Fashionably Dead and Wed Book 7

by Robyn Peterman

  “About ten a day are being reopened. So far we’ve been able to close each and every one, but there’s no pattern to follow. It’s happening all times of the day and night and they are spread across the North American Dominion very randomly.”

  “How are you finding them then?” Gareth inquired, looking a bit better today than he had been as of late.

  “Unfortunately we’re finding them by following the trail of destruction that the Demons leave after they come through.”

  “Unacceptable,” Ethan said curtly.

  “I agree,” The Kev said tightly. “It’s a shitshow with deadly ramifications.”

  “Are there any clues at the openings?” Spike inquired.

  The Kev paused and stared hard at Spike, Francisco and Trista.

  “They can be trusted,” Ethan assured him. “They’re my regional generals. However, if they prove otherwise, I’ll kill them.”

  “It’s a wonderful working environment,” Spike told The Kev with his tongue planted firmly in his cheek. “The perks are amazing.”

  I really did like Spike. He had very big balls, metaphorically speaking. I had no clue what his real balls looked like.

  “I’m having a hard time taking Doug Henning seriously,” Francisco said in a flat tone.

  “I am not Doug Henning,” The Kev ground out and shot me a look.

  I shrugged and wondered why I hadn’t thought of that one earlier. Michael Bolton was probably not his best choice.

  “Jerry Garcia?” Gareth questioned.

  “No. I’m not Jerry Garcia either,” The Kev said wearily. “For the love of lederhosen, I’m Michael Bolton.”

  “I knew that, honey,” Gemma said as she brushed his long, kinky locks out of his face.

  “Thank you,” he told her with a quick kiss to the top of her head. “I think I might need to change my disguise. The confusion is depressing me.”

  “The Kev, with all due respect, can you deal with that later? We have a Demon problem on our hands at the moment and we need to end it. Sooner rather than later,” Ethan said.

  The Kev nodded and took the elastic band that Gemma offered and put his hair—for lack of a nicer word—into an unfortunate low ponytail. “Of course,” he agreed becoming all business. “The signature scents at the sites are muted but somewhat familiar to me.”

  He stopped and waited, glancing again at the visiting Vampyres.

  “I’d prefer to share classified information with only those I know and trust,” The Kev stated with hesitation.

  Very unlike him.

  “We are not part of the problem,” Trista said, coolly. “We are here because of the problem. We can’t be expected to protect our people if we don’t know what’s going on.”

  “She’s correct,” Spike spoke up staring straight at Ethan. “It’s like the Godfather. You’re Marlon Brando and we’re all the rest of them. We’re your henchmen so to speak. If you can’t trust us, then you should remove us. Or at the very least put a decapitated horse head in our beds.”

  Francisco still appeared bored to tears and rolled his eyes at Spike’s analogy.

  Spike’s weird was mostly funny, but that one was just weird. Trista shot him a look to kill. Spike just winked at her and grinned. He was all kids of nutty crazy, but at least he wasn’t pissed all the time.

  Ethan was quiet as he considered the requests.

  I was not. Learning to think before I spoke was something I was still working on. “I have no problem with it,” I said as The Kev gave me a sharp glance of frustration.

  “Astrid is right,” Ethan conceded. “The more we hide, the worse it looks. These are my people and if we want Astrid and the new laws to be accepted then we have to work as one. And where is Mary?”

  “Indisposed,” Trista said with a careless shrug. “She won’t be back.”

  “She left?” Gareth asked, surprised.

  “She had a little run in with Mother Nature and let’s just say Mary’s lack of manners didn’t turn out so well for her,” Spike added with a grin.

  “Is this something I need to deal with?” Ethan inquired tersely.

  “No,” I cut in quickly. “I can take this one.”

  I didn’t really want to restore Mary to her former bitchy glory, but I would. It was the right thing to do even if it would chap my ass to do it.

  “Fine. The Kev, please continue,” Ethan said. “What were the scents at the portal openings?”

  The Kev looked down at the floor for a long moment and then made eye contact with Ethan in one last silent plea to take the conversation private, but it was too late. The Kev was as aware of Vampyre politics as the rest of us and if we removed the visiting Vamps now, all Hell would break lose—as if it hadn’t already.

  “I scented Dark Fairies which doesn’t surprise me,” he said with a disgusted shake of his head. “A good handful escaped from Xanthia recently. I spoke with The Dave about it and they are working to bring them back for trial.”

  The Dave was a powerful Fairy who’d been incarcerated for hundreds of years by the evil, and now dead, The Corrine. The Dave was running Xanthia in Gemma’s absence. I’d had the distinct pleasure of meeting him and tried to bargain with him to be my father. He was that cool. Of course that didn’t exactly work out because I was an undead Vampyre and he was a Fairy, but it was a fun fantasy.

  “As far as I’m aware, only Vampyres can find portals. Fairies can detect portal openings?” Ethan asked, surprised.

  “No. It means they’re working with someone else,” The Kev confirmed.

  “And the other scent?” Ethan asked.

  “The other part isn’t a scent at all,” The Kev said slowly.

  “What is it?” Venus asked.

  The Kev paused yet again and rubbed his temples.

  “Good god, man,” Francisco griped. “Get to it. We don’t have all day.”

  With an exasperated sigh The Kev shrugged. “Witnesses have sworn that Astrid has been near each portal opening.”

  “Well now, that’s certainly interesting,” Francisco piped up, engaged for the first time since he’d arrived.

  “What the fuck?” I shouted. “I’m not opening the portals. The Fairies hate me. They’re probably paying who ever is said they saw me.”

  “Astrid is not opening the portals,” Ethan growled at The Kev.

  “I agree,” The Kev said. “But we have to follow the lead.”

  “Could they have made a mistake?” Gemma asked, concerned for both me and The Kev.

  “I wish,” The Kev said. “But no. Too many testimonies line up.”

  “What species is implicating me?” I asked, furious at the ridiculousness of the accusation.

  “Trolls,” The Kev said.

  “It’s like Lord of the Rings with real death,” Spike said with wide eyes and an excited expression.

  “Can it, Spike,” I hissed, as he made the international zip the lip sign and gave me an apologetic shrug.

  “Trolls lie,” Ethan snapped as Trista, Spike and Francisco began to whisper amongst themselves.

  “The Trolls hate me,” I shouted. “They’re probably still pissed I didn’t give them Samuel. Like that was ever going to fucking happen.”

  “Does anyone like you?” Trista inquired politely.

  “Enough,” Ethan growled viciously at Trista who blanched at the ire of her Prince.

  And now I knew why The Kev didn’t want to talk with others in the room. Following subtle hints was now on my list of things to learn how to do.

  “We’re going,” I said as my power amped up and objects began to fly around the room.

  “We’re going where?” Ethan demanded, ducking a few large books hurtling through the office.

  “We’re going to the portals that have been opened and solve this bullshit once and for all,” I hissed.

  “What about the wedding?” Gemma asked with wide eyes, as she too crouched down to avoid getting nailed by the flying fruits of my fury.

  “If we
don’t figure this out and clear my freakin’ name there won’t be a wedding. There will be a war,” I said.

  “Astrid is correct,” Ethan said through clenched teeth, watching his generals enjoy this new fucked up twist immensely. “We leave at sundown. Everyone get ready.”

  “Everyone?” Gareth asked, catching a flying Ming Vase midair and returning it safely to the side table.

  “Are you able?” Ethan asked his brother. “I need you.”

  Gareth nodded without hesitation.

  “I’m in,” Venus said.

  “As am I,” Gemma added.

  “I’m a given,” The Kev said.

  “We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Trista said with a raised brow, speaking for herself, Francisco and Spike.

  Fuckityfuckfuckfuck.

  Chapter 13

  “I have about an hour to set this crap straight and will hopefully be back in time for the wedding,” I said.

  I paced the formal parlor and tried to focus on the matter at hand instead of the fact that Trista had probably informed the entire undead population that I was at the scene of the crimes. I couldn’t catch a break if it jumped up and bit me in the ass.

  “Hooooopefullly?” Charles asked with tremendous concern.

  He sat on the antique coffee table wringing his hands and bobbing his heads as the Baby Demons floated around him with worry. Charles and the Baby Demons had hit it off just as Mother Nature had predicted and from what I’d heard, had already taken several trips to Big Sean’s Booby Bungalow. I had no plans to touch that nugget—too disturbing.

  I’d already spoken with Pam and The King. They were going to watch Samuel and guard him with their lives while Ethan and I were away. My Guardian Angel was unhappy as all get out and wanted to come, but realized protecting Samuel was equally as important—if not more so.

  “Yes, hopefully,” I admitted with a shrug. “The Demon problem has taken a little turn for the worse and I need to pop some fuckers and kill some Fairies.”

  “Ohhhhhhhh, sounds fuuun, Mommmmmmyyyyy!” Abe squealed as he turned little flips in the air and slapped Ross in the head at the same time.

  “Do youuuuuu neeeeeeed us to come anddddd eeeeaaat them?” Rachel inquired politely.

  “Um… no, but thank you. We’re keeping the contingent small,” I replied trying not to wince or gag.

  My Baby Demons’ diet consisted of eating the most evil of Demons. It was all kinds of gross—just ask my biological father. Oh, wait. That’s impossible. They ate him. Abe, Beyoncé, Rachael and Ross were a menace to society, but they were loyal and I adored them. With the introduction of Charles, the foursome had become a fivesome. I dreaded the trouble they would get into, but I couldn’t think about that today.

  “Charles the wedding invites are buttass ugly and who in the Hell did you send them to?”

  “Ohhhh, thank youuuuuu,” he said, pleased with my assessment of his work.

  “Wait, did you hear what I just said?” I asked, glancing over to see if he was screwing with me.

  He wasn’t.

  “Issssss buttassssss ugly a baaaaaddddd thing?” he asked, now unsure of himself.

  “Oh my Uncle God,” I muttered as I thought for a brief moment it might not be such a bad thing if Ethan and I didn’t make it back in time. “Buttass ugly is a terrible thing, Charles. I want you to download a few classy wedding books and read them before you do anything else. I’m not going to be here to guide you and I don’t know what the Hell I’m doing anyway. Can you handle that?”

  “Yesssssss,” he replied with his heads hanging contritely.

  “Weeeeeeee will helpppppp him, Mommmmmmmyyyyy!” Ross informed me gleefully.

  My stomach clenched with fear, but it was what it was. My wedding was considered a joke by most of my people and the actual event was going to prove them right. Whatever. I had bigger problems right now. However, I still needed a few more questions answered.

  “Who did you send invitations to?” I asked Charles.

  “Everrrrrrrryone on the liiiissssst,” he replied.

  “What list?”

  “The one Mooooother Nature and Saaaaatan gave meeeeee,” he replied starting to look a bit scared.

  I was unsure if it was the look on my face that terrified him, or the fact that I’d just turned and zapped a chair, causing an explosion and an impressive fire. It was either the chair or him. I wasn’t confident I’d made the right choice, but he was a living creature, for the time being, at least—the chair wasn’t.

  “That doesn’t work for me,” I snapped as I thought better of burning The Cressida House down and magically doused the blaze with water. “I only want friends and family—my friends and family. Can you fix this?”

  “Ummmmmm, yessssssss?” Charles replied, looking like he had to take a poop.

  “Good. Fix it. Where’s Fat Demon Doug?” I asked, looking around. I’d expected him to be here break dancing up a storm.

  “He’s in Nirvanaaaaaa with Moooother Nature working on a pole daaaaance for the reeeeceptionnnn,” Charles let me know calmly, as if that was even a remotely normal sentence.

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” I said, trying my best to be diplomatic and not incinerate anything or anyone in the room.

  “Wooorks for meeeeee,” Charles affirmed, nodding all three of his heads.

  “Here’s what I do know I want. I want Grandpa to give me away. I don’t care if Satan pitches a hissy fit about this. I have excellent blackmail material on the Devil and I’m more than willing to use it. You will not let the Prince of Darkness wheedle his way into escorting me or I’ll remove two of your heads with a dull butter knife. Gemma is my maid of honor and The King is Ethan’s best man. Gemma and The King will walk together down the aisle and Pam will walk with The Kev. Raquel and Heathcliff are together and Dixie will walk with Hayden. Venus will shit a brick, but she’ll walk with Gareth. Paris will walk with my Cousin Jesus. You got that?” I asked as I watched Charles scribble frantically on a pad held steady by the Baby Demons.

  “Gooooot it, no Satan. Looooose heads ifffffff I fuuuuuckkkk up. Dullll butter kniffffe.”

  “Right. I want Journey to play at the reception. Under no circumstance will anyone kidnap Steve Perry. He’s agreed to do it because he’s my friend. However, Satan has to stay at least fifty feet away from him the entire time.”

  “Shiiiiiit,” Charles mumbled as he began to sweat the details.

  “The Seven Deadly Sins can attend, but they have to behave or Mother Nature will take them to Nirvana for punishment. Samuel is the ring bearer and Bambi the Hell Hound is the flower girl.”

  “Gooooood choices. Baaaambiii is hot,” Charles congratulated me.

  I wouldn’t call Bambi hot by any stretch of the imagination, but she smelled like brownies and I loved her.

  “Oh and put in a call to Uncle God and see if he can arrange for someone to do the ceremony,” I said, praying I’d covered it all.

  “Preference on the foooooood?” Charles inquired.

  “I don’t eat, so no. Just make sure Mother Nature doesn’t cook it.”

  “Willllll do.”

  “That should cover it,” I said, sitting down and trying to calm myself. Today was sucking huge wads.

  “What aboooout the Bachelorette and Bachelor parttttttiessss?” Beyoncé asked.

  “Shit, I forgot about those,” I mumbled as I let my head drop in defeat.

  What was I thinking? Planning a wedding in a week and letting a three headed monster take the lead with the help of four sex obsessed Baby Demons was going to blow up in my face. Did this human ritual really matter that much to me?

  Yes. Yes it did. Crap.

  “Skip the parties. We probably won’t be back anyway.”

  “Nooooooooo,” Rachel said with an expression of horror on her cute little Demon face. “Please, please plllleeeeaaasssseeeeee, let us arrange theeeemmmm!”

  Against my better judgment, I nodded my head. “It can�
��t be disgusting and I don’t want male strippers. Am I very, very clear?” I asked, already regretting my decision, but they were so damned excited I decided to eat it.

  “Yessssssssssss!” Rachel sang and flew around the room like a little bullet filled with joy.

  “Ooookay.” I stood and gathered the alarming evil quintet up in my arms. “You little bastards behave yourselves and make sure my wedding is beautiful. Deal?”