Chapter 44: Married Hell: Part 3
**Chapter 3: Kill Devil Hills**
**Lexi**
I didn't get the dosage right that last time. Am I losing my touch or is my inner demon, who once aided me, now failing me? At least I don't have to worry about them exhuming any bodies because I had all of my husbands cremated. However, there is one thing that I am certain of and that is that I won't marry again, at least not for a few years.
The past nine months flew by and my favorite holiday, Halloween, is here. I have decided to go to the town’s huge Spooktacular Bash. It is a costume party inside of the Whitmore Hotel they have converted into a huge haunted house. I am going as Akasha from Queen Of The Damned by Anne Rice. It is fitting because she wanted to rule Earth just as I wanted to rule men.
When I entered, the doormen dressed as armored guards informed me that every floor had a different theme and that the fallen angels running the elevators would guide my ascent or descent. This was already proving to be a more complex event than I had anticipated. I decided to start with a drink in the first-floor lounge. It was decked out as an apothecary shop. Bartenders dressed as witches and mad scientists meddled, brewed, shook, and stirred all sorts of drinks. I sipped on my very strong glowing drink as I walked around the perimeter of the room. My mind instantly slips into its old routine of searching for the next Mr. Wrong.
There are always millions of Mr. Wrongs but never a Mr. Right. Since my uncle and those boys in high school, I have yet to find a man worthy of keeping alive for more than a few months. They all devolve into drug addicts, alcoholics, or abusive assholes if they don't end up as a toxic combination. I like to think that I am doing the world a service by ridding the earth of such pestilence. After not finding anyone who intrigued me, I went into the elevator. A fallen angel greeted me, “Welcome, Queen Of The Damned. Would you like to find bliss or do you desire something darker?” he asked.
The old me would have chosen darkness because in it I can hide and I always find men deserving of death in that all-consuming night. But I am on hiatus because I refuse to go to prison for doing what society should have done. This world needs purging and I am one of its executioners. “Show me paradise,” I tell the dark angel. He grins and nods as he hits the button-marked penthouse. When the doors opened, I gasped. It was nothing like what I had read to describe heaven. There was no golden opulence or pearly white linens. Instead, it put me in mind of the Garden Of Eden.