Fashionably Fooled

by peterman, robyn

  “Tell him,” another Demon said, grinning from ear to ear.

  This was not going to be good. Smiling Demons were a bad omen.

  “Darby lit Dagwood’s asshole on fire, and Dino got caught in the blaze,” the first Demon choked out. “Third-degree burns on ninety percent of each of them.”

  Speechless. I was rendered speechless for a moment. Difficult to do, but clearly possible.

  “And why, pray tell, were they lighting their assholes on fire?” I asked, trying to keep my own smile in check. It wouldn’t do to show my horrified amusement when I was pissed.

  “Beans,” a Demon at the far end of the table announced with a chuckle. “Technically, they were lighting farts, not assholes. Apparently, the gaseous content was high, and a harmless prank turned into an explosion of baked sphincters.”

  I’d never heard of anything so ludicrous in my long and very colorful life.

  “And where did they come up with this unsavory pastime?” I asked, still not sure whether to laugh or blow something up.

  “The internet,” another replied.

  “Of course,” I muttered with an eye roll. “How long are they expected to be in the infirmary?”

  “Twenty-four hours,” a Demon said. “It was a big fire.”

  “Unacceptable,” I muttered, glancing at the smirking faces of my men. They were all idiots. I needed someone who could get the job done. I knew who I needed to call, but his baggage was terrifying.

  So be it. I had no choice. Between having my womb eviction day and possibly my life threatened, I still had to plunge a sword into my gut to please my irrationally hangry mate, I was a very busy Harbinger of Evil.

  “Find Lizard. Tell him I have a mission for him. I’d prefer he come alone, but that’s not a deal breaker,” I commanded, closing my eyes in phantom pain of what was about to transpire. “I want him in Hell in an hour. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, Sire,” the Demons answered in unison as they bowed and quickly made their exit.

  Today was turning out to be a Hell of a day and not in a good way.

  There was no rest for the wicked.

  * * *

  An hour later, Lizard stood in front of my desk flanked by his two Vampyre mates. The two ancient nightmares had waddled right into my office with my Demon warrior. Sadly, it was a fallacy that Vampyres had to be invited in. Garlic and crosses were also a myth. Decapitation or a silver stake through the heart were indeed sure-fire ways to eliminate a Vampyre, but that wouldn’t go over very well at the moment. Lizard was attached to the geriatric dead women, and I enjoyed Lizard tremendously. His loyalty and penchant towards violence was delightful. Killing his unfortunate choice of mates would be counterproductive and rude. I was working on my social skills, and it was incredibly tiresome.

  Martha and Jane smiled and blew me kisses. They were out of their undead minds. I was the fucking Devil. The unappetizing show of disrespect was appalling. It was enough to make one scream in horror. Back in the good old days, I would have smote them where they stood.

  However, I had no time for such luxuries. There was a mission to be doled out. If I had to suffer through the presence of Martha and Jane for an hour, so be it.

  They were dressed as if they were about to perform a strip show in a human nursing home. While I was fully cognizant that incinerating them was a no-no, they’d leave minus a few appendages if they tried to remove their clothing.

  “My liege,” Lizard said, bowing respectfully to me.

  Lizard was an odd-looking specimen. Part Demon and part Fairy, he was a wonderfully savage individual. His dress sense left much to be desired, and he didn’t disappoint today. His ill-fitting royal blue tracksuit paired with a green beret and purple high tops was shockingly hideous. However, the look was his signature style—or rather lack thereof. The man was a bit scaly and his eyes were a tad too close together, but that wasn’t surprising when one considered he could morph into a massive lizard… hence the name.

  He was loyal to a fault and had negotiated an excellent deal for me on the film version of my bestselling book. The fact that he was terrifying to the general public, carried a baseball bat and rudely smacked gum at all times only added to his bizarre mystique.

  “Hello Lizard,” I said, trying my best not to acknowledge his heinous mates.

  “Sire, may I be so bold as to ask why you have a sword lodged in your abdomen?” Lizard inquired politely.

  Damnit, I’d forgotten all about the sword. In the hour before Lizard and his undead concubines had arrived, I’d made good on my promise to gore myself. It had definitely raised Elle’s spirits to watch me shove sharp metal objects into my body. Honestly, after a while I'd enjoyed it—or at least I'd enjoyed her laughter. I’d stabbed myself with scissors, a letter opener, a cake knife, and a candelabra before the grand finale of the sword through my gut. My lover had laughed so hard she wore herself out and fell asleep promptly when the painful show concluded. I’d tucked her into bed and hoped like Hell this was a passing phase. I healed immediately but impaling oneself was uncomfortable.

  “Testing out the blade,” I said casually as I pulled the massive weapon from my stomach and laid it on my desk.

  “I’ve never tried that,” Lizard said with admiration in his beady little eyes. “May I?”

  “Be my guest,” I said as he took the sword and plunged it into his gut.

  “Very sharp,” he choked out as he paled a bit.

  “Yes, well, it is a sword,” I said, wincing slightly as he pulled it back out.

  While I enjoyed barbaric pastimes greatly, I relished them more when they were deserved. Lizard was a good, albeit it odd one, and he certainly didn’t deserve a self-inflicted hole in his stomach. However, the alternative was unacceptable. There was no way in Hell I was about to share the real reason I’d stabbed myself. The truth did not set a person free. It was messy and complicated—very much like Elle’s behavior lately. But that was not why I’d summoned Lizard.

  “Lookin’ good, Sexy La Tuchus,” Jane announced as she grabbed her own sagging ass just in case I’d misunderstood her.

  Sadly, I hadn’t. It took everything I had not to electrocute the old woman.

  “Foxy Rump never disappoints,” Martha agreed, adjusting her sagging bosom in the scrap of fabric covering the offending area. “But don’t you worry your ginormous pecker, Lizard. The only sexy piece of man meat we wanna do the horizontal mambo with is you.”

  Lizard grinned from ear to ear as he mopped up the blood pouring from his gut with his ghastly headwear. I watched in disbelief as he placed the blood-soaked green beret back on his head and grabbed his crotch in appreciation as his mates squealed and did a few pornographic gyrations. The bile in my stomach rose to my throat.

  Closing my eyes, I tried to block out the visual of the two old bags. Normally, Vampyres were ridiculously attractive. Martha and Jane defied the odds. The bright orange sequined tube tops barely covering their sagging bosoms, paired with yellow booty shorts, black socks and sandals was more than enough to make me smite them to ash where they stood. But that was out of the question. For some unfathomable reason, Lizard adored the women—for lack of a better term. Also, Astrid had a soft spot for the idiots as they’d help save her son Samuel.

  My niece, in a moment of weakness—or compassion— had the two old women turned when they’d been dying at her feet. Astrid had lived to regret her actions daily. The old freaks of nature were nightmares. As much as I’d enjoy eliminating the aged Vamps, it was a no go. Restraining myself was giving me a headache. Social niceties were bullshit.

  “Let me get right to the point,” I stated, shoving my hands into my pockets so I didn’t accidentally on purpose decapitate Martha and Jane.

  “Now you just hold your camel toe for a second,” Martha said, making herself comfortable on the black leather couch. “Me and Jane wanna ghostwrite the sequel to your book. We can do way better than Chesty McMilkbomb did.”

  “Hold my what?” I said a
s my eyes narrowed to slits. I ignored their unflattering name for Astrid. She’d had them turned into Vampyres. She could fight her own battles over what they called her.

  “Relax your crack, Hotty McHot Pants,” Jane said as she punched Martha in the head and sent her flying. “My ugly mother humpin’ sidekick lost brain cells in Nam. Just fuckin’ ignore her. Everyone knows that a man can’t have a camel toe due to lack of a muff.”

  “Are you serious?” I asked, wishing I’d chosen a different Demon for the job, but Lizard was my best bet since Dino, Dagwood and Darby had set their asses on fire.

  Jane got lost in thought for a long moment which was terrifying. “I suppose if you were wearing tight white spandex and the seam of your pants separated your brussel sprouts, it could count as a camel toe,” she mused aloud as I fought with myself internally not to pick up the sword and remove her head. “So, Martha, while you are a brain damaged asshat, I’d like to apologize for punching you. As Satan said, a man can wedge his gangoolies into a camel toe too.”

  “I said no such thing,” I snapped as my fingers began to spark.

  “Damn tootin,’” Martha added as she stood up, waddled back over to the couch in a daze and straddled the arm. “We’re gonna become writers now. Lizard said we did not suck at it.”

  “But we suck other things,” Jane added, cackling like a fool and elbowing Martha so hard she grunted like she was dying and writhed all over the couch like a wrinkled slug. “Just ask Lizard.”

  “I’ll pass,” I said flatly, wondering if I could still have a working relationship with my Demon if I offed his mates.

  Anyhoo, as I was sayin’,” Martha went on as if this was a normal exchange between adults with working brain matter while still writhing on my couch. “After we got thrown in the human pokey for stalking Simon Cowell, while wearing only a thong and pasties, we’ve given up our dream of winning American Idol and decided to become authors. Of course, we did win Idol in Zanthia. Those fuckin’ Fairies love us.”

  “Fairies are tone-deaf,” I muttered. Note to self—incinerate the couch when they leave.

  “What’d ya say?” Jane asked.

  Damnit, it wasn’t prudent to piss off Lizard when I needed him. “Umm… I said Fairies are scone chefs.”

  “Hell has a Fairy scone chef?” Elle called out sleepily from our bedroom that adjoined my office.

  I was certain I paled considerably, and I knew I gasped. However, I played it off like a champion. “Yes, darling. I brought one here for you.”

  “How sweet,” she replied as she sounded like she was falling back into slumber. “I won’t cut your legs off or rearrange your face later, my lover.”

  “That’s outstanding,” I answered her as I wiggled my fingers and closed the door between the rooms. I also dead bolted it and re-enforced it with strong magic in case Elle changed her mind and felt the need to remove a few of my appendages in front of Lizard and his idiots.

  “Well, I’ll be damned. Didn’t know you guys were into the kinky shit,” Martha said with a grin.

  “We’re not,” I said through clenched teeth. “Elle is having a few issues with her lady time.”

  “Aunt Flow?” Jane inquired with a grunt of disgust. “That old bee-otch is a real pain in the vag.”

  “She’s real?” I asked, surprised. Was there a chance Astrid was incorrect?

  “Real as my fabulous knockers,” Martha said, grabbing one of her saggy sacks of flesh. “Hate her guts. I’d love to kill that skanky hooker dead.”

  My mind whirled with possibilities that made me want to grab the sword from my desk and plunge it into my gut again. But the thought of having to potentially decapitate myself to keep the love of my evil life entertained outweighed my common sense. Maybe Martha and Jane could help or maybe I’d lost what was left of my mind. It was worth a shot. Losing my head was something I didn’t have time for at the moment. Plus, I loved the head that I had now. I was gorgeous.

  “You could help Elle navigate Aunt Flow’s visit?” I asked warily. “You could ensure that her hangry state won’t result in my having to regrow limbs?”

  “Not. A. Problem, Fine Ass McBooty,” Jane assured me. “You got chocolate in Hell?”

  “I do.”

  “Potato chips, doughnuts, ice cream, greasy burgers, fries, tacos, and horror movies?”

  “Horror movies?” I asked. One of these things was not like the others.

  “Keeps a gal from having to resort to homicide. You feel me, Luscious Caboose?” Martha chimed in.

  Holy Hell on a Thursday, they were actually making sense. What alternate reality was I living in? Was I really going to do this?

  Yes. Yes, I was.

  “The job is yours,” I bit out, sure I would live to regret the rash decision. “You will stay here and aid the Keeper of Fate while Aunt Flow is visiting. Do not mention her lady time to her. From what I understand, that will result in your death. However, I’d like to add that if you bring me the head of Aunt Flow, I will owe you a favor.”

  Favors from the Devil were one of the most coveted gifts in the Immortal Universe. It was worth it though. If these imbeciles could behead this horrible Aunt Flow, I would gladly trade a favor.

  “Little confused here,” Jane said, scratching the sparse hair on the top of her balding head.

  “Ain’t nothin’ new there, mother humper,” Martha said, only to be whacked in the face by her cohort. “Delicious Derriere is sayin’ if we guide Elle with our own personal rag expertise without mentioning that she’s on the rag and keep her from loppin’ off his Johnson and other body parts we win. Smexy Patootie is gonna buy us boob jobs, braces, an unlimited gift card at Walmart, a subscription to Playgirl magazine, lifetime tickets to Barry Manilow concerts, and is gonna let us write the sequel to his book.”

  “That’s not exactly what I said,” I choked out.

  “But that’s what you meant?” Jane asked.

  Pressing the bridge of my nose, I considered all my options. While the list was bizarre, they didn’t ask for world domination or a vacation home in Hell. I could care less if they wanted to write a book and slap my nom de plume, Blade Inferno, on it. I’d never even read the first one. From what I’d heard, during the editing process, Hemingway filled the tome with absurd bullfights. Of course, I had blackmailed him into it. What did I expect?

  I had to force the words from my lips. Eventually, they came out. “Yes… that’s exactly what I meant.”

  “Fanfuckingtastic!” Martha shouted as Jane joined her in an impromptu dance that made me want to electrocute myself. “Anyhoo, you wanna hear a little bit of your book?”

  “No.”

  “Great. I’ll start at chapter one. It was a dark and stormy night,” Martha began.

  At least it started well…

  Jane continued and Lizard looked on with pride or constipation. I wasn’t sure which.

  “I saw her standing next to the garbage can and my Johnson took notice too. Her eyes were like two big blue dinner plates in her head with black dots right smack in the middle of them. The dots were circles too. She was short—like a midget, but her gazongas were not short. That was good. Gazongas were important.”

  “You really should stop,” I said, trying not to laugh or smite them.

  Martha cleared her throat and ignored me. “I was tall—like a tree. Her face was a circle like her eyes. This was encouraging. A square or triangle face would be bad. Weird shaped heads were a total boner killer. She stood next to the trash can and examined me like the vet did my dog, Sparky, last week. I hoped she wasn’t a vet. That bastard had lopped off my best friend’s balls. No worries. I killed him.”

  I was speechless. It was complete shite, but I was curious what other garbage they’d come up with. Clearly, I was a glutton for punishment.

  Jane did not disappoint. “The circle headed woman lifted her leg gracefully just like my dog did at the fire hydrant. It was beautiful like when the Vikings won the Super Bowl. I’d never met her
, but I knew the midget was mine. We were like two people who were short and tall who had also never met. It was time to show her my Johnson.”

  “STOP,” I commanded, biting back my laughter with effort. “That was horrifying.”

  “Thank you,” Jane said sincerely.

  “Wasn’t a compliment,” I shot back.

  “Don’t get your sphincter in a knot,” Martha said with a wave of her boney hand. “It’s only the first draft. We’re gonna add lots of verbs later.”

  Speaking of sphincters… or rather baked ones was the reason Lizard had been summoned in the first place. Martha and Jane were so confounding, I’d almost forgotten why I’d requested Lizard’s presence in Hell. I needed to give my Demon his mission and get them all out of my office before I did something I’d regret… or enjoy.

  “Fine,” I ground out. “Write the book. As long as you keep Elle happy and occupied, I don’t care what you do.”

  “You got it, Bitable Buns!” Martha shouted as she and Jane made themselves comfortable on the floor by the door to our bedroom where Elle slept. “We’re gonna take good care of your gal. Don’t you worry your big head or your little one.”

  If I acknowledged what she’d just said, I’d have to kill her. Instead, I ignored her and nodded curtly.

  “Lizard, come with me. I’ll get you up to speed.”

  “As you wish, Sire,” he replied and followed me from my office into the main area of the Dark Palace.

  Chapter Three

  “Read me the letter once more,” Lizard said as he choked up on his baseball bat and smashed a priceless vase.

  I winced and reminded myself that burning him alive was a bad plan—well, at least until he found the perpetrator and eliminated him. While I admired Lizard’s barbaric tendencies, the destruction of irreplaceable art was annoying. Served me right for bringing him to the Grand Ballroom. Since my office had become a battleground between Elle, Aunt Flow, and me, I had little choice. The Ballroom was empty at the moment and soundproofed.

  Pulling the letter from my pocket, I granted the insane Demon’s request. “Lord of Darkness, the day will never happen. The birth will go unrecognized,” I hissed with displeasure, reading from the parchment paper. “The end draws near for your latest folly and the hands of fate shall be empty. Heed these words and do not try to replace what already exists.”