Fashionably Dead Down Under (33 page)

“No, it’s not what you think,” he said and
put his arm around me. The heat of his body was comforting and I
leaned in.

“Will we actually make it out of here alive?”
I asked.

“Yes. We will,” he answered. “Tonight if I
have anything to do with it.”

As much as I wanted to believe, I wasn’t so
sure. A promise was a promise. It didn’t matter that the Devil
didn’t keep his. I was my own person and my word was good. I would
find the Sword and I would leave.

“I’m glad you’re wearing the necklace,” he
whispered in my ear. “You will use it if you need it. Promise?”

“I promise.”

Again. God was so beautiful it was almost
impossible to look at him.

God and Satan entered the room together and
gasps went through the crowd. Angels and Demons alike were stunned
to silence by the sheer power and beauty that stood before them.
God was light to Satan’s dark, but the similarities were uncanny.
The mouths and noses and high cheekbones were almost identical. I
was surprised his eyes were the same golden as his brother’s. I
suppose I thought they would be blue. His hair was blond and he
wasn’t bearded and robed as I’d imagined as a child. Nope, he was
built like a brick shithouse, same as Satan. His appeal was far
less overtly sexual than his brother’s, but he was no less
mesmerizing.

Several women passed out and I noticed they
were of both Angel and Demon descent. The other Sins and Amanda
stood off to Satan’s side and several female Angels stood off of
God’s shoulder. I was hoping Cousin Jesus would come, but that
would have to wait for another time.

Mister Rogers and Hemingway went to my uncles
and paid their respects, then a line formed. God laughed at
something Mister Rogers said and it rang like a symphony and
bounced off the walls of the room. Satan rolled his eyes at the
rabid hysteria his brother was causing, but did his very best to
contain himself. Everyone wanted to meet God and everyone wanted a
picture.

“Holy shit, did you see that?” Ethan chuckled
and pointed to Satan making finger horns behind God’s head in a
series of photos. I burst out laughing and buried my face in
Ethan’s chest.

“Where did Grandpa go?” I asked as I watched
Satan pinch his nose and act as if God smelled bad in a new round
of pictures.

“He said he’d be back soon. He apparently
forgot something.”

“Should we get in line?” I asked.

“I don’t think we have to.”

“Why? We can’t cut because that would be
rude.”

“We don’t have to because they are coming to
us.”

“What? Oh, shit.”

He was correct. They were headed straight for
us and my knees were in danger of buckling. They made a brief pit
stop at Dixie. God studied her for several minutes and then took
her in his arms and gently hugged her. He seemed sad. It was odd
and made me uncomfortable . . . like I was intruding on something I
wasn’t supposed to see. She blushed and hugged him back. Satan
seemed bizarrely satisfied with this action. It appeared to mean
more than just a simple hug to him. I tucked that away for future
reference, but I was sure he would deflect.

My uncles approached me with a look of
determination on their faces. God’s gaze was gentle and filled with
curiosity and Satan’s was excited. A marching band quickly formed
in my stomach and began practice for the first time. They were off
key and they had no rhythm whatsoever.

God took my hand in his and led me to a
platform on the middle of the room. How had I not noticed this? The
three of us walked up seven steps and stood on top.

“Astrid, it is lovely to finally meet you,”
he said in a voice that filled every part of me with warmth and
light. “I have heard so much about you from your Guardian Angel Pam
and your nana.”

My lips trembled and my smile was shaky. I
had never been in a presence like his. I wanted to curl up at his
feet and simply listen to him breathe. “You look different than I
expected,” I said and then immediately backtracked. “I mean you
look great—better than great. I bet you have to beat the Angel
ladies off and . . . Oh my God . . . ” I slapped my hand over my
mouth and wanted to die. I just implied God was a player and then
took his name in vain while I was talking to him. Shitshitshit.

His laugh and the way his eyes crinkled with
amusement calmed me a bit, but not much. I decided to keep my trap
shut. I had no idea what might come out and I did not want to give
God a reason to smite me.

Everyone in the room was watching with
interest. The large doors to the hallway reopened and masses of
Angels and Demons piled in. What was happening? I searched for
Ethan, but he’d been swallowed up in the crowd.

“
Ethan, where are you
?” I asked
frantically.

“
I’m here, but your grandfather is being
mauled by your cousins, I’m trying to get him to safety. I’ll be
right back
.”

“
Okay
,” I said. “
But hurry . . .
it’s getting weird in here
.”

“
Tell me about it. I think they might have
broken his ribs
.”

Holy Hell, Grandpa’s cuteness was going to
get him killed one of these days.

“Attention everyone,” Satan bellowed. The
room of over five hundred quieted. “You have been called here from
both Heaven and Hell for a reason. We are here to celebrate the
next True Immortal.”

The crowd’s chatter grew and the yelling
began. I would have assumed it would be the Demons that would be
the rudest, but the Angels held their own.

“Prove it,” an Angel yelled.

“Why should we believe you?” a Demon shouted.
“You invited a filthy
Vampyre
to Hell.”

Alrighty then
. A chorus of “yeah” and
“purebloods rule” and “kill the Vampyre” assaulted my ears.

What in the hell was happening here? Clearly
I hadn’t gotten out much in Hell. I had no idea I was so popular .
. . And why in the fuck was I on a stage with Satan and God? I
tried to slink away. I didn’t want my presence to cause a brawl. As
I stepped back a strong hand grasped my arm and the chance for
escape was gone. It was God. He pulled me between himself and Satan
and held me fast.

“Do you see the good or the bad in people?”
he asked me quietly. Satan shot him an annoyed look, but God
ignored him.

“What are you talking about?” I asked,
bewildered.

“Just answer the question.” His grip on my
arm tightened and I realized Satan and Dixie and Grandpa were
right. There is no such thing as pure good or pure evil. Period.
Everything is gray and it’s all in the interpretation.

“I see both,” I told him. “Everyone has
both.”

“Everyone?” He raised his eyebrow and waited.
His beauty was distracting, but I’d grown tired of all the
beautiful without the substance to back it up. God may be full of
substance, but in this moment he was after something that
apparently I could provide.

“Yes.” I looked him in the eye so he would
know I was including him too. “Everyone.”

He threw back his head and laughed. He
reminded me so much of his brother in that moment, I laughed with
him. He nodded to Satan and Satan winked at me.

“You may know of the Sword of Death,” God
called out.

“It’s a myth,” someone yelled.

“Doesn’t exist.”

“It’s a joke,” another chimed in.

“Oh no,” God chided the audience. “It most
certainly exists.”

I shot Satan a glance. Did God not know it
was missing? How in the world could Satan look so freakin’ calm?
This was a clusterfuck waiting to happen . . . Was he about to
spring it on God in front of everyone? For real?

“Fred Rogers,” Satan said. “Step
forward.”

The crowd parted as a shimmering dust
exploded gently in the back of the room. God released my arm and I
felt whispers curl around my body clinging to me and embracing me
with a power that humbled me. It also froze me to the spot I was
standing in. In a panic I looked to both God and Satan. They had
put some sort of beguilement on me and I was planted—unable to run.
The need to run was overwhelming, but the mechanics to do so had
been taken away.

Mister Rogers walked forward. He held a sword
in his hands and a halo glowed around his head. He smiled at me and
I gasped. The magic coming from the Sword was so pure and so strong
no one could look right at it.

“Mister Rogers stole the fucking Sword of
Death?” I gasped.

“Oh no, neighbor. I am the keeper of the
Sword. I live in the Den of Iniquity and I guard it with my
goodness and light,” my childhood idol said.

“Are you going to tell me Mr. McFeely lives
there too?” I snapped sarcastically.

“No, no.” He chuckled and shook his head.
“Mr. McFeely is still on Earth, but when he ascends he will be in
charge of the postal service in Heaven.”

I was struck speechless.

“You bastard,” Wrath yelled from her
cage.

“You tricked me, you son of a bitch,” Greed
screeched.

Mister Rogers just smiled at them and waved.
A very sick feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. The Sword had
never been missing. This was a game. A horrific game played at my
expense. Satan was in on it and from the looks of things God was
too. I was going to die. The filthy half Vampyre half Demon was
going to die. Grandpa had clearly been in on it too. He had lured
Ethan from the room. I was going to die alone for the sins of my
father. I closed my eyes and realized I had no one to pray to.
Maybe this was my purpose . . . to atone for the sins of my father.
Tears rolled down my cheeks.

“I’m sorry, my little baby.” I touched my
hand to my stomach. “I’m so sorry.”

“Give the Sword to Compassion,” God
commanded.

Who in the fuck was Compassion? Was somebody
new going to hop up here and chop my head off?

Mister Rogers stood in front of me and held
out the Sword. Confusion didn’t begin to cover what I felt. What
kind of warped game were they all playing?

“
It’s you, Astrid
,” Ethan said.
“
You’re Compassion. Take the Sword
.”

His voice rang in my head and I found him in
the crowd. He was staring at me with wonder and love.

I was Compassion?

Me?

I slowly bent forward at the waist, as my
feet still wouldn’t move. I took the Sword in my hands. It was
heavy and drenched with more magic than I’d ever felt. My head spun
and I had to force myself to stand up straight.

“Behold the next True Immortal,” Satan
shouted.

“Wait,” I hissed at the Lord of the
Underworld. I felt the black gloves slide up my arms and I knew my
skin had turned sparkly. There was a fine chance I was going to
kick everyone’s ass in the room . . . “What kind of bullshit did
you put me through?”

“The kind of bullshit that will save you from
centuries of bullshit in the future,” he said and smiled. I so
wanted to smack the grin from his mouth, but I realized what he had
done. The anger inside of me remained, but it was tempered with
something far more profound.

He had tested me and made me prove myself to
those who would test me later. He was well aware that Wrath would
eventually have his throne, but now she knew what I could do to
her. The Sins may not like me, but they had a healthy fear of me—as
did the rest of Hell. Satan was an ass, but he was a clever ass. I
wasn’t sure I wanted to be Compassion, but it appeared that I might
not have much of a choice.

“You’ll have to do a bit of work in Heaven
too,” God informed me and I shot him an evil glare.

“Both of you are pansy asses,” I snapped. God
was taken aback at my candor, but Satan chuckled.

“Prove it,” a Demon cried out.

“I don’t believe it,” an Angel yelled.

God and Satan rolled their eyes
simultaneously and I laughed. They looked so much alike, I couldn’t
help myself. They turned to me and simply stared. Shit. The pansy
asses wanted me to prove it and there was only one way to do
that.

The weight of the Sword in my hands made my
fingers tingle—not in a bad or frightening way. A new and unusual
way. I had no fear of the Sword and if I’d come this far I might as
well go all the way. I caught Mister Rogers out of the corner of my
eye giving me the thumbs up. WTF? But more importantly, I locked
eyes with Ethan. He nodded and I knew everything was going to be
fine.

I raised the sword and the entire room
sparkled with what I would call Fairy dust. Iridescent crystals
clung to all the Demons and Angels in the room. A strange purr of
contentment burst from the crowd. I wasn’t one for self-inflicted
pain, but I figured the faster the better. I raised the Sword in
one hand and extended the other. The breathing in the room had
halted—even Satan’s and God’s. Holy hell, were they unsure I was
really a True Immortal? The whispers came back and I was assured by
both that they believed in me. The only one left that mattered was
me . . . Did I believe in me? Could I do this? Hell, I didn’t even
know the job requirements, but if it simply boiled down to figuring
out the definition of fair in a very gray world . . . I could do
that. Yes. I could do that.

I sliced my arm and hissed at the
excruciating pain. It burned like a motherfucker, but I didn’t die.
I mean, I was dead, but I wasn’t dead-dead. The Demons and Angels
went wild. Crying and bowing and wailing. Most of them dropped to
their knees and begged my forgiveness.

I rolled my neck and looked directly at
Satan. “I want to go home.”

The room trembled and the walls began to
buckle. Trees, grasses and flowering vines exploded out of the
floor and walls. Tables became boulders and the chandeliers dripped
with flowers and fruit. Monkeys and birds hopped on the heads of
Demons and Angels and everyone, including Satan and God, blanched
and cowered in terror.