Free Hell's Pawn by Jay Bell Page B

left to order from the counter, leaving J ohn to examine the other patrons. For the most part those here were human, none of them appearing particularly seedy despite being in Hell. The rest were demons. He didn’t know what else to call them. They had red skin, horns, and tails, the basic criteria for such creatures, but the humans they intermingled with didn’t appear intimidated.
    Dante returned with a tray loaded with a half-dozen joints already rolled, a plateful of brownies, and a couple of beers. I f Dante’s grin was any wider it would have severed his head in two.
    “I found money in my pocket!” he exclaimed, tossing his change onto the tray after he was seated.
    J ohn picked up a coin and examined it. O ne side was engraved with a sour, fat-faced devil. O n the other a pile of bodies engaged in an impressively detailed orgy.
    “Why am I not surprised that Hell has an economy?”
    Dante sparked up one of the joints and took an impressive pull that burned away half its length, something no mortal could have achieved. He then held it out to J ohn with a questioning look.
    “No, thanks. I think one of us should keep a clear head.” Dante shrugged indifferently and finished it off in another drag. “You could have a brownie. They’re fine.”
    J ohn rolled his eyes. “I ’m sure they are.” He left the hashish-laced brownies where they were, but allowed himself a few cautious sips of beer. The draft was cold and tasted even better than the German beer his father used to import.
    J ohn realized that he was both literally and figuratively holding his breath. He kept waiting for a li le monotone voice to announce demerits. S o far their limited experience of Hell had been a marked improvement over P urgatory, which didn’t seem right at all.
    “I f only I had known,” Dante said wistfully. “E ight years wasted in P urgatory when I could have been here. Here’s to eternity!” He raised his glass and gasped in satisfaction after a hearty swig. Then the music changed, and his ridiculously bloodshot eyes widened. “Hey, who’s singing this?”
    “Nirvana. They’re after your time.”
    “Man, they’re really good! Music is way better in the future.” J ohn thought of the endless boy bands and sophomoric teenage pop stars that had dominated the music scene since the likes of Kurt C obain had died, but kept his mouth shut. It was kinder to let Dante believe the lie.
    “You boys must be new in town,” oozed a voice made of silk.
    J ohn looked up to see five and a half feet of naked, red flesh. Demoness was the first word that came to mind, with vixen hot on its heels. Her clothing consisted of a single chain wrapped around her pert breasts, covering nothing more than her nipples. A similar chain circled her waist with a sparse curtain of chainmail hanging from it that left nothing to the imagination. L ong black hair complimented the shiny black lips that smiled around slightly pointed teeth. The delicate looping horns that protruded from her forehead silenced any doubt about what she was.
    T his is it, J ohn thought. T his is where the good times end and the conflicts begin. H ell has lured us in and is about to make with the torture and turmoil.
    The demoness wrinkled her nose cutely at J ohn as if she could smell his distrust before turning to Dante. The effect on him was instant. He straightened up, like a puppet yanked on strings, his full a ention dedicated to the demoness. E ven the red from his eyes cleared as if he was shocked sober by his sudden need for sex.
    “Do you want a brownie?” he asked stupidly.
    The demoness laughed as if he had said something clever. “Aren’t you sweet?”
    “And aren’t you lovely?” Dante responded, taking her hand.
    “M mm, an I rishman! I haven’t had one in ages.” S he held out a black-nailed hand to him, palm side down. “Delilah. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
    “Dante, at your service.” He took her hand and kissed it.
    Another demoness