Demons Like It Hot (48 page)

Serah shook her head. “Why are all the cool ones either gay or already married?”

“Because that’s life,
toots
.” Lucy ambled toward the shampoo bowls and reached up to the shelf where they kept the wax. “So do you want me to tame those wild bushes or what?”

Serah ran her fingers against her eyebrows. “Are they that bad?”

“Whoever said the Amazon was the biggest rainforest in the world hasn’t had the opportunity to explore the wild recesses of your brows.”

“Whatever!” With a roll of her eyes, Serah whacked Lucy’s arm. She plopped into the chair and leaned back. “Work your magic, girl.”

“Sit back,” Lucy said as she swirled the wooden spatula in the gooey mass of wax.

Taking the spatula, she spread a layer of wax in between Serah’s eyes. Those eyes always made her jealous, all sapphire and sparkling. Lucy’s hazels did nothing special at all. Smacking the wax strip down, Lucy smirked. With a firm grip, she ripped the strip off.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry.” Gazing down at the strip, she inspected her handiwork. Success!

Serah chuckled. “No, you’re not.”

“Got me there.” Lucy lined her brow with another thin layer of wax. “So you got another dusty old antique for your collection, eh?” With the same gusto as before, she yanked the strip off.

Lucy’s friend yelped. “I should’ve had Frankie wax me.”

“Too bad he’s already got his hands dipped in wax elsewhere.”

Serah drew in a deep breath. “I swear you enjoy torturing him.” She leaned back more as Lucy prepared to deforest the other eyebrow. “As for the chest, it has an inscription carved in old Latin.”

Latin—Lucy’s least favorite subject in high school. Not because she failed, but because she was able to pronounce and read the language better than any of the nuns in Catholic school. And she wasn’t afraid to correct them either.
Talk about getting your habit caught in a knot.

“So you want me to read it?”

“Yeah, remember how bad I was at Latin?”

How could she forget? Imagine that, someone of Italian descent who wasn’t able to decipher a lick of Latin. Lucy pulled off the strip, a little gentler this time. “It probably says, ‘When in Rome, get the hell out.’”

“Ha-ha! Funny.” Serah’s gaze searched hers. “Something about that chest draws me to it.” She heaved a sigh. “If only I could open it. It’s locked.”

Grabbing a pair of tweezers from the shelf, Lucy shook her head. “You got ripped off. A locked box with no key?”

“I bought it as a conversation piece, but when I got home I just had to look inside.” Serah winced as Lucy plucked the remaining hairs. “Are you almost done?”

“Yeah.” Lucy shoved a mirror at her. “How’s that?”

“Perfect. So you’ll look at it?”

Lucy arched a brow. Serah’s odd interest in this chest piqued hers. “Umm… if it’s locked, how will we open it?”

“I meant the inscription, you dork.” Serah thrust the mirror at her and bounced from the chair. “I think it will tell us how to open the chest.”

Taking a deep breath, Lucy nodded. “Yeah, okay. Meet me here at nine.”

“Thanks girl. I owe you one.”

“Yeah, sure.” She’d just add another item to the long list of things Serah still owed her for.

***

After two hours of sweeping the floors and cleaning the stations, Lucy flopped down into the dryer seat. Taking a swig of warm Coke, she grimaced. Where was the Captain Morgan when she really needed it? She picked up the tabloid Frankie had been reading earlier and thumbed through the pages. So-and-so’s hidden baby bump, someone caught at the beach with someone else, the drunken socialite who went commando and bared all to the paparazzi, the professional bowler who had fifteen mistresses. Each week, everything was the same. Only the names had changed.

The soft rap on the back door broke Lucy’s thoughts. Glancing at the clock, she sighed. Punctual as always. Serah was never late. Throwing the tabloid trash on the stand next to the dryer, Lucy bounded from the seat and walked toward the door.

There stood Serah, her arms wrapped around a huge chest. It had to be at least three feet wide and just as tall. How she managed to lug the thing would remain a mystery to Lucy. She looked like she would tip over at any minute. She unlocked the door and let her friend in.

“Whoa! You carried that all the way from your car?”

Nodding, Serah toddled into the shop. “The chest isn’t as heavy as it seems. I think it’s empty. Where can I put it?”

“I suppose here,” Lucy said, pointing to the reception desk. “Let me clear it off.” She picked up the display of hair products and set everything on the floor next to the desk.

Serah took in a deep breath and grunted as she tried to set the old chest on the desk.

Lucy rushed over and grabbed the other end.

“Let me help.” Tingles of electricity traveled from her fingers through her arms and chest down to her legs and feet. Her toes twitched. Her hand fell away, and the chest landed on the desk with a deafening thud.

Serah’s mouth fell open. “Hey, that cost me a lot of money!”

“Your box just electrocuted me!” Lucy retorted, her fingers still tingling.

“It did not.” Serah crossed her arms in front of her.

She gazed down at her fingers and gasped.
What the freaking hell?

“I see, so I am supposed to be gentle with your box, while it’s allowed to send jolts of electricity through my body. Look!” Lucy thrust her hands toward her, showing Serah her singed fingertips. “Well?”

“Maybe it’s hair dye from earlier.” Serah threw her head back in laughter. “And stop calling it
my box
. It weirds me out.”

“Whatever. Let me see this
chest
so I can set sail with Captain Morgan. It’s been a long day.”

Serah shrugged. “Fine by me, if I can stow away.”

“The captain says, ‘Aye aye. The more the merrier.’” Lucy hunched over the chest and rubbed her fingers across the lid. Tingly, but not as tingly as before. Wiping two hundred years of dirt and dust from the chest, she had her first look. Along with the fading inscription, weird symbols dotted the lid. Then she discovered a title etched deep into the sturdy oaken chest. A box with a title? Strange, indeed. Almost as strange as the hieroglyphics decorated all over the lid.

“
Arca Inferorum.
” Lucy said. Now if that wasn’t a title to try and scare someone away, she didn’t know what was.

“Arca what?” Serah’s blank expression filled her face. “What’s that mean?”

“It means Chest of the…” Lucy thought long and hard about the last word, and then Dante’s
Inferno
came blazing back at her. “Damned.”

“Damned?”

Lucy nodded. “Yes, damned. It was probably designed by some over-devout monk wanting to scare mankind into repenting for their sins. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a ‘Made in Rome’ stamp on the bottom.”

Serah wasn’t amused. “Whatever. Just read the inscription.”

Lucy wiped away more grime and traced her fingertip over the words. Stronger tingles zipped through her body. “It must be equipped with a security system. Every time I touch it, I get zapped.”

“Doesn’t happen to me,” Serah replied nonchalantly.

“Guess it’s my electric personality.” She leaned over the chest and began translating the inscription.

“At the beginning of the total eclipse of the winter moon, shall this chest be opened only by one of demon blood. They shall call forth the legions of the underworld. By the power of this one demon will Earth be theirs.”

Lucy shook her head. “Yep, it’s a hoax. I hope you get your money back.”

“Oh my God!” Serah exclaimed, oblivious to Lucy’s words.

Bemusement filled Lucy. Her gaze narrowed. “Oh my God, what?”

“There’s supposed to be a total lunar eclipse tomorrow night!” Giddy laughter burst from her lips. “This will be so cool!”

It was as if they were kids again and this was their first sleepover. Only they weren’t kids. Lucy was pushing thirty and Serah wasn’t far behind.

Rolling her eyes, Lucy shook her head.
Here comes another one of Serah’s harebrained ideas.

“Even if what the inscription says is real, what part of ‘Only by one of demon blood’ do you not understand?”

“There’s a demon inside me,” Serah replied.

Oh brother, Serah and her demons. “But you usually shut the bitch up with chocolate.”

“Even so, wouldn’t it be fun to at least try and open it?”

“Whatever,” Lucy replied with a shrug. “If you want to wait until tomorrow for me to translate the inscription better, that’s fine.”

“Demons in a box, how cool.”

“Yeah, cool. Too bad demons don’t exist.”

I wouldn’t have been able to complete this book if it weren’t for several special people. So thanks to the lovely ladies in the In Motion group—Carly, Sharon, Susan, Riley, and Delilah. Your encouragement kept me going when I thought I’d have a meltdown. Special thanks to my mom and my sister Brenda, who helped read and proofread my craptastic first draft. I owe you both—BIG TIME!

Another special thanks goes out to some other special people, including Sharron, Derek, Jody, and Sandra for reading through and helping me tone down Farquhar’s thick Scottish dialect. You guys rock!

Sidney Ayers loves infusing her stories with humor. What would the world be without a little bit of laughter? She writes in a wide variety of genres, ranging from historical to paranormal to contemporary. A native of Michigan, Sidney still lives in the same town she grew up in. No matter how hard she tries, she just can’t seem to get away. Michigan is in her blood.