Fashionably Flawed: Book Nine, The Hot Damned Series

by Robyn Peterman

  Why was I letting a woman throw me off my game? Women fell at my feet, for the love of everything evil. What the Hell was this one’s problem? She was a Siren. I was Satan. We were two wrongs that would make an outstanding right.

  “Here’s the deal, Miss Rinoa,” I went on as if I hadn’t just had my painfully blue balls just handed to me. “I will lift the spell if you photograph me.”

  “No,” she said, not even sparing me a glance.

  “Wonderful,” I said as my fingers began to spark. “What time and where?”

  “Are you always this daft? Or is today a special occasion?” she inquired.

  “You take umbrage at the thought of photographing me?” I asked.

  “More like umbitch,” Astrid muttered.

  “I heard that,” Elle said, turning her focus to Astrid. “I’m blonde, what’s your excuse?”

  “That was awesome,” Astrid congratulated the Siren with a laugh.

  “Thank you,” Elle said with her first genuine smile.

  I was furious it wasn’t directed at me. What was going on here?

  “Welcome. Look, Miss Rinoa, Blade Inferno isn’t really all bad. He’s just a bit egotistical.”

  “Umm… a lot egotistical. In fact, I’d say he’s an egotistical pig from Hell,” Tiara added unhelpfully.

  Astrid nodded in agreement and went on. “You’re kind of in a shitload of trouble for selling souls and all, so I’d have to recommend taking the pig’s deal. He can be a real buttbag if he doesn’t get his way.”

  “Did you just call me a buttbag?” I growled.

  “Yep, and shut it. I think it’s working,” Astrid muttered under her breath.

  Elle froze and then glanced wildly around the room.

  “Unfreeze my men now,” she demanded as she began backing away with her eyes still darting around nervously.

  “Take the deal,” I countered, searching the ballroom for what had unnerved her.

  “Fine,” she hissed. “I’ll take the picture. Tomorrow. I have to leave. NOW.”

  “Shit on a sharp pointy stick,” Tiara shouted causing all the windows in the room to explode. “In coming.”

  With a wave of my hand, I lifted the spell. The Eunuchs sprinted to Elle and produced vicious looking weapons from thin air. Three hideous, ten foot tall Trolls stormed the room and began moving toward my Siren.

  Unacceptable.

  As she raised her arms to disappear, I grabbed her.

  “Tell me how to find you or I’ll feed you to the Trolls,” I hissed.

  “The glasses. Use the glasses,” she said, trying to pull away. “You be able to see the portal. I will meet you. You have my word.”

  “Is your word any good?”

  “No. Is yours?” she countered.

  “Absolutely not, but if you’re lying, you’ll pay. I swear on everything evil that I’m far worse than the Trolls.”

  “This time I’m telling the truth,” she insisted as her entire body trembled in fear. “Please. Let me go.”

  I did. And in an explosive blast of magic she and her Eunuchs vanished. However, the Trolls did not.

  I despised Trolls. The King of the smelly bastards pissed me off repeatedly. There were so many times I’d been tempted to off the entire species, but that was a fucking no-no—balance and all that ridiculous shit.

  If the Trolls were gone, we’d have problems with the Gnomes—if the Gnomes were gone—the Mermaids would wreak havoc and on and on and on. It was all I could do to police my own Demons. If I had to add man eating Mermaids to the list I’d lose my mind. Normally, I liked the violent ones, but not these ten-foot fuckers.

  “To kill them you need to pierce the left side of the neck. Go clean through with your sword. Magic won’t work,” I instructed as the Trolls realized the Siren was gone and figured we were the next best bet.

  “Do we want them dead?” Astrid asked as she centered herself and waved her menacing and fiery hands in the air.

  She let out an impressive scream that I felt all the way to the bottom of my toes. Astrid’s magic was brightly colored and very powerful. The black and pink crystals of her enchantment gently wrapped around every innocent being in the ballroom.

  I watched as the horny women and the favored authors Darynda, Charlaine, Molly and Robyn were elevated high in the air above the fray. My Astrid had a very soft spot for innocents. It was tiresome at times, but I agreed with this particular move. It was going to get ugly.

  “Kill two. Incapacitate one. I need information.”

  And the fight began.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Trolls couldn’t kill me, but that didn’t mean the ugly bastards couldn’t do damage. They were enormous killing machines. I was certain they were not my fated darkness—however, I was about to be theirs. I’d heal immediately and they would not when I was done with them.

  I was getting my picture made tomorrow—needed to be at my best—plus I really liked the custom Armani suit I was wearing—one of a kind. It simply wouldn’t do to have it destroyed by Trolls.

  “I could blow up the building and solve this quickly,” I pointed out as I called to my Fire Sword and stepped out in front of my nieces.

  “No can do,” Astrid said. “This room is full of blameless humans.”

  “The hookers?” I inquired with a naughty grin.

  “They are not hookers, you asshat. They’re the readers who will be buying your piece of shit book,” Astrid shot back with a grin of her own. “I want the Troll on the left.”

  “I’ll take the right,” Tiara called out as the Trolls paused and winced in pain and confusion from the shrill tone her voice.

  Bingo. This was going to be far less messy than I’d thought. I could have dead Trolls, a pristine suit and unharmed nieces. The day was taking a turn for the better.

  “How about this?” I suggested, hatching a plan so horrifying it made me happy. “Tiara, do you know the lyrics to Lovin, Touchin’, Squeezin?”

  “I know every single word to every song on every album Journey ever recorded,” she informed me with pride.

  “That’s my girl,” I said, snapping my fingers and producing earplugs for Astrid and myself. “On three, sing as loud as you can.”

  “Seriously?” Astrid screeched in terror. “I’m not sure that’s a good plan.”

  Tossing Astrid a set of earplugs, I laughed. “Watch and learn, child. Violence doesn’t always need weapons made of silver, steel or fire.”

  “But I thought you liked the violent stuff,” Astrid said, still clearly appalled at my idea.

  “Oh, but I do,” I replied with a grin. “I just like my suit more.”

  The three soon to be dead Trolls charged at us like freight trains from the bowels of Hell. The speed was impressive for something their size. But speed would not be a determining factor in this exchange.

  “One. Two. Three,” I yelled and then slammed the plugs into my ears and watched Astrid do the same.

  It was a beautiful sight. Tiara started in the key of Z and hit every other nonexistent musical note known to man or immortal. She was destroying one of the best songs ever written. It was delightfully revolting. I was sure Steve Perry would be proud—or deaf.

  The first Troll screamed in agony right before his head blew up, spattering the room in thick green blood. The second roared in shock and disintegrated into a pile of oozing black and green sludge.

  I immediately waved my hand and muted Tiara before she imploded the third. I needed him alive for a few minutes. He was severely damaged, but still breathing—growling and gnashing his razor sharp teeth. Pulling on a magic as old as time, I sighed in contentment as the dark enchantment roared through me and encased my body in red flame. As gorgeous as I was, this was one of my more frightening looks. Even Astrid and Tiara stepped back in fear.

  With a wink to the girls to assure them this was quite normal—for me—I approached the hissing and spitting monstrosity. He no longer appeared quite as brave and cocky. No, he no
w was quite cognizant that he’d messed with the wrong people.

  “Hi there,” I said as I took a seat on a pile of books that went up in a small explosion of flames around me. “Would you be so kind to answer a few little questions I have for you?”

  “Go to Hell,” he snarled.

  “Actually, I live there and it’s fabulous. That threat is kind of moot, if you know what I mean,” I replied calmly.

  His eyes grew wide with real fear when the pea-brained idiot finally recognized who he was dealing with.

  “So here’s how this is going to play out,” I continued, moving a little closer so he could feel the Hell Fire that was very much a part of me. “I ask a question. You answer. If I like the answer, you die quickly, and if I don’t…”

  I left the alternative up to the abomination. I thought that was a nice change from my usual modis operandi.

  “Over my dead body,” he shouted, shaking the walls of the large room.

  “Well, that’s already a given,” I told him with a shrug and a wink. “The conundrum is only how painfully you want to die.”

  I took his silence as acquiescence—or stupidity.

  “Why are you after the Siren?” I demanded.

  He eyed me with such vicious hatred it was almost startling. “I don’t know.”

  “Whoops, wrong answer,” I said and pointed at him with my blazing hand. “That’s going to cost you a leg.”

  With a flick of my fingers, his leg was gone. All that was left was a bloody green stump. His roar rocked the room. I smiled.

  “Look, you can make this difficult or simple. I know who you are and clearly you know who I am.”

  “You don’t know me,” he bellowed.

  “Ahh, but that’s where you’re incorrect, Donald,” I replied, as I let my power reach out and touch his brain and memories.

  He screamed in tormented anguish as I searched his dark and unsavory past. I was going to need a shower after this disgusting field trip into the Troll’s mind.

  “You’ve been a very bad boy,” I chided, as my blood began to boil at the atrocities this particular Troll had committed. I had to remind myself I needed him even though I wanted to torture him to death. Donald deserved to be in the basement of Hell for his sins—he’d be going there quite soon.

  “Fuck you, Satan,” he hissed.

  “Sorry, you’re not my type,” I told him. “Sooo, let’s see… You have quite a varied list of offenses, Donald—cold blooded murder of thousands of innocents over your life, pillaging, rape, mass destruction. I could go on, but I might then have to skin you alive, reanimate you and do it again. People like you really piss me off. I really don’t have time for this right now, but if you insist…”

  “The Troll King wants her,” Donald growled, realizing I was deadly serious.

  “Why?”

  “Wants her soul to put with the rest.”

  “What rest?” I demanded. And what kind of fucked up game was the Troll King playing collecting souls?

  “The other.”

  I waved my hand and removed another leg. “Wasn’t quite specific enough for me, Donald.” Damn it, the Troll was fading fast and I didn’t have what I wanted. “What’s he doing with the souls?”

  “Power,” the Troll choked out as green gooey blood began to pour from his mouth. “He wants the power of the Sirens to destroy Fate—wants to control all.”

  “That’s quite a stretch considering there’s only one Siren,” I mused aloud.

  “More. He has one Siren soul already. He needs a two… Fate makes a trinity.”

  Interesting. The power of three… the Creator, Redeemer and the Sustainer… or in some beliefs the omniscience, omnipresence and omnipotence.

  Could the power of two Sirens do that? And how exactly could that destroy Fate?

  And had that bitch, Fate set me up to do her dirty work to save her own ass?

  “Explain,” I hissed, blowing fire into him so he lasted a few more minutes—or seconds.

  “The souls of the winged Sirens can control Fate,” he whispered as he took his last few breaths.

  “Says who?” I shouted. If this was so, why didn’t I know it?

  He looked at me in confusion as his eyes rolled in their sockets and he left the mortal plane. He most definitely had a one-way ticket to my neighborhood and I would make damned sure he got very special treatment.

  I stood in silence and let my fire recede as I stared at the Troll and wondered if the story he told had any merit. Fate had existed before any of us, as far as I was aware. Or was it one of those what came first… the chicken or the egg riddles?

  Astrid and Tiara joined me and stared at the Troll.

  “In mythology there are three fates,” Tiara said. “The Moirai. Is that what he was referring to?”

  Shrugging, I gave the possibility some thought. Trolls weren’t the smartest of species. “I don’t think so. While mythology is amusing, it’s not the way it happened. But my guess is that it’s no accident we’re after the soul-selling Siren. I’m beginning to believe it was fated for the convenience of Fate.”

  “How?” Astrid asked.

  “Don’t know,” I replied honestly instead of lying. “But I shall find out.”

  Waving my hand I restored the ballroom to its former book loving glory. The hookers—or readers—and authors slowly descended from their perches high in the air and landed gently where they had been before I froze them. The remains of the Trolls vanished and the destruction created by Tiara’s voice was repaired. I was at loathe to remove the amethyst crystals, but they had to go as well.

  Picking up a handful, I put them into my pocket and also pilfered a few copies of my book. Quickly signing two of them, I gave them to the girls.

  “These are priceless. Put them in a safe,” I said with a cocky smirk.

  “So are we going to the Siren now?” Astrid asked, tucking my masterpiece into her purse.

  “We are not,” I replied. “I am.”

  “Whoa, Uncle Fucker,” Tiara countered. “We’re with you all the way. We’re the Three Musketeers or some weird inbred immortal version of them.”

  Glancing up at the ceiling and finding my courage, I prepared to do something I’d never done in my millions of years—at least not with any sincerity. I was surprised I didn’t break out in hives or go up in flames, but sometimes doing the right thing was… right.

  “Thank you,” I choked out on a whisper—actually meaning it. Even though it was right, it wasn’t easy, not for someone like me.

  “Wait. What?” Astrid asked, shocked.

  “You heard me,” I snapped. “I won’t repeat myself and I’ll deny it if you tell anyone.”

  “So, umm…” Tiara simply stood in front of me looking dumbfounded. “Do we say you’re welcome?”

  I pondered for a moment. I wasn’t sure. This was incredibly new territory for me.

  “We do,” Astrid confirmed. “Uncle Fucker, you’re welcome. However, I don’t think you should go to the Siren alone. Are you sure you don’t need us?”

  Was I sure? No. I wasn’t quite sure of anything right now, but it felt right. I would face my fate alone. If I were to die, everyone would follow in death, but my girls would not go before me because I was selfish. I mean, I was selfish—totally selfish—but occasionally I was a little bit nice. This was one of those unsettling times.

  “I’m sure,” I replied curtly.

  “Can we hug it out?” Tiara suggested with a wide smile and a giggle.

  “We most certainly can not,” I shot back with a raised brow. “Go home. Now. I will call on you if I need you.”

  “We’re gonna stay for a bit,” Astrid said grabbing a pile of books she wanted signed by her favorite authors.

  “We are?” Tiara questioned.

  “We are,” she told her sister.

  “Suit yourselves,” I said. “I’ve got a few things to do.”

  “Have fun,” Astrid called out as a cloud of black glitter consumed me.r />
  Fun was a relative word—meant different things to different beings. Where I was headed was not going to be fun—at least not for the piece of shit I was going to pay a visit to…

  Twice in a week was too much for any sane person to withstand. I supposed it was a good thing I was fairly insane. I almost looked forward to the expression on her face when I showed up. Almost.

  Fate wasn’t going to know what hit her. She might be the premiere bitch, but I was the original bastard.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “The question was simple, Mother,” I repeated myself—again. “Tell me where Fate is.”

  Mother Nature pinned me with her sharp gaze and stomped her small foot. “Tell me why you want to see her and I shall give you what you want—for a price.”

  Talking with my mother was similar to conversing with a brick wall—it usually went nowhere. However, when one needed information quickly, she was the go-to gal. It just came with a tremendous amount of annoying bullshit and strings.

  “I need to know what she knows about the Sirens,” I replied, feeling under duress. I did not enjoy needing others.

  We were in Mother Nature’s palace although we may as well have been in her gardens. It was impossible to tell the difference as trees and flowering vines covered every available inch of real estate. The only clue that it was the interior of her home was instead of grass being beneath our feet the floors were bright pink marble. The riot of color was enough to give me a headache. Add my mother to the equation and it became a migraine.

  “Sirens?” she questioned doubtfully, as she poured us each a glass of what I assumed was lemonade from a large crystal pitcher.

  One never knew with my mother. Tasting anything in Nirvana was a risk. She couldn’t cook to save her immortal life.

  “Yessss, Sirens,” I hissed. “I’ve repeated myself three times. Even though I adore the sound of my own voice, I shall not keep reiterating.”

  “They’re extinct,” my mother said, taking a tentative sip of the yellow concoction and then spitting it out. “Don’t drink that—too much sugar—or maybe I used the wrong fruit.”