Fashionably Dead Down Under (18 page)

“Swear.”

“Be right there, Dixie,” I yelled. Making
sure Ethan was as covered as he could be with his ripped pants, I
pushed him down on the chair and slapped a throw pillow over his
enormous erection. Giving him a wink and flashing him my boobs, I
open the door.

“Astrid, are you okay?” Dixie burst in the
room and checked me over from head to toe.

“I’m good.”

“Daddy told me you’d been to the waiting area
and some trouble went down. Did someone hurt you or try to force
you to a lower level? Tell me what they looked like and I’ll have
them banished to the Basement. I’d like to destroy them if they
hurt you, but you do look fine. Maybe a little flushed, but
fine.”

“Dixie, I . . . ”

“I know I’m not supposed to actually kill
anyone, but I swear to Uncle God, I’d do it if you’d been harmed. I
promise I won’t leave you again—not even for a moment while you’re
here. I’ll keep my back turned in the bathroom, or we can just pee
with the door open.”

“I’m a Vamp. I don’t actually do that.”

“Right. Vamps don’t pee. I forgot. Wow,
that’s got to be convenient on long car rides. Anyhoo, I’ll still
be here and just turn away when you need some privacy. Damn, if I
had my power I could shapeshift into a dog or something cool like
that, but my magic hasn’t come in all the way yet.”

“Dixie, are you through?” I asked, worn out
by her diatribe and touched by her concern.

She bit her pretty lip and thought for a
moment. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“I went to the waiting area with General
George and Bambi. I sensed that my Baby Demons had gone there. The
Hell Hounds were amazing and I found not only my little monsters,
but also my mate.”

“You found a mate in the waiting room of
Hell?” she asked doubtfully.

“Um, no. I found
my mate
from my life
on Earth. He was chained and being tortured by your . . . some
Demons.”

“No,” she gasped. “I certainly hoped you
killed them.”

For someone who didn’t kill, she was awfully
bloodthirsty.

“No, not that I didn’t want to,” I said,
remembering Lust slinking all over Ethan’s bound body. “No, I’ll
take care of his torturer in a more creative and painful way.”

“Good,” she nodded with approval.
If she
only knew.

“Your offer to be my protector is lovely, but
I do have my mate and he’s a badass mofo.”

“But he’s only a Vampyre and their magic
doesn’t work here,” she said.

“I beg to differ,” Ethan said from the
couch.

“Oh Hell,” Dixie shrieked and jumped behind
me. Peeking out, she grinned sheepishly and waved. “Guess I would
have made a crappy bodyguard . . . ”

“You make a better cousin,” I teased, then
took her hand and drew her over to the couch. “Dixie, this is my
mate Ethan.”

“Nice to meet you,” she whispered, clearly
awestruck by his beauty.

“Nice to meet you too.” He grinned and she
blushed. I even felt myself swoon under the spell of his wicked
smile. “I want to thank you for being good to Astrid and my child.
It will not be forgotten.”

“You’re the father of the Baby Demons?” Dixie
sputtered. “Astrid, I had no idea that you’d given birth to those
little cuties. I thought you found them. I guess it’s kind of odd
that you have three-inch kids, but maybe that’s because you mated
with a Vampyre. I’m kind of shocked you can have kids since you’re
dead and all . . . but I think it’s great that you don’t make them
feel bad or inferior, not that you would . . . Oh my Hell, they
actually ate their own grandfather.” She turned a pale shade of
green when she put that theory together. In truth, she had put
nothing together, but she was talking so damned fast I couldn’t get
a word in edgewise.

“Done?” I asked.

“Um, sure.”

“I most certainly did not give birth to the
hooter obsessed Baby Demons,” I laughed. “They have about fifty to
sixty years on me and Vampyres have normal sized kids.” I glanced
over at Ethan for confirmation on this and he shrugged his
shoulders. WTF? I was aware that Vampyres didn’t normally have
babies, but he didn’t have to be an unsupportive dick about it. Now
I was going to worry that I’d be blowing out an alien until the big
day arrived. “Whatever,” I huffed, and gave him the evil eye. He
was going to be working those blue balls for a while. “Dixie, I’m
pregnant now. It’s a boy.”

“When are you due?” Her body tensed with
excitement. “I’ll be coming to Earth in six months. Maybe I’ll be
there for the birth! I can babysit for you.”

Did all immortals consider themselves good
babysitters? Dixie was a vast improvement over Gigi, but . . .

“I met Grandma.”

“No way.” She backed herself up to the wall
and scanned the room nervously.

“Yep. She wants to be called Gigi. Grandma
makes her feel old. She’s planning on taking up knitting and pole
dancing and I suggested that she might want to try some meds.”

“And you’re still alive?”

“As a dead person can be. She offered to
babysit too.”

“Oh . . . um, I’m not sure you want to do
that,” she hedged. “Grand, um, Gigi is fucking insane,” she said in
a rush and then slapped her hand over her mouth in terror.

I laughed, but checked the room as well.
Another visit would be one too many at the moment. “She took
Grandpa home with her. For a week.”

“That will be loud.” Dixie giggled and rolled
her eyes.

“Yep,” I agreed. “So will you play poker
tonight?

“No, normally I watch, but I’m meeting some
friends.” She picked very seriously at her nails as a slow blush
travelled up her neck and landed squarely on her lovely cheeks.

“Friends?”

“Well, um . . . a friend, but my dad doesn’t
know and I . . . ”

“Secret’s safe with me,” I told her,
grinning.

She glanced over at Ethan. “My lips are
sealed.”

“Thanks.”

“When do we have to be there?” I asked as I
waded through the piles of clothes. Satan had thought of
everything. There were undergarments as well as casual clothes
mixed in with the formal wear. So much for going commando . . .

“In an hour. Go ahead and change and I’ll be
over to pick you up in forty-five.”

I peeked over at Ethan as Dixie raced out.
His grimace of pain made me smile. “No time for nookie,” I purred.
I need to shower and daydream about our three-headed, four-armed
baby.”

“Our son will be perfect,” he growled as he
tried to stand, only to hunch forward due to his unsatisfied
hard-on. “I’m letting you play this little game, Angel, but the
consequences will be devastating.”

“Promises, promises.” I laughed as he chased
me to the bathroom. I couldn’t wait to get back here tonight. I was
going to ride him till he was blind.

The poker room was brightly lit, but the
ambiance was anything but friendly. It was as overly opulent as the
other parts of the palace that I’d visited. Highly glossed marble
covered the floors and rich brocades and velvets covered the
furniture and walls. The focal point was the table in the middle of
the room—a heavy mahogany top with carved and bloodied headless
cherubs holding it up.
Nice
. The dark atmosphere was in
direct conflict with Steven Perry’s voice belting out
Open
Arms
. Ethan gave me the silent raised eyebrow and I shrugged
and giggled. I’d forgotten to tell him about my uncle’s Journey
obsession.

I recognized Hemingway immediately. He sat
silently at the table nursing a martini. His demeanor didn’t invite
chit-chat, so I kept my distance. A pompous, sullen looking man
lounged on a furry black chaise lounge in the corner—had to be
Dante. He was clearly pouting about something, but in ironic
contrast, he sang along with the music.

Assuming Satan would make an entrance, I
wasn’t surprised he hadn’t shown up yet. Neither had Mother Teresa
. . . but Mister Rogers had. WTF?
Mister Rogers shouldn’t be
playing poker in Hell with Satan. He should be feeding fish and
making new neighbors in Heaven
. Did he even realize where he
was?

“Ethan,” I whispered. “That’s Mister
Rogers.”

“Mister who?”

“Mister Fucking Rogers,” I hissed, covertly
nodding my head in his direction. He was wearing the cardigan and
everything.

“His first name is Fucking?” my mate asked
with a smirk.

“No. His first name is Fred and I can’t
believe he’s here. I love him.”

Ethan glanced over at Fred and waved. Fred
smiled and waved back, then proceeded to change from his dress
shoes into some tennis shoes.

“No one will believe this,” I muttered.

As I gaped at my childhood idol, eight Demons
entered the room and placed themselves in strategic areas.
Interesting. Ethan’s body tensed and for the umpteenth time since I
arrived in Hell I wished I was armed.

“
How much of a handle do you have on your
power
?” Ethan telepathically asked as he sized up the
Demons.

“
Why? Do you think I’m going to need
it
?”

“
Unclear at the moment, but I’m assessing
our arsenal
.”

“
Apparently I have an assload of power. I
need to get angry to use it and I’m not real sure how to control
it.
”

“
Outstanding.
”

“
Sarcasm will not get you laid
.”

Ethan’s mega watt smile made my knees turn to
jelly. He’d get laid no matter what . . . and he knew it.

“
I’d be surprised if Satan wants violence
in his own home, but stranger things have happened,
” he
said.

The poker quintet appeared to be Ethan, Mr.
Rogers, Hemingway, Dante and the Devil. The Demons were the
bodyguards and Dixie’s therapy group was the staff. Wait. What?
Carl, Janet and Myrtle were circling the room with trays of hor
d’oeuvres.

“You look lovely, Miss Astrid,” Janet
tittered, complimenting the tight red Prada halter dress I wore.
“Would you care for a Soy-Pig-in-the-Blanket?”

“I’m sorry, what?” I asked, taking a closer
look at the tray. Sure enough it was loaded with little pastry
covered cocktail weenies. “Satan likes tiny hot dogs?”

“Oh yes, but the fake meat kind. He also
likes Velveeta cheese dip and s’mores. I think Carl is serving the
dip and Myrtle is passing around the s’mores,” she chirped happily
and popped a soy weenie in her mouth.

“Wow.” I stopped there, swallowing all the
other things that came to mind.

“Want one? They’re the bomb,” she explained
with her mouth full.

“Um, no. I don’t eat food.”

“Right,” she said, mortified. “My goodness,
I’m so sorry.” In her nervousness, she shoved about six more mini
dogs into her mouth.

“No worries.” I gave her a quick squeeze and
a hearty slap on the back as she choked on her mound of weenies.
“So this is your job?”

“It is now.” She swallowed and stood up
straighter. “We’re living in the Dark Palace preparing to go to
Earth with Dixie in six months. Satan, my savior, wants us close so
he can monitor our progress.”

Satan, my savior
? Sweet Cousin Jesus
in a miniskirt, I needed to get the hell out of here soon. “Well,
that sounds awesome. You guys doing therapy anymore?”

“Definitely.” She nodded and popped a few
more weenies in her mouth. “We have a new therapist though. Oh my,
will you look at that?” She stared in shock at her serving tray.
“The weenies are gone. I need to get more from the kitchen before
the Devil gets here or there will be hell to pay.” She guffawed at
her pun and scurried away. I was tempted to tell her she’d eaten a
dozen in my presence alone, but that would be rude and I liked
her.

Dante refused food or drink, but Hemingway
was chowing down on the s’mores. Mister Rogers had brought his own
snack. He laid apples, peanut butter and carrots neatly on a plate
that he pulled from his pleather briefcase. Tucking a napkin into
the collar of his shirt, he dug in while Hemingway watched in
fascination.

“Are you for real, man?” Ernest bellowed at
Mister Rogers.

“Oh yes,” Fred replied kindly. “Would you
care for an apple? I may even have a protein bar in my bag.”

“No, no. The s’mores are just fine,” he
grumbled and shoved one whole s’more into his mouth to punctuate
his point. Fred just smiled and gave Hemingway a neighborly thumbs
up.

Surreal didn’t even begin to cover this
evening. There were six chairs at the table and I wondered if
Mother Teresa might still show up . . . Nope. That hope was dashed
when one of the uptight Demon guards removed the sixth chair and
took it from the room. The music pounding through the speakers
stopped abruptly and a hush went through the room. I stuck close to
Ethan for many reasons. He smelled amazing and I wasn’t sure which
one of us was stronger at the moment. There was no way in Hell or
anywhere else I would let anything happen to him. Ever.

“Please rise for the King of the Underworld,”
one of the guards grunted in a menacing voice.

Everyone did.

Satan’s entourage entered first; his second
in command Cole, looking very foreboding, followed by an overly
made up and scantily clad Amanda. I stared in wonder at her
repaired lips. I was certain they were bigger.

“
That’s Satan’s consort,
” I told
Ethan. “
She’s pregnant with his child and claims it’s a
boy
.”

“
Would a male child knock one of the Sins
out as the heir apparent
?”

“
No clue, but that could be a
clusterfuck
.” That really could be a clusterfuck . . .

“
That’s an understatement
.”

Speak of the Devil, pun intended, next came
the Sins—all seven of them. They were dressed in evening attire and
they were gorgeous. Lust in particular was striking. She glanced
over at us and her eyes rounded for a brief second in shock, then
narrowed to slits. I wanted to tear her ass apart. I knew that
wouldn’t go over too well at a party, so I decided bide my
time.