you shall be hanged by the neck until you are dead."

That's what you think, fuck-o.