HellBelles 3: Even In Hell
by Shuvcat, June 2009
The ‘Belles have vowed to remain best friends forever, “even in hell”. A devilish record executive appears with a sinister plan to make the girls put up or shut up.
Dedicated with much love to Venti and Swest, and with greatest respect for the amazing talents of my two muses, Craig and Shirley. Everything I write here is a love letter to you all.
Rated R for sex, violence, language.
Contains lyrics by Joan Jett, P.J. Harvey, Innerpartysystem, Disturbed, Paramore, Garbage, Twisted Sister.
Disclaimer: The views and beliefs expressed by the characters of this fanfiction are in no way representative of the views and beliefs of their real-world counterparts. This is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement or offense is intended.
+++++
I hate myself for lovin’ you
Can’t break free from the things that you do
I wanna walk but I run back to you
That’s why I hate myself for lovin’ you…
The party was wild, the famous celebrities were many. The female punk-rock band the HellBelles were staked out at the bar, sharing drinks. Even Violette was indulging this evening-- against the advice of her clinician. She didn’t care; it was a celebration. All three ‘Belles were drinking up, and all three of them had eyes for no one and nothing besides their Craig-- who himself was wandering around the crowded room; hobnobbing, schmoozing and otherwise making a nuisance of himself, as he himself liked to say. Violette la Violent, Kay Slaughter, and Meredith the Merry Death watched him, smiling wordlessly, as Craig wheedled his way into conversations, chatted up sexy hot Hollywood starlets. He was an incurable ladies’ man… the HellBelles were each well acquainted with Craig’s sexual appetites. They had each had him, but they each knew that he didn’t belong to any one of them. That was cool with them. The boy couldn’t be tamed, and none of them would have had it any other way.
“Look at that.” Violette sneered, in her throne. “Look at him. We need to get him spayed. He’s gonna hurt himself.”
Kay and Meredith giggled at the sight of Craig petting and nuzzling various blondes, brunettes, and redheads. “Do you realize that every single woman in this room is looking at our boyfriend?” Meredith suddenly spoke up.
“Wouldn’t you?” Kay giggled. “Look at that piece of meat!” She smoothed back her blonde hair. “And we’ve had him! All three of us, we’ve been with him!!”
“All three of us.” Meredith grinned, exchanging a high five with Kay, who exchanged one with Violette. “We’ve had us a piece of that. He’s owned, baby.”
“Branded!” Kay giggled. “He’s HellBelle stock!”
Then all three girls fell silent, for some reason none of them could explain. “Doesn’t it seem weird sometimes that every woman he meets wants to sleep with him?” wondered Meredith.
“No…” said Kay. “Well… not really…”
Meredith was watching Craig closely as he entered and left the arms of one woman after another. “Look at that-- look at that!! Angelina Jolie! I mean she’s with Brad Pitt, and even she!...”
“Well then again-- she’s Angelina,” Violette pointed out dryly. “We’re not talkin’ about Wilma Wallflower here. She’s fairly equal opportunity when it comes to slutting.”
“Yeah, but…” They watched as the famous starlet kissed Craig’s cheek. “I mean, every woman in here… and more than a couple men… every single one of them wants the same guy, without exception. Doesn’t that strike you as weird??”
“Well… yeah.” Kay shrugged. “I guess so. I mean… one guy that everyone’s attracted to…yeah, it’s a little weird.”
“It’s more than weird! It’s not normal!”
“Merry-- OUR relationship with Craig is not ‘normal’,” Violette pointed out. “I mean, come on. How many women do you know that would put up with sharing a man three ways? Not to mention however many women he’s fucked in this room alone; I mean, really…”
“Yeah, but that’s just my point,” said Meredith. “How does he do that? How does he get away with it? I mean yeah, he looks like THAT--” Meredith’s finger pointed, “…but come on. I’ve let him do the most filthy, disgusting things to me…” Her pale face turned red, briefly. “…I mean… I’d never put up with that from any other guy. Never!” She looked to Kay. “Kay, you’re like the wallflower of us three. You tell me, what’s he done to you?” She waited, watching the blush spread over Kay’s face. “See?? You don’t even have to tell me! I can guess just from the look on your face!” Meredith looked to Violette. “And Vi, I know he’s crossed more than a couple lines with you!”
“Yeah, he has.” Violette shrugged. “What can I say? He’s like that.”
“But why do we let him??” Meredith insisted. “I mean, just because he’s gorgeous? And funny? And charming? And he has that nose?… and those eyes?… and that huge… uhhm… he’s really, really endowed?? I mean, are we that easy, that we can just be… spellbound by a man like that? Without even asking why?”
“You’re asking why.” Violette gave Meredith a look. “Are you done yet?”
Meredith considered. And at last, she nodded. “Yeah… I guess I am,” she mumbled.
+++++
The HellBelles were visiting Craig’s mansion in Santa Barbara for the first time. “Come on in ladies, make yourselves comfortable,” Craig grinned, holding the door open as Violette wheeled herself in on her throne, followed by Kay and Meredith. “Who wants a drink?”
“Oh me! Me!” Kay waved her hand in the air like an eager schoolgirl. “Pina colada, por favor senor!”
Craig smiled, watching the three HellBelles get nice and comfy in his home’s front foyer. “Do you like pina coladas? Gettin’ caught in the rain?” he kidded Kay the cowgirl, as he made his way over to the bar to mix her a drink. A recovering alcoholic, Craig kept a fully stocked bar in his home as a personal challenge to his own resiliency. It was sick, but he had it in his head that as long as he could keep all that booze in his own home and NOT indulge… every day he did that was one more day he had under his belt. One more day he had won.
Kay had no such handicaps. She could drink whenever she wanted and not get caught in the web. She could take it or leave it. Craig envied her madly. “I like pinas… I don’t like ‘70s lite rock!” she giggled, eagerly taking the frosty mixed drink from Craig’s hand.
Violette and Meredith, meanwhile, had been wandering around the front room, taking in Craig’s campy retro ‘80s décor-- and the hundreds of vinyl records lining Craig’s wall above his state-of-the-art sound system. “Wow… this looks like my mom’s house!!” Meredith burst out, staring at all the LPs.
Violette noted the brief look of dismay on Craig’s face. “Craig, I love this-- you’ve got as many 45s as I do!” she immediately exclaimed. “I think the analog sound feels so much better than digital, don’t you? Just gets you… right down in that dirty space.” She gave Craig a naughty smirk, punctuating her sentence.
Craig instantly cheered up at Violette’s approval of his retro collection. “Oh fuck yeah—digital’s got nothin’ on the old sound!” He crossed the room and put on a The Damned LP, cranking it to eleven. The very walls boomed. “Just hear that!!” Craig crossed back to Violette, dropping down on his knees before her. He bowed before her. “May I have this dance with your majesty?” he entreated. Violette smiled, letting Craig take up her hands in his. They moved back and forth, side to side, in a sweet, abbreviated sort of a dance.
Kay had removed her cowboy hat, and was banging her blonde head in time to the wailing. Meredith, however, had her attention arrested by something else. Her black-tipped fingers had pulled out one particular album from the wall library. Her kohl-rimmed eyes widened in amazement… in awe, as she took in what she had in her hands.
Kay had danced over to Meredith. She tugged Merry’s black clothes, trying to get her to join in the fun. “Come on, Merry! Would you get with it??” she laughed.
But Meredith turned, a look of pure amazement on her face. “Do you know what this is??” she gaped, indicating the album she held in her hands.
Kay paused only a moment. “It’s a record album, Merry,” she enunciated slowly. “See—back in the days before CDs and Ipods, they had this stuff called ‘vi-nyl’. And--”
Meredith bopped Kay on the head in annoyance with the cardboard sleeve—albeit gently, to protect what was inside. “This is the one and only album by Hëd Cheeze!!” she exclaimed. “Don’t you remember? These guys were really serious about the occult! They translated the whole Necronomicon into backward messages on all their songs! And look-- this is their only album! And after they made it, they all died in a fire at the cheese factory they worked at!”
“I remember that.” Violette looked toward Meredith. “I-I remember... hearing about that, when I was a kid. The...the stink from the burning cheese shut down freeways in and out of Madison, Wisconsin, for weeks.”
“Yeah!! They were like-- the Skynyrd of punk!”
“Uhh-- I’d like to take umbrage with that,” called Craig. “Have you never heard of Sex Pistols??”
“Considering half the Ramones are dead now, I think it’s fair to say they’re the ‘Skynyrd of punk’,” Violette pointed out. Craig chuckled in an agreeable way.
Kay rolled her eyes. She didn’t have much of a stomach for so-called devil-worshipping punk rockers. “Aw Merry… they admitted way back in the 80’s that that whole ‘backward message’ thing was just a scam!” she protested weakly. “It was dreamed up by record companies to sell more records!”
Meredith wasn’t even listening. She was gazing lovingly down at the record sleeve with its badly rendered paintings of demons and cheese. “I have GOT to have this album!” she swooned. She looked to their host. “Craig! What do you want for this? I’ll give you anything, I’m not even kidding!!”
Craig’s thick lips turned up in an evil smirk. “Anything??...” he ventured. He lifted an eyebrow slyly.
“Yes!! Anything! Craig, tell me! I’m serious-- I seriously need to have this record album!”
Craig briefly let his mind roll over all the filthy disgusting things he could command wee Merry to do to him, in order to gain ownership of his precious album. Then he had to laugh. She would do any of those things to him anyway… any night of the week. Album or no. There wasn’t any suspense in that. “Aw, Merry…” Craig laughed out loud. “Christ… I think I found that thing in a bin at a consignment sale! I think I paid--” And here Craig paused. Meredith clearly was ready to pay any price for that ragged old thing.
“--A thousand dollars,” Craig finished.
Meredith’s white face lit up in an almost cartoonish expression of glee, enunciated by her candy red lips and thickly-caked eyes. “Done!!” She burst out giggling gleefully, jabbing her black fingernail at him in faux-triumph. “OWNED, man!! Ha-ha!!” she rejoiced, actually jumping up and down on her crooked black legs. She exchanged an exuberant high-five with Kay, who still looked as if she didn’t quite appreciate the significance of Meredith’s find.
Craig rolled his eyes. He met Violette’s gaze—she looked as amused as he was, by Merry’s insane want of that album. They both couldn’t help giggling together, at the goth HellBelle’s mania.
+++++
In her room at the HellBelles’ mansion, by the light of skull-shaped candles, Meredith kneeled down before her own substantial stereo system. She pulled the black disc from its sleeve and placed it upon her own turntable with unabashed reverence. Then she checked the back of the apparatus… checked the circuitry she had diligently rewired. Very carefully she set the needle down upon the vinyl.
The sounds of the first and last album from Hëd Cheeze began to peal over the huge speakers—backwards. Meredith’s pale face split in a grin, as the lead singer’s mottled voice began gibbering unintelligibly over the speaks. It sounded horrible. Like if the rotting body of a dead rodent could be transposed into sound. It was hellish, chaotic, insane. It was about as close as one could get to a bad LSD trip without actually taking the stuff. But Meredith was ensorcelled. First she was dancing around her room, banging her head, dark hair flying, fingers flickering as she air-guitared, imitating the warped sounds of the lead guitarist. Then she threw herself backward down onto the floor. Her heels dug into the rug, pushing her hips upward wantonly as she pushed herself backward across the floor. Her fingers clawed at her body, black nails ripping through her flimsy, gauzy goth wear. Very soon she was lying completely naked upon the shag, writhing over the floor, rubbing herself all over, her red mouth open in silent ecstasy as she rolled around, raptured by the demonic rhythm.
Then the voices started. Meredith sat up, naked on the carpet, her black hair ruffled and damp with her own sweat. Bits of carpet crud were stuck to her back and her thighs, glued to her. She didn’t care. All she had ears for were the suddenly-audible words that the departed lead Hëd Cheeze was growling over her speaker system. It sounded almost like a Don LaFontaine-voiced movie preview:
“In a world before the sun… before the moon and before the stars… the Sirens of the Abyss sang their symphonies. What was theirs now belongs to the world of men—of weaklings! And the old sirens—the belles of Hell—are jealous!!”
Meredith’s red mouth hung open. She leaped to her bedside table, grabbing the pen and pad she habitually kept there in case she woke wanting to write lyrics in the middle of the night. “There is an ancient rime which can summon the old gods… the rightful Queens of Hell! Ome-cay…Ome-cay…Ome-cay!! I-hay ona-way uck-fay yoo-hay ike-lay an-hay animal-hay!...
Meredith’s tongue licked her lips as she carefully noted down everything the evil rock album was telling her. “Ee-may ove-lay oo-hay ong-lay ime-tay! Teen-Ovalmay! Teen-Ovalmay! Teen-Ovalmay!!”
Meredith looked down at the letters she’d spelled across her notepad. Her brow furrowed in consternation. “Ovaltine??...” she mumbled, not getting it.
+++++
“Look at this!”
Violette looked down fleetingly at the notepad Meredith had tossed onto the table. “You won on Jeopardy. Baby.” She made the metal sign; sarcastically honoring Meredith’s supposed accomplishment.
“No--” Meredith sat down next to Vi. “Look-- this was on the Hëd Cheeze record! When I played it backward, this came out! Don’t you see?”
“No. I don’t.”
“C’mon!! It’s a backward message! It tells you how to summon demons who used to rule the universe! Like, the first, real HellBelles!”
Violette drew in a deep breath from her vent, preparing to engage in a long explanation with her less-than-bright bandmate. “Okay… Merry… if you played the record backward, and this magical spell was backward on it… would that not mean that the message was already forward when you played the record forward?”
Meredith’s face went slack as her gears began to turn. Kay burst out giggling. “Hahahaa… you tore out the back of your stereo… to play your album backward… to hear a message that was forward already! Ahahahahaa….”
Meredith’s brow was crinkled in confusion. “Well…then… why did they even go to the trouble of backmasking it in the first place??”
“’Cause they were punk rockers? And they were stoned?” Violette stated the obvious.
Meredith looked profoundly disappointed. “Man. This really sucks!!” She slapped the tablet down on the table in consternation.
But what Meredith had no way of knowing was that playing the record backward was exactly what the charm needed. There was a sudden, hellacious explosion upstairs. All three ‘Belles jumped. Kay uttered a startled scream. They all looked toward the staircase which led to the bedroom suites on the second floor.
In Meredith’s bedroom, her stereo was engulfed in flames. The Hëd Cheeze record was melting on the turntable. Flames licked up over her heavy metal posters of Ozzy and Metallica, and blackened the photographs of Craig and the ‘Belles tacked to the wall. From the column of fire, a well-formed leg encased in fishnet stockings and red stiletto heels stepped out. The very sexy form of a red-haired devilish temptress emerged from the flames. She stretched like a cat, her evil green eyes looking around the room with bemusement.
Meanwhile downstairs, the girls were temporarily torn between calling the police and getting out of the house. “What the hell did you DO up there, Merry??” exclaimed Kay loudly.
Violette pointed. “There’s smoke—something’s on fire up there! We gotta get out!”
“Look!!” gasped Kay, pointing as well.
A sexy, shapely pair of legs was stepping very precisely down the staircase. Flames of fire were left on each stair where the stiletto heels had been. The HellBelles watched in horrified silence as the woman’s beautiful, evil face came into view. “Hey!” exclaimed Meredith. “Isn’t that Shirley Manson??”
Whoever the devilish woman was, she fixed the three HellBelles with a sinister glare as she alighted on the bottom floor. She was not even fazed by the inferno she had just left upstairs. Her pouty red mouth lifted in a smile—an evil smile. She seemed to be focusing her glare on Meredith. “Thank you, conjurer,” her silky, purring voice came. “You’ll be rewarded for that, make no mistake.”
Without another word, she turned her tail and walked out of the mansion, stalking down the long walkway to the street as the upper floor burned, black smoke rising into the sky.
+++++
Of course the HellBelles called the fire department then. They stood outside of the house, gazing miserably at the charred upper floor of their home. The firefighters were able to stop the blaze before it totally consumed the house, but Meredith’s room was a total loss. It would take a while to reconstruct the second floor, as well. “Okay, Merry,” Violette growled, “from now on, new rule: No more fucking witchcraft in the house!!”
After getting all the equipment they could for Violette out of the house, the girls were now faced with the problem of where to spend the night. “Should we crash at the Hilton?” wondered Kay.
“Let’s go see Craig,” decided Violette. “He’s got plenty of room. Provided we don’t summon any demons and burn down HIS house too, that is.”
“All right, Vi, all right!” Meredith was appropriately ashamed. “I heard you the first time! I’m sorry, okay? Look, I’M the one who’s shit out of luck; my room’s the one that got roasted!”
“Not to mention you unleashed an ancient spirit of evil on the city of Los Angeles!” Kay pointed out.
“Oh please, it’s Los Angeles! Nobody’s even gonna notice!”
They had arrived at Craig’s door. Kay pounded on it. The door popped open. Craig stood there, faced with his three mistresses. “Hi honey! We’re home!” all three of them harmonized, with huge grins.
Craig blinked rapidly, looking from one HellBelle to another as they marched right into his home, single file. “Okay… what’s happening?” he got out.
“Merry burned our house down!” Kay volunteered, dropping her overnight bag on the sofa.
“She accidentally summoned a demon goddess who used to rule the world, and torched the upstairs of our mansion,” clarified Violette, wheeling toward the television. “By the way Craig-- thanks so much for selling her the record that opens the portal of Hell.” Her voice was sulky with sarcasm.
“Yeah, and so we figured, since it’s kind of your fault, we decided you can make it up to us by letting us crash at your place until we get the mansion rebuilt!” Kay jumped on the couch. “Sleepover!!”
Craig’s head was spinning. “Hey—whoa—wait just a minute! MY fault?? Oh yeah, I’M the bad guy--*I* told her to play the damn thing backwards! And-- a demon goddess burnt your house? Well-- where did the little demonic tart spirit away to afterwards, if you don’t mind my asking??”
Meredith looked embarrassed. “Actually…we don’t know. But it’s okay! I mean—if she was gonna kill us, she’d’ve done it right away, right? And-- even if she wants to kill us later, she has no idea where we are! So we’re totally safe!” Meredith grinned brightly.
“Yeah, she didn’t really look like one of those rain-fire-and-brimstone-down-on-humanity devils,” Kay agreed. “What’s the worst that can happen?” She turned on Craig’s TV with the remote.
Carson Daly’s face loomed large on the screen. “In entertainment news tonight, a massive five-alarm fire is right now gutting the landmark GoogolDeth Records building in downtown Santa Monica. Firefighters were called to the scene just a little after six this evening, right now they’ve got their hands full just containing the big blaze.”
The HellBelles and Craig stared at the set. “That’s our label! GoogolDeth Records!” gasped Kay.
“Nobody knows how the blaze got started,” Carson went on. “As you can see on this security camera footage, the building seems to have simply exploded into flames. Authorities are not ruling out terrorism at this time, but--”
“Look!” Meredith pointed. “It’s her! Shirley! …I mean the demon!!”
There she was indeed, a flickery shadow on the black-and-white footage. She was stalking down the street, her flawless face expressionless. No sooner did she clear the block with the building on it, than the front window bearing GoogolDeth’s famous skull-and-crossbones logo violently exploded into flames.
“Whoa!!” Meredith, for one, looked momentarily impressed. “Cool!”
“It goes without saying the building is a complete loss,” continued Carson, “and coupled with declining music sales over the past year, the president is wondering if this may in fact be the death knell for the faltering record label. The punk rock label’s artists include Randi Pussy, Gavin Slade and the Slobbering Fiends, and the HellBelles. If GoogolDeth goes under, all these artists will be looking for a new home.”
The three HellBelles were speechless. “That!” muttered Violette. “THAT is the worst that can happen!!”
++++++
“Listen to me.”
They were sitting in an almost semi-circle in his living room—Violette in her throne, Kay and Meredith in the couch and the lounger, all facing each other. Craig entered the circle cautiously, where his three lovers were all facing. “Look—I’m sorry you lost the mansion, all right? But it’s not the end of the world. You can rebuild it, easy.” Craig looked from one pretty face to another. He was consternated as to how he felt. He was afraid. He didn’t like to think he scared easy.
He dropped down in front of Violette’s throne. He gazed up into her face, searching her purple-painted eyes. “Look… of course you can stay here, for as long as you like. I certainly don’t mind. And—as far as your record company…for Christ’s sake, record companies are old hat now! Don’t a lot of bands put their albums online now—sell ‘em off their website or somethin’? You can do that, right? All the kids are doing it!” He gazed up into Violette’s face. “Don’t be upset about this. This is nothing!”
Violette shook her fuschia-tinged head. “I’m not upset.” She gazed down into Craig’s open, soft face. “Craig… do you believe in hell?”
Craig closed his eyes, looked away, his throat bobbing as he gulped hard. He had not believed in many of the so-called “doctrines” of the church for many years. On the other hand… he knew for a fact that certain hellish aspects of human existence were more than just simple myth. He tried to utter a dry giggle. “Oh sure, sure I do. Heh… you ever been to divorce court; you become a believer in hell right quick!” He drew in a deep breath. “Do y’know… Vi… I believe… that… hell… is an invention of the human mind. And--” his pale eyes caught her dark ones, “—I think that sometimes the human mind is the most powerful force there is.” He swallowed hard. “Do I believe in hell? Sure…I believe we put ourselves through that, we put ourselves through more severe punishment than any outside force could ever inflict on us. I believe that some of us get a raw deal.” His gaze flicked down toward Violette’s throne… the wheelchair she was trapped in. “I think… that some people go through their hell here on earth. I don’t know why.” Craig lifted himself to look more directly in Violette’s eyes. “It’s not fair. It’s wrong. I don’t know why it happens.” He himself was well acquainted with the arbitrary judgment of pain. “Life is a fucking bitch sometimes. That’s all.”
Violette gazed into Craig’s face. “Yes… it sure is,” she agreed softly. She knew he was as familiar with misery as she herself was. In that sense, they were kindred souls. She grasped his large hand resting on the armrest of her throne. And he squeezed her hand back, wordlessly.
“What about demons?” spoke up Kay, who was rocking back and forth nervously on the couch. “Are those real? I mean, what did we just see on TV? What about what she did to our house??”
“Demon or not, she’s definitely out to get us,” muttered Violette. “She didn’t torch GoogolDeth for no reason. She’s warning us. Thanking us.” She looked to Meredith, recalling the demon’s first words directed at her. “’You’ll be rewarded…’ remember?”
“Why would she blow up our record label if we helped her get out of hell??” Meredith was confounded.
“Uhm, evil. Remember? Kinda what they do.”
“This is all my fault.” Meredith’s eyes were wide. “If I hadn’t’ve played that damn record backwards, none of this ever would’ve happened!”
Craig cleared his throat. He had been debating whether to say what was on his mind ever since he had gotten a look at the devilishy sexy demon that was hounding the three HellBelles. “Ahh… heh, there’s something I have to tell you, ladies,” he muttered, his voice low and furtive. “This wee ‘demon’ of yours… the fact of the thing is… I think I know her.”
The ‘Belles looked up in surprise. Craig got to his feet, wiping his face nervously with his hands, running them through his spiky hair as he stepped into the center of the room again. “All right see—here’s what happened,” he sighed. “Now, back before I came to America—back when I was still in the old country, and I was still, y’know, drunk off my ass all the time… I was at this pub in Glasgow one night, just, y’know, mucking around with my old punk band. And at one point in the evening, we get to talking about what we’d do to be famous. Well, the talk turns to the old ‘sell-your-soul-to-the-devil’ chestnut-- y’know, like ‘The Devil and Daniel Webster’, or any of those stupid '70s devil movies—anyway, so, the question comes up, if the devil appeared to us, and promised us anything-- would we do it?” He drew in a deep breath. “I mean—understand, we’re all fuckin’ drunk off our nuts while we’re having this conversation-- we’re barely standing upright, none of us even remembered it the next day. But—I seem to remember saying I’d do it if I could shag any girl I wanted. If I could be, y’know… sexually irresistible to any woman, anywhere.” He looked from one ‘Belle to another. “I mean, we were just joking around! We weren’t serious about it! None of us even believed what we were saying! So, anyway—the night goes on, and around midnight this incredibly sexy redhead comes up to me. She says to me, 'So you’d sell your soul if you could have any woman you wanted, eh?' 'Yes,' says I, still quite a bit drunk. To which she says, 'How about me? Do you fancy selling it to me?' Which I took to mean, did I want to fuck her. And of course I did, I mean-- this woman was really, really amazing…”
Craig seemed momentarily flummoxed by the fact that he was describing a past sexual conquest-- to his current three girlfriends. “…Look, if you’d‘ve been there—if you’d've seen her, you girls might’ve switched teams yourselves—she was THAT hot; I’m not making it up! And so—well… we went back to my place. Look-- you know me, you know how I am; I’m not going to lie to you girls. I shagged her.”
“Was she good?” Meredith seemed to be giving the question a sharp edge.
But Craig could never lie. “Yeah… yeah, she was amazing, actually!...” he chuckled. Then he caught the look on all their faces. “I mean—relatively speaking—compared to you girls, no, of course not!--” He was crashing and burning.
“We get it.” Violette’s voice was curt. “Next?”
Craig seemed more than happy to move along. “…Well, so, anyway, the next morning she turns over and she says, 'You’ve got your wish. From now on, every woman you meet is going to be unable to resist you. You’ve lain with me; the deal is done. Now you belong to me.' Now, I’m still quite a bit hungover at this point, I figure she’s just declaring her undying love for me or something—but she gets up and leaves, with no fuss. I figure, all right, we had a sexy evening, parted ways, I’m never going to see her again.” He drew in a deep breath, winded by his long and rambling confession. “And—I never did—until just now… on that news broadcast.”
The three girls were silent. “…You slept with Carson Daly??” Kay asked, momentarily confused.
“No, no--” Craig groaned. “Your girl! The one who firebombed your record label, the one who torched your house! The demon!”
Horror and enlightenment was spreading over their faces. “Craig, let me get this straight—you think you sold your soul to the same demon Merry conjured up at our house??” asked Violette.
“That’s exactly what I mean! It’s the same woman, I know it! She looks just like she did all those years ago, she hasn’t aged a day!”
Silence. “I knew it!!” Meredith burst out triumphantly. She looked to Kay and Violette in turn, her eyes wide. “Ha, see? I told you! I told you there was something weird about him! That’s why every woman he meets falls madly in love with him-- he had the devil put a whammy spell on him!!”
Violette was not convinced. “Oh, that’s a load of shit. What happened was, Craig probably hallucinated the whole thing. He just told us he was high as a kite the whole time. You can’t sell your soul to the devil-- it’s just not possible!”
“I dunno…” Kay’s eyes were wide under her hat. “It kinda makes sense.” She looked up at Craig, questioning. “Is that true? I mean… is that why we’re all in love with you? Because the devil gave you some kind of… mind control over us??”
“Well, I don’t believe it.” Violette was adamant. “I’m not being controlled by anything.” She looked to Craig firmly. “You’ve been a good friend to us… to me. You’re a decent man, deep down. That’s why *I* love you. I can’t speak for anyone else.”
Kay now seemed ashamed of her doubt in her own feelings. “Yeah… I guess you’re right, Vi.” She looked up into Craig’s face again. “You’ve been really cool to us, I mean, you helped us get started, you had us on your show… you always seem interested in my cooking, and what’s up with my cars and stuff…” She sighed. “I’m sorry, Craig. I know you don’t have an evil spell over me!” She beamed brightly at him.
They all looked to Meredith, who looked startled. She was the one who’d voiced the question of Craig’s apparent supernatural power over all of them in the first place. “…I’m in it for the sex…” she said, almost defensively.
Then she seemed to recant. “Craig… you’re amazing in bed…and a sweet lover…I’d like to think I could walk away from you any time… sometimes I wonder. Thing is… I almost don’t even care if you have a spell on us. I like you that much.” Her goth makeup had never made her look as haunted as she looked right now. “That’s kinda scary all by itself.”
Craig was looking unabashedly pensive and embarrassed by the girls’ testimonials. He was hanging his head, shuffling his feet, feeling acutely undeserving of their words. “If you thought I hurt you badly enough, you’d walk away,” he told Meredith, his voice low and grim. “Other women have.”
Meredith got up from the lounge and walked over to him. “You always apologize when you hurt me,” she said softly. She was referring to the many minor scratches, bruises, and bites they had inflicted on each other during their kinkier play sessions. “You can’t seem to stop saying you’re sorry.” She sighed. “It doesn’t matter if you have a spell on me. There’s worse men to be ensorcelled by.” She gave him a smile.
“Yeah!” Kay was in full agreement. “We love ya, Craig!”
Craig looked to Violette, whose verdict he most keenly wanted. In her throne, Violette smiled finally. “You know my position.”
Craig smiled too, relieved. “Lotus, if I’m not mistaken,” he quipped back, raising his brow naughtily.
+++++
They decided after some more conjecture that the best plan for now was to go to bed and sleep on it. Craig directed the women to a lower level spare bedroom, which was where they bedded Violette. Meredith was stationed in one of the upstairs spare rooms, as was Kay.
After everyone else had got well settled, Kay approached Craig in the darkened hallway. “Craig…”
Craig took her in his arms. “Hey… what is it, cowgirl? What’s the matter with my gunslinging lass?”
Kay squeezed him tight, the leather of their jackets making a pleasantly comforting squeak as they hugged. “I’m scared,” Kay admitted. She pulled back, looking up into his eyes. “Would you… maybe stay in my room with me for a while??”
The lines of Craig’s face drew up in a gentle smile. “Ah, but Kay my love… you wouldn’t be leery of spending the night with a man who’s sold his soul to the devil, now? You’ve no idea what kind of witchery I may pull.” He arched his eyebrow, faux-sinisterly.
But Kay for once seemed in no mood to laugh. Craig recanted, held his hands up to lift her face, to look in her eyes. “Hey—Kay, I was only kidding. What’s this, now? Psychobilly Kay Slaughter? The Bride of Chaos, tanner of hides? Afraid of a wee ghost story? That’s not like you.”
Kay shook her head obstinately. “I ain’t afraid of nothin’. I just thought maybe we could hang out in my room a while, but if you’re just gonna laugh--”
“No no, shh--” Craig held her arms, rubbing them up and down. “I’m not laughing at you, Kay love. I’m sorry.” He gazed into her eyes. “I’d love to spend the night with you… but… I understood we were doing the ‘just friends’ thing.” He gazed intently into her face.
Kay shrugged. “We can’t be friends and still just sit up together?” she ventured. “Just kind of… hold each other a while?” She gazed up at him pleadingly. “Friends do that… don’t they?”
Craig smiled. He was reminded of using these exact same lines to get women into his own bed, many a time. Wee Kay must be quite frightened this evening, to resort to breaking their one friendly, self-imposed restriction. “Aye, that they do,” he agreed softly.
+++++
He and Kay lay wrapped in each other’s arms for over an hour on her bed, fully clothed, warm and cozy, stealing occasional brief kisses from time to time. Later that same evening he was in Meredith’s bed; and their coupling was far less innocent-- they clawed each other, grinding their naked wet bodies together, devouring each other’s fiery kisses, tugging and scratching and fucking each other with frantic, depraved urgency. Still later that night Craig made his way to Violette’s bed, seducing her with his lips, kissing away all memory of his illicit confession earlier that evening; drowning himself in her plush, luxuriously wet depths.
Kay looked up at him in surprise the first time he kissed her on the lips, his tongue delving deeper than before. “…Craig?” she got out against his mouth.
Craig gazed into her eyes. “Kay…” he murmured, his voice low and seductive, kissing her again.
Meredith let out a singularly strangled scream, her eyes going wide. She looked down at the bright red marks glowing on her shoulder, which perfectly matched the crooked shape of Craig’s overbite. The marks were seeping red… he’d never drawn blood before. Meredith looked at Craig, her smeared black eyes wide, for the first time, with an amount of distrust. “You bit me!!” she blurted out.
Violette’s breaths were coming in shuddering gasps. Her tattooed skin was almost literally feverish red; everywhere Craig touched her was on fire. “How do you do that??” she gasped out suddenly.
Craig left off sampling her skin with his lips, to look keenly into her eyes, his hips moving against her with a slow, dirty rhythm. “Do what, my queen?” he asked her.
Violette’s smeared purple-lipped mouth was open with her abbreviated gasps. “How do you… do this to us?” Her hands clasped the sides of his face, fingers curling in his silver-and-coal tufts, as her entire body shuddered underneath his slow, insistent thrusts. “You do these things… you fuck us… we let you…” She met his gaze, their heightened breaths coming in an odd kind of unison. “You really are some kind of spellcaster… aren’t you??”
And she didn’t care. That was the scary thing, as Meredith had said. Violette didn’t care how many other women he had fucked before. She didn’t give a damn if this sexy Scotsman had some evil power over her. She just wanted him-- naked, damp against her skin. Hard between her legs. Making her crazy. The queen HellBelle kissed him hard, never wanting this rapture to end.
And you are my black hearted love
You are...
You are my black hearted love...
The next morning was an odd, eerie one.
The normally bright sunshine of Los Angeles was overcast today by clouds that seemed thicker than the usual state-sanctioned amount of smog. There was no wind; ordinarily the gusts brought the scents of the Pacific Ocean over the hills. Today the air hung thick and suffocatingly muggy.
“What just happened?”
The three HellBelles were sitting around Craig’s kitchen table. Kay had prepared the only pancakes Craig had in the house: freeze-dried microwave. The less-than-spectacular breakfast fare was not the only reason the girls were glum, however. “What…what did we do last night?”
“Same thing we’ve done every few nights for the last few years, Merry,” muttered Violette. “Jumped into bed with Craig.”
“Yeah.” Meredith looked uncharacteristically frazzled. “After what he told us… that he fucked Shirley-- I mean, the devil. That’s not normal. Normal people don’t do that.”
“I let him get in bed with me, too,” admitted Kay. Then she looked suddenly aplombed. “Well—we didn’t do nothin’! Just… I wanted him there. I just really needed him.”
“It was intense last night.” Violette agreed. “I couldn’t… I mean I couldn’t keep my hands off him. Most nights I can at least…”
“He bit me.” Meredith’s face was paler than usual.
Kay wasn’t impressed. “He always bites you!”
“He doesn’t always take skin off!” Meredith replied back. She was rubbing her shoulder under the black satin midriff she was wearing today. She almost seemed to shudder. “I never saw him like that before… he was like, a wolf…an animal. More than usual… I mean… I liked it...” But her expression was still haunted.
The kitchen door swung open, and Craig entered. He looked around at three pairs of wary eyes, regarding him. He seemed to hang back, ever so slightly. “Ah… good morning, ladies.” He went round the table, dropping kisses on each ‘Belle in turn. “How is everyone this morning?”
“Good,” the HellBelles answered in unison, like third-graders.
Craig paused by Meredith’s chair. His head was hung, his chin all but planted on his neck as he fumbled awkwardly in his jacket pocket. “…Here,” he mumbled self-consciously, handing Meredith a tiny gift-wrapped box. “I got you somethin’… It’s not jewelry-- let me get that out of the way right off.”
Meredith allowed herself to smile, taking the box from his hand. “It’s too light to be jewelry,” she observed, shaking it.
Craig looked acutely embarrassed. “I’m…sorry…about last night,” he got out slowly, sounding like a scandalized little boy. “This is my way of saying sorry.”
Meredith opened the wrapping—and uttered a laugh. It was a box of Goth Hello Kitty bandaids. She burst out giggling as Craig sheepishly pried the box open and extracted two bandaids. Peeling them, he brushed back the shoulder of her midriff tee, and taped the two bandaids in a criss-cross shape over the angry red welt he’d made on her flesh. He dropped his head, kissing the bandaged shoulder better. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispered, raising his head to kiss her on the lips. “Forgive me?”
Meredith pretended to think for only a second. “Of course I forgive you,” she agreed, grinning finally. “You don’t have to say you’re sorry. I…liked it.” Then she paused. “Just… kinda took me by surprise, was all.”
“I won’t do it again.” Craig’s pale eyes gazed firmly into hers. “Unless… you want me to.”
Meredith’s kohl-lined eyes gazed back with a smoldering sexy look. “We’ll discuss safewords later,” she promised.
Craig seemed reassured that all was forgiven with Meredith. He looked up at the other HellBelles. “What about the rest of us? Are we… all okay with what transpired last night?”
“I’m okay, Craig!” Kay, ever the mediator, offered a big grin.
Violette nodded her head. “Last night was pretty… strange,” she couldn’t help commenting. “I guess we’re all just kind of freaked out about the house… what happened to the record label.”
“Yeah!” Kay looked freshly nervous. “What are we gonna do?? I mean, it was a fluke that GoogolDeth even signed us in the first place!!”
Kay’s cell phone rang. Her special Patsy Cline ringtone. Kay pulled the phone out of her jacket. “Hello?”
Her eyes widened as she listened. “Really?....really?? Yes!... Yes, we’ll be there! Thanks!” She shut the phone off, looking at the ‘Belles. “That was Dave, our agent! He said there’s a big record company offering to cover all of GoogolDeth’s bands! They want all of us to be there for a big press conference this afternoon, they’re gonna announce it and sign us all up!”
Violette and Meredith looked cautiously pleased. “Who’s the record company?” asked Violette.
Kay tried to remember. “Oh, um, something like Suck… Succubus Sound, I think Dave said?”
“’Succubus’?” Meredith’s eyes widened. “You know what a succubus is, right?”
The girls all looked nervous now. “A she-demon,” spoke Violette quietly. “A devil.”
I’ve got
You want.
…so worship me and never stop.
This is entertainment…
That afternoon the HellBelles stood nervously in the center of the huge conference center. All the stops had been pulled out to publicize the media event; cameras from CNN and the big three networks were there, in addition to several local channels. The sadistic strains of Innerpartysystem’s “Don’t Stop” blared over the convention speakers, setting the tone. The girls nodded and smiled at the other GoogolDeth performers milling about; there was Randi Pussy, chatting up Grog from Sphere Cyst; there were Mike, Vince and Coot from Cellar Dwellers; and over in the corner brooded vampire death metal rocker Gavin Slade, along with his Slobbering Fiends. The room was a veritable freakshow of punk rockers, all of them with one question in their spiky, neon-colored heads: who was their new boss? What, if anything, would the new administration change?
Finally the lights dimmed, the cameras turned. A hush fell over the motley crowd as a sexy figure stepped out on the makeshift stage from behind a curtain. The HellBelles gasped as their worst fear was confirmed. “Shit…it’s her!” rasped Meredith.
The redheaded demon who was a dead ringer for Shirley Manson regarded the room of cameras and musicians with an icy stare, as she took the podium. “Good afternoon,” she greeted calmly. “I want to welcome you all to our wee soiree we’re holding to announce the… acquisition… of the late GoogolDeth Records’ clientele. Succubus Sound is extending a formal invitation to all of GoogolDeth’s artists. Sign with us. Nothing about your previous contracts has to change. That said…” a smile turned up the corners of her beautiful pouty red lips, “…depending on how brave you are… everything can change. For the better.”
“Guys, I’m scared.” Kay’s voice was tiny, and breathless.
Shirley’s eyes scanned the room, her gaze cold, calculating. Her evil smile widened as her gaze finally caught the HellBelles cowering in their corner of the room. Smoothly she stepped away from the podium, ignoring the questions from the crowd of reporters that followed her. Still with that cold smile she stepped toward the ‘Belles, her tail swinging evenly. The three girls literally cringed as the demoness approached them. “Well… fancy meeting you three here,” Shirley greeted them.
Violette raised her nose, affecting a superior gaze. “You know… you wrecked our house last night,” she informed Shirley curtly. “I think you owe us for damages; the whole place damn near burnt down. I think you oughta be liable for the repairs.”
”Yeah! Or buy us a new house!” burst out Kay, trying to mask her fear with a show of defiance.
Shirley was not impressed. “Succubus has every intention of making good on your repair bills. I’ve already taken the liberty of contacting the remodelers. You needn’t worry about that.”
“Oh. Well… good.”
Shirley tilted her head, her ponytail twitching. “But is that all you want?” she posed the question with a half-smile. “A wee mansion… that’s nothing. Small change.” She gazed steadily into each of their faces. “I’m very glad to see you here today, actually. I have a special contract to offer the HellBelles. Think of it as… appreciation… for being one of GoogolDeth’s most valued artists.”
Violette didn’t back down. She gazed firmly up at Shirley looming over her throne. “If it’s all the same to you, we’re just fine with the way our contract stands now. Thanks all the same.”
Shirley’s expression didn’t change. “Think very carefully about my offer. Think about what it is that each of you desires… the most. I’ll be speaking to each of you later in the week.” With one last long glance at them, Shirley slowly turned, smirking, and walked away, being swallowed up by the crowd of punk freaks and cameras.
Meredith and Kay both let out a long, shaky breath. “That was close!” Kay rasped. She looked down at her gloved hands. “I’m shaking… do y’ believe this?? Look at this! I’m actually shaking!...” Meredith rubbed her hands up and down her own arms, as if she felt a deadly chill.
Violette was still gazing firmly at the space where Shirley had vanished into the crowd. “This isn’t over,” she proclaimed gloomily. “She’s not through with us. She’ll be back.”
+++++
The only reason Craig hadn’t accompanied the HellBelles to the conference was because he had to tape The Late Late Show that day. When he finally got off work and returned home, the HellBelles were in his living room waiting. “Did you see her? What happened?” Craig asked right away.
Kay came into his arms for a hug. Violette nodded in the affirmative to Craig’s questions. “It’s her,” she confirmed. “Shirley. The demon. She’s taken over the record company.”
“Everybody’s signing with her,” added Meredith. Her voice was a little shaky. “Randi Pussy, Gavin Slade… they were lining up to sign. They didn’t even ask questions.”
“What did you three do?”
“What do you think we did? We told her no deal! We wouldn’t sign!”
“What’d she do?”
“She said she’d get back to us later in the week.” That was Violette.
Meredith uttered a shaky sigh, rubbing her black arms nervously. “I don’t like this. It’s like waiting for the executioner.”
“She’s toying with us. She’s got something cooking, I know it.” Violette agreed.
Craig was silent for a moment. “Well—now, let’s think about this for a second now—what, really, is the worst that can happen?? She gets you to sign some worthless piece of paper with an moldy old superstition about going to hell when you die? I mean, what the hell does that even mean, anyway? Who cares?”
“’What’s the worst that can happen?’” Violette gave Craig an incredulous look. “What happened the LAST time we asked that question??”
“I don’t get how she can just take over our souls just by buying out our record company,” said Meredith. “I mean, if it’s that simple, why not torch the White House while you’re at it? She could take over the whole country that way. Why’s she wasting her time on small-time punk rockers like us?”
“Yeah, and even if she does own us now, what do WE get out of it?” asked Kay. “Isn’t the whole point that we get superpowers or something? What’s she offered us so far? So far all she’s done is blow up our record company. Just to get us to run begging to her? That’s not temptation-- that’s blackmail!”
“Yeah, that’s not even winning us fair and square.”
“Oh, please—she’s a devil. You’re getting all nitpicky about her being ‘unfair’?”
Silence. Craig sighed. “What… if she offers?” he wondered. He looked at each of their faces. “Would you do it? If she offered you enough?”
Kay cringed. “No!! Never!”
Violette and Meredith, however, remained silent. “Well, personally the only thing I really want THAT badly is for my legs to be straightened out.” Meredith looked down at her crooked black legs. Craig had never asked how they had been damaged, and Meredith, depending upon her mood, had only offered wild and crazy lies that varied from a freak snowglobe incident to losing a fight with a weedwacker. “Fuck, I can get a surgeon to do that. I don’t need to sell my soul for that.”
Violette remained silent still. She gazed down at herself slowly… her vent, the wheelchair that was her “throne”. They all knew what it was she might have sold her soul for. It was obvious. She didn’t need to say anything.
+++++
Later that week, the first attack came.
The HellBelles had each returned to their burnt-out mansion a few times over the course of the week, to get supplies from the undamaged parts of the house, to supervise the reconstruction, to clean out and throw away charred remains. Kay had to tend to her vegetable garden in the backyard. It was during one of these visits that Kay stood up from where she had been weeding her tomatoes—and she uttered a scream.
Shirley was standing there in her garden. “Oh shit!! I mean--” Kay’s fingers clutched the vegetables in her hands. “—What are you doing here??” she blurted out.
Shirley’s green icy eyes regarded Kay coolly. Her burgundy lips lifted in a smile. “Kay Slaughter. What a pleasure to finally get to talk with you alone.” She glanced down at the tomatoes, which were turning into ketchup under poor Kay’s white-knuckled grip of fear. “Lovely tomatoes.” She reached out and took one in her hand. “You grow these?”
Kay gulped, nodding shakily. “Uh… yeah…”
“They look delicious.” Shirley looked in Kay’s face. “Why are you so scared? I only want to talk with you. Alone…away from the others.” She paused. “I think I could do a lot for your career, Kay.”
“You don’t know anything about me.” Kay’s voice was shaking, but she tried to maintain her bad-ass attitude.
“I know you’re Kay Slaughter, Bride of Chaos. Originally Kay Steadman, of Leiland, Texas. You legally changed your name to Slaughter in 1994; you say it’s a stage name but really, it was to throw the police off your trail after you beat a man with your guitar at a bar in Dallas.” Kay looked startled; all this was true. “You play punk rock, but you’d much rather play country and western music.” Shirley stepped forward. “You could do it, too. You're so much more talented than this... you shouldn't bury your talent in a band of three. You're wasting your time as a bit player, when you could be the next Loretta Lynn... the next Patsy Cline. Fuck that-- you could be the next Johnny Cash. Why do you hide yourself like this? Just a face in a crowd. Why aren't you the star of the show? Are you scared of succeeding?"
Kay tried getting enough moisture in her mouth to speak. “I’d never—I’d never leave the HellBelles. They’re my best friends!! Why—why would I want to go solo?”
“Kay… you could be the next great country legend. You know, you might save the state of country music. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, the quality of country in recent years…. Quite a fall from the good ol’ days.”
Against her will, Kay actually found herself agreeing with the evil demoness. Kay was a tremendous fan of the “old” country—the legends, Patsy Cline, Johnny Cash, Hank Williams Sr. and Jr., Bill Monroe, Marty Robbins… She had become disenchanted with the current country scene somewhere around the mid 90s, when all the real cowboys seemed to have passed into history, to be replaced with clean-cut, pre-packaged dorks with mullets singing about driving their kids to soccer practice. Nowadays the country landscape looked more like the lineup of a Disney Channel season. That wasn’t country, and never would be, in Kay’s personal opinion. And it was true… Kay had always secretly yearned to sing one of the good old country songs during a set. But country love songs didn’t exactly go over well with punk crowds wanting to thrash…
Shirley smirked, seeing she had got a toehold. “I can sign you to a country contract,” she made her pounce. “I plan to make Succubus Sound all-inclusive—punk acts, rock, country—we’re going to have it all. There’s a place for you. If… you leave the HellBelles behind.” Her voice was low, seductive, and menacing.
Kay shook her head. “No. I’d never. I can’t leave them… I love them…”
Shirley’s smirk deepened. “You don’t need to decide now, Kay…sleep on it. Come see me tomorrow to tell me your final decision. Think very carefully…the future of country music may depend on what you decide.”
And with those ominous words, Shirley turned away. She stalked out of the field, leaving Kay standing there, alone, her arms full of squashed tomatoes.
+++++
Meredith peered up the staircase in the mansion. The top of the staircase was charred, blackened timbers. The wind blowing through the shattered glass fluttered strips of blistered wallpaper hanging from the walls. She didn’t dare crawl up the unsafe steps, but she was glumly thinking of all the stuff in her room that had been destroyed.
“Meredith Lee Bishop.”
Meredith jumped a mile. The eerie silence of the charred house had been giving her the creeps as it was. She whirled around, backing down the steps—and saw Shirley standing there in the living room, arms folded.
Meredith gasped. “How’d you get in here?!...” She didn’t need an answer. She knew the wickedly sexy demon had probably walked through the wall. She cleared her throat, tried to recoup. “Look—I just want you to know, there’s nothing you can say to convince me to do—whatever it is you want me to do! I’m not scared of you-- no matter what you can do to me!”
Shirley unfolded her arms, propping one hand on her sultry hip. She was wearing the fur lined red jacket that she—the real Shirley—had worn in the "Special" video. Her red lips glistened as she seemed to pout. “Everyone seems terrified of me today. I must have chosen the wrong outfit to make calls in.”
Meredith swallowed hard. “You look great, just get out. I’ve got nothing to say to you.”
“That’s a very great shame. I have a great many things to say to you.” Her green cat eyes caught Meredith’s. “You’re a very angry young woman.”
“I’m a punk. It goes with the territory.”
“You’ve got reason to be angry. You’ve been through a lot of misery, haven’t you?” Shirley glanced down at Meredith’s crooked legs.
Meredith shrugged this off. “Yeah, well. Shit happens. You don’t need to feel sorry for me. I got off easy, considering.”
“That’s true.” Shirley’s gaze roamed up and down Meredith’s body… Almost exactly like…. like she was checking her out. “But you don’t like being that way… do you? Walking around on those legs? It hurts you, doesn’t it? You wish the pain away every day.”
Meredith shook her head. “Look—just knock it off! I know my legs are fucked up. I can get them fixed anytime! I don’t need YOU to do that!”
“You haven’t been able to find even one surgeon that can really fix them. Not in seven years. You’ve had two surgeries already. Neither of them seemed to do very much good.”
“Yeah, well…”
“You want to be normal again.”
Meredith almost snapped back with her usual retort— “I AM normal, it’s the rest of you that are freaks”-- but she didn’t. For one thing, Shirley was telling the truth… and for another thing, it had kind of been fluttering in the back of Meredith’s mind, ever since what Craig had told them the other night. What if… what if….
She shook her head again. Having achy crooked legs was a bitch, but Meredith reminded herself that she could be a lot worse off. She could be in a wheelchair like Violette, for one thing.
Shirley seemed to see her current attack plan was not working. “All right then Merry,” she said, switching tacks, “if you really enjoy limping about like Tiny fucking Tim so much… what is it you DO want? Just hypothetically. What can I do for you?”
Meredith’s black lips pressed together, weighing the risk. “I want…”
Shirley took a step forward. Her eyes glittering with desire. “You want to be powerful,” she answered her own question. “You want to frighten people… to punish the guilty. You want to be an even bigger rock star than you are now—the baddest, scariest punk on the scene. You want to lay this world at your feet in flames.” Shirl’s voice was dark, calm. “You want to be God. A punk god. Am I right? Tell me Meredith, am I right?”
Meredith shut her eyes under this barrage of truths. “…Yes!!” she burst out. “Yes, I want to be a supreme bad-ass punk, I want to be a real hardcore punk rocker!! And NOT a lameo poser punk like Avril Lavigne—I want to make scary music, music that freaks people out! I want to scare people—I wanna terrify ‘em! I want people to be fucking terrified of me!!” She had a wild look in her eyes. Then she stopped, out of breath… She seemed to be startled… frightened of what she herself had just admitted. Of the latent darkness in her own heart.
Shirley was smiling openly now. She was extremely pleased at this show of rage. “Yessss….” her low purring voice approved. “Yes, Merry Death. Let it all out. You’ve got a very, very dark place deep inside of you. Don’t you?”
Meredith shook her head, unconsciously. She felt guilty suddenly. “I don’t… I never wanted to hurt anybody--”
“They deserve to hurt,” hissed Shirley. “All of them. They all deserve to suffer for what they’ve put you through.” Shirley stepped close, finally raising a hand to touch Meredith’s cheek. For an awful moment, Meredith wondered if the demoness was going to kiss her. “They ought to appreciate you for the empowered woman you are.”
“Empowered.” Meredith brushed Shirley’s hand away. “I fucking hate that word. I don’t know why, it’s just such a… wimpy, Lifetime-Movie-of-the-Week word. I don’t need to be fucking ‘empowered’.”
“No, you don’t.” Shirley shook her head, her ponytail swiping in agreement. “You’re more powerful than any of them. And soon… you’ll show them just how powerful you are.”
Meredith’s eyes blinked, worried at what she’d just agreed to. What was going to happen now.
Shirley dropped her hand. Her beautiful slick lips perking in a satisfied smile. “Come see me tomorrow. We’ll get started.” With a long slow glance, she turned, just as she had at the conference, and walked away. At the bottom of the charred stairs, Meredith stood, shifting nervously from one warped foot to the other, completely confused and frightened.
+++++
At Craig’s house, Violette was in the living room, staring miserably at the television, bored out of her mind. She had elected to stay behind while Meredith and Kay had gone to visit the mansion. She was hurting, and she was tired. She was only half-scanning the channels to see if there had been any more news about the fire at GoogolDeth Records, but part of her didn’t even give a damn. Some days she was just exhausted, too heartsick and tired to deal with anything.
“Sometimes you just wish it would all go away,” came a disembodied voice, as if from her own mind. “Don’t you?”
Violette frowned. That voice had not been in her head. She looked up, startled.
Shirley loomed over Violette in her throne. "Violette LaFontaine. A.K.A. Violette la Violent." She took in Violette’s tattoos, her fuchsia-tinted locks of hair, the elaborate jewels and zinc studs decorating her wheelchair. She took in the vent attached to Violette. Shirley followed with her eyes to where it was plugged into the wall.
“You’re going to be the easiest of all, I think.” Shirley was smiling icily.
Violette glared up at the evil demoness/producer looming over her, looking down her nose at her. Violette had a real pet peeve about people who didn’t kneel down before her throne. This was not due to any airs she gave herself as a “queen”—it was simple common courtesy. In Violette’s opinion, anyone who didn’t kneel to talk to someone in a wheelchair was just plain being rude, insensitive. As if it was Violette’s goddamn fault she was physically unable to stand.
“Fuck off, bitch,” Violette spoke exactly what was on her mind.
Shirley took this insult in stride. “That’s not a very nice thing to say, Vi. When I came here especially to give you a get-well present.”
“I don’t need or want any ‘presents’ from you. Go away.”
“You’re a liar.” Shirley’s eyes were cold like glass. “You’re not really doing very much to perpetuate the ‘sweet, noble, humble handicapped’ stereotype, are you?”
“I don’t believe you heard me. I said: fuck off.”
"You want to walk again." Shirl’s eyes were sharp, unrelenting. "You want to breathe without having to be plugged into a fucking electrical outlet. You deserve that. That's the basic right all God's creatures have, to breathe the air and walk free. There's no reason in hell why you ever had to go through any of this."
Violette tried to keep her face expressionless in the face of all these truths. Things she had said to herself time and time again. “You read minds. I’m so impressed.” She glared at the demon. “Get down here and say that to my face.”
Shirley slowly crouched, smiling. Her eyes peering evilly out from under her round forehead. The position actually made her look even more dangerous. Like a beast crouching for an attack. “You want to be like your friends… free to walk and talk. You want it more than anything in this world. You say otherwise… you’re a liar.”
Violette gazed hard into Shirley’s now-level face. “All right. Yes. I want to have a perfect body.” She raised her nose, trying to maintain her queenly demeanor. “But not more than anything. I already got the things I want most in this world.” She paused to take a breath from the very vent they were arguing about. “I’ve got my friends. I’ve got a man, a man I love. I really do… I think I really do love him, better than anybody. I’ve got my guitar. I got everything I need.”
Shirley did not let up. “A man... You don’t mean that Craig fellow. The one you’re sharing between those two dear friends of yours, not to mention most of Los Angeles... Is that the man you have?”
“You don’t know shit about us. You have no idea about what we have together.”
“I know you fuck every chance you get, every time he’s around. I know when he’s not with you he’s with other women… ones who can walk.” Shirley’s voice had become relentlessly cruel. “Skinny… sexy… blondes…” She paused, seeing her words were sinking in. “I know you hate them. You’d trade places with one of them in a heartbeat.”
Violette kept silent. “You would kill to be one of those sweet young things… with fresh skin…supple limbs…” Shirley affected a dirty smirk. “You wanna be inside one of those pussys almost more than he does.”
Violette drew in a shaky breath. “And you think you can do that for me.”
“I know I can.” She waited. “Say it, Violette. Speak the truth for once. Say it.”
“I want to have a perfect body. I want to fuck Craig with a beautiful, sexy body. I want to be as beautiful as one of those women and I wanna fuck him like an animal.” That last came in a shaky rush. Violette waited. Staring Shirley down. “Well??”
Shirley was smiling cruelly as she stood up. “I thought you said you weren’t interested in taking any gifts from me.” With a snide sneer, she turned her back on Violette and stalked away toward the door.
“You lousy lying bitch.” Violette tried to blink away the tears in her eyes.
Shirley turned once, suddenly. “Unplug yourself from the wall and come see me tomorrow. If you can be bothered to.” Then she left.
Violette’s breath was coming in shaky gasps, as she angrily turned her wheels away from the door. “Bitch… fucking bitch,” she got out, trying not to sob.
In a world beyond controlling
Are you going to deny the savior
in front of your eyes
Stare into the night
Power beyond containing
Are you going to remain a slave for
the rest of your life?
Give in to the night...
The next day, the three HellBelles were quiet around breakfast. They were quiet because each of them was planning to make the trip to Succubus Sound that afternoon. And none of them wanted the other two ‘Belles to know. Each of them were thoroughly whipped by Shirley’s incisive, cruel, and downright humbling words. Each of them was ashamed of the pure, greedy want in her own heart. Each of them was scared shitless.
After making some lame excuses about where they had to be that day, each ‘Belle hastily gathered her things and prepared to leave. Kay insisted she had to stop at the local fertilizer store. Violette asked Meredith to drive her down to Santa Monica Boulevard (conveniently near Succubus Sound), so as to visit one of the local clubs. After dropping Violette off at the club, Meredith all of a sudden remembered she had to grab something at the grocery store. She sped off in the van, burning rubber.
And so it was that when each ‘Belle crept into the lobby at Succubus Sound—each was utterly shocked to see the other two there. “Vi!...Kay??” Meredith’s red mouth dropped open.
Kay’s head jerked up, eyes wide under her cowboy hat. “What are you doing here, Merry?” she gasped.
“What are YOU doing?? Miss Oh-No-Never, I’ll-Never-Consort-With-An-Evil-Rock-Producer!...”
“Well—look, we wouldn’t even BE in this mess if you hadn’t just HAD to play your stupid devil rock album backwards!!”
“Don’t you put this on me!...Craig sold me the album!!”
“Yeah, and that’s another thing—ever since you played that thing, Craig’s been acting really weird! He’s all creepy and menacing lately—biting people, telling us he sold his soul! It’s all because YOU played that stupid album!”
“Oh gimme a break! You’re just jealous he didn’t bite YOU, that’s what I think!”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah!!”
“ENOUGH!!”
The sheer volume of Violette’s usually calm, near-breathless voice startled them so much they shut up instantly. Violette gave them a good hard glare. “Jealousy is not part of us!” she reminded the girls. “We’re HellBelles! We're called that for a reason! We’ve been through hell together. We got through the thing in Mexico together. We lived through the biker thing in Detroit together. We fought the battle of Sheepshead together! We’ve torn through ten drummers!...” She raised her pink head stubbornly. “I will be DAMNED if I see this band bust up over a MAN. No matter how sexy he is.”
The girls looked downright ashamed. Downright whipped. “She’s right,” Kay whispered.
“She usually is.” Meredith was contrite. Her big black rimmed eyes peered sheepishly at Kay from under her brows. “I’m sorry, Kay.”
Kay’s mouth turned into an O of apology. “Aww… I’m sorry too, Merry!” The two girls hugged tightly, truly remorseful. Then they crossed the rug to Violette and hunched down, including her in their group hug. The HellBelles were a single unit, a force of destruction, once again.
“How very heartwarming.”
The HellBelles all jumped at the sound of Shirley’s voice. She stood there, arms folded, watching the hugging ‘Belles with a sardonic smile. “So… it looks as though you were all willing to jump ship after all,” she spoke.
“Nobody’s jumping anything!” Meredith was defiant.
“Yeah, I’m not leaving the band!” Kay was adamant. “That’s what I came to tell you today, I’m not leaving! You can take your contract and stick it!”
“You can’t break this band up, Shirley.” Violette’s voice was strong. “You say all the nasty hurtful shit you want, you can be as big a bitch as you want. Fuck you. We’re HellBelles. We are stronger than you will ever be.”
Shirley smiled, digesting this. “All right. If you three empowered galpals truly canna bear to be separated… perhaps a trial period. I’ll give you each what you asked for—for a time. No strings attached. Walk around a while, try it out. See how each of you likes it. Then… if you come back to me, still bound and determined to stay one big happy family… I’ll put everything back the way it was.”
The HellBelles were silent. “It’s a trick. There’s a catch. There’s always a catch,” muttered Violette.
Shirley’s ponytail swung back and forth in the negative. “No catch. Go.” She raised her arms out to them, as if she were the Virgin Mary bestowing blessings on the poor and downtrodden.
The brightly lit lobby of Succubus Sound darkened, as if an eclipse had occurred outside. The overhead lights went dim. The HellBelles cringed around Violette’s throne.
Shirley’s beautiful face was tinged red. “Go. Live your dreams. Indulge your desires.” Her lips parted in a leer. “Be happy.”
+++++
Craig hated being away from the house so much this week, what with all the weird shit that was going on. It couldn’t be helped, though—The Late Late Show had to get made. Four years into this gig, Craig was beginning to wonder if he had overstayed his welcome on America’s TVs. He found himself becoming bored and frustrated with the process more and more lately. Certainly not all the time—if that had been the case he’d have walked long before this. However… he was beginning to think he wouldn’t be able to ignore the elephant in his leaky studio very much longer….
He was thinking this as he entered his bedroom at home, dropped his jacket on the floor in a messy heap. He had noticed the van was not in the parking lot. The girls must be out at the mansion, overseeing the repairs.
“Craig?”
That had come from a young lady standing in the midst of the room. A lady Craig had not ever seen before. She was probably lost, or more likely a stalker… Craig also couldn’t help but notice that she was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. “Um… Craig?” the girl spoke again softly.
Craig looked at the newcomer with more than a little lust. He felt his lips curving in a dirty grin. “Well… hello to you,” he greeted the girl. “What are you doing in my house? Is there something I can do for you?” He chuckled; there were more than a few things he would LOVE to do TO her. But she was a stranger; probably not even looking for him. And he was currently seeing the ‘Belles. Frankly, three girlfriends at one time were more than enough for him. “Sorry… is there somethin’ I--”
“Craig, it’s me.” The beauty stepped forward on long, skinny, lovely legs. Wringing her thin fingers. Her deep brown eyes gazed firmly into his.
Craig blinked. He gasped suddenly. “…Vi??...”
The woman standing before him was almost self-conscious in her undeniable willowy attractiveness. Her hair stuck out in soft fuchsia tufts around her sharply defined face. Her measurements were spectacular—full by tight by boom-boom. She stepped toward him completely independent. There was no trace of the chair or the vent that she needed to keep her alive. She was standing free, on her own, completely devoid of any apparatus. Her skin was creamy, perfect; there was not a mark or blemish on her.
This fact startled Craig more than anything. “Where’s your tattoos??...”
Violette shrugged. “I told her to make me perfect…” She looked briefly embarrassed. “I guess… that means no tattoos.”
Frankly Craig missed her inkings. The pictures of her life that told Vi’s story, that made her… Vi. He cleared his throat. He quite desired this shapely, seductive person… and he definitely desired Violette. But the twain didn’t seem to be able to meet, in his mind. “Violette... is that you? I mean…” Craig didn’t quite know how to voice the question in his mind.
“It’s me Craig.” The apparition in front of him was long, soft, beautiful. “The same Violette I’ve always been. Better.” Her hands smoothed down over her long sexy body. “This is the Violette I’ve always wanted to be. For you… for myself.”
Craig swallowed hard. “You’re lovely,” he admitted. “But… to be honest… forgive me Vi, I’m just… not used to you this way.”
The woman’s full lips smiled. “Neither am I. Isn’t it great?”
Craig wanted to agree, but he couldn’t. “I barely recognize you.”
“Me neither. Thank God.”
Craig was fairly certain God wasn’t the one behind this. “I miss…” he recanted. “…I liked your tattoos,” he amended.
Violette didn’t care. She leapt on Craig, her body flexible. She wrapped her legs around his waist. Her arms wrapped around his neck. “I want to make love to you,” she whispered. She kissed his face, his lips. “Right now…let’s fuck, right now. The kind of sweaty… hot… naked… fucking… you don’t have to fake for me.”
Craig was incredibly turned on right now. But he also felt a bit maligned. And more than a little frightened-- for her. “I’ve never, never faked it with you, Vi,” he told her honestly. He kissed her back, matching her hungry kisses. “I think you’re beautiful…you know that…”
Violette’s new face looked skeptical. “I know you say that. Thank you for saying it. But I want to feel beautiful. Just once.” She kissed him, rocking herself once on his hips, squeezing him between her slender legs. “Just once I want to do it with you and actually be as beautiful as you make me feel.” She kissed his mouth, his neck, over and over. “Do it with me… this way, Craig. Just this once…please…”
Well, what was Craig supposed to do? Of course he wasn’t going to say no to a beautiful woman begging him to fuck her. "Well, if you insist..."
Violette dropped to her feet, pushing him back down on the bed. She crawled all over him, tearing his clothes off his large, sexy body. For the first time she didn’t need him to lift her or position her. For the first time she didn’t need help getting her own clothes off; she stripped off her violet blouse and sexy black bra, tossing them in the corner. For the first time she didn’t have to be on the bottom, and he didn’t have to be careful, watch out for her vent, wait for her to catch her breath. Craig was the breathless one now as Violette rocked on him, fucked him, clawed him like a wild, energetic tigress. He was overwhelmed by her—and he was loving every fucking second of it. They rolled over and over together, all over the bed, bodies wet and clasped tightly together, gasping and moaning, kissing and clawing.
But Craig kept his eyes closed the whole time. “Talk to me… talk to me…” he breathed against her neck.
She sounded the same, if she didn’t look the same. She humored him. “Craig… you’re so big…” She uttered a gasp as he moved inside her. “I love your cock…it’s so much bigger than before…ah—God, Craig…”
“You’re so much tighter than before.” Craig kept moving, tortured by her new flesh. But he kept his eyes closed. Focusing on her voice, which was the only remaining part of the Violette he knew and loved. His fingers tightened, knuckles whitening around the new flesh she was displaying. He was ashamed of how badly his own flesh wanted her, yet he couldn’t stop digging in. He loved how her new slender body seemed to vanish in his embrace, yet he didn’t want to obliterate her. “Vi please… please…..” His pleas were as much to ward off his own devouring of her.
Violette grinned, loving the way his huge cock seemed to be busting out of her. “Ohhh, that’s it, Craig…hurt me…you hurt me so good…” She continued moving against him, looking down at his handsome, tortured face. “…Open your eyes.”
Craig’s teeth clenched as he felt hers and his own orgasms approaching. “Vi—please—“
“Open your eyes, Craig… Watch me. I want you to watch me when I…”
So he did, of course. Had to. Craig’s blue eyes cracked open and he watched, wordlessly, as the beauty calling herself Violette undulated back and forth atop him, breasts bouncing, back arching in anguished pleasure. Her nails dug into his skin as she came ferociously, her mouth open in a silent cry of rapture. Craig watched it all through half-closed eyes, his hands gripping her hips as he spilled into her. She looked absolutely gorgeous, absolutely sexy as hell, and he absolutely loved the feel of fucking her.
But this wasn’t Vi. It just wasn’t.
She collapsed on top of him, their bodies slick with sweat and heaving. “Thank you Craig,” Violette’s breathless voice came against his neck. “Oh God… thank you, thank you…that was incredible… I love you so much…”
Craig shut his eyes again, holding the unfamiliar body close, kissing her damp hairline. “Violette,” he sighed against her scalp. He repeated her name... trying desperately to identify this stranger in his arms. “My queen Violette… sweet queen…”
+++++
“I don’t think this is right,” Kay said uncertainly.
She was surrounded by makeup people, being patted and powdered in preparation for filming her very first country music video. Already she had a bad feeling about this. The set was done up like a bad 1950’s kiddie cowboy TV show. Horseshoes, haybales, wooden Indians complete with tacky bow and arrows and feather headdresses. The whole thing looked like an episode of Hee Haw.
Worse yet was the crazy outfit they’d done Kay up in. She felt like a showgirl at a Vegas casino. She had a skimpy white leather miniskirt up to there, covered with big fake red stitches. Her belly was bared by a matching leather midriff with huge sheriff stars strategically placed right over her breast area. Silly pastel pink and blue fringes dangled from her shoulders, and they’d stuck a silly blonde wig on her, with little-girl braids dangling down. The braids kept getting in the way as she struggled to hold onto the ridiculous fake guitar they’d provided. Her cowboy hat had a stupid smiley face painted on it. She felt like some cheap minimum wage worker at some awful Wild West-themed fast food restaurant.
And the song… Kay was intimidated by the fact that she couldn’t even sing her own songs. The song they wanted her to lip sync to as she danced—and they had to bring on a dude to help her learn the intricate dance moves they wanted her to do—it was the most sickening, stupid, synth-pop, decidedly NOT-country tripe she’d ever heard. Kay decided right then and there that she didn’t like this whole thing. “Guys—wait, now, guys…”
“Hey—silence!!” The video director, a total queen (not that there’s anything wrong with that but this guy was a particularly snotty jerkface whom seemed like he would only consider bonking the MOST elite secretly-gay stars in Hollywood) raised his snippy (surgically augmented) nose at her. “Don’t speak! Don’t—speak!!” He raised two bony hands, waving off her concerns. “Ugh… why don’t they sell muzzles for the so-called talent!!” He raised a hand to his head in a fake show of swoon. “Oh, God, Michael, I’m going to need another sedative if this day keeps up the way it’s been!..”
Kay rolled her eyes. “Look, I just don’t think…”
“Oh darling, don’t flatter yourself, no one’s paying you to think.” The director clapped his hands, turning towards the crew. “Now, people, can we at least TRY to get our shit together here?? I didn’t turn down the Jonas Brothers to film a P.O.S. YouTube video!--”
Slowly, agonizingly, everything got squared away. “And now, ladies and gentlemen…” The director raised a hand in a self-important way, as if calling for silence. “…action!” He swooped his hand down, dramatically.
The background music (painfully devoid of horns, harmonicas, actual country sounds) blared to life. Kay, much against her will, began to fake-strum her fake guitar.
I'm sitting in a room
Made up of only big white walls
and in the hall
There’s people looking through
the window in the door
They know exactly what we're here for…
Kay tossed the guitar away, right on cue, toward a stagehand who caught it nimbly. Then Kay started going through the stupid, stupid high-energy dance routine that the choreographer had drilled into her.
Don't look up
Just let them think
There's no place else
You'd rather be in now…
You can’t turn back
Because this road is all you’ll ever have…
Oh God, Kay felt like a total dork. She could see herself in the camera lens—she looked like some big freaky puppet, being jerked up and down on strings. She looked ridiculous!
It’s obvious that you're dying, dying
Just living proof that the camera's lying
Now oh-oh-open wide,
‘Cause this is your night
So smile…
'Cause you'll go out in style.
You'll go out in style.
Kay stopped dancing suddenly. She’d had it. “Okay—guys, cut!!” she bellowed out at the crew. “Just—cut, cut, cut! I’m not doing this stupid song. This isn’t country!!” She pulled the cowboy hat with the fake braids off her head and threw it on the floor. “This is like—like some stupid Britney Spears video! This isn’t country at all!!”
Shirley had appeared from nowhere. “May I remind you Kay, you DID sign a contract with us,” she reminded menacingly. “You’re beholden to make any video we see fit.”
“YOU said it was a contract as a country-western singer!” Kay’s finger shot toward Shirley. “This—this is a joke! I feel like a god-dang cereal commercial! Johnny Cash wouldn’t have been caught dead doing this!”
“Johnny Cash IS dead.” Shirley’s eyes were ice cold. “And you, my dear, are definitely NOT Johnny Cash.”
Kay glared angrily at the evil record producer. “Y’know… pardon my language… fuck you.” She turned around and stalked off the stage.
The director threw up his hands in agony. “Ohmigodohmigod… I’m having an episode… God, Michael, save me from the talent and their hissy fits!!...”
Shirley watched Kay go, her lips curved in a sadistic smirk.
+++++
“Why can’t you look at me?”
Craig glanced up at her briefly. He tried to smile. “What do you mean,” he muttered.
Violette’s dark eyes were large in her suddenly tiny face. She looked down, sighing. “When we were doing it…you acted like you didn’t want to look at me.” She swallowed. “You’re not looking at me now.”
Craig sighed, fighting the sense that he was being nagged. Violette didn’t nag him, he knew that. He was aware that he was doing exactly what she said he was. He didn’t know why he couldn’t look at her. She was sexy, gorgeous. Certainly not hard to look at. And yet…
He turned toward her, took up her hands… but he still had a hard time looking her in the face. “Vi, my queen,” he whispered, raising her hands to his lips for a brief kiss, “…this is so…” He sighed again. “Look, I don’t KNOW why this is so fucking weird for me. I don’t.” He finally looked her straight in the eyes. “I love you, Violette.”
“I love you too, Craig.” Her voice was its usual quiet, gentle tone.
Craig’s blue eyes gazed into hers for a long time. He could see her in there… deep down, under the skin. “I wish you hadn’t done this. Not for me.”
“I didn’t do it just for you.”
“I know, I know you didn’t. I’m happy you feel so good now.” Craig sighed. “It’s just… I can’t help but feel you did it partly because you thought I didn’t love you the way you were before. I did. I do.”
“I know, Craig.”
“You are the strongest woman I know.” Craig’s voice was firm on that. “I’d love you no matter what you looked like.”
Violette gazed at his profile. “But you can’t look at me now.”
Craig stiffened, taken off guard by her frankly true statement. He couldn’t fool her.
The uncomfortable silence was broken, thankfully, by Violette’s cell phone going off. Turning away from Craig, she reached to the dresser and took up the phone. “What,” she muttered. “Kay? Yeah… I’m with Craig. Okay... What?? Oh, yuck. They didn’t! She didn’t!!... no, I haven’t heard from Merry either….you think so?...yeah… all right. I’ll be right there.” She clicked the phone shut. “Kay says she can’t get hold of Merry. Everything went to shit at Kay’s video shoot… now she’s worried something’s happened to Meredith.” She got up from the bed—it was amazingly, thrillingly good to be able to walk around with such grace and ease. She wanted to go someplace—she did it. She needed to grab something off a table—she did it. Simple as that. “She wants me to come down to Succubus.”
“I’ll come too.” Craig jumped up and started putting his pants back on.
+++++
Across town, in her own separate studio, Meredith the Merry Death was also being prepped for her first-ever solo music video. She was slightly happier with the very evil-sounding, apocalyptic song they’d assigned to her—but she too would rather have sung one of her own compositions. Also, the ugly devilish makeup they were painting her up in—plastic horns, red skin scales, fanged teeth, even yellow goat-eye plastic lenses—she’d caught herself in the mirror, and she didn’t really like it. Oh, it was scary looking, to be sure. But Meredith preferred a balance of “scary” and “pretty” when she tried to paint herself up. This costume… it was ugly. She looked like… well, she looked like a slightly femmed-up version of Tim Curry in the movie “Legend”. She looked like a satyr, is what she looked like. A twisted perversion of a goat and a woman. Meredith didn’t exactly love it.
But this was what she had agreed to. She raised her fingers, tipped in huge black press-on claws to her forehead, where they’d glued similarly plastic black devil horns. She rolled her tongue uncomfortably over the fake plastic fangs they’d applied to her canine teeth. “How long is this going to take?” she asked uncomfortably, trying not to drool on herself.
“Dinna you worry about that. It’ll take as long as it possibly can.” Shirley lifted Meredith out of the makeup chair, leading her toward the hellish-looking stage set. “You just focus your mind on being scary. You do look scary.” Shirl smiled. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” She shoved Meredith up the stairs onto the stage. “You’re terrible. You’re powerful. You’re a God. Never forget that.”
Meredith, under her goat eyes and fangs and painted-on scales, tried to keep that in mind. She made her way to the center of the stage. The red hellish lights bore down on her. She could see herself in reflected in the camera lens. She did look quite terrifying.
The music started up, blaring over the speaks. This was only an aid, to help Meredith lip-sync along to the audio, which would be looped in later. Meredith felt the music pulsing through her body, felt it taking her over, as it always did. This was good. This felt good. As the cameras rolled, Meredith settled a purely hateful (goat-eyed) glare, directly into the camera lens. She was a god, she was powerful. Yes she was.
Nothing that you say will release you.
Nothing that you pray will forgive you.
Nothing's what your words mean to me.
She glared down the camera, feeling her power acknowledged. They all knew how dangerous it was to cross her. They all knew she could take them out with a flick of her wrist.
Choke on guilt
That’s far too good for you
Say one word
I’ll laugh and bury you
Leave you in the place where you left me.
She jumped around the set, writhing and jumping. She gnashed her teeth at the camera, clawed her own skin.
If flesh could crawl
my skin would fall
from off my bones
and run away from here...
The extras dressed up as minion demons cringed in terror before her, as Meredith bounced around the set. Her legs didn’t feel the usual aches and pains they normally did. She hopped up and down madly, like Rumplestiltskin demanding his due, loving the freedom that indulging in her own dark side was giving her. This was great-- she loved this. Why didn’t people know how good giving in to darkness was?? Meredith uttered an evil cackle, utterly high on the power thrumming through her veins.
From the side Shirley watched, smiling coldly. Meredith finally finished her wild, unhinged dance, launching a singularly nasty grin at the camera. Her fangs flashed, her black claws lashed out.
A tremendous explosion of red hot fire erupted from her fingers and palm. The entire studio lit up red as the fireball blasted relentlessly toward the ceiling, taking out a huge chunk of metal and bricks. Meredith stared, gap-jawed, for only a moment. Then... a huge grin crossed her painted face. Excitedly, she swung her other clawed hand to the other side-- launching another blast of hellish fire, pulverizing the catered table of snacks. Twinkies flew everywhere. Uttering another evil laugh, Meredith whipped another torrent of fire toward the camera-- and the unlucky crewperson behind it. She saw the look of horror on the cameraman’s face as the skin-meltingly hot flames roared toward him--
Meredith stopped dancing, startled. Her clawed hands covered her fanged mouth as she watched the helpless cameraman dancing around the studio, completely engulfed in flames. The union guys pounced upon the burning man, dousing him with the extinguishers they had ready just in case something like this happened.
They saved him, of course. But the fact that Meredith had set him on fire… using some bizarre supernatural power… fire that had sprung from her own hands….
She ran off the set. Straight into the arms of Shirley. Meredith’s yellow goat eyes looked up at the evil record producer. “What did you do to me??” she burst out.
Shirley looked acutely amused. “But this is what you wanted! This is what you wanted to be… what you wanted to do!” Her full pouty lips lifted now, in a purely nasty sneer. Laughing at Meredith’s predicament. “This is what you asked for, Merry.”
“No…” Meredith was scared. She didn’t like this anymore. Frantically she grabbed at the horns on her head… she rubbed the black claws against her pants, trying to get them off. She tried to rub the fake contacts out of her eyes…
They weren’t coming out. Meredith couldn’t dislodge any of them… the claws, the horns, the lenses. They were glued tight, feeling as tight as if they’d been born there. She couldn’t get the damn things off. “Shirley!--” She looked up in horror at her evil benefactor.
Shirley’s usually dead white skin had taken on a strangely red tinge. Meredith’s heart skipped a beat as she saw that the demoness’ eyes had gone completely black—her skin red, her hair bright pink. She looked like some kind of demonic insect. She was appearing as the succubus she actually was. She was hideous… absolutely terrifying.
“Now you know,” the distorted thing that had been Shirley’s black mouth moved.
Meredith screamed. She really screamed, a true sound of pure terror. The thing in front of her was like nothing she’d ever seen on this earth, not in a horror movie, nowhere. It was awful.
The succubus demon stepped toward her. “I get the feeling you’re not satisfied with all I’ve done for you,” the flame-mottled voice sneered. “Perhaps you don’t appreciate what you have. Perhaps… you want more.”
Meredith uttered another sudden, sharp scream—this time in pain. She looked down—her beautiful new legs were twisting, bending in places no human legs should bend. Merry cried out in horror as her femurs curved, sank like steel rods melting in a foundry furnace. Her swelling feet busted out of her shoes—black and pointed, hard as rocks. She collapsed hard on the floor, palms slapping the tile loudly.
It wasn’t over. Meredith screamed again as her leather pants, her very skin split, peeled off her disforming legs. Fiery red fur sprouted out from under her bleeding, peeling flesh.
Goat’s legs kicked angrily, spasmically. A forked tail twitched and lashed in frantic beats. Hard hooves scraped helplessly at the tile. Meredith tried miserably to get to her feet—her warped legs buckled. Every step brought her unfathomable pain. “Oh-- God!!...oh God, it hurts--it hurts!!...”
“I am your god now, bitch.” The hideous thing that had been wearing Shirley’s face stood above her, leering superiorly at the compromised, helpless thing she’d twisted Meredith into. “Now everybody’s happy.”
Meredith’s panicked yellow goat eyes looked up at Shirley’s shapely legs in anguish. “Please—please!...”
The thing wearing Shirley’s warped face laughed. Charred black lips split over razor sharp teeth; soulless black eyes glinted with unholy joy. Ugly laughter like the sound of crowds clapping at a guillotine, like Romans laughing at a lion tearing a Christian apart, rippled jaggedly through the air.
It was at this moment that Craig, Violette, and Kay ran into the backstage. Shirley whipped around to face them. Craig, Violette and Kay all stopped dead—and screamed in fright at the sight of Shirley. The three turned around and prepared to run like hell as fast as they could to get away from the demonic being.
On the floor, Meredith tried to scramble to the things that used to be her legs. But every time she tried, pulsing unforgiving pain was her only accomplishment. Still she tried to drag herself toward the door, with only her hands, pulling the useless lower half of her body along the floor. “Wait--” Meredith’s yellow goat eyes looked up in panic at her friends, begging. “Wait-- don’t leave me!! Wait for me!” She tried again, valiantly, to drag herself along the floor.
Violette and Kay stopped short in their frantic race to get out. They turned back and saw Meredith helplessly trying to get herself toward the door. “Kay-- help me!” ordered Violette. The two HellBelles ran back, giving the devilish Shirley a wide berth. Kay the farmgirl expertly grabbed Meredith’s goat-like underside. Violette, newly strong and able, hoisted Meredith’s upper body in her arms. “C’mon-- let’s go!!” Together the two HellBelles carried their disabled friend out the door, into the night.
Outside, Craig realized he hadn’t been followed by any of the girls. He dropped back—saw Vi and Kay lugging Merry’s freakishly warped body. He leapt back toward the girls. “Give her to me!” he shouted, scooping up Meredith’s twisted form in his strong arms. “Go-- run!!” The two HellBelles took off sprinting for the van.
His left arm was wrapped around a woman’s full, pouting breasts. His right arm was hooked under the hindlegs of a farm animal. For a brief second, Craig felt a sudden wave of tremendously perverse, bizarre attraction…
Fighting it, he shifted Meredith’s weight. “Merry-- don’t move—be still now--” Doggedly Craig jogged after the other two ‘Belles, carrying the twisted thing that used to be Meredith across the parking lot. Violette and Kay sprinted ably toward the van, unhindered.
I wish I could fly
As angels can fly…
They got safely back to Craig’s house. They entered the dark abode, all completely frightened, shaken, creeped out. Craig was still cradling Meredith’s crooked body; she was weeping against his neck. Her right horn was poking him in the cheek. Violette hit the lights… nothing happened. “Power’s out,” reported Violette. Never had she been so grateful not to be relying on electric power to keep her breathing.
Kay shivered in the cold of the heatless house. “We need to build a fire… that’ll work.” She paused, frowning as she watched Craig gently settle Meredith’s warped form down in the sofa. “Uhm… Merry?... Do you think maybe… YOU could…”
Meredith’s goat eyes looked quizzically up at Kay, then the fireplace. “Oh—right.” She waved her clawed hand. Hellish fire erupted into life inside the brick oven, bathing them all in warm, flickering light.
Kay breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks!...”
Meredith nodded wordlessly, closing her claws over her yellow eyes.
Craig gazed down at the satyr-ical thing that had been his Merry Death. He gulped hard, trying to reconcile his revulsion with the brief, perverted attraction he felt. “Heh… you thought your legs were crooked before,” Craig made a weak joke. It was his only instinct.
Meredith’s slanted yellow eyes gazed up at him, wet with tears. “At least now when people call you a sheep-licker, you’ll be able to say they’re not far from the truth,” she whispered. She glanced miserably down at her freakish, furry underbelly. Her red goat’s legs... her pointed hooves... her leathery tail...
Craig felt an instant sense of shame, of regret. “Ahh… Merry, my darling…” He leaned forward, fighting his sense of revulsion as he cupped her scaly face. “Don’t be unhappy. We’re gonna fix this… I promise.”
Meredith’s distorted face scrunched in an expression of agony. “I’m so hideous…” Her black claws covered her face. “I’m so ugly--I'm such a evil, evil monster--”
“You’re beautiful.” Craig dropped his head in, to leave kisses on Meredith’s scaly face, her fanged lips. “Merry, you’re gorgeous. So frightening… so powerful.” He tried to stare into her warped goat eyes.
“I’m scared. I’m fuckin’ scared, Craig…”
“I know you are, darling. I’m fuckin' scared too.” Craig’s lips pressed together in frustration. He glanced over at his wet bar. “Wait…wait here.” He got up from the couch.
“Like I could leave.” Meredith’s voice was a guttural, bitter growl.
“Maybe if we put her in your throne, Vi!” Kay was desperately trying to find a solution to Meredith’s problem. “At least then she wouldn’t have to try to walk!”
Craig had hurried over to his bar, was mixing a drink. He returned to the sofa as Violette and Kay ran off to fetch Vi’s outused throne. “Here… drink up,” Craig said to Meredith, handing her the drink.
Meredith’s eyes closed in despair. “Oh Craig, not now--”
“Merry. Drink.” He placed the glass firmly into her clawed hands. “It’ll calm you down. Hell-- I’D be drinking, in your place.” He watched grimly as she dutifully took a long gulp from the glass. “If ever there was an excuse to get shitfaced drunk, you’ve got it.”
Meredith nodded, the alcohol taking effect already. “Did… heh… did you ever see that movie, ‘Manos, The Hands of Fate’?” she asked at length. “Heehee… been hittin’ the Thighmaster, Torgo?...” She slapped her curved, goat-like thigh. “I can…I can wear jodhpurs like regular pants now!...” She couldn’t seem to stop giggling.
Violette and Kay reappeared in the dark hallway, wheeling Vi’s throne. Violette’s purple lips dropped open. “You’re getting her drunk??” she asked Craig.
“Well, I thought it would calm her down!” Craig rationalized. “Anything’s better than letting her suffer!”
“Did it even occur to you that maybe having a superpowered flamethrowing demon that’s DRUNK on top of everything isn’t exactly the brightest idea??”
Obviously it hadn’t. Craig looked toward the now-drunk she-demon Meredith with new horror. “Oh… well… uhm, heh…”
Meredith was now reliably wasted. She was giggling compulsively. “Oh Vi… don’t get all pissy, I’m all right, geez,” she giggled. And then Craig’s HDTV exploded. With an electric crack, the screen shattered, dripping shards onto the rug. Everyone screamed.
Flames burst from the screen, momentarily coursing and flickering before flaming out. The fire was out, but the TV was a loss. Meredith burst out cackling hysterically like it was the funniest thing ever.
Kay rolled her eyes. “Oh nice goin’, Craig!! Now she’s psychokinetic AND she’s stoned!!”
“Give her another.” Violette’s voice was grim. “Maybe she’ll pass out!”
Meredith continued to giggle drunkenly as Craig and Vi lifted her warped body, got her into the wheelchair. They draped her goat legs down over the side, positioning them in the leg rests. “Uhm… that feels good.” Meredith’s goat eyes looked up at Craig. A wicked grin curved her jagged fangs. “Hey… Craig baby...I know you’re not into sheep… how about goats??...”
Craig looked deeply embarrassed, considering he’d had that very same rude thought cross his mind just a while ago. “Okay, this—this is enough!” he finally decided. “I’ve had enough of this Shirley hellbitch’s mindgames. We can’t keep on like this. We’ve got to do something!”
“If we still had that damn record, we could summon her,” muttered Violette. “If it wasn’t melted into a puddle back at the house, that is.”
Craig nodded. “Do you know-- in the old country there used to be a saying: ‘Speak of the devil, and she appears’.”
Kay made a face. “Maybe if one of us stands in front of a mirror and says her name three times…” She laughed, humorlessly.
Craig uttered a chuckle. “Worth a shot.” He looked up at the mirror over the fireplace. “Hey! Shirley-Shirley-Shirley!! Come on out and play, you saucy bitch!--”
The TV exploded again—this time jarring it off the wall hanging and crashing on the floor. The fire Meredith had conjured in the fireplace roared up in a blast of flame, charring the mantelpiece, blackening the mirror. A vortex of flame swirled out of the fireplace and formed itself into the sexy, curvy form of…
Kay screamed. Everyone looked up from where they were cringing. Shirley stepped into the living room-- no longer the black-eyed succubus demon she had shown to Meredith, but still quite menacing. “Do you see—this is why I don’t make deals with people with the frequency I used to,” Shirley uttered sharply. “In the old days, people were HAPPY with what you gave them in return for their souls.” Her gaze flicked up at Craig, and a smile curved her full lips. “Ah, Craig Ferguson… As I remember, you were verrrry happy with what I did for YOU.”
Craig licked his lips, trying to get some moisture in his mouth to speak. “Yeah, well… what can I say. Men are easy. Feed us and fuck us, that’s all we need.”
Shirley’s mouth twisted in an ironic pout. “Yes, I suppose that’s so,” she agreed laconically.
In the wheelchair, Meredith, drunk off her goat ass, scowled at the she-demon, no longer afraid. “You dirty, double-crossing bitch!--” She reared back her clawed hand and hurled a billowing ball of flame at Shirley.
The she-demon didn’t even move, simply stood there and let the flames lick over her pale skin, luxuriating, as if she were enjoying a nice hot shower. When the flames expired, Shirley was still there, unscathed.
She grinned hatefully at Meredith. “You really think you can destroy me with fire?? I, who was born in the cauldron of Abbadon? I’m made of fire, dear. You canna touch me.” Shirley looked to the others. “What about the rest of you? Are you still bitching, after everything I’ve done for you?”
Kay stepped up. “You said I’d be a country western star! You promised!”
“Aye. And now you are.”
“This—this isn’t country!” Kay’s hands waved at the embarrassing cowgirl costume she was still wearing. “This is like-- Hanna Montana, or something!!”
“And Hanna Montana is arguably a much bigger star than YOU are.” Shirley’s eyes turned to Violette’s new, slender form. “What of you, Violette? Surely you’re not displeased with that beautiful body you now have.”
Violette stepped forward, trying to maintain her position as queen HellBelle. “This body is beautiful,” she agreed, “but it’s not me. Craig can’t even look at me now. This body—it’s perfect, but it’s not mine.”
“You’re exactly right.” Shirley nodded. “It’s not yours. Would you like to meet the girl it actually does belong to?”
She waved her hand, and the destroyed TV still sparking on the floor suddenly reshaped itself into a perfectly restored model. The screen flickered to life. Violette’s eyes widened in horror as she saw….
Herself. The old “herself”—the one that used a vent and a wheelchair to get around. But she wasn’t in the chair—the flickering apparition on the TV screen was laying unconscious in a hospital bed. Violette gulped; the girl looked awful. “That—that’s not me,” she rasped. Her pretty brown eyes were wide in her perfectly shaped face.
“Aye. That is the girl who used to reside in THIS body--” Shirley clapped a hand down on Violette’s shoulder, making her jump. “You said you wanted a perfect body. So I brought hers.” Shirley smirked. “You should have worded your request more specifically. I told you... think very carefully about what you desire most.”
Violette looked horrified. “You—swapped us? You put me in hers, and her in mine?”
That’s exactly what I did.”
Violette shook her head. “But—what did she ever do to deserve that??”
“The same thing you did to deserve this--” Shirley’s claws dug into Violette’s small shoulder. Her voice was a hiss. “She made a deal with ME.”
“Change us back.” Violette’s voice was shaky. “Right now.”
Shirley shook her head. “I don’t know that it’s that simple, Vi. You see, little Catriona—that’s her name, Catriona Forbes, of 1512 Engleshire Street, Glasgow—little Caty there doesn’t have as hardy a will as you do. Upon finding herself in her new body—breathing with a vent, unable to get about—well, I’m afraid it was too much for her. She suffered a bit of an episode… went into a coma. The doctors have very little faith that she’ll last very much longer.”
Violette glanced at the screen again. The pitiful sight of the girl laying there helpless filled her with horror—and pity. “She doesn’t deserve that. I don’t care what she did… nothing’s worth that.”
Shirley smirked as she neared Violette’s soft ear. “Think about it, Vi,” Shirley’s evil voice snaked in her ear. “A long life in a body that walks, talks, and looks just like a real live girl.” Her voice was bitterly snide. “Or…a life like THAT. Strapped into a machine. Plugged in a wall socket. And now very likely to die. Which way is it going to be, Vi? Think… very… carefully.”
Violette was biting her lip so hard she tasted blood. She didn’t want to go back. Back to a shattered body, trapped in a chair, unable to stand or walk or breathe alone. She was ashamed of how she felt now. It could be so easy… to let that girl die there, in her place-- and go on living in this skin, free from pain. The temptation was painfully strong.
Craig had been watching the back-and-forth between Shirley and the three HellBelles. He had been taking Shirley’s advice, to be honest. He was thinking very carefully indeed. “Excuse me,” he spoke up suddenly. “May the hostage say something?”
They all looked at him. Craig stepped toward the hellgod affably, hands in his pockets. “Heh… you’ve got them over a barrel, don’t you love?” he commented to Shirley. “How many’s this make, since you shagged my soul out in Glasgow all those years ago? You swinging both ways now?”
Shirley’s lips pursed, glistening. “Hm…” She counted off on her blood red fingertips. “So far that’s… fire, namecalling, shame-based guilt trip, and now…death by comedy.” She gave him a debilitating look of contempt. “I don’t think I’ve been ‘attacked’ in such a delightful array of ways in some time. I’m surprised you’re not making the sign of the cross at me yet.” She crossed her fingers in a sarcastic miming of warding off a vampire.
Craig gave her his best grin. “Actually… do you know, this gig you’ve got… stealing souls, tricking people… it’s actually quite fascinating. I imagine it keeps your mind constantly working, thinking up new ways to trick people. I appreciate any job where you get to do that. That’s why I’ve been bouncing from job to job the past forty years. I get bored really easily. Frankly, this talk-show host thing is…” he uttered a deep sigh, “…geez, it’s really getting old!! Do you know what I’m saying?” He stepped closer to Shirley, gazing down into her beautiful, evil face by the light of the fire. “I’ve been considering a change,” he told her, his voice low. “Tell me, this job of yours… good benefits?”
Behind him, the three HellBelles exchanged startled glances. “Craig?...” whimpered Kay.
Shirley seemed to be enjoying this little game. “Aye. You’re set for eternity.”
Craig’s lips lifted in a grin. “I think… I want in.”
Meredith gasped. Violette’s eyes were huge.
Shirley was grinning too. “I knew that I’d get you, someday. You fancy coming in my line of work, eh?
“I always fancied coming in you.” Craig looked like he was going to kiss Shirley any second.
“There’s a catch, you know.”
“There usually is.”
“An initiation, of sorts. Take a soul for me. Prove yourself.”
Craig seemed to mull that over. He looked over at the HellBelles. “What better souls than the three we got right here?”
“Craig!!” Kay sounded horrified. Violette grabbed her shoulder. She was watching Craig’s face very closely.
Shirley did not seem to agree with this. “Ah… you’re a little bit late on that. These three souls already belong to me.”
Craig seemed to consider. “All right then. Here—how about this? What if… I claim the souls of ALL the women I’ve slept with since you gave your wee ‘gift’ to me?” He uttered a dirty chuckle. “I don’t mean to brag, but… I’ve had a LOT of pussy in the past twenty years.” His lips raised in a dirty leer. “Huh? Think of that, now… that’s a veritable soul smorgasbord. These three… and ALL the others.” His blue eyes were dark with desire. “Then I’ll take them… and do whatever I please with them.”
Shirley turned that over. Then her ponytailed head bobbed. “So be it.”
And Craig dropped his head and kissed Shirley's lips... a long, slow kiss. “The deal is done,” Shirley spoke quietly when they broke apart. “They’re all yours.”
Meredith uttered a frightened whimper.
Craig turned away from Shirley with a grin, and settled his dark gaze on all three HellBelles. He drew in a satisfied sigh, grinning at them as he clapped his hands, as if getting ready to start a gruesome task. “Well!... I guess that about covers it, then. As the lucky devil in charge of you three…. I now… let you all go.”
Shirley’s smile dropped off her face.
Craig looked to Meredith, twisted and deformed in Violette’s wheelchair. “Meredith-- I free your soul from its contract.” He pointed at her.
Meredith slipped out of the chair onto the floor, she was so taken off guard by her legs—which were suddenly her own again, normal, no longer a goat’s hindquarters. The fake horns dropped off her head, the glue having dried. With a gasp that sounded like a laugh, Meredith quickly jerked all the fake claw nails off her fingers. She reached under her eyelids, pulling the ugly goat contacts out. Her pale eyes looked up in amazement at her friends, filled with relief.
Craig turned to Kay. “Kay Slaughter—you’re free to go.”
Kay looked down at her clothes. The stupid white vinyl/pleather outfit was gone, she was back in her own comfortable farm duds. She uttered a gasp. “Craig!... I…” She clapped her hands, joyful.
Craig stepped toward Violette. His hands reached out to smooth down her shoulders. He gazed into her eyes, over her beautiful form… the skin that had been snatched from a stranger half a world away. “Violette… tell me what you want. Tell me… what you desire.”
Violette’s pretty brown eyes were dangerously close to tears. She glanced back at the flickering TV screen, at the helpless woman trapped in her own, old, despised body. “She couldn’t handle it,” Violette rasped. “…I’ve been handling it for years. I’m stronger than she is.” She looked up at Craig’s eyes. “Save her…do it.” She sniffled, raising her chin, preparing to be strong. “Swap us… swap us back.”
Craig gazed down into the false face of the woman he loved. She was so strong… so good. She had such a big heart. Gently he took her face in his hands, and slowly shook his head. “No, Vi.”
He kissed her, holding her tight in his strong arms. Their kiss went on for what felt like eternity, as Violette wrapped her arms around Craig’s neck, clinging tight to her demon lover. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “The deal is done,” Craig whispered against her lips.
Violette blinked tears away. She was still perfect… still standing upright. Still on two legs. “But…the girl…” She looked toward the screen.
But the scene had changed. The form in the bed—the body that Violette had been trapped in for years, that had become so hateful to her—was gone. Now in the bed lay a perfect duplicate of the body she now inhabited. Slender, smooth, strong, able. As Vi watched, the eyes of the girl in the hospital bed fluttered open. Groggily, she turned her head from side to side, looking around at her surroundings. She seemed to speak, and two newcomers who looked like doctors appeared, quickly taking notes and freeing the girl from the equipment she no longer needed. They helped her slowly sit up, and one of them handed her a bottle of water. A woman—likely the girl’s mother—swooped into frame, and the two shared a frantic, happy hug.
Violette smiled, her eyes full of tears. “She’s… I’m…” She looked at Craig, unabashedly happy and grateful.
“This is completely unacceptable.” That was Shirley.
Craig turned from Violette’s smiling face, to face the evil succubus that had caused so much grief. “This was NOT the deal,” Shirley insisted. Her voice was angry and hard. She glared at Craig. “You broke the pact.”
“The ‘deal’,” Craig informed her, “was that I would own the souls of all the girls I got to shag because of your ‘gift’ to me, and that I could do with them as I wished.” He leaned toward Shirley. A playful glint was in his eye. “And, Shirley my lass… that includes YOU.”
For the first time, Shirley’s eyes widened in surprise. In anger. “The only reason we fucked that night in Glasgow is because you were wantin’ to bestow this power of irresistibility on me,” Craig went on. “And technically, that makes you a woman I’ve been with as a DIRECT result of having it.” He leered. “As you yourself said, Shirley my girl—you should have been a wee bit more specific in your wording.”
Shirley’s eyes were narrowing again. Evil emerald green glinted, aware that she had been tricked. “Nice,” she applauded. “Very nice work. You’re a very tricky, tricky bastard, Craig Ferguson.” She glared around at all the HellBelles—the souls she had lost her wicked grip on. “So… I suppose this is the part where you force me to indulge in some sick, perverted fantasy you have buried deep in the darkest recesses of your mind, then?” She gazed at Craig, waiting for whatever he would cook up.
Craig shrugged, his arm around Violette, shaking his head. “Ehh. I lost my taste for shagging hellbitches some years back. No… I think I’ll just command you back into the fiery pit where you belong.” He waved the back of his hand at her, motioning her toward the fireplace. “Bye then…off you go,” he prodded.
Shirley was obliged to return to the fireplace from which she’d sprung. She tossed one last evil glare over her shoulder at the triumphant four. “This isn’t over,” she promised them darkly.
Craig fluttered his hand, unimpressed. “Off you go, then; the power of Christ compels you, yada yada. Go on.”
With a hellish explosion of heat and flame, Shirley did just that.
Hear no evil, don't you
See no evil, don't you
Lay no evil down on me…
The three HellBelles clustered around Craig, tightly ensconced in a fierce group hug. “Craig… Craig, I love you…” Violette was saying over and over.
“That was awesome!!” Meredith was grinning ear to ear, her own skin back to its normal dead white pallor. She clapped her hands once, exuberant. “Hahahaa, that was so awesome! Craig, you totally owned her ass!!”
Craig chuckled, turning to give Kay, wrapped in his other arm, a small kiss on the cheek. “You deal with a trickster, you need to be tricky, as my uncle Donald always used to say,” he shrugged it off. “May you be in heaven a half hour before the devil knows you’re dead, and all that crap.”
“You scared me!!” Kay accused him lightly, slapping his shoulder. “I thought you were gonna turn to the dark side for a minute there!! You were really convincing! And you say you’re a lousy actor??”
Craig grinned. “Ahh, Kay, I’m sorry, but I had to! She had to believe me! Besides--” he arched his eyebrow at her comically, “…it’s not as if I’m NOT familiar with the dark side, after all.”
Kay looked briefly worried. “Does this mean… is your soul still in Shirley’s clutches? Are you still goin’ to hell when you die??”
Violette shook her head insistently. “You’re good. You’re a good man.” She gazed in his eyes. “Thank you for not leaving… that girl… that way.”
They glanced to the TV screen, which was now black. Craig touched Vi's face. "It's you who wanted to save her," he said. "Thank you... for bein' that way." He sighed. “I’m no theologian or anythin’, but I think when I gained control of Shirley’s soul… I null and voided any hold she had on me,” he muttered. “I guess… I’ll find out… someday.”
“Craig, if you go to hell, we’re gonna barge right in there and bust your ass out again! Count on it!” yelled Kay.
“We did it in Scotland!” Violette pointed out. “We can do it again!”
“Yeah, they can’t keep us out!” Meredith vowed. “We’re the HellBelles!!”
Violette stuck out her fist. “’Belles forever!”
The girls clutched hands eagerly. “’Belles forever!!” they shouted together.
