Fashionably Dead Down Under (7 page)

I glanced out the window of the car and took
in the beauty. The palace property was loaded with streams, ponds,
rolling hills and meadows filled with blindingly colorful wild
flowers. Dixie’s bungalow was tucked into the far northwest corner
of her father’s land. Her yard boasted huge weeping cherry trees,
orchids and scads of bougainvillea. Absolutely beautiful and the
total antithesis of what I expected in Hell . . . although the
Basement might cause me to reconsider.

I learned the palace itself sat on forty very
manicured acres. It looked like a giant gothic cathedral. It was
the grandest castle in the world, including Heaven and everything
in between.

“We’re a little early,” Dixie said as she
handed her keys to a valet in front of the massive doors of the
palace.

I was a bit nervous, but my cousin was a
wreck. She was chewing her nails like she hadn’t eaten in a month.
“Are you okay?” I whispered and pulled her fingers from her
mouth.

She giggled and wrung her hands. “I’m just a
little nervous that my dad is going to hand down my punishment for
feeding the hungry humans tonight.”

“Surely he wouldn’t do that at such a public
event.”

“You don’t know my dad.”

Shit—and I really didn’t want to.

Dixie had dressed with care. Her very fitted
Prada cocktail dress was the bomb and her Lanvin stilettos were the
stuff my dreams were made of. I knew I was no slouch either. The
Stella McCartney rocked and Greed’s shoes capped it off perfectly.
I suppose if I had to be in Hell it was nice to dress up in clothes
that equaled my entire salary as an art teacher for two years . .
.

Of course the jewelry my cousin had lent me
made me a bit uncomfortable. From the size of the rocks in my ears
I’d assumed they were fake . . . Never assume. That makes an ass
out of you and me. To my horror they were real. Six freakin’ carats
in each ear. I was wearing a house—a really nice one. I tried to
take them off, but Dixie insisted I wear them and informed me I’d
be keeping them . . . as a gift from her and her father. She was in
for a rude awakening because she was getting them back. I couldn’t
even imagine the price that would go along with that gift.

As our Jimmy Choos and Lanvins clicked on the
fieldstone tiles that led to the huge carved teak door, I jerked to
an abrupt halt.

“What the fuck?” I gasped. Two of the most
vicious looking animals flanked the door and watched us with beady
little yellow eyes. I was so not walking past that.

“What?” Dixie asked with alarm.

“Those things,” I said under my breath, just
in case they understood English. “Those things look hungry . . .
and pissed off.”

“Oh, the Hell Hounds?” Dixie laughed and
leaned in close. “You can’t tell a soul, but the

Hell Hounds are just big ugly puppies with
razor sharp fangs and claws. I love them and they love me. Those
two are my favorites, General George Patton and Bambi. They slept
in my room until I moved out of the Palace a couple of years
ago.”

“For real?” I asked doubtfully. They did not
look anything like puppies to me. “What in the

hell do they eat?”

“Cheese pizza.” She giggled. “I want to go
love on them, but Daddy would be furious if word got out that the
Hell Hounds were big cuddly, slobbery babies. I don’t mean to imply
they’re wimps—if anyone even looked at me, my sisters or Hell
forbid, my dad sideways, the Hell

Hounds would kill them in two seconds flat.
Other than that, they’re sweet.”

“Awesome,” I said, still not moving.

“Come to think of it, they’ll automatically
protect you too.”

“Right.”

“No, they will. You and I have the same
blood. We’re related. They can tell.”

General George and Bambi purred as we passed.
I instantly relaxed. Dixie giggled and blew them covert kisses,
bumping into Bambi on purpose. I gently ran my hand over General
George’s head. His fur was soft and silky and he smelled like
brownies. Who was I to judge things by the way they looked? I was
in love with my Baby Demons and they were definitely not winning
any prizes in the looks department, but they were beautiful to me.
I glanced back at the Hell Hounds and they both gave me a slobbery
smile and a quick wink. Of course I made friends with the weirdos .
. .

I took a deep breath and followed Dixie
inside. My pace was slow, but I felt like I was walking to the
guillotine.

A very well put together woman clad head to
toe in designer Chanel made a beeline for us.

“Dang it,” Dixie moaned. “That’s Daddy’s new
consort. What is her name?” Dixie’s fingers flew back into her
mouth. “It’s something like Sandra or Miranda or . . . crap, I’m
sure it ends in an A.”

“Hello Dixie,” the consort ending in A said
while ignoring me completely. She was dressed to the nines and she
was short. Even with her four inches heels, she was still a good
deal shorter than both me and my cousin, but then again, we were on
the tall side. I had a tough time seeing what Lucifer saw in this
gal. I would assume he could have his pick of anyone. She was
definitely pretty in a blonde Barbie doll kind of way. She did have
big boobs and a nice backside, but she was a mean Demon. My Baby
Demons would definitely find her appetizing . . . Note to self:
leave Babies at Dixie’s while in Hell. This one, whatever her name
was, seemed smart. Mean and smart. Well, not so much smart as sly
and greedy. She eyed my ears with great interest.

“Those are lovely earrings,” she purred,
addressing me and the rocks in my ears that could feed a small
country. She made a lovely face as if I either smelled bad or she
was in serious pain.

“Yep.” I grinned, then sniffed the air around
her and gagged.

She pressed her overly enhanced lips together
and decided to ignore me again. Fine with me. She rolled her eyes
and stared daggers at Dixie.

“Oh, right,” Dixie stammered. “This is my
cousin Astrid. Astrid this is, um . . . this is . . . ”

“Amanda,” she hissed. “My name is
Amanda.”

“I knew that.” Dixie smiled at her. “And I
have to agree with you, Astrid’s earrings are lovely. They’re a
present from my dad.”

“My, my, my,” Amanda choked out. “Such a
lovely gift for one so distantly related . . . and a
Vampyre
to boot.”

Dixie shifted uncomfortably back and forth on
her stilettos, but I’d had enough of the icky Amanda. I flashed her
some fang and smacked my lips together hungrily. She was gone in a
heartbeat.

“That was awesome.” Dixie giggled and hugged
me tight. “I can’t stand her. I hope Daddy doesn’t keep that one
around for long. I preferred Kitty, the last consort. She was as
dumb as a box of hair, but she was a great cook and she smelled
like honeysuckle.”

I really had nothing to add to that.

“Hey Dixie. Hey Astrid.” Myrtle, the bizarre
little gal from the therapy session, ran up to us and slapped me on
the back with such force I almost hit the deck. Holy Hell, she was
strong.

“Sorry,” she muttered and grinned sheepishly.
She wore a black tracksuit with black Pumas on her skinny little
body. Her hair was pulled away from her face. She had a pretty
face. I hadn’t noticed that earlier. “This place gives me the
heebees,” she said. “No offense, Dixie. I know it’s your dad’s crib
and all, but damn.”

“None taken.” She laughed and hugged Myrtle.
“Thank you.”

“For what?” Myrtle was confused.

“For being you.”

“Oh, okay,” she said. “Hey, do I...um, look
alright?” she asked. Her face turned blotchy red in
embarrassment.

“You look great,” I told her. Dixie nodded in
agreement. “I didn’t realize how pretty you were until tonight with
your hair away from your face.”

“Oh.” Myrtle was speechless. She looked like
a fragile little girl and I felt an overwhelming need to protect
her. Great . . . now I wanted to protect Demons? Home. Soon.

“Hey, um...” she continued, abruptly changing
the subject, “is there a john around here? I’ve gotta take a
leak.”

“Yes,” my cousin said, trying not to laugh. I
sucked my bottom lip into my mouth to keep from giggling. Myrtle
really was quite disgusting. “Go down that hall and you’ll find
several johns.”

“Thanks.” The little Demon wandered off with
a spring in her step and a new air of confidence about her.

Dixie took my hand and we made our way
through the foyer. The foyer of the palace was tremendous. A huge
curved marble staircase dominated the enormous space. The ceilings
were three stories high with violent religious frescos painted on
them.

“Oh my God.” I was shocked at how many works
of art I recognized. “The paintings. Are they copies?”

“Nope. Real,” Dixie told me. “Quite a few
famous artists have spent time in Hell. Some because they deserved
it and others came for a visit out of curiosity. A couple of the
visitors have chosen to stay on the main floor in Hell much to our
Uncle God’s dismay. Apparently unless you’re burning in the
Basement, Hell is a lot more fun than Heaven.”

“Huh,” I said, still shocked by the sheer
amount of priceless art everywhere. “What the hell is hanging in
the museums on Earth?”

“Forgeries.”

I thought the Vampyres were opulent . . .
they had nothing on Satan. Thick burgundy red brocade curtains
rained down from the windows that were at least thirty feet high.
The curtains boasted heavy golden fringe and masterpieces dotted
the creamy ivory walls. A mix of my favorites—van Gogh, Goya,
Basquiat, Botacelli. And to my utter amazement—Da Vinci’s
Mona
Lisa
. Clearly the one I’d seen in the Louvre was a fake. Much
to my chagrin, I realized I was not so discretely grooving to
Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin’
. . . WTF?

“Dixie, what’s the deal with Journey?” I
asked, pressing my hands to my sides so I didn’t raise them over my
head and sway.

“Daddy
loves
Journey. You could say
he’s obsessed. He can’t wait till they all die and he can have his
own personal Journey concerts in Hell. He was heartbroken when
Steve Perry quit the band. He didn’t come out of his suite for a
month.”

Wait. What? That was just weird. So weird I
didn’t know what to say. Hell had rendered me speechless several
times in one day. Ethan would be impressed. My gut clenched at the
thought of what he must be going through. I wondered if there was a
way to communicate with him. Were there phone lines to Earth? Would
Satan let me use one? Would Dixie? Would Myrtle?

The foyer was full of Demons, from the most
high ranking, who were sipping expensive champagne, to the
lowliest, who were serving it. I didn’t see my Uncle Satan
anywhere, but I did catch Amanda the consort greeting guests as if
she owned the place. Gross.

“Thank Beelzebub, Cole is on her,” Dixie
muttered as she snagged two champagnes for us.

“What do you mean?” I asked, staring stupidly
at the glass in my hand. Did I try to take a sip? Could I eat down
here? I could breathe and see myself . . .

“The man tailing Amanda, the wanking bitch,
is my dad’s second in command, Cole. I’m glad that someone who has
my father’s ear can see what an opportunistic skank she is.”

“Right,” I said, still eyeballing my
glass.

“Drink it, it’s wonderful champagne. Daddy
has the finest vineyard on all the planes of existence.”

“That’s lovely, but I’m a Vampyre. I drink
blood, not grape juice.”

“Okay, ewww, but you’re a Demon too and
you’re in Hell. Try it.”

I lifted the glass to my lips feeling like I
was somehow betraying my Vampyre heritage, but when in Hell . . .
Forcing a bright smile I took a sip and it tasted like ass. Not
that I knew what ass tasted like, but it was bad, stinky and gross
and I couldn’t have been happier. There was still some Vamp in me.
I spit the offending liquid back into the glass and grinned.

“Bad?” Dixie laughed.

“Very,” I choked out.

“And that makes you happy why?”

“Because I haven’t totally lost myself.”

“I don’t get it, but I’m glad you’re happy.
Come on, let’s get this evening over with.”

“Lead on, dear cousin.”

The Grand Ballroom was even more ornate than
the Foyer. The marble floors were encrusted with precious
gemstones; rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds and ten of the
most gorgeous crystal chandeliers I’d ever seen spilled down from
the ceilings. It was waaay over the top in my book, but Demons
clearly enjoy the sparkly.

I was guessing by the looks of things that
everyone who was anyone in Hell was here and I had a bad feeling
that I was going to be part of the festivities. The covert pointing
and whispering didn’t help. They made me feel like a freak.
Speaking of, I spotted Carl and . . .
Sweet Baby Cousin
Jesus
, was that Janet? Carl had his arm around the most
delicately pretty woman I’d seen in Hell yet. She wasn’t a knockout
like Dixie and her sisters, but she was a timeless beauty.

She was small with a Cupid’s bow mouth,
glittering gold eyes, rounded pink cheeks and a gorgeous mane of
chestnut hair. The only giveaway were her stubby little fingers. I
recognized those from the therapy session earlier. She wore a
simple black dress and flats and looked extremely uncomfortable and
insecure. Carl kept his arm tightly around her and growled at any
male Demon that even glanced Janet’s way.

“Dixie, look. There’s Carl and Janet,” I
said, pulling her to a stop so she could see.

“Oh my Hell,” she gasped. “She’s beautiful
without the beard and stache.”

They were too far away for us to call out and
I quickly lost sight of them as more Demons filed into the Grand
Ballroom.

“Follow me, we’ll find them later,” Dixie
instructed as we moved to an area near a gothic three story stained
glass window that was reserved for Lucifer’s family. I spotted
Greed, Envy, Lust and four others who had to be the rest of the
Sins. They were stupidly gorgeous and waving us over. My gait
slowed.