Meg Cabot - Prom Nights from Hell

Red fire smoldered in Sheba's eyes at the memory. "Almost."

"You handled it better than most. You're one of the very worst working misery right now, you know."

Flattery again? Sheba stiffened.

Jezebel twisted her mists up with a finger, and then circled that finger so that the mists drew a smoky orb against the night sky.

"There's a bigger picture, though, Sheba. Demons like Lilith can't see past the evil at hand. But there's a whole world out there, full of humans making millions of decisions every minute of the day and night. We can only be there to sway a fraction of those decisions. And sometimes, well, from where I'm standing, it feels like the angels are getting ahead…"

"But, Jezebel!" Sheba gasped, shock breaking through her suspicion. "We're winning. Just watch the news-it's obvious we're winning."

"I know, I know. But even with all the wars and destruction… it's odd, Sheba. There's still an awful lot of happiness out there. For every mugging I turn into a homicide, across town some angel has a bystander jumping another mugger to save the day. Or convincing the mugger to give up his wicked ways! Ugh. We're losing ground."

"But the angels are weak, Jezebel. Everyone knows that. They're so full of love that they can't concentrate. Half the time the stupid birdbrains fall in love with a human and trade their wings for a human body. Though why even an idiot angel would want this!" Sheba scowled down the length of her human form. So limiting. "I've never really understood the point of having to wear these around for half a millennium. I guess it's probably just to torture us, isn't it? The dark lords must enjoy watching us squirm."

"It's more than that. It's to make you really hate them. The humans, I mean."

Sheba stared at her. "Why would I need a reason? Hate is what I do."

"It happens, you know," Jezebel said slowly. "The angels aren't the only ones to give it all up. There are demons who've traded their horns for a human."

"No!" Sheba's eyes widened, then narrowed in disbelief. "You're exaggerating. Now and then a demon shacks up with a human, but it's just to torment them. Just a bit of malicious fun."

Jezebel winced, swishing her mists into figure eights, but she didn't argue back. That's what made Sheba realize she was serious.

Sheba swallowed hard. "Wow."

She couldn't imagine that. Taking all this delicious evil and throwing it away. Giving up a hard-earned pair of horns-horns that Sheba would destroy anything to have right now-and getting stuck with a weak, fully mortal body in return.

Sheba eyed Jezebel's glistening onyx horns and frowned. "I don't understand how anyone could do that."

"Remember what you said about the angels? Getting distracted by love?" Jezebel asked. "Well, hate can be a distraction, too. Look at Lilith and her spiteful good deeds. Maybe it starts out with sticking it to the lesser demons, but who knows where it will lead? Virtue corrupts."

"I can't believe a few tricks against another demon could make you as stupid as a birdbrain," Sheba mumbled under her breath.

"Sheba, don't underestimate the angels," Jezebel chastised. "You don't mess with them-you hear? Even a strong middle demon like me knows better than to lock horns with the feather-backs. They steer clear of us, and we steer clear of them. Let the Demon Lords deal with the angels."

"I know that, Jezebel. I wasn't spawned this decade."

"Sorry. I'm being helpful again." She shuddered. "I just get so frustrated sometimes! Goodness and light on every side!"

Sheba shook her head. "I don't see that. Misery is everywhere."

"Happiness is, too, sis. It's all over the place," Jezebel said sadly.

It was silent for a long moment as Jezebel's words lingered in the air. The sticky breeze washed across Sheba's skin. Miami was no hell, but it was comfortable at least.

"Not at my prom!" Sheba retorted with sudden fierceness.

Jezebel smiled widely-her teeth were black as the night sky. "That's just it-that's why I'm being so un-damnedly helpful. Because we need demonesses like you out there. We need the worst we can get on the front lines. Let the Liliths of the underworld mess around with petty tricks. Get me the Shebas on my side. Get me a thousand Shebas. We'll win this fight once and for all."

Sheba considered that for a moment, weighing the fierce purpose in Jezebel's voice. "That's evil in such a strange way. It almost sounds like good."

"Twisted, I know."

They laughed together for the first time.

"Well, get back in there and destroy that prom."

"I'm on it. Go to hell, Jezebel."

"Thanks, Sheeb. Back at you."

Jezebel winked once, and then smiled wider until the black of her teeth seemed to envelop her entire face. She evaporated into the night.

Sheba lingered in the dirty alley until the alluring scent of brimstone had faded away entirely, and then break time was over. Invigorated by the idea of joining the front lines, Sheba hurried back to her misery.

The prom was in full swing, and everything was falling into place.

Celeste was scoring high in her malicious game; she awarded herself a point for every girl who cried in a dark corner of the ballroom. Two points for every boy who threw a punch at a rival.

All over the room, the seeds Sheba had planted were flowering. Hate was blooming alongside lust and rage and despair. A garden straight from hell.

Sheba enjoyed it all from behind a potted palm.

No, she couldn't force the humans to do anything. They had their innate free will, and so she could only tempt, could only suggest. Little things-high heels and seams and minor muscle groups-she could manipulate physically, but she could never force their minds. They had to choose to listen. And tonight, they were listening.

Sheba was on a roll, and she didn't want any loose ends, so before she turned back to her most ambitious scheme-Cooper was pliant with intoxication now, ready for her direction-she sent her thoughts searching through the crowd for those small, annoying bubbles of happiness.

No one was walking away from this prom unscathed. Not while Sheba had a spark in her body.

Over there-what was this? Bryan Walker and Clara Hurst were staring dreamily into each other's eyes, totally oblivious to the wrath and despair and bad music surrounding them, just enjoying each other's company.

Sheba considered her options and decided to have Celeste interfere. Celeste should enjoy that-nothing was more evilly fun than flaunting your power right in the face of a pure romance. Besides, Celeste listened to every suggestion Sheba fed her, entirely agreeable to any demonic scheme.

Sheba continued with her evaluation before acting.

Not too far away, Sheba found that she'd dropped the ball in an inexcusable fashion. Was that her own date, Logan, actually enjoying himself? Impossible. So, he'd found his Libby after all and they were both unacceptably happy. Well, that would be easy enough to rectify. She'd go reclaim her partner and send Libby running away in tears. Amateur and crude to intervene bodily… Still, better that than let happiness win even one small battle.

Sheba's assessment was almost done. There was just one more tiny pocket of peace-not a couple this time; it was a lone boy wandering into the far end of the room from the hall. That annoying Gabe Christensen.

Sheba scowled in his direction. What did he have to be happy about? He was rejected and alone. His date was the scourge of the prom. A normal boy would be full of rage or pain right now. But he insisted on making more work for her!

Sheba inspected Gabe's mind more closely. Hmm. Gabe wasn't really happy. In fact, he was worrying intensely at the moment, searching for someone. Celeste was quite clearly in his view, writhing to a slow song with Rob Carlton (Pamela Green watched the display with shocked eyes, despair leaking deliciously into the air around her), but she wasn't the source of Gabe's worry. There was someone else he wanted to find.