The Devil and Dan Cooley Read online

  Puck sat staring at his outstretched hands. The talons were gone entirely, Dan saw, replaced by thick, rather ugly—but human-looking—nails. A few curling black hairs grew out from between the scales on Puck's forearms and the backs of his hands.

  "I've changed," Puck whispered.

  Dan could only nod.

  "I did kind things for people... yesterday... did those things because I... because I wanted to. I wanted to."

  "You haven't had the chance to do things you wanted very often, have you?"

  Puck glanced up at him. "Hell is not noted for its enthusiastic support of personal choice."

  "No. I don't suppose it is."

  "Look at me. I remember hands like these."

  "You're starting to remember your past?"

  "Maybe. I can't be sure. But last night, Dan, something happened to me that..." He shook his head and stared off into space. "I dreamed, Dan. I dreamed. "

  Dan gave him an encouraging smile. "You dreamed something special?"

  For a moment, Puck looked impatient. "I don't know what I dreamed... it doesn't matter what I dreamed. The dreaming is the thing." Dan thought he saw the beginnings of tears forming in the corners of the devil's eyes. "There are no dreams in Hell. There are only nightmares."

  Chapter 23

  "Gunga Dan, you're on the air."

  "Those Hellraised monsters ate my sweet little doggie Fifi, and I want them to rot in Hell forever."

  "Talk about redundant. " "WKTU, you're on the air. Go ahead, caller."

  "We can't give the Hellraised rights, Dan. We can't hire them. They'll fill all the minimum-wage jobs and leave the poor without any way to make a living."

  "I had the Hellraised figured for middle management, myself. " "Gunga Dan, you're on the air."

  "You are a blasphemer and an iniquitous hellbound fiend and we're going to get you."

  "We're living in the age of enlightenment today. " "Hi. You're on the air. Try to say something sensible."

  "Dan?"

  "Ye-e-e-e-sss?"

  "I just wanted to thank you for what you're trying to do. Even if it doesn't work, I think the fact that you're doing your part to give the Hellraised a second chance is wonderful. I don't want to think of anyone being tortured in Hell forever, and I hope your Great Devil Makeover works."

  Dan was silent for an instant. Then he said, "I know exactly what you mean. Thanks for calling."

  All morning, the calls kept coming in. The callers expressed hope, swore and threatened, shouted, laughed, told stories of experiences they'd had with the Hellraised, talked about loved ones dead and gone who'd led less-than-exemplary lives.

  The minister of a local church called in and said that he and his parishioners, heartened by WKTU's attempt to make North Carolina a place people would want to live again, were following the radio station's example and adopting the two gargoyles that had been hanging around the church grounds. Further, he said, he wanted to challenge other churches to find their own Hellraised souls and do what they could to turn them around.

  Dan raised a triumphant fist and Darlene, sitting at her desk near the main door, grinned at him and mouthed the words "Way to go."

  A boy from one of NC State's fraternities called in to say that he and his frat brothers were so inspired By the Great Devil Makeover that they were going to go out and find a succubus and attempt to rehabilitate her and that they challenged other fraternities to do the same. Dan winced, and started adding a disclaimer every ten or fifteen minutes reminding listeners that the radio station could not guarantee the safety of the Great Devil Makeover project and advised others to follow caution and common sense if following its example.

  His warnings didn't seem to slow anyone down. Sororities began calling in to say they'd found imps and gargoyles and were adopting them. Churches called in to respond to the challenge the first church had raised. A local chapter of the Girl Scouts adopted a swarm of gremlins, and the Raleigh branch of the Daughters of die Confederacy decided to make a project out of a fallen angel.

  Every once in a while, someone would call in to tell Dan he was leading Raleigh into perdition. Dan cheerfully told those callers Raleigh was right in the middle of perdition and he was just trying to dig it out.

  By the time Sandy came in, she had to fight her way through a picket line of Mothers Against Unchained Devils and elbow her way past a thicket of television cameras from stations in Charlotte, High Point, Fayetteville, and Wilmington.

  "Oh, babe, it's Hell out there," she said and grinned.

  Dan leaned back in his chair, enjoying the silence while the advertisements ran, and grinned back at her. "They're listening," he said.

  "Are they ever." Sandy flopped into her own seat and took a sip of her coffee. "Somebody's draped banners across the street that say, 'Home of the Great Devil Makeover' and 'WKTU Believes' and 'St. Dan for President' and... I don't know. Three or four other ones. M. A. U. D. is raising hell—they'll probably rip your clothes off when you go through the picket line."

  "Maybe I'll go out the back door."

  She raised an eyebrow. "That would be chickenshit of you. Your public awaits. Christ, I had people asking for my autograph as I was coming through the door, just because I work here. You gotta go through the front door, babe. They love you out there."

  "Except for M. A. U. D."

  Sandy pointed her index finger at him and fired an imaginary pistol. "You can handle the mommies. Go get 'em, Tex."

  Chapter 24

  Lucifer towered over Scumslag, radiating black flames and fury. "I thought you had things under control up there. I thought you were going to get the Devil's Point project online and increase my net in damnedsouls and cash. I didn't expect you to permit a situation to develop in which my fodder was actively trying to convert my employees."

  Scumslag grinned at him, unshaken. "Your Reeking Foulness, this plays into our hands. Which of the Hellraised do you think these humans have managed to catch?"

  Lucifer said nothing.

  "The ones I sent out there for them to catch, Your Awfulness. Every single one of our participants has a special mission—to see to the individual temptation and damnation of the person or persons who try to subvert him to the side of goodness." His grin grew broader. "Just think how much more we can do to them when they trust us, O Father of Lies. Think about how vulnerable they become when they welcome us into their homes and their lives, when they pity us, when they care about what happens to us."

  Lucifer arched an eyebrow and cut off the special effects. That black flame took a lot of energy. "So you planned this?"

  "Well, no... but I know how to take advantage of a situation when I find one."

  "So this is..."

  "Serendipity, I like to think."

  Lucifer studied the devil. "I'm inclined to give you enough rope to hang yourself, Scumslag. We can both take as a given the fact that if any of the Hellraised you've assigned to this project go over to the other side, I'll take it out of your hide. At the very least, I'll take it out of your hide. You should probably consider your fate to be less pleasant than that, if any of my little sinners should be so weak as to have a change of heart."

  Lucifer stretched his wings as he said that, and let his eyes glow red, and caused lightning to flash around his head, and made Hell tremble and crack.

  Scumslag, oblivious to the artistry of Lucifer's presentation, just bobbed his head like the small-town businessman he'd once been and said, "I understand, sir. And you can count on me."

  Chapter 25

  Dan picked up Puck and Fetch from the bank, got a report from Meg on the success of the meeting, gave her a quick kiss in passing, and left with devil and imp in tow. Puck had changed since morning. He had no horns at all, and his skin was beginning to smooth out. Now he looked like he'd had bad acne when he was younger, but not like he'd had scales the size of quarters the day before.

  The devil said, "What else do we have today?"

  "We don't. You've cut you
r spots and finished up the meeting, and those were the last two things on the agenda. How are you feeling?"

  The devil smiled and Dan saw genuine warmth in the smile. "Almost human again."

  Dan let them into his apartment and almost jumped out of his skin when he realized they weren't alone in there.

  His sister, sitting in his recliner, looked up from a copy of Jonathan Kellerman's Devil's Waltz. She held up the book and grinned. "Amazing how tempting these titles get if you live in North Carolina." She put the book down and got up. "I've been waiting for you."

  "Did the landlady let you in?"

  "Of course not. You gave me an extra set the last time you locked yourself out. Remember?"

  "Nope. I forgot." He looked around for his niece. "Where's Amy?"

  "With Mom." She glanced at Puck and a flash of puzzlement crossed her face. With a tentative smile, she said, "Hi. I'm Cynthia, Dan's sister."

  "Puck," the devil said. "Dan's experiment. And Fetch is... Dan, where's Fetch?"

  Dan looked around. "I thought he was with you."

  Puck frowned. "I smell... dog," he said, and Dan said, "Oh, no. My landlady had her door open when we came past." He flung the door open and ran out onto the landing, then plunged down the first flight of stairs, and careened into Mrs. Carte as she stood talking to her across-the-landing neighbor. "Your dog," he panted, and then the yipping started. And stopped.

  Fetch shot out of the doorway, his throat bulging, and launched himself upstairs.

  "Spit it out!" Dan shouted, and took off after him.

  "Poop-sie!" Mrs. Carte wailed, and came thundering up the metal stairs behind him. Dan could see his rent going up with every step the imp took.

  Puck, almost indistinguishable from a human, knelt by the imp, holding him upside-down. "Spit... it... out!" he said.

  The imp opened its mouth and a battered, sodden, disgusting piece of dog fell out.

  "Too late," Dan said, looking away.

  "Poopsie!" Mrs. Carte squealed, and the dog piece yipped.

  Dan turned to look. It wasn't just a piece of the dog. It was the whole dog, and it seemed to be fine. Swallow it again, Fetch, he thought, but he said, "Is he okay?"

  "Oh, poor widdle Poopsie, that mean ol' imp didn't eat you." She was holding the soggy rat and crooning at it; to Dan, the dog looked humiliated to be seen with its mistress. Dan sympathized. He had the sudden urge to see Fetch eat Mrs. Carte.

  She turned to Puck. "Thank you for saving my little doggie for me. My poor widdle Poopsie," she added in an aside to the dog. Then she moved up to Puck, her wide hips swinging, her eyelashes batting. "If there's ever anything I can do for you..." She smiled, and Dan shivered.

  Puck managed a polite nod. "I'll keep that in mind." He took a step back from her, and another, and a third. Dan thought he saw a flash of cold fear in the devil's eyes. He understood. Mrs. Carte in amorous mode scared the bejeezus out of him, too. They hurried back into his apartment, this time with Fetch in tow. Dan closed and locked the door and leaned against it. "Sorry, Cyn. Things have been kind of unsettled lately."

  Cyn nodded. "I can see that." She turned her attention to the devil. "You're Puck. The one I've been hearing about on the radio? But you don't look like a devil."

  "He's changed," Dan said.

  "I've changed." Puck shook his head, his bemusement apparent in his cockeyed smile. "I can't believe how much I've changed."

  Cyn walked over to him, held out her hand, and when he shook it, said, "Good luck, Puck. I've been rooting for you."

  Dan hugged his sister. "Did you know it's generally considered tacky to break into people's houses? I should have you arrested."

  She laughed. "And you know what? When I walked in here, I thought I really had broken in to a stranger's home. This is your place? I almost turned back around and walked out."

  "Thanks a lot. It wasn't that bad before."

  "Maybe not, but it's never been this good. And when did you get new carpet? And how did you talk that termagant into springing for that... and new paint?"

  "Imps could put professional cleaners out of business," Dan said. "The carpet and paint are the same as the last time you were here. The imp just cleaned and fixed them."

  Cynthia looked around the room, slowly taking in the changes. "How much does he charge? Amy crayoned all over her bedroom wall and in spite of 'Hints from Heloise' and an entire library of 'You-Too-Can-Have-A-Spotless-House' books, I can't get those marks off."

  "I'll bring him by," Puck said. "I need to keep him in shape."

  Dan stuck his hands in his pockets and studied his sister. "I can't believe you just dropped by for a visit without any ulterior motive."

  "Moi?" She made innocent eyes at him.

  "Vous."

  She sighed. "Would you believe that I came over to harass you further about attending Amy's party?"

  "No."

  "You're entirely too smart to be an older brother." She shrugged and the grin on her face vanished. "I'm worried about Mom and Dad."

  Dan's neck tensed. "Mom was in a great mood the last time I talked to her. And I'm sure Arthur will be fine."

  "Probably. If he can survive you, he can deal with anything."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Oh, come on! You've been a pain to Dad ever since he and Mom got married. I think you got your nose out of joint when he took your place as the man of the house."

  Dan arched an eyebrow at her. "You become a therapist when I wasn't looking?" He saw her expression darken, though, and backed off. "Sorry. Why are you more worried now than yesterday?"

  "Dad said the president of Daltech stopped by this morning to talk to him, for no particular reason. He got the feeling that he's next on the list to go."

  "He thinks they're looking at him?"

  "Yes."

  Dan nodded. "Even if he loses his job, they'll be okay until he finds something else. They've been smart with their money. They have an IRA. They've been putting ten percent of every paycheck he gets into no-load mutual funds, and they've been reinvesting the dividends. It would hurt their retirement fund some if they had to use part of that money now, but probably not all that much."

  "I didn't come for the Wall Street update," she said. She looked up at him, eyes concerned. "I think they could stand to know that you're worried about them, too. Both of them. Not just Mom."

  Dan nodded. She was right. He didn't need to stay away when Arthur was home. He needed to go by and visit and let them know he would do whatever he could to help out. His differences with Arthur—and Arthur's differences with him—would have to disappear. At least for a while. "I'll find some time to stop by."

  "Do it before he loses his job."

  "I know. I will."

  Chapter 26

  FRIDAY, JUNE 10TH

  Darlene waved Dan to a stop as he was on his way out of the studio the next afternoon.

  "What's up?"

  Darlene grinned and handed him a stack of front pages. "I like the ones of Puck with the actress," she said. "Look."

  The pictures flattered Janna, and Janna's presence did a lot to make Puck more palatable. Puck trying on clothes, Puck standing in a bakery, Puck grinning in a barber's chair—all of those became slightly more newsworthy, and considerably more front pageworthy, with beautiful, smiling Janna at his side.

  "How did you get her involved in this?" Darlene asked.

  Dan didn't bother to mention that the two of them were dating. He just smiled and said, "Actually, she called me."

  "Ooh-la-la."

  "They're good pictures," he said.

  "You can keep them. We have quite a stack. Charlotte News and Observer did the biggest story." She smiled an evil smile. "But they spelled your name wrong."

  He started to take the front pages, but she said, "Don't go yet. That's not all." She lugged a mail sack out from under her desk. "You have fans," she said. "I'd be careful opening the ones addressed to 'Asshole, WKTU.'"

  Dan rais
ed an eyebrow. "Those would be for Bernie." He paused. "There really are letters to Asshole?"

  "If you don't believe me, see for yourself."

  Dan reached in and fished out a handful of letters. Some had return addresses, some didn't. The ones that didn't, he realized quickly, tended to be addressed to "The Human Hellspawn" or "Devil Dan" or, as Darlene had said, just "Asshole." He dropped the handful of letters back in the bag and frowned. "I can't believe the post office delivered those."

  "It isn't their job to censor your mail for you. For all the post office knows, you had your name legally changed to Asshole. I mean, people have done stupider things." She gave him a saccharine smile and went back to her desk.

  "Thanks, Darlene. Your support means so much."

  She laughed and winked at him.

  The weather had turned horrendous. The temperature on the bank sign read 104.3, and with the high humidity, it felt like twice that. A mad sun beat down out of a white-hot, merciless sky in which not even the smallest of clouds survived, and it melted tar on the road and set up shimmering mirages that reflected from the pavement, from the trunks of cars ahead of him in traffic, from sidewalks. The air conditioner in the Mustang wasn't working, and driving with the windows open felt like sitting in front of a blast furnace.

  When he got home, he found Meg in her car, which she'd parked under a cluster of dogwoods. She had the seat tilted back, eyes closed, air conditioner running. He rapped on the window.

  She opened her eyes and smiled at him. She had a pretty smile. It lighted up her ordinary face, and made her almost radiant. She swung the car door open and slid out. "Hi, you."

  "Hi, yourself. You take off early?"

  "I figured that since I had good news, I should. Besides, today was a slow day. I only had two clients scheduled and one of them canceled out on me at the last minute. She decided she didn't want that divorce after all, I guess."