The end. A scene, a story, or in this case, a series.
Hell of an Unlife releases today, the fourth and final title in the Devil Made Me series!
Moira's as spicy as ever, even while she's dealing with a glitch in processing, ensuring Jared remains by her side, or facing her old enemy Douglas. Do you think she's ready to take over Hell?
You can purchase an ebook copy on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple Books, Kobo, or Google Play.
And a peek at the conclusion of Moira's story can be found below. Happy fiery reading!
❦
A buzz rattled my brain, indicating the beginning of my Welcomer shift. Time to escort unfortunate souls to the second floor of Hell. Joy.
I shimmied into my uniform – a skimpy, sexy devil number. Not my choice.
“Already?” Jared stretched out on my bed in all his naked glory. “We’re not done discussing our plan of attack, Moira.”
“You mean arguing about it.” I pointed my plastic pitchfork at him.
We disagreed on how to start our war with Pandora, the current devil. That wretched, amorphous cloud had tapped me to succeed her. And I was resolved to upend the status quo in Hell.
Each floor had its own aggravating and nonsensical rules. Like the innocents on the first, in limbo – trapped in an inky prison of darkness, alone, a sense of desolation filtered in to inspire terror and anguish. All because Pandora refused to babysit them. Oh, and because they had a greater potential to gain true emotions, like me.
Another matter that stuck in my craw was the whispering books in the libraries. Souls. People vanished into the pages when their existence became unbearable. A second death.
The rules, the nudging toward oblivion – it all stank. So I intended to transform this miserable unlife, and Jared insisted on riding shotgun.
I preferred to start the battle with a bang. Direct confrontation. Presenting my qualms to the devil, and declaring my intentions to subvert the damned policies. Screw calm and collected. I’d already drafted a script of accusations, peppered with plenty of curse words. Pandora pissed me off.
On the other hand, Jared thought we should act covertly. Slowly circumvent the rules, reshaping Hell floor by floor, right under the bitch’s nose. Then gauge her reaction.
My powers remained limited as a simple lackey, but I’d rescued a kid from limbo, delivering him to his psychic grandmother on the eighth. This had infuriated the typically amused devil, but she left Elliot with his Mami anyhow. Though she’d implied my actions would result in unforeseen consequences.
Yeah, yeah. A naive preschooler living among a bunch of scammers and swindlers made for an unpredictable situation. Elliot’s grandmother had a lot of pull on her floor, though.
But Pandora’s decision to leave the child alone had revealed her growing weakness. She likely declined to transport him back to the first because her abilities were waning. Her tenure was winding down, nearing its end.
Perfect timing for a direct attack. Of course Jared contended otherwise.
Thankfully our arguments lacked heat nowadays, unlike when we’d been alive. Death, gazing into mirrors that reflected our failings, and the constantly shifting lewd mural on the ceiling of the second-floor library had facilitated changes in both of us. A lengthy process, but his hands and lips no longer wandered, and I’d told my trust issues to take a hike.
The inexplicable surge of comfort I experienced often when near him helped. A lot. And he felt that same serenity, his first emotion when he’d awakened to his true senses.
See, most people in Hell had to wish to feel a specific way, albeit with a dulled edge, and they turned their emotions on and off like a light switch. Not us, though. We were unique. Just me initially.
And Pandora had no clue about his awakening. Well, as far as I knew.
Jared also got me going like no other. Our disagreements typically led to us tumbling into bed. Or when feeling spicy and daring, experimenting on the Harley in my office. And so we kept running in circles over the best way to approach the devil dilemma.
“Hey, I’d love to continue this conversation.” More like the pleasurable ending. “But I’m stuck with the stupid Welcomer shift.”
He slipped off the bed and dressed. “Your shift is only an excuse, and you know it.”
Well, shit, he’d just gotten serious. But he was right. I blamed the distraction of sex and my duties as a Welcomer. In truth, though, my stubbornness streak would have propelled me toward that head-on confrontation with Pandora, his discouragement be damned.
Yet I hesitated, unsure of my strategy. Working on a script, instead of simply voicing my indignation.
Maybe the devil would retire soon. And once promoted, I’d snap my fingers, creating a paradise.
If only it were that simple. No omniscience, omnipotence, or endless power. I also needed to learn the full scope of my future limitations from her before she disappeared.
“At least I’ve been visiting the floors and learning the different whacko rules.” Necessary, but another form of procrastination nonetheless.
Mastering teleporting from floor to floor had been a trial, but required since the elevator only traveled to and from the lobby. As far as I knew, I was the only person who’d mastered that trick, aside from Dick. I’d met with the Welcomers on all but the seventh.
That last I’d avoid as long as Pandora allowed. Another confrontation with Douglas, the psycho who’d accidentally been assigned to the second when I first arrived, was best left until never.
Jared stared at me, his eyebrows creeping toward his hairline. Better that than him rolling his eyes – I hated that habit of his.
Cornered. Time to stop sitting on my hands. I sighed. “Fine. We’ll try your way. After my shift, we can decide on what floor to target first.”
“Really?” His eyes widened, mouth parting. I rarely conceded, to anyone, even him. “Now you have me worried.”
“Enough.” I playfully whacked him in the arm with my pitchfork.
And then a yellow sticky note appeared on my nose. Huh.
“What the hell?” Jared had acquired my amusement for the fiery puns. We both snickered.
I plucked the note off my face and read it out loud. “Backup in processing. Escorting souls on hold until situation resolved. Remain on call for entire shift.”
“Weird.” He plopped on the edge of the bed. “Though you mentioned how slow it’s been lately.”
“Slow, yes. A complete stop, no.” I’d never met anyone in processing. What kind of people had the devil tasked to undertake that monumental assignment?
❦
Ready to inherit the devil’s throne? Hell, no.
In Hell, the flow of new souls from the lobby to their designated floors screeches to a grinding halt. And Pandora, the incorporeal cloud of a devil, tasks Moira to fix the glitch in processing.
Foraying into the bowels of blinking lights with her boyfriend Jared, the issue materializes into Adam, the lone person in charge of minding the servers. His sanity sliding into oblivion, he eyes Jared as his replacement. Turns out, Pandora has the same plan.
Now Moira faces a new problem -- freeing Jared from the confines of processing. Before she even attempts to break him out, though, the devil boots her to the seventh floor. The realm of psychopaths, including her creepy adversary Douglas, who eagerly awaits her arrival.
