See You in Hell (Mel Goes to Hell Series Book 2) (7 page)

This time Mel did laugh. "I can't recall ever fainting at such a sight. Screaming, perhaps, but that came later…" She glanced up at Merih, registering his shock. "What? Haven't you seen an angel blush before?"

Merih swallowed and licked his lips, looking like there were a few things he wanted to say, but didn't dare. "You've got to be the most unusual angel I've ever met." He eyed her hands warily. "If I can't drag you, I guess I'll have to appeal to your sense of charity."

Mel stared at him. Demons didn't support charity.

"You know how wonderful the coffee here is?" he began. Mel smiled and nodded. "Alright, we actually have better coffee in Hell. The instant stuff here is part of some government contract that doesn't expire for another three years, so we can't get out of it. But the German Beer Café up the road is hosting a huge Melbourne Cup lunch and we've all bought tickets. There are all sorts of giveaways, including a brand-new coffee machine – one that uses those little capsule things. We figure that the more of us who go, the better our chance of winning one and we'll pay whoever wins a share of what the machine is worth to use it, so we aren't drinking shit any more."

"Then good luck. I hope you get it," Mel replied. She turned her eyes back to her computer screen.

"We won't unless you come," he said bluntly. "We only go into the draw if our table has at least ten people and we're nine without you."

Mel sighed. "So I have to come to save you from bad coffee?" Her fingers skipped across the keyboard, locking access to her computer. Swinging her access pass lanyard down from the shelf, Mel said, "There's a story in the making – an angel saving a demon. If it were more interesting, maybe someone might write a book about it one day. Ah, the coffee would have to be pretty foul to be worth sticking in a story."

Grabbing her mug, she downed the dregs of cold coffee, almost choking as the sludge hit her tongue. "Honestly, I think this stuff could have come from the sewers in Hell. Not even the damned deserve to drink this. Let's go."

"Great! You brought her. Now we're ten and we're going to win that coffee machine." Gerry waved the hostess over. "Table for ten from HELL Corporation, please." He turned to Mel and Merih. "We've all ordered. Tell the girl at the counter what you want and don't forget to enter the sweep!"

The others trooped off in the hostess' wake as Merih stepped up to the register. "I'll have a jug of the darkest house beer you have and…how does the food work?"

The harassed-looking woman at the register eyed the queue behind them. "If you're on a company table, then it's twenty dollars a head for food, and drinks are extra," she said. "How many horses do you want in the sweep? Just one?"

"Sounds good to me," Merih replied, handing over his credit card.

The woman processed his payment and held out a basket full of folded paper slips. "Pick your horse," she said.

Merih dipped his hand into the basket, his nails scraping against the bottom, and pulled out a slip. "Red Cadeaux!" he announced, then frowned. "Never heard of it."

"And you, miss?" the woman asked, looking expectantly at Mel.

"Oh, just a glass of your lightest wheat beer – the Weihenstephaner, please. I'm on the same corporate table and…I need a horse, right?"

"You don't have to," Merih jumped in, looking worried. "It's not like you need to gamble if you don't want to."

"You can't enjoy the Melbourne Cup properly without one," the woman said, giving Merih a dirty look. "It's dull if you're not screaming for your horse for that last lap of the race."

Mel laughed. "I'll take the lunch, the beer and the horse, please. I wouldn't want to miss an opportunity to do a bit of screaming." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Merih blush as red as the Beck's shield on the wall behind him. She handed over her money.

"I hope you pick a winner, then," the woman said, offering the basket.

Mel shrugged. "Green Moon will win, but it's about enjoying the race, so I'll take…" She selected a slip. "…Lights of Heaven. That's a well-named horse for me."

"You never know. It's the Melbourne Cup. Any horse could win," the woman said.

Mel just smiled and followed Merih to the crowded table where their colleagues sat, already munching on the first round of garlic bread.

The two remaining free places at the table were right beside the window. One of the chairs was bathed in the bright, near-noon sun. Merih sat in the shaded one as Mel reached for the other, only to recoil the moment her fingers touched it: the surface of the metal chair was hot enough to fry her lunch on.

Someone sniggered, but Mel heard Merih say, "We should ask for another chair. Mel shouldn't have to…"

"I'll be fine," Mel cut in. She nudged the chair away from the table with her foot, careful to only touch the scorching metal with her shoe. She reached for the jug of iced water and poured it carefully over the chair, making sure she didn't wet her colleagues. Steam rose and a few chunks of ice clattered to the concrete floor, but she didn't flinch until the jug was empty. She reached for the other jug and did the same. Nine demons watched in silence as the puddle on the floor started to evaporate.

Reaching for the last slice of garlic bread, she whipped the cloth out of the basket beneath and used it to dry her much-cooled chair. Crunching into the crust, she smiled as she sat down. A wide-eyed waiter behind her set her beer on the table with shaking hands and she thanked him. He took the empty jugs from her and promised to refill them.

A platter of tempura prawns arrived at the table, followed by another with a tepee of prosciutto-wrapped asparagus spears, and the distracted demons decided it was safe to start talking again.

Mel ate without speaking, occasionally sipping her beer, as she listened to Lili and the girl beside her discussing some book they'd been reading. It seemed to involve some particularly violent sex and a man called Quincy.

She couldn't help herself. "I'm sorry…a violent, sadistic villain called Quincy? With a name like that, I imagine he has a fair bit to be angry about."

"Have you read the
Monsters in the Dark
series?" Lili asked, surprised.

"No," Mel admitted. "It sounds a bit dark for me, to be honest."

Lili turned away to talk to the man on her other side.

"So you're the angel," the girl beside Mel said. "I never thought I'd see one of your kind at a Melbourne Cup lunch. I mean – isn't gambling a sin to you? Like drinking…and generally enjoying yourself? Or even talking to the likes of us?"

Mel smiled gently. "The rest of the office were going – it seemed rude not to. And Merih told me you needed the numbers to have a chance at better coffee in the office. I wanted to help. I'm perfectly happy to drink and enjoy myself. I even have a horse in the sweep." She held up the little slip of paper.

"Then you're already halfway to being one of the CEO's little office whores. I swear he has a collection of temps just like you that he's corrupted so quickly you'd think they'd never seen a man before. Has he broken you in over his desk yet?" The girl gave a knowing grin at Mel's shock. "What, did you think you were the first?"

"Ana, leave Mel alone," Merih interjected. "If Luce finds out you've been spreading rumours, it'll be you over that desk and you know it."

Ana gave a disgusted sniff and lurched to her feet, headed for the counter and what Mel suspected would be another drink.

"Don't listen to her, Mel," Merih continued. "Luce does have a reputation for seducing all the new office temps – human and angel – but you're different to them. Just don't accept any meetings alone in his office with him and you should be fine." He became very interested in the plate of spring rolls that appeared in front of him as Lili glared in his direction across Ana's empty seat.

"It's all right," Mel said softly as Ana returned, bearing a jug of beer and a glass that she thumped down on the table. "He's already made an attempt."

"Ah Hell, Mel, I didn't realise. I'm sorry…"

Mel shrugged. "I turned him down. I also suggested he might want to clean his desk occasionally, given all the action it's seen."

Merih exploded in laughter, spraying beer across the table. It missed Mel but splattered in Lili's face, sending her eyeliner running. Lili jumped to her feet, beer and murder in her eyes.

"I believe I'll get another drink. Would anyone else like one?" Mel asked the table in general.

The others got up to dig through their pockets for cash, neatly boxing Lili in at her seat and out of reach of Merih. Mel heard his muttered thanks before she headed up to the counter, trying to remember everyone's beer preferences. She decided to stick to water. Let the demons get drunk – she had work to do when she returned to the office.

The whole café fell silent. Mel couldn't hear the crunch of a single chip.

"Aaaand…they're off!" the race caller shouted.

Twenty-four horses jumped from their starting stalls on the large-screen TVs, their thundering hooves the only sound inside the café.

The race caller identified the horses and their relative positions as the animals galloped their riders round the first lap of Flemington Racecourse.

That's when the shouting started, rising in a crescendo as the jockeys whipped their horses down the final straight. It wasn't just the demons, either – every single human in the café seemed to be shrieking their support for their respective horse, though the beasts on the other side of the country certainly couldn't hear them.

Mel watched with satisfaction as Green Moon did, indeed, cross the finish line first, followed by three horses with odd names that were much harder to remember. None of these horses were on her or Merih's slips.

Or any other demon's, oddly enough. The demons flung their slips on the table, with varying combinations of anger, disappointment and disgust. She wondered why they bothered gambling at all – after all, demons' bad luck was legendary.

The sweep winners approached the counter to claim their prizes. One was a man who'd had to reject a promotion because his wife had recently given birth to twins and suffered from crippling postnatal depression. Another was a girl who sent all her spare money home to her family in Indonesia, in the hope that her little sister could come and visit sometime soon. The third winner seemed to live a charmed life, but her boss had excused himself early to finalise the paperwork to make her position redundant – a fate she wasn't yet aware of, but she would be by the end of the day. Mel sighed – such was the way of the world, especially in times like these.

The hostess at the counter picked up a handbell and rang it, sending the café silent again. "We'll be drawing the raffle prizes, too. Last chance to buy a ticket – the proceeds go to the winter blanket appeal for the city's homeless." She gestured at the waitstaff who were waving ticket books.

Mel jumped to her feet. "One for me, please." Nine demons stared at her as a waiter wove through the tables to take her money. It wasn't that she wanted or needed any of the raffle prizes, whatever those might be. She couldn't refuse charity – nor a request for help – and this was both. She ignored the demonic scrutiny as she traded her money for a ticket. Number 888, apparently.

The hostess cleared her throat. "Now, everyone on one of the corporate tables, I'm going to ask you to check beneath you. Taped to the bottom of your chair are your free tickets into the draw."

Mel realised that none of the demons had bought a ticket – all they had were the free ones that were included as part of their meal. No, demons definitely didn't believe in charity.