Fashionably Dead Down Under (22 page)

“Wait,” I gasped. A chill shook my body and
nausea overcame me.

“Mommy?” My little Demons poked their heads
out of my pockets in distress.

“General, I need to see my mother.” Need was
correct. I didn’t want to see her. I wasn’t even sure I could
handle seeing her, but the pitiable small child that still lived
somewhere inside me wanted to try to make amends. Again.

“Now is not the time, child. There are things
above that must be reckoned with before it’s too late. I promise I
will bring you back.”

My eyes filled with tears, not because I
couldn’t see my mother . . . No. I was so relieved that I’d been
forbidden for the moment I was embarrassed. After what I’d already
done I had no clue if I was strong enough to face her. Covering my
face with my hands, I tried to hold back the waterworks.

“It’s good to cry,” Bambi cooed sweetly.
“It’s never smart to face all your Demons in one day, dear. Too
hard on the digestive system.”

“I thought you were a vegetarian,” I
blubbered through my tears.

“Oh, dear Satan.” She giggled and rocked her
head from left to right. “Too much stress can give you gas. It’s
not lady-like to fart up a storm.”

The laugh burst from my lips and my tears
were now from joyous disbelief and disgust. I had no clue if she
was serious or trying to cheer me up. I didn’t care, but made a
mental note to stay clear of her bottom in taxing situations.

***

The poker room was filled with Demons. The
tension was thick and ominous and the eight guards had been joined
by at least twenty more, but that wasn’t the interesting part. No,
the interesting part was the show in the center of the room. The
large ornate table had been tossed to the side of the room leaving
a gaping hole in the plaster. Ethan held Lust by her throat with a
dagger pointed at her heart. Satan stood back with his arms crossed
over his massive chest looking highly displeased. Lust was babbling
and crying. It was clear I’d missed all the fun.

Hemingway and Mister Rogers were no longer
present, but Dante stood in the corner behind Greed, enjoying the
potential bloodbath immensely.

“I leave for ten minutes and come back to
find
this
?” Satan bellowed.

“My liege, let me destroy him,” Satan’s
second, Cole said, clearly ready to make good on his threat.

“Not quite yet,” Satan replied. “I hate to
sully the house. Would you care to explain, Vampyre?”

Ethan’s eyes slid casually to the Devil. “Not
particularly,” he answered smoothly. The smile on his lips didn’t
reach his eyes. “Why don’t you ask your daughter?”

“I find that she has a tendency to lie. I’d
much prefer to hear why you think it’s an appropriate idea to gut a
Sin in Hell.”

Satan stood as still as a statue and waited.
Ethan matched his calm. The dagger was a mere thought away from
Lust’s black heart. My instinct was to reveal myself, but I’d
promised the General I’d listen. Fuck, that was a stupid pact, but
I was well aware the Hounds, who had disappeared as soon as we were
couched up from the portal, didn’t give unwise advice. I simply
wasn’t sure how long I could follow it.

“She tried to kill me,” Lust choked out. Her
lovely face turned mottled red as she struggled for air. “She beat
me. She’s jealous and unstable. Told me she’d turn me into a
Vampyre.”

WTF? Did she really think anyone would
believe that pile of shit? She was a thousand year old Demon and I
was a newbie half-breed. Only my curiosity kept me from unveiling
myself and plunging the knife through her heart. I wondered if the
blade could actually kill her.

“Vampyre, you do realize that if you slay my
child, you have signed your permanent death sentence.”

“Beelzebub, you do realize if she has killed
my mate that my life means nothing. Your threat holds no weight,”
Ethan ground out and tightened his hand on her throat.

“I have to agree that my daughter’s story has
a few holes,” Satan said agreeably, as if he was discussing
something as mundane as the weather. “Let her go and we shall get
to the bottom of this.”

Ethan laughed. “I am nowhere near as old as
you, but if you take me for an ass, you are gravely mistaken.”

“I do enjoy a man with a death wish.” Satan
grinned and took a seat. “So how shall we solve this little
dilemma?”

“Have your spawn tell me what she has done
with my mate.”

“Do you plan to kill her when she submits to
your demands?” Satan inquired, completely intrigued and bizarrely
excited with the unfolding events.

“Depends,” Ethan winked and Satan roared with
laughter.

“I hate you, Daddy,” Lust spat.

“Well now, that’s just rude,” he said and
tsked. “Address the Vampyre’s concerns and I might let you get away
with whatever you’ve done this time.”

“I told you she . . . ”

“I am well aware of what you told me,” Satan
said in an icy cold voice that made everyone in the room cower.
“Now tell me what really happened.”

“She hasss wha was mun.” Her voice was ragged
and she was difficult to understand. Ethan had obviously increased
the pressure on her throat.

“Vampyre, could you let up just slightly on
the trachea so we could understand her?”

“The Vampyre is mine,” she gasped as she took
in air. “She had what was mine and I pushed her to the Basement.
She’s dead by now.” Lust smiled with smug satisfaction and tried to
snuggle close to Ethan. OMG, she was insane and I was done
hiding.

“I call bullshit,” the Devil said, rolling
his eyes. “This is utterly embarrassing. Lust, you are infantile. I
suppose it’s partially my fault for spoiling you and your sisters,
but . . . ”

“Amen,” Amanda the consort muttered.

The Devil whipped around so quickly the room
temperature dipped. “I have had enough of your unacceptable
sacrilegious pro-Christian narration, darling. Remove her.
Now.”

Three of the guards dragged a mortified
Amanda from the room. No one made a move to comfort her or even
acknowledged her rough departure with a glance. “Now, where was
I?”

“Call your mother in,” Ethan demanded,
changing tactics. My man was smart. Gigi loved me and she would not
be pleased.

My uncle blanched and grabbed the back of the
chair for purchase. Everyone in the room paled and glanced around
in terror.

“You have no idea what you ask,” Satan
hissed.

“Oh, but I do. Astrid found her quite
delightful and I’m sure she’d have something to say about her
disappearance. I’d be happy to call her myself.” Ethan’s smile now
reached his eyes. Damn, he was hot when he got going. Hell, he was
hot no matter what.

Damnit, I’d learned nothing I didn’t already
know yet . . . Ethan was hot, Lust was a lying sack of shit, Amanda
was stupid and everyone was afraid of Mother Nature. It was
difficult, but I stayed cloaked.

“Where is Astrid, Lust?” Satan demanded.
“This grows tiresome and I have no intention of losing another home
because my mother gets called in.”

“The Basement,” she said with glee.

“Son of a bitch,” Satan roared and the walls
trembled violently. Lust used the split second of chaos to get away
from Ethan and began to chant a spell in the room that was going to
be a doozy.

My turn.

Deciding that a grand entrance was in order,
I created a tornado—a small but vicious little bastard. My Baby
Demons bounced with glee in my pockets. The goal of the mini
cyclone was to knock the smug out of Lust. Icy white and black
crystals formed in the air and the wind started at a violent speed.
Satan clapped his hands with delight and stood up. He put his hands
up the way a child would on a roller coaster. He was fucking nuts.
The rest of the Demons flew all over the room. The only immortals
that stayed planted on the ground besides Satan were Ethan, Wrath
and Dixie. I hadn’t realized my sweet cousin had returned. I had no
time to contemplate the makeup of the group left standing. I had
more important things to do.

The screams and grunts were music to my ears,
especially those of Lust. I flipped her and slammed her body
against each of the walls. Her body flew like a rag doll around the
room and I made sure her head connected with the massive silver
chandelier as many times as possible. I knew she’d live . . . my
purpose was not to kill, just to teach a little lesson. Most of the
Demons had fallen to the floor and taken cover. This made me happy.
I had no grudge with them. Lust shrieked and tried to use her magic
to steady herself, but she was no match for a pissed off pregnant
chick.

“Alright, Astrid,” Satan yelled over the
howling wind. “That’s enough.”

Wait. What? How did he know that was me? I
was still invisible . . .

“Show yourself,” he demanded.

I let the wind die down and revealed myself.
The gasps of the windblown crowd made me think I’d lost my dress in
the melee. Nope, still clothed. I held my ground and waited for my
uncle to unleash his displeasure on me . . . or worse.

“I didn’t try to kill her,” I said calmly and
felt Ethan at my side. His relief was palpable. “She attacked me
and pushed me to the Basement.”

“I did not, you bitch,” she hissed as she
tried to crawl to her feet. “You took what was mine and I punished
you, which was my right.”

“Can it, Lust,” Lucifer snapped, examining me
with wonder. “You are simply delectable.”

“Back off,” Ethan growled.

Satan stopped, clearly alarmed and impressed
with Ethan’s total lack of respect for him. “Not in that way,” he
assured my mate. “I may have no morals, but family is off
limits.”

“Good to know,” I quipped. “Now about Psycho
over there . . . ”

“Yes, she’ll be taken care of,” he promised
and tiredly ran his hand through his hair. “I shall see to her
punishment myself.”

That shut the entire room up, including Lust.
Her bravado had disappeared and was replaced by naked fear. Wanting
no information on what he might have planned, I nodded and accepted
his offer.

“I want to go home,” I said.

Satan considered me thoughtfully for a
moment. He glanced around the room at the damage I’d done and
winced. “At this very moment I’m tempted to send the both of you
home, but I have a proposition. It shall wait till the morning. I’m
quite worn out from all the excitement and I’m not used to losing
at poker. I shall retire and see you in the morning.” On that note
he disappeared taking everyone in the room with him except for
Ethan, myself, Dixie and Wrath.

“Holy shit, that was one hell of a trick,” I
muttered looking around for everyone.

“He does like to dazzle,” Wrath said. “That
was an impressive display. Congratulations and nice hair.” With a
slight movement of her delicate hands, she disappeared in glitter
and smoke leaving the man I loved and the only Demon I trusted in
Hell.

“What’s wrong with my hair?” I asked.

Dixie looked uncomfortable and Ethan bit down
on his lip. Was I bald? I grabbed my head and felt hair. Thank you
sweet Cousin Jesus in a tube top, it was still there.

“It’s blood red,” Dixie whispered reverently.
“It’s beautiful.”

“What?” I shouted, grabbing a fistful and
bringing the long wild locks eye level. Motherfucker, it was
red—fiery blood red. I was not in the mood for this. I would have
never conjured up anything in the pink or red family to wear if I’d
known my freakin’ hair was crayon red. I must look ridiculous.
Forget the fact that I’d just created an indoor storm and bounced
Demons around the room like they were balls, I had horrific hair.
The streaks were one thing, but my whole head . . . “Oh my God,
this is awful. Are there salons in Hell?”

“Um . . . yes,” Dixie stuttered, “but I’m
pretty sure that’s not going to help.”

“This is unacceptable,” I yelled. “I am
wearing pink. I look like a walking fashion disaster.”

“You are exquisite,” Ethan murmured in my ear
and I shivered. He took my hand and his eyes blazed green. “Dixie,
take us to our accommodations.”

“Will do.” She grinned and led us to her
car.

“Shut the fuck up,” I laughed. “Mister Rogers
won?”

“Indeed he did,” Ethan said, lying back on
the bed. “Satan’s face was priceless when Fred made his deal.”

It was all I could do to pay attention to the
conversation. Ethan was shirtless and edible and I was in a towel.
After washing my hair six times I gave up on the notion that the
heinous red might not be permanent. I chose to ignore Dixie’s
unacceptable prediction and had her schedule an appointment at a
salon. I crossed my legs and sat on my hands so I wouldn’t jump the
Adonis reclined on the bed. I really did want to know what had
happened.

“So he has to go to lunch with his brother
God and make nice?” I giggled as I pictured the scenario. Having
not met my Uncle God yet, I still imagined him as I had when I was
a child—long white beard, kind eyes and flowing robes.

“Mister Rogers will join them and Hemingway
finagled an invitation as well. He said he wouldn’t miss it for all
the bull fights in Spain.”

“Where will they meet?” I asked, wondering if
God would let his morally corrupt brother set foot in Heaven.

“Satan suggested a neutral territory, like
Earth, but Fred and Ernest are dead and that could cause a few
complications.” His grin of amusement sent the butterflies in my
stomach into a tizzy. No one had the right to be so pretty.

“Or a tabloid writer’s wet dream,” I
muttered.

“True . . . now you.”

“Now me what?” I asked, knowing full well
what he meant.

“Tell me.”

Did I want him to know what I had done? I
did, but I feared the consequences. Could I tell him without having
to speak? That might be stupid, but if he wanted me, then he had to
want me warts and all. If I was being honest, I was testing him . .
.