Hell Inc. by C. M. Stunich

tight-fitting, red sweater and black slacks,
considering the contents of my fridge. His wings protruded from two
slits in the back of the sweater, and I had to wonder how the heck he
had gotten them in there. I made myself a note to ask later.
    “You're
up early,” I mumbled, shuffling into the kitchen in my
slippers. Levie turned his head and gave me a look that spoke
volumes, horrible ones.
    “Do
you always present yourself in such a manner?” His gaze landed
on my hair then traveled down to my chest. At first, I thought he
was staring at my fraying pajamas, but when his gaze didn't continue
to my bunny slippers, I glanced down. Apparently during my sleep, my
top had come unbuttoned, and my breasts were pretty much entirely
exposed. Awesome. Maybe if I had had small boobs, they wouldn't
have attracted so much of his attention, but small was not a word
that I would use to describe them. More like double D. That was
more the word. I quickly wrapped my shirt around me and crossed my
arms to cover as much of the bumps as I could. Levie dismissed me as
if nothing at all had occurred and redirected his attention back to
the fridge.
    “Aren't
you going to say anything?” I snapped. “Like 'nice
ta-tas' or something?” Levie gave me a strange look and the
corner of his mouth twitched.
    “Is
that the kind of compliment that human women enjoy hearing? A demon
woman would remove my testicles were I to speak to her in such a
manner.” I stood there for a moment, considering. Well, I was
glad that he hadn't gawked or anything, but I didn't like being
dismissed like that. It kind of made them feel ... unimportant.
I didn't like that. Everyone loves big boobs, right?
    “Er,
I guess not.” I stood there, feeling like an idiot as the heat
rose to my cheeks, and I was sure my face was about as colorful as
the cherry Jell-O that had been sitting in my fridge since last
March. “I thought you didn't like human food?” I said,
trying to change the subject quickly. Levie spat at me. He actually
spat at me. Okay, not directly at me but in my direction.
    “I
don't exactly have much choice, now do I?” he asked me in a
quiet voice that reminded me of the sea before a storm. I hoped a
hurricane wasn't about to hit. “I'm to ... live ...
here with ... with you, and I hate humans. In
fact,” he snarled, the quiet giving away to a more raucous
anger. He leaned forward and breathed a breath of hot air against my
ear. In spite of myself, I shivered. “I despise them.”
He straightened abruptly and made a shooing motion with his hands.
“Go dress yourself, stupid girl. I can't handle looking at
your ugliness any longer.” I wanted to hit him but with the way
his wings were raised in a very aggressive stance, I decided against
it. I settled for name calling instead.
    “You,
my good sir, are an insensitive prick,” I said and then
hurried into the bathroom before he tried to kill me. What an
    asshole, I thought as I stared at myself in the mirror, my green
eyes reflecting the fluorescent light. He was a jerk, true, but
there was a quiet anger and a hurt behind his words that I just did
not get. Either he was being cryptic, or I was just dense. I
figured it was the former and brushed it off. Good practice, too,
since that wasn't all I was going to be brushing. My hair, which
usually hung just below my ears, was gathered into a tangled snarl
atop my head. “How does hair this short get tangled?” I
screamed at my reflection. I opened a drawer on the vanity and
attacked the mass of bright orange and black tresses.
    It was
slow going. Not good. When Ginger gets bored, she starts to muse.
My musings generally fell under the twin labels of depressing and
useless. I was twenty years old and although most people my age were
in college or getting married, I was still experimenting with colored
hair dye and playing video games. So my life was progressing slowly,
so what? I didn't