Straight By The Rules

By Michelle Scott

The Devil made me…

I’m Lilith Straight, the Devil’s servant. You’d think that it would be straightforward, wouldn’t you? Carry out the Devil’s work, that’s all: wreak havoc and cause carnage on Earth…

The problem is, I still have a conscience. Which makes life just a little bit tricky in Hell, as you might imagine. And when your sister actually belongs in Heaven, the hot man in your life has his own devilish agenda and the rest of your family won’t stop meddling in your unfinished business…well, let’s just say it’s complicated!

No one ever plays by the rules in Hell, so maybe it’s time to make up my own!

Book 3 in the Lilith Straight series!

Straight to Hell – Book 1
Straight to Heaven – Book 2
Straight by the Rules – Book 3

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins UK
• Release date: Oct 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781474045889

Michelle Scott

Maybe it’s because of my Halloween birthday, but I’ve always been attracted to scary stories. On the other hand, I love romances as well. Once I discovered that these two genres existed side-by-side in urban fantasy novels, I was in heaven! Urban fantasy is like chocolate and peanut butter: a perfect, to-die-for combination that I can never get enough of.

Book preview

Chapter One

For the first time since being forced into service as the Devil’s temptress, I’d reached a doorway in Hell that I couldn’t enter.

With its industrial gray paint and silver knob, the door was nearly identical to every other one in Hell, yet it made me pause. It had been labeled ‘Authorized Personnel Only,’ and mounted above it was a single, red light bulb in a metal cage.

For the most part, the Hell I traveled appeared like a dreary office building. With its endless corridors, flickering fluorescent lights, and scuffed walls, Hell was more depressing than intimidating. But I wasn’t fooled. Ever since I’d been hit by a car and died seven months before, I’d seen enough of the place to know a nightmare lay underneath the façade.

My mind went back to the final moments of my life. Even after all this time, I relived those seconds over and over again. As I crossed the street, my eyes were glued to my cell phone screen and the dirty picture that I was texting my stepsister. A flash of white caught my attention, and I glanced up to see the Volvo speeding towards me. It was too late to run, and to my horror, the car never swerved. A second before it hit me, I got a look at the driver – a grim-faced man dressed in white. Then my feet were knocked out from under me, and I flew up and hit the windshield. It was like being run over by a charging elephant. The impact knocked the shoes off of my feet and my soul out of my body. One minute, I was walking on Earth, and the next I was deep in the bowels of hell.

Now, I was facing a door that I couldn’t open.

Afraid that I’d made a wrong turn, I looked to my succubus for help. My succubus was the demon who had possessed me since I’d been forced into service for the Devil. How do we get past this door? I asked her. She doesn’t speak to me directly, but sends me mental signals. Right then, she was begging me to run away.

We can’t leave, I said, irritably. As much as I didn’t want to tempt someone into doing the Devil’s dirty work, I also didn’t dare not do it, either. If I disobeyed Helen Spry, my demon overlord, she wouldn’t hesitate to show me how awful the real Hell could be.

I blamed my great-great-great-great-great grandmother, Sarah Goodswain, for getting me into this mess. Back in the 1700s, she had made a deal with the Devil to get out of being hanged as a witch. The deal had included not only her, but all of her female progeny as well. Now, I was stuck serving the Devil until I could find a way out of that contract.

Despite the door’s ominous vibes, I put my hand on the doorknob and prepared to turn it. My succubus panicked. She yanked hard on her reins, and my hand swiped to the left.

What’s your issue? I demanded. Normally, doing the Devil’s work thrilled my inner demon, but something about this door upset her. In fact, she was more agitated now than she had been on those occasions when we’d gone into Heaven. Because Hell boosts her strength, she once again took control of me. Despite my efforts to move forward, I was forced back a few steps. When she begged me to leave a second time, I agreed. If she was so concerned about that doorway, then something must be wrong.

I double-checked the note that Delilah, Miss Spry’s new assistant, had given me. My job was coaxing people into doing the Devil’s work, and Delilah’s was to come up with the names of those people and make appointments for me. Because I’d been complaining that I couldn’t read her writing, she’d taken special pains to print clearly. She’d also added a hand-drawn map. Even so, I couldn’t find my client.

Not that it mattered now. The appointed moment had already passed. These temptations were always timed down to the minute since it was crucial to approach the victims when they were most vulnerable to temptation. Even being a few seconds late could result in a missed opportunity.

Frustrated, I crumpled the note and shoved it into my pocket. Missing the temptation didn’t upset me, but Miss Spry was not an understanding or forgiving demon. Even though the bungled assignment wasn’t my fault, she’d use it as an excuse to punish me just as she had in the past.

Although it was probably pointless, I decided to pay a visit to Delilah and see if we could salvage the job. I left the ominous door and retraced my steps. The identical hallways made Hell labyrinthine, but luckily, my succubus worked like a supernatural GPS system, and within minutes, I found Delilah’s office.

I knocked once, then walked in. Delilah glared at me from behind her desk. A large woman with dark skin and dreadlocks, she was far different from Patrick Clerk, the man she’d replaced. Today, she wore a bright yellow dress and, as always, armfuls of silver bangles. Don’t tell me, she said. Something went wrong.

Delilah’s bad mood most likely resulted from her impossible job. Mr. Clerk, Miss Spry’s assistant for many years, had become an expert at reading the complex blueprints mapping out each human’s life. Delilah, however, had been working for only a few weeks. Her nerves must have been frayed.

I couldn’t find the right door, I said.

I drew you a map.

I know, but it led me to a door that said ‘Authorized Personnel Only.’

She looked alarmed. You didn’t try to open it, did you?

My succubus wouldn’t let me.

She sighed, relieved. Good.

Asking questions in Hell was frowned upon, but curiosity drove me on. Why? What’s behind it?

Nothing you need to worry about, she said sternly. If Miss Spry marks a door as Authorized, then stay away from it. Now, let me see that map.

When I handed her the paper, her face sagged. This note wasn’t meant for you. She shuffled folders and notes on her desk until she uncovered another slip of paper. "This was the one you needed."

It’s okay, I said, sighing. Don’t worry about it.

Her expression tightened. "No, it’s not okay. Making a mistake is understandable, but making a stupid mistake is just…stupid. She met my eyes. I am not a stupid person."

I know you aren’t, I said. This job is overwhelming. That’s all. Mr. Clerk had left abruptly, and Delilah had been dumped into his position without so much as a how-to manual or employee orientation.

"I don’t need you to tell me about my job, she said. Besides, this job is only part of the problem. Miss Spry also wants me to schedule her appointments, write her letters, and even make her damned tea! Delilah’s jaw muscles bunched. I think I’m doing pretty well considering."

In reality, Delilah’s success rate hovered at twenty-five percent, but I didn’t mention it since I was determined to stay on her good side. The more friends I could make in Hell, the better. Don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of it eventually. Besides, things could be worse. Hell does have nice accommodations.

Delilah had transformed the former assistant’s austere office by adding wood paneling and black leather furniture. A stunning sepia-toned photograph of a thunderstorm rolling across an African savannah took up one wall. Another had a window overlooking a cityscape. If you believed the illusion Delilah had created, we were several dozen stories up in a downtown skyscraper.

Delilah finally laughed. It was a tired, unhappy laugh, but it was better than her typical glare. Decorating your office in Hell is like painting a gallows pink.

Maybe you should get a computer, I said.

How would that help? She went back to cranky. What software am I going to use? I’m pretty sure Microsoft doesn’t make a program for finding the best way to make people sin.

I only wanted to help, I told her.

If you want to help, explain to the boss lady about what happened. I can’t deal with her right now. We both glanced at the door leading to Miss Spry’s study. Since taking on Delilah as her assistant, Helen had also changed the layout of her office. She and her former assistant used to work next door to each other, but now Delilah also played the part of receptionist.

No one liked to deal with Miss Spry, but I decided to give the overwhelmed assistant a break. Okay. I’ll go.

Delilah picked up her phone and pushed a button. Lilith Straight to see you, she said. Go right in, she told me, hanging up the phone.

Taking a deep breath, I went to face the woman whom I feared more than anyone else on Earth or in Hell.

Lilith! Miss Spry greeted me like her oldest and dearest friend, but I wasn’t fooled. The old she-demon hated me as much as I hated her.

Hello. As I took one of the chairs in front of her desk, I glanced at her couch, searching for the bloodstains I’d tracked in a few weeks before. Luckily, they’d been cleaned up. Once again, the place was quiet and elegant. Miss Spry looked glamorous as well. Her herringbone trousers, white shirt, and cardigan gave her a Katharine Hepburn style that was both mannish yet very feminine. She even pulled off the short, overly permed hairstyle.

A tea tray sat on Miss Spry’s desk, and when she offered me some, I accepted. Ordinarily, I’m a coffee drinker, but I could never resist her tea. Can you tell me where you get this? I asked. My dad, the tea expert, had a birthday in a few days, and the tea would make a perfect gift.

I’ll be happy to send you some, she said.

I regarded her warily. In exchange for what?

She lifted her eyebrows in surprise. In exchange for nothing. I like to keep my employees happy.

Yeah, right. We both knew nothing in Hell was free, and that Helen loved it when her employees were miserable, not happy.

Never mind, I told her.

Her smile was sly. Tea doesn’t require a contract with the Devil.

I didn’t believe her for a second.

Helen made a notation in her day planner. I’ll send Delilah out for some later on today. And speaking of Delilah… she leaned back in her chair …let me guess. You’re here because my new assistant once again ruined your assignment?

I shrugged. Not on purpose.

I’d expected my boss to go into a demon-powered rage, but she didn’t. Delilah is taking longer than I hoped to get up to speed on the job. I may have to reassign her. Miss Spry tugged thoughtfully on her pearls. Perhaps she’d do better in maintenance. They’re always recruiting help. After all, those torture chambers can get very messy.

I blanched. Delilah was a prickly person, but cleaning bodily fluids from the insides of iron maidens was a harsh punishment. All she needs is a little training. Maybe you could bring Patrick back to help, I suggested. A few weeks ago, I’d been furious at Mr. Clerk because I’d discovered some of the dirty things he’d done to me, but now I missed him. I hated watching Real Housewives by myself. Plus, I’d bought a new dress that I was dying to ask his opinion about. For the past seven months, Patrick Clerk had been the closest thing I’d had to a girlfriend. Which was pathetic since, during that time, he’d tried to kill me. Twice.

Miss Spry’s lips twitched. I doubt Patrick will be returning.

That sounded ominous. Since learning of his disappearance, I’d feared the worst. I’d been making discreet inquiries about his whereabouts, but to no avail. The only thing I knew for sure was that he hadn’t been lost in the wager Miss Spry had made with God earlier in the summer. I, personally, had made sure she’d won.

Which reminded me. What did you win in your bet against God, anyway?

Her eyes sparkled, and she pointed to a side table next to her couch. Sitting under a glass dome was a brown lump. Isn’t it wonderful?

It looked like a woodchip that had been stolen from someone’s flower garden. Sure, I guess. What is it?

It’s a piece of the true cross. A holy icon here in Hell! She smiled at it lovingly. The irony is so delicious. It reminds me of the best three days of my life.

I didn’t remember a lot from Catholic school, but I knew that story well enough. Weren’t those the days when all hope on Earth died?

Exactly. Her smile widened, making me shudder.

She turned her attention back to me. Now, as far as your assignments go, do the best you can. Delilah is still on probation, but if she errs again, let me know.

I nodded but decided I would not rat out Helen’s assistant. The visual of poor Delilah cleaning up after the torturers was too much to stomach.

Figuring our meeting was over, I drained the rest of my tea and stood. Helen stopped me. I’m glad you showed up today because I have something we need to discuss. Girl to girl.

I tensed. There was nothing remotely girlish about Helen Spry. What is it?

She pushed several pamphlets across the desk. I want you to read these, choose one, and make an appointment. I’ll cover all of the costs, of course.

I sat down and hesitantly picked up the first brochure, which displayed a full-color photograph of a sleeping baby and the caption, Your Family. Your Choice. I frowned and opened it. The first paragraph to catch my eye began, Now that you’ve decided to experience intrauterine insemination…

Intrauterine insemination? What the hell? The next paragraph answered my question. My jaw dropped, and I met Miss Spry’s cruel smile. You want me to get pregnant?

It’s written in your contract, my dear. One generation must follow another in service.

You say that about everything! I argued. Helen loved to quote my contract, but I’d never read it myself. Half the time, I felt that she was making up the rules as she went along.

She gave me a wicked smile and waved her hand. An immense book dropped from the ceiling and fell on her desk with a bang and a cloud of dust. She flipped through several pages. It’s right here in black and white. See for yourself.

I took the magnifying glass she handed me and bent over the massive tome. Sure enough, I read: If, at any time, a descendent of Sarah Goodswain fails to produce progeny, or if a descendent is unable to serve for any reason (e.g. death), the Devil shall use any means necessary to reinstate the line.

Since you won freedom for your sweet, little Grace, you are obligated to have another daughter. After all, someone must follow you into the family business. She spoke casually, as if we were back to discussing tea.

My mouth was paper dry. No.

Her lips twitched. What?

I would not bring a child into the world for the sole purpose of being Helen Spry’s slave. My voice grew firmer. No. I shoved the brochure across her desk. "I will not do it."

Do you think you’re the first woman in Sarah Goodswain’s line who has tried to thwart me like this? There was not a speck of mercy in her eyes. "I will give you the same choice I gave your mother when she refused to get pregnant. You either find a way to get yourself with child, or I will see that you do. I am happy to provide a civilized solution, but I will take harsher measures if necessary. And believe me, my way will not be pleasant."

I knew my mother had been ordered to become pregnant with me, but I’d thought she’d done it willingly. But what if she hadn’t? Dark thoughts crept into my mind. If Helen wanted me pregnant, she would know men who were willing to do the deed. With or without my consent.

She leaned back in her chair, her fingers steepled under her chin. Why must you fight your destiny so hard?

I stared woodenly at the picture of the baby on the brochure. Leading innocent souls into Hell makes me sick. This was the literal truth. Since becoming a succubus, I’d suffered more sleepless nights and upset stomachs than I had at any other time in my life, including the months I’d been embroiled in my divorce.

Helen laughed. "Innocent souls? Did I just hear you say innocent souls? What makes you think any of those are innocent?"

Okay, so maybe they’re not innocent, I amended, but they’re not monsters, either. They don’t deserve Hell.

A mocking smile tugged at her lips. So those men who kidnapped you at gunpoint a few weeks ago…they don’t deserve to be punished?

Gunpoint. I shuddered. The memory was fresh in my mind. Tied to a chair, I was helpless against the crazy man who pressed the cold muzzle of a handgun against my head. He was drunk and angry, two factors that made him unpredictable. My inner demon shouted at me to fight back, but I was sick and dizzy from a blow to the head. Concentrating was difficult. The man’s partner was setting up a camera, ready to film whatever was in store for me. I wanted to plead with them and let my succubus talk her way out of this mess, but duct tape sealed my lips. The man with the gun faced the camera and began to rave against the government. He gestured wildly with his free hand, but he kept the gun pointed at me. It was only a matter of time before he pulled the trigger. If I didn’t do something, I’d never make it out of the basement alive! Pushing aside my nausea, I struggled against the restraints. All I had to do was reach the otherworld doorway at the top of the steps. It was so close, yet so far away. Just when I thought that I was headed for an unmarked grave, my succubus came up with a plan. A plan that saved my life.

I realized that Miss Spry was still waiting for my answer. Well, yes, they do deserve to be punished, I admitted, but…

But what? Do you want to overlook bad behavior? Let every offender get off scot-free?

No, of course not…

She raised her eyebrows. So what’s your objection?

Miss Spry’s logic always twisted my brain. As I struggled to come up with a good rebuttal, she asked, Did you think the names I give you were picked at random?

I had, actually.

She smiled grimly. Those names are given to you for a reason. If a human is being tempted, it’s because he deserves it. Heaven delivers rewards, and Hell delivers punishment. You may not like your job, but I assure you, it’s necessary.

She was a liar, but a good one. I sensed there were flaws in her arguments, but I was too overwhelmed by her order to get pregnant to refute them.

Now, I’ll give you some time to decide how you want to proceed with your insemination. But if you continue to stall, we’ll do things my way.

In the short time I’d known her, Helen Spry had threatened my family, stolen my daughter, and nearly killed me. She’d spent the last nine months terrifying me, and as a result, I’d caved in to her demands over and over again. But like I’d promised Patrick Clerk, I was done being Helen’s toy. I’d won a reprieve for my