Hell's Gate: Amelia by Crymsyn Hart Page A

Amelia sighed and wafted back to the stage. She gazed up at the ropes of Christmas lights that were wound through the pipes. To the left of the stage was a corded off area with manacles hung from the walls and ropes suspended from the ceiling. An array of whips and paddles dangled from hooks, waiting to be used. They all but begged to redden skin. Another area close to the stairs was where the men gathered to worship women’s feet. She didn’t understand the lure of men being attracted to feet, but she had witnessed men lick leather boots, suck on toes, and pet shoed women’s feet.
    “Hey, Lila, you want to get tied up tonight?”
    Amelia blinked. The club was full of people. She rolled her eyes. I hate it when that happens. I pay attention to something for a moment and time flies before I know it. I detest being a spook. She sighed and took in her surroundings. People were dressed in mostly black with heavy makeup painting their faces. Some were half naked. Women had their breasts hanging out covered with tape to conceal their nipples. The music shook the floor and even reached into her ghostly realm where she experienced the beat.
    Lila smiled when a tall, golden skinned man picked her up in his arms and kissed her deeply. Amelia was transfixed at the sight. It had been so long since she had felt the solidity of another person. It had been decades since she had experienced any kind of emotion. Her existence was stuck in the realm where the colors were wishy-washy and any kind of detail was lost to her unless she thought extremely hard. Seeing the bartender’s face light up when the man hugged her, Amelia felt a stab of loss. The only man she had ever loved had been gunned down trying to save her life. It hadn’t worked. Amelia never understood why Shawn moved on in the afterlife and she remained. Other ghosts she ran into said it was some unfinished business on her soul. Whatever that business was, she wished it would present itself.
    “Hey, I’ve been looking for you. Where’d you go?” Tig’s hand passed through her arm.
    “Sorry. I got distracted.” She shrugged. “Happens.”
    “Well, you’re here now. I have something for you.” He reached into his pocket and drew out a ring, a plain silver band.
    “Are you proposing to me?”
    He chuckled. “No. This ring will allow you to be solid, but only in the club. If you step outside these walls, the spell will cease and the ring will fall off your finger. So I suggest you don’t wander.” He held out the ring to her.
    Amelia reached for it and expected her fingers to move through it. However, she touched the circlet and felt the coolness of the metal on her fingertips. Shock raced through her. “How did you get this? Where did you get it? What will happen?”
    Tig smiled. “I know a witch who owed me a favor. She did say that it’d only work at night. So during the day you’re still a ghost and at night—”
    “Will I be alive?”
    “Not alive, but not truly dead. Somewhere in between. My friend didn’t say how long it would last, but it’s the best I can do.”
    Amelia’s hand shook while she slipped the ring over her finger. It fit perfectly. Once the metal settled on her flesh, a zap electrified all her nerve endings. The world snapped into place around her. Instead of the hollow echo of the music, she felt the intense pounding of the bass rattling her bones. Her heavy bones. She stared at her fingers and they were pale and pink. The fabric of her red dress was vibrant along with the red pumps she wore. The seams of her black fishnets were still firmly in place on the back of her legs. When she pulled up the hem of her skirt, her garters were even there. The most important thing was that she had feet. She stretched out her leg and felt the bend of her knee. The warmth of her flesh was something she hadn’t experienced in the eighty-five years since she had died. The elastic of her muscles and hardness of her bones was something she exalted in.