Romancing Brimstone

By Brit McGinnis

Things aren’t going well for Mika. Engaged to a man she doesn’t love and facing a future she has no interest in, she’s lost and alone. She’s attending the funeral of the only person who ever truly understood her (in the company of her overbearing mother and fussy fiancé, no less!) when she meets the man who will change her life forever.

Except, well... he’s not a man. He’s the Devil. The real-life Devil.

Scary, right? But it turns out the Devil has a choice for Mika. But it’s not an ordinary choice: Become Satan’s bride and rule in Hell amongst the demons and lost souls, or marry Nick and remain in the world of humans. Forget love. This is a chance for the freshest start of all.

Brit McGinnis’ intriguing supernatural romance Romancing Brimstone upends everything you may have wondered about love, commitment, and the world beyond life and death. Mika’s not your average runaway bride. She’s ready for a change of scenery, and Satan himself may be the one to change her heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brit McGinnis
• Release date: Sep 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310737824

Brit McGinnis

Hey there! I'm an author and copywriter. You'll like my books if you like:-Frank discussions about marketing-Frank discussions about life-Angry young women-Technology and it's integration into everyday life (often in ways we don't expect)-Love stories with work and sacrifice galoreI live in Portland, Oregon with my family. Let's chat on Twitter and Facebook!

Book preview

Romancing Brimstone

By: Brit McGinnis

Originally published by Archangel Ink

Copyright © 2014, Brit McGinnis

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

One Small Favor

About the Author

Chapter 1

back to top

I wanted to reach out and touch the coffin, but knew I probably shouldn’t. It looked like artificial wood, judging by the scratches and muddy macchiato color.

Come on, we have to get to our seats, Nick hissed, nudging me from behind. We were holding up the observation line, but I didn’t want to move. Not yet. Even if she was in a hideous coffin, I still wanted to say goodbye to Big Mika.

Nick kept poking me, and the relatives behind us began to fidget, and gripe in muffled voices. Feeling the pressure, I reluctantly moved past the extravagant velvet ropes and went to join my mother.

Ma sat in the middle of the center pew. Her husband’s coffin rested beside her sister’s, which I guess earned her the right to sit wherever she wanted.

My mother wore the black dress she’d bought at a department store the same day my father had his heart attack. He had been found in the alley behind his dry-cleaning store, a ham sandwich in one hand and a bottle of watered down ouzo at his feet.

Ma had already taken over the dry-cleaning service and the check-cashing business, less than a week after Dad was gone. She seemed to know everything already, and when I came back to San Francisco for the funeral, bills and accounting supplies covered the kitchen table. She was sad about Dad dying, of course. But as much as she wouldn’t admit it, I believe she was thankful to finally have a chance to get her hands on the books.

I sat to her right, with Nick on my other side. Ma sniffed. What a dress. Why did you not wear the one I showed you last night, Mika?

Ma, it was way too big for me. What’s wrong with this one? I tried to keep my voice down, but it was getting harder with everyone taking their seats.

You can see half your legs, Mika! The shame, we are at church. Now is not the time to wear a dress like you would wear at your college.

This dress is knee length, Ma. And it has long sleeves. I’m fine.

Ach, fine, fine. You always say you’re fine. Your skirt puffed out like a dancer . . . shameful. Respect your father, even if you don’t respect me. Ma rolled her eyes, glancing up at the coffins.

Ma, I don’t think Dad would have cared about my dress. Big Mika helped me pick it out at the store. It’s her funeral, too, you know.

"Oh, I’m sure she did help you pick it out. My daughter, looking like one of those." She nodded her head toward two ladies coming out of the line.

I didn’t see what the big deal was. They were actually very elegant, in black trench coats and hats with birdcage veils. Very Audrey Hepburn.

Then I realized why she was upset: drag queens. Ma, those are Big Mika’s neighbors. Don’t be so rude.

Ach, then they should put on suits like the rest of the men. Those ridiculous outfits. My mother shifted in her seat. Makes me sick. They are defiling Stavros’ memory with this show.

One of the queens, a blonde, came over to where we were sitting. She sniffed loudly before speaking. Oh, Little Mika, we were so sorry to hear about your aunt. She was such a good lady, we wanted to pay our respects. We hope you don’t mind us coming.

Before my mother could say anything, I stood up and held her gloved hand. It was soft, probably vintage satin. It was really classy. Thank you so much for coming. Please, take a seat if you can find one. We have a lot of people coming; you may have to stand at the back.

Oh honey, we don’t mind at all. It’s just . . . she reached up and dabbed at her eyes, I can’t believe she’s gone. You know? And your father, too. Oh, you poor little thing.

She reached out to hug me, and I unconsciously looked to my mother for permission. Ma was fuming, pursing her lips so hard together I thought they might bleed.

I had probably already committed a sin in her mind by speaking to them. I defiantly accepted the hug from the blonde, squeezing back tight. The smaller one, a brunette who had piled her hair high in a Carol Channing style, closed in on my other side. Their sobs were loud coming on either side of me. But they smelled nice, and their touch was warm and real.

The blonde was first to break the embrace. That’s quite enough of that. She looked down at Ma. I’ll let you have your daughter back now. I’m so sorry for your loss.

Ma waited a moment, then tensely answered, Thank you. The blonde and the Carol Channing look-alike nodded, and walked back in the direction of the receiving line.

As soon as they were gone, Ma crossed herself with grand sweeps. Ach, the shame! And you hugged them, right in front of your father. What were you thinking?

They were just trying to be nice. I always saw them when I came by to visit Big Mika.

They’re people of sin. How could you think of talking to them like that? That school of yours is starting to turn you into a heather.

A what?

Heather. One of those people who do not go to church and commit sin without caring.

I think you mean a ‘heathen’, Portia. Nick chimed in across me. He leaned forward to look directly at my mother. And let me reassure you, Berkeley doesn’t turn people into those.

Ma softened slightly. Perhaps no, Nick.

The harsh i made him cringe, but he recovered well. Portia, I’ve told you over and over, if it’s easier for you to call me Niko, that’s fine. You shouldn’t have to struggle over my name.

No, I should say your name properly, Nick. You will be my son soon enough. Ma reached over and tapped his cheek affectionately. His head bumped into my chest awkwardly.

All the more reason you should call me whatever’s comfortable for you.

She pointed at him, smiling. Then she pointed at me. This is a good one, Mika! He will never lead you wrong.

The priest came up to the podium, and opened his arms. Nick immediately grabbed my hand and looked forward, as if presenting our relationship to the priest and requesting a blessing.

As much as I could, without drawing Ma’s attention, I looked around at the crowd. Greeks: people I knew from the old neighborhood, or saw once a year at family dinners.

Standing at the back: non-Greeks. Whites, blacks, Asians. Most were dressed in black, but a few had opted for bright colors. A tiny Chinese lady I recognized as my aunt’s landlady wore a dazzling white dress. She was crying into the shoulder of a tan woman with lavender hair, who was wearing a black catsuit complete with ears. A tall white guy, leaning against the center back pillar, was dressed as a sad clown. He had a blue tear painted under his right eye.

I smiled. Those were the people Big Mika had surrounded herself with. A colorful group. It was beautiful to see now.

At the front, the priest was doing his thing: Blessings for this, chants for that. It was musical and beautiful, but I felt lost. I hadn’t been to church since I started college. Not that my mother knew.

God, she didn’t know a lot of things. This was only the first week of the two I’d be at home. How would I keep track of everything I hadn’t told her? She knew some of my friends, but she didn’t know who was gay or who was Jewish. Probably better that way. And she didn’t know that Nick and I were living together. That would be important to remember in conversation.

The priest was finished. It was time to look upon the bodies again, to say a final goodbye.

My mother went first, almost racing up to the coffins. As I suspected, she sniffed in grief over Big Mika and wailed loudly over my father. I rolled my eyes. Wailing? Really? Why be such a drama queen, especially for just one half of the double funeral?

After a few minutes, it was my turn. I walked up to the altar, waiting at the bottom for a moment so a line could form behind me. Best if the non-Greeks saw where to go from my example.

The altar was only about ten steps high, but the red carpeting added a feeling of holiness to it all. Maybe Ma had been right about my dress after all; I felt slightly exposed in my swishing ballerina skirt. I hoped no one could see up it as I climbed the steps.

At the top, I looked at my dad for the last time. The cross around his neck looked polished, and they had dressed him in the suit he wore for business meetings. His hair had been combed and his beard trimmed, but they had left his moustache untouched. That made me smile. A few tears slipped out, but I felt peaceful as I whispered goodbye.

Big Mika was a different story. Her thick, curly black hair had been pulled back into a braid behind her neck, and her lips shone red with lipstick. This was a woman whose main item of makeup had been tinted Chapstick. Her hair had normally flowed down her back and over her shoulders, famously causing her to once close a door on it. This was all wrong. They had even put eyeliner on her.

I recognized the dress she was wearing—Big Mika had bought it for me when I was a little kid. It was part of the costume collection she had maintained for years, for visiting friends who had children. It was the Cinderella costume.

How could they possibly have thought it was a regular dress? I thought. But then I remembered—Big Mika’s landlady had two small children, whom she babysat on Thursdays. They had likely pulled the adult-sized dress over their clothes, which usually meant that it had attracted all the spills. And seeing this dress in the dryer with all the regular clothes must have led someone to think it was her normal clothing.

Big Mika had been found on a Friday, late in the afternoon. She had lapsed into a diabetic coma and died. After eating a non-sugar-free popsicle, of all things. Her lawyer was supposed to meet her for lunch and she hadn’t shown up. She was found on the floor, in a tangerine-colored dress with a braided green leather sash.

That was how Big Mika really was: colorful. Her tiny apartment in the Castro was painted sunshine yellow. Ma had always criticized her for the size of the space. It’s just me, what do I need more space for? Big Mika would say with a laugh.

I was lingering too long over the coffins, and I felt eyes on me. I didn’t know what to do. Wailing and weeping for the sake of it didn’t feel honest.

I gave a little nod over Big Mika, and stepped down from the altar. Nick gave me a confused look as I passed. I sat down next to my mother on the pew, and watched the people go by. I couldn’t look at her. Not after learning she had picked out that dress for her sister.

More people went by Big Mika and Dad. Even among the huge crowd of Greeks obligated to attend, the genuine mourners revealed themselves. My younger cousin, Diane, reached out and silently touched my dad’s hand. One guy I didn’t recognize bowed deeply at Mika’s casket, and walked away wiping his eyes. My parents’ neighbor, Joey, just stared at the caskets side by side. After stepping down from the altar, he collapsed into tears and had to be helped to his seat.

The priest wore a gracious smile the entire time, nodding to Big Mika’s landlady and acknowledging the two drag queens.

My mother wept into my shoulder throughout the viewing, but I still caught her looking up disapprovingly at the more extravagant people who went up to mourn her sister. It felt strange to me, but I didn’t say anything.

Ma had a strange relationship with America and its inhabitants. She had come over as a child, with Big Mika and their parents, and never seemed to have decided if she liked it here.

She was also way more conservative than virtually everyone she lived near. I had to fight with her just to get her to understand why I needed an undergraduate degree. College wasn’t even an option for a girl, in her mind. By running off to college, she said I was turning into a feminist bitch, who’d grow out her armpit hair and never get married.

Then I brought home Nick. She doted on him, and made sweet comments about his blond hair and blue eyes. She asked about his father’s career as a stockbroker, and was delighted when he said he was going into the same field. From then on, it was all about when Nick and I were going to get married.

Ma had never cared about my studies before him. I realized over time that Nick represented every good thing about America to my mother, so she would do anything to get him attached to me. Even if it meant letting me get a college degree. In fact, how about a Master’s degree for Mika? Then I could earn even more money, impress him, and be better able to afford a big house for all our babies.

But I didn’t want that. Any of it. And she didn’t know how to check up on my application progress. The application deadlines for the schools I had been looking at were all due a week from the day of the funeral. I didn’t want to go through with it. But what else was I going to do?

The way ahead was clear. I’d be accepted by more than one graduate school, if my advisors were to be believed. I’d choose a school, and go on to the next step of my life. The step before getting married, and after getting my first period.

I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any part of this path. But I had no other ideas.

Big Mika never went to grad school. She’d worked as a teacher, and had needed credentials for that. But she’d spent most of her life living—she’d had five husbands, and somehow managed to remain on good terms with each of them after they’d divorced. She always spoke fondly of George, or Robbie, or any of the others when sitting down with me, often while lighting herself a cigarette. She smoked Virginia Slims in public and Marlboros in private. To be ladylike, she said.

She had turned out so polar-opposite from Ma, and never talked about growing up with her. They weren’t sisters, in her mind. But that was fine. However much she infuriated Ma, Big Mika was perfectly happy with most of the decisions she had made.

But now she was gone, and I watched her body be touched and blessed with a weird-looking hyssop plant as if she had been just another pious old lady. Or my mother.

I didn’t feel sad now, sitting on the pew. I felt helpless. I had no advocates left. Not my mother. Not any of my friends, who were all excited for grad school and getting somewhere. And especially not Nick, who was excited about me going to grad school. I’d be the first in my family to get a master’s degree, which somehow made him excited.

After the final blessing and prayers, the coffins were lifted up and carried out through the side door. My mother and I once again led the crowd.

Ma had to pull me along; I did not want to go out there. Big Mika had renounced the church years ago. It felt so wrong to bury her here now.

Here, let me help. Nick appeared on my other side, taking my hand into his own. I know this is hard, but you have to say goodbye to them sometime.

This is wrong. This is so insanely wrong. You can’t make me go out there, I whispered in his ear.

You have to do it, Mika. You’re the daughter, you have to be out there for the burial. You can’t just run away, Nick whispered. Now he was pulling me along, too. I know it hurts, but you have to go. You’ll feel better once you see them go, and get some closure.

This isn’t about closure. Big Mika didn’t want a church funeral, I can’t go out there and act like I’m honoring her wishes.

It was your mom’s decision to have your aunt and dad buried out there. Don’t you trust that she knew what they wanted?

I didn’t say anything; that wasn’t something I could answer honestly, being so close to my mom. Soon we were outside, on the grassy path right behind the church.

It was cloudy, and a slight breeze was blowing; enough to blow my hair around but not enough for my bangs to blow back.

Nick let go of my arm and Ma loosened her grip so I could walk at my own speed, but the coffins were being carried in front of us, slowing any progress I could have made. The fastest I could go was a light walk.

It was a long trek to the plots, and the crowd behind us began to grumble. But we finally made it.

There was hardly enough room around the graves. Ma and I were right at the front, and Nick was right beside us. Everyone else was shoved together beside the grave plot. I felt so bad for anyone that had been seated in the back of the church. There was no way they would be able to see anything that was going on.

Or hear anything, either—there was a thick fog of whispering as the priest made his way to the coffins. It was unbearable. I could feel the eyes of the Greek relatives on me and my pale boyfriend. Ma was crying into his shoulder, of course. But I was quiet, and I knew people were puzzled by my silence. Maybe they were looking at my skirt length, too, now that they could see me up close.

But then the coffins were presented. It was as if something had been switched on inside every Greek within twenty feet of the ceremony. Crying, bawling even some shouting. My God, the gnashing of teeth that took place. And, like every Greek funeral I had ever been to, the throwing of oneself onto the coffins.

Dad had more hangers-on than Big Mika, as I expected. But some surprised me: our neighbor Joey bent down at Big Mika’s coffin and wept. Gone! Gone, you beautiful thing, he cried. The woman in the catsuit elbowed her way to the front of the crowd and placed a Hawaiian lei on top of Big Mika’s coffin.

I was so grateful to see that garland. Big Mika had first taught in Hawaii, and had come to consider it her home. All the islands, she loved them. Even when she came back to San Francisco, she hung dried flowers from Hawaii all around the apartment. Everywhere, just big bunches of flowers.

I stepped away. I needed some space from all this. Ma saw me go, but didn’t follow. I mumbled something about meeting her at the reception, though to be honest I don’t remember what I said. But I must have looked sufficiently upset, because she nodded and let me go.

Walking through the crowd surrounding the graves, I headed back in the direction of the church. People shuffled to give me a path through, which was more gracious than I had expected. A few older ladies, widows like my mother, patted my shoulder gently as I passed.

Mika’s landlady, sobbing wildly, reached out and took both my shoulders in her hands. The bun at the top of her head barely reached to my nose, and she hugged me so tightly the tears on her face made my dress wet.

Th-thank you for coming, ma’am. I couldn’t think of what else to say.

Oh no, no. I’m so sorry for you, losing your father and your aunt in one week. She pulled back, and I could see that she was very beautiful. An elegant Chinese woman, made up with powder and red lipstick. I only met your father once, when he was coming by to pick you up from Big Mika’s house. Such a nice man. I wish I could have known him better.

Thank you. That’s very nice of you to say. I said quickly. I felt pressed in, lost in a cloud of sadness. I had to run out now, or risk suffocating.

Of course. And Mika, if you want to come by and see your aunt’s apartment, it’ll stay open for a few more days. She wanted to keep things intact so her friends could take what they wanted before the auction.

Auction?

Yes, she wanted everything of hers to be auctioned off. All the money will be donated to the first school she ever worked at.

The one in Oahu?

Yes, that little one. She wiped her eyes. So if there’s anything you want to take with you, just come by the building. My name is Xiao-Xing, just ask for me at the front desk and I’ll let you in.

Thank you very much, I nodded, smiling a little so she knew I understood. Then I walked away as fast as I could.

It was like running through a flock of crows. All the people, the bodies of people I barely knew, separate yet flowing together. My hair was going crazy, flying behind me the faster I walked. I wanted to run so badly, but there was no way I could do that and not crash into someone.

Only a few more steps, and I was out of the crowd.