Holly-Day Read online

  Holly-Day

  Hell, Oh!

  Celia Kyle

  Holly-Day

  Hell, Oh!

  Celia Kyle

  (c) 2009

  ISBN 978-1-59578-645-6

  Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2009, Celia Kyle. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Liquid Silver Books

  http://LSbooks.com

  Email:

  [email protected]

  Editor

  Chrissie Henderson

  Cover Artist

  April Martinez

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Blurb

  Hell’s demons, Satan included, have decided that maybe their bit of Hell should celebrate the holidays. Not Christmas, mind you, because that would be wrong. But they’d like something sparkly, shiny and flame-resistant for November and December. (Since the shops are decorating so early year after year.) So, Damon the demon, aptly named because it seems that most demons are named Damon, is sent in search of the perfect holiday (but not Christmas) decorator. He found Holly.

  Holly Boughs, so named because her mother loved the holidays, is in line for this year’s prestigious Best Store Window Award. They’re looking for the best of the best of the best. (Sir!) She’s decorated her fanny off, put on the finishing touches, and is ready for anything—except being kidnapped, dragged to Hell and told to do it all over again. Without anything melting. Um, yeah.

  Chapter One

  “Damon.” The Lord of Hell’s voice boomed through the court, rising above all others. “You’ve been nominated.”

  “Which one?” another voice shouted. Had to be Damon Kobal. Damned demon thought he was hilarious.

  And impudence always got the Lord riled. “Damon Damas, Ambassador of Hell!” The walls shook with Satan’s fury. “Kobal! If your mother wasn’t Queen of the Harpies, I’d send you to Ukobach and have him burn you for a few millennia.”

  It wasn’t necessarily Kobal’s fault, really. With so many demons named Damon, it was bound to cause some confusion … and a few snickers.

  “Aw, Satan. That’d just piss Mom off and then I’d have to explain—”

  “Shut it.” And Kobal did because the idiot at least knew when to shut his mouth. Occasionally.

  “Da-mon!”

  Damon Damas sighed and stepped away from the wall. He’d hoped to avoid actually doing anything for the evening. “Yes, my Lord.” He tried to hide the sarcasm. Really.

  “Ah, there you are. Come, come, come. Much to discuss.” Satan waved him forward and he went, begrudging every step.

  He really, really didn’t want to know what he’d been nominated for. Not. At. All. Because somehow, it meant he’d be going somewhere and when he came back, there was always a war. People didn’t like negotiating with a demon. They liked negotiating with the Ambassador of Hell even less. That he also happened to be related to the Lord of Hell on his mother’s side, got doors slammed in his face before a word even left his mouth. They feared him and he just couldn’t figure out why. So, no, he really preferred hiding to talking with his great-great-something or other. Regardless of how much power the man wielded.

  “Now, Damon. We have all discussed this…”

  “Who’s we?” Because in Satan’s world, “we” could be God for all Damon knew.

  Satan growled. “If it wasn’t for your mother—”

  “Yes, yes, I’d be visiting the fires of Hell with Kobal while Ukobach toasted us. Now, who’s we?” Sometimes being related to the big guy had a few benefits.

  Satan slumped into his chair. “Doesn’t anyone respect me anymore?”

  Kobal, the idiot, raised his hand. “I’m sure the souls do, my Lord. The demons? Not so much.” With a quick wink, the demon of hilarity disappeared in a puff of smoke.

  “I should kill him,” Satan muttered.

  “But then he’d have a chance of getting into Heaven. Would you really want to lose him to…”

  “Yes.”

  Damon smiled. “Aw, Uncle Satan, it’s not that bad. Now, whose door is going to be slammed in my face today?”

  “Right.” Satan sat up straighter. “The demon babes…” Damon groaned. Satan narrowed his eyes at him, but didn’t comment. “As I was saying, the demon babes would like to celebrate the holidays. Not His son’s birthday, of course, that would be wrong on so many levels, but just some festivities that end in presents. The little ones feel that just because they aren’t part of the living world shouldn’t mean they don’t get extra presents each year. As if celebrating my birthday isn’t enough for them.”

  “Uh-huh. Uncle Satan, you get presents on your birthday, not everyone else. The thing about Him is that everybody else—”

  “Zip it.”

  “I’m just saying…”

  “Well don’t. We’re not celebrating His son’s birthday and that’s final. Now, where was I? Right. We need presents and decorations and festivities.”

  “Presents. Okay. Presents I can do.” Damon started tallying the cost of presents for each of the children. It would deplete the coffers a bit, but it’d be worth it. Children should get some enjoyment from life be they demon, angel or Living.

  “It’s the festivities and decorating we’re having issues with.”

  Damon stared openmouthed at his uncle. “I’m not responsible for presents?”

  “No, you’re the Ambassador of Hell. You have to go ambassador-ize someone. You’re responsible for convincing someone from the Living to come here and,” Satan waved a hand, encompassing the hall, “decorate and plan and whatever else it is that the Living do for the holidays.”

  Damon flopped down onto the steps leading to Satan’s throne. “I won’t do it. I can’t be around the Living. It’s bad enough here in Hell. They’ll shoot me instead of just slamming doors in my face. What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi, wanna come to Hell?’ I can’t die, but bullets hurt, Uncle Satan.” Yes, he even pouted. Anything was better than venturing to the land of the Living.

  “I’ll do it!” Another demon raised his hand.

  “You will not, Samael! I don’t want a plague, I want a decorator,” Satan snapped, and the Demon of Death slumped into his seat looking sad and defeated. Samael was always looking for a reason to visit the Living. The demon had entirely too much fun doing his job, and Damon didn’t have nearly enough doing his. In fact, his job just plain sucked. Not literally, but still…

  * * * *

  Stabbing the mannequin really helped.

  Deck the halls with stab of stab stab.

  Fa la la la la, la la la la.

  ’Tis the season to be stab stab.

  Fa la la la la, la la la la.

  “Hol-ly!” Lord, it was the harbinger of death and destruction, also known as Monica, Holly’s boss.

  Holly pushed the pin into the mannequin one last time, holding the frou-frou garment in place. She’d have to redo the whole thing after Monica quit her screeching, so she didn’t waste any more time on the hunk of foam and plastic. Because, instead of coming into the store and discussing the window display with Holly, the woman felt the need to scream through the glass from outside the building.

  “Yes, Ms. Shax?” Don’t throw the mannequin through the window. Or the tree. Or one of the mechanical caroler
s. Although they’re so ugly, they deserve it.

  “Holly, dear, don’t you think we…” Monica waved toward the left of the display, “…need some more red there. Give it some more holiday joy.” The woman smiled widely, showing every bright white tooth she had. It was her fake smile that gave Holly the urge to deck some halls, starting with hers.

  Holly raised her voice. “Sure, Ms. Shax. I’ll take a look in just one moment and get things balanced out.” When Hell freezes over…

  “Lovely!” Monica tapped the glass and gave Holly two thumbs up. “I’ll come back in a few hours, then.”

  “Sounds good!” she screamed back and turned around, careful to keep her smile in place until her arch nemesis and general pain in the ass left the area.

  Alone again, Holly started reciting her soothing words to calm down. Because, really, the left side of the display didn’t need more red. Why? It was a snow scene! Snow. White snow. There was no such thing as red snow! Not unless she wanted Holly to put in a car accident with a dead and decaying corpse bleeding all over her pristine, realistic snow.

  Soothing words. Stay calm… Ribbon, bows, chiffon, crepe, Singer, pins, needles, thread…

  She rested her head on the shoulder of one of the male mannequins and stared out into the pitch-black night. Unfortunately, store display changes happened in the dead of night, which left Holly alone most evenings. Except, of course, when Monica felt the need to supervise and then claim all of Holly’s hard work for herself. But Holly didn’t mind too much. It was the designing she cared about, bringing her ideas to life and bringing smiles to the faces of each passerby.

  With a sigh, she turned back to the abused, smiling female mannequin and pulled the pins on the back of her gown free. No sense letting Monica and her thieving ways ruin the display. The store had hired her boss’ firm, Delicate Displays, to design the perfect holiday exhibit to draw in shoppers. The store owner himself had hinted at a permanent position for Holly if the display looked as wonderful as he hoped.

  Permanent. As in she’d never have to travel around with Monica and her entourage and then work like a dog just to have the witchy woman take credit for Holly’s long nights. Yeah, permanent sounded really good.

  Brushing off the bad attitude that always came with confrontations with Monica, Holly stepped over to display one, the first of her “rooms” for the windows. She’d numbered them while designing the perfect theme for McAcy’s Department Store. After reviewing past windows, she’d decided on an understated classic holiday theme. Visions of family and friends together to celebrate, as opposed to the fantastical displays of the past. With the world in an uproar over this current event or that one, people needed to be reminded of the staples of life. Friends and family fit the bill.

  Display one was Holly’s snow theme. Rolling hills and playful mannequins littered the ten foot by ten foot space. A bit bigger than originally planned, but McAcy’s had been accommodating once they’d heard her plans. This window would bring smiles to faces and hopefully ignite the memories of the adults. Plus it featured all of the best winter snow wear to be found in the city.

  Display two was her “story around the fire” room. Grandma and Grandpa mannequins holding little bundles of squirming joy in one hand and books in the other. Reading in front of the fire instead of watching It’s a Wonderful Life for the umpteenth time in front of the television. And it didn’t hurt that the kids were dressed in a wide assortment of pajamas.

  Three was the big one: Christmas morning. A massive tree with all the trimmings, toys as far as the eye could see and ecstatic children filling the room. Smiling parents with the video camera and kids showing the viewer the newest, greatest toy ever created. That room had been the most fun because Holly couldn’t pick the best toys without playing with them first. All of them. Some more than once.

  And then there was the fourth and final display. This one tugged at her heartstrings and had been a blowup battle between her and Monica. The final decision was decided by the president of McAcy’s. After he’d seen the first three windows and learned of Holly’s plans for the fourth, he’d been behind her one hundred percent. A novel feeling since she’d begun working for Delicate Displays.

  This final room was about giving back to the community and sharing good fortune with those that hadn’t been as lucky. Holly visited soup kitchens and shelters every weekend, hoping to help those who needed it, so she knew how little assistance was provided by the general populace. This window showed the parents working in a soup kitchen while the children donated their newly acquired toys. Sharing their fortune and receiving the pleasure of knowing that they’d just made someone else’s life that much better. Yes, this room was all Holly’s and she wouldn’t let Monica touch it with a ten-foot pole.

  Holly stared out into the night, imagining the children and adults lining up to see the new display, a New York City tradition. Every year the department stores all changed their windows on the same night. Glowing lights in the front windows could be seen from one side of the city to the other. So, while most people slept, the display associates prepared the stores for their holiday debut. Like Santa Claus, but with chiffon and ribbon instead of toys.

  A shift in the shadows across the street caught Holly’s eye, and she edged toward the glass, straining to see what caught her attention…

  *

  “Go to the land of the Living, he said.” Damon stabbed at the concrete with his pickaxe. “More like the land of the lost,” he grumbled. Did they tell him that the portal to the mortal world was below three old sewer systems and two subway tunnels? No. Did they tell him that “Hey, Damon, your powers won’t work in the mortal realm”? No. How about that he’d go dark the moment Living air touched him? No!

  The dark thing was hitting the hardest. Damon was a strong guy, dark or not, but not having the rosy hue of his homeland made him look … just like them. The puny Living things. He spat on the ground. Gross.

  He’d been fighting the concrete and dirt for hours. Hack, hit, jump back. Hack, hit, jump back. From what he could tell, he didn’t have but another ten or so feet. At least, that’s what the annoying little devil beside him kept insisting. The fact that the devil had been saying the same thing for at least three hundred feet was not lost on Damon. “Melich?”

  The devil crawled up the wall, clinging to the rock and dirt at Damon’s eye level. “Yes, master? The master needs something? What can Melich do for master?”

  Damon closed his eyes and dropped his head back. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kick the devil’s ass to Hell and never-back. It’d be like kicking a horned, purple, hairless puppy that’d been dropped on its head just after birth.

  “Nothing, Melich. Go back to what you were doing.” Which was gnawing the bones of the dead they unearthed during their ascent. The tiny devil crab-crawled back down the side of the tunnel, sinking farther and farther into the depths, hunting.

  Damon returned to his task of digging through the sludge of life. He displaced foot after foot of dirt until his shovel hit … nothing. He didn’t get too excited, though. They’d gone through this drill several times before. Damon cleared a hole big enough for the devil to fit through and summoned the disgusting creature. “Melich!”

  A tiny squeak, followed by the scrambling of nails on rock and dirt, echoed up the hole. “Coming. Coming, coming, coming.” As if Damon hadn’t heard him. “Here, my Lord.”

  “I’m not your lord, devil.”

  “But, my Lord said you’re my Lord which makes you—”

  “Melich. Enough. Up the hole.” He didn’t want to waste any more time on this errand. Plus, if someone saw them, they’d catch sight of the devil first. The fact that the devil looked like a small child who’d been dropped from the highest building was just a bonus.

  Melich poked his head back through the hole. “Oh, my Lord, it’s the Living land. Disgusting and cold and clean and, my Lord, I will tell his Lord that it is not fit for Damon demon. Not fit at all…” The devil
scrambled and fell back into their dirt and rock-formed lair. “I will go right now and tell Him.” The devil scampered deeper and deeper into the hole until Damon couldn’t see him any longer.

  Wonderful. He had a devil on the loose and a world to conquer. Just how he wanted to start his day. Damon shoved the shovel through the hole and poked his head through. Never mind, it was just how he wanted to start his night. The damned land of the Living couldn’t even get their times of the day right!

  He popped back into the hole and then tossed his pack out onto the land, following as quickly as he could. A quick glance around revealed that he’d ended up in the middle of some sort of grassland area. And Damon Bifrons had said the portal from Hell led to the center of a large city. The demon of the arts couldn’t even master geography. He regretted sharing a name with the man … demon … whatever.

  Damon brushed the dirt and rubble from his body and then turned to his pack. He’d at least thought far enough ahead to bring an extra change of clothing. He changed quickly, donning his clean leathers and cotton shirt.

  Changed, he took a few moments to become acclimated with his new environment. He spun around slowly, eyes taking in the strange place. Lights twinkled in the distance, and he decided that he would head toward civilization. Hopefully, they would have one of these decorators and then he could head back to his homeland, his own personal hell.

  *

  It was as if the Best Store Window Award walked out of the darkness and right up to Holly. Right there, in the middle of the night, in the center of the street, stood a god she’d like to know. This wasn’t her normal drooling over fabrics and patterns, but honest to goodness drool over another person. And not an imaginary one, either. Live and in living semi-color. (Street lighting doesn’t flatter anyone.)

  Dressed in heavy black boots, black leather pants and a form-fitting shirt, Holly could see that this stranger was all that and a bag of chips. Times two. Maybe even four, but she was crouched behind one of the ugly carolers Monica made her buy and didn’t have a clear view just yet. She crawled out from behind the mechanical monstrosity and edged closer to the window. To adjust some ribbon, she told herself. Ri-ight.