Justine raised her brows. "I can't. This alien has to look harmless. That's so not you."
Theresa tossed the sketchpad onto the stainless steel and glass coffee table and flopped back on the couch. "I want to be adorable again. I've so had it with teeth that look like I stole them from a T-Rex exhibit and breath that smells like burnt toast. And come on! Do you have any idea how badly I want boobs that will fit those kick-ass Lululemon sports bras you wear? I want to put my yoga pants in one of their inspirational bags and actually be able to relate to all that positivity."
"Yeah, I hear you." Justine decided not to mention that her latest leggings from Lulu had arrived earlier. She couldn't leave her condo, but wearing yoga pants that she loved was her tiny gift to herself.
"I read those self-help books until my eyeballs catch on fire, but it's still damn difficult to love myself when everyone who sees me runs away screaming." Theresa blew a smoke ring and watched it float up to the smoke elimination fan in the ceiling. "I love myself. I love myself. I love myself." She sighed. "See? Not working."
"I love you, if that helps."
Theresa blew her a kiss. "It always helps, sweetie. I'd have thrown myself off the roof by now if it wasn't for you."
"You can fly," Justine pointed out as she picked up her pen again. "It wouldn't be much of a sacrifice."
"Hurling myself off the roof of a ten-story building is a sign of doom regardless of the survival rate, so back off." Theresa sighed as she leaned back and stared at the ceiling, her blue-scaled arms stretched along the back of the couch. "Talk to me, babe. Tell me how your life is worse than mine. Make me feel better."
Justine decided that Theresa looked much more comfortable than she was, so she bailed on the dining room chair and stretched out on her back on the carpet, propping her feet up on the arm of the couch. "I'm not allowed to date. Or have dinner with a guy. Anything."
"I can't either, so we're tied. Try again."
"Unlike you, I can't even have cybersex due to my celibacy vow."
"Oh…right." Theresa patted Justine's foot. "That does bite. That Guardian Oath is a real soul-sucking bummer."
"Amen, sister. Who'd have thought that simply saying 'I swear to protect Desdemona's Temptation for all eternity until I die' had all those additional repercussions?"
"No one would ever think that. Getting us to sign that Oath was a deceitful, manipulative trick by those rat bastards on the Council who run the Guardian program. But they won't get us again. We're both reading every word of small print on every contract for the rest of our lives, which will be forever, since we're both immortal now."
"God, you're so right." The Oath had seemed so simple, so doable, and even heroic when she'd made it, until she'd later learned about the addendums in the Treatise on Guardianship.
* * *
I swear never to trust anyone, make friends, or develop emotional connections with anyone. To trust is to let down my guard and endanger Desdemona's Temptation.
* * *
I swear never to become sexually intimate with anyone. Temptations are distractions. Distractions are dangerous.
* * *
I swear I will never reveal any information about Desdemona's Temptation to anyone other than my designated successor, who will be chosen with the prior approval of the Council.
* * *
I swear to keep Desdemona's Temptation within my physical presence at all times, unless an emergency dictates leaving her with my Designated Successor.
I will kill to protect Desdemona's Temptation, and I will die to keep her safe. I am married to Desdemona's Temptation for all eternity until I die.
* * *
In all areas not specifically covered by the Oath, I swear to follow the rules as outlined in the most current edition of the Treatise on Guardianship.
* * *
She hated that Treatise. It pretty much banned her from doing anything except eating, sleeping, and cutting off people's heads. And she hated the Council, who seemed to have nothing better to do than spy on her to make sure she didn't so much as breathe in the wrong direction. "I hate being micromanaged."
"So true. Professional autonomy is so underrated on those job satisfaction surveys. Every Guardian should be able to behead anyone they want and not have to answer for it."
"Totally." If it weren't for Mona, her job would be unbearable. Although she hadn't defended Mona from marauders recently, Justine loved that espresso machine and thrived on the importance of what she did. Protecting Mona gave the job meaning, even on the dullest days. But that didn't mean there weren't times where she hated everything that came with it. "Are we having a venting session? I know we always try to stay positive, but I'm thinking that complaining about things that I've already bitched about a thousand times and can't ever change might make me feel better."
"That sounds awesome." Theresa's eyes lit up. "Go for it. Pointless, relentless complaining can be cathartic. I'm in."
"Sweet!" Justine folded her arms behind her head, wiggling deeper into the thick carpet. God, she had a long list. This was great. "I'm still ticked off at my mom for roping me into being her successor as a Guardian moments before she had the gall to die and make me take over. What kind of a life is this to foist upon your only child?"
Theresa rolled her eyes. "Chica, I'm so with you. I love your mom to pieces, but I'd be totally psyched to go back in time and incinerate her right before she trapped us."
"You can't incinerate her. I love her."
"As do I. She's like my second mom," Theresa agreed, "But it's her fault I have nightmares about the Council now. They're seriously the most rigid, unforgiving, ruthless bastards I've ever met. I almost wish you'd die so I could be Guardian. First thing I'd do is burn them up and rescind the no-sex ban on Guardians. And we should both lovingly disown your mom. After all, she was the one who talked me into being your successor, which resulted in me drinking from that stupid Goblet, which turned me into a full-time dragon, which then ruined me for all time."
Justine studied the scorch marks on the ceiling. "What a sucky year that was. My mom dies, I become Guardian, you get stuck as a dragon, and we both never have a life again. I should have thrown myself off the roof and spared us these two hundred years."
"Totally. Of course, I would have saved you with my fantastic flying skills, but it would have felt really good to admit complete defeat for at least a minute." Theresa suddenly sat up. "Wait a sec. We should really do that. Let's disown your mom, kill off the Council, and redefine our jobs. It could really be a lot of fun. I haven't gotten to kill anyone in ages and—"
Suddenly, a high-pitched, supernatural ringing blasted through the condo, and they stared at each other, frozen.
"She's coming," Theresa whispered. "We're fucked."
In about two seconds, they were no longer going to be alone.
Chapter Four
In less than a minute, the shimmery image of Iris Bennett, Justine's dearly departed mom, rose up from the black soot-proof tile floor, and she didn't look happy.
She was wearing an embroidered black jacket, a pair of matching slacks and a gorgeous pair of heels. Her hair was slightly blonder than it had been the last time Justine had seen her, and her nails were a sassy crimson with little devil horns painted on them. "Are you girls talking about me again? You know I can hear you from the Afterlife, don't you?" She gave the dragon a long look, and Theresa glanced away, whistling innocently.
Justine sat up quickly. "Hi, Mom. We were just complaining about how you manipulated us into this Guardian thing. Theresa thinks we should lovingly disown you," she added, ignoring Theresa's lethal stare.
Iris gave a long-suffering motherly sigh. "Someday, you girls will thank me. Protecting humankind and committing to a life of celibacy is the best gift I could have given you. When you realize that, I'll accept your apology. In the meantime, though, check out my new outfit." Iris held out her arm and twirled. "You like?"
Justine grinned, her mood lightened by t
he presence of her irreverent mom. "You look great. Since when does purgatory have such good shopping?"
Iris smoothed her outfit. "Actually, I'm here about the clothes, in a way. It's a bit of a problem." She floated across the floor and hovered in the middle of the coffee table. Literally, in the middle. Her legs disappeared into the stainless steel.
It was then Justine noticed the stress lines around her mom's eyes. "What's wrong?"
Iris moved to the edge and sat on...er, rather, in...the coffee table, folding her ankles elegantly. She hadn't lost her old-school manners. "It's about hell."
Justine glanced at Theresa, who was now sitting up straight, no longer lounging in misery as she stared at Iris.
Hell was always a concern, given that her mom was still hovering in purgatory and hadn't yet made it to heaven. "What about it? I thought you were firmly entrenched on the heavenly side of purgatory."
"That's not entirely true." Iris sighed. "When I died, the Council told me that the mistake that got me killed was enough to send me straight to hell."
"Really?" For the two hundred years since her death, her mom had been visiting from the Afterlife, which is where all creatures with a soul went when they died. The bad ones went to hell, the good ones got heaven, and ones like her mom got stuck in purgatory while their future was sorted out.
In all that time, her mom had never spilled any details about what had happened the night she'd died, other than to admit she'd made a mistake and was still paying for it. She said it was a burden her daughter didn't need to carry. "If you should be in hell," Justine asked, "why have you been in purgatory all this time? A clerical oversight?" God help her if a clerical error was all that was keeping her mom out of hell.
Iris shook her head. "You."
"Me, what?"
"You're the reason I'm there." She reached out and trailed her hand through Justine's hair. "I get credit for being the mom of a great kid."
"Really?" Justine frowned at her mom's nod. Well, that was great, and all, but it didn't really answer the question. "So, if I'm so fantastic, why aren't you in heaven?"
Iris's eyebrows furrowed, and a tendon in her neck twitched. "Well, my fate has been in limbo while they wait for your true nature to emerge."
Justine glanced at Theresa, who shrugged in confusion. "My true nature? What does that mean?"
"It means it hasn't been determined whether you're destined for heaven or hell."
Justine leapt to her feet in alarm. "What? Why on earth would hell be a possibility for me?"
"Are you kidding?" Black smoke puffed from Theresa's nose as she roared in protest. "That's ridiculous! Justine's about as pure and bland as tofu on a diet. She's not hell-bound."
"Tofu's a little harsh," Justine argued, "but Theresa's basically right. I'm so good that my life has been the ultimate in boredom since I was made Guardian."
"Amen to that," Theresa chimed in. "Our life couldn't get more excruciatingly dull. No one to kill, no sex, not enough food to binge on..."
"Enough, ladies," Iris said, holding up her hands to silence them. "Justine needs to face a Qualifying Incident, which will reveal her true nature. If her dark side triumphs, she and I will both be destined for hell. If she suppresses it, then both of us will be destined for heaven." She patted through Justine's knee. "Don't be upset because I didn't tell you all this earlier. I didn't want to put any pressure on you."
Well, that was nice and everything, but... "Why are telling me now? What's changed?"
Iris pursed her lips. "I had a chat with Melvin. Apparently, we've run out of time."
"Melvin?" Justine raised an eyebrow at Theresa to see if she'd heard of Melvin, but Theresa shrugged and shook her head. "Who on earth is Melvin, and why does he matter?"
"He's the new boss in my neighborhood," Iris explained. "That's what he calls our clusters in purgatory now. Neighborhoods. He thinks it makes us sound more secular. It helps newcomers adjust better. I rather like it, don't you?"
"Is he hot?" Theresa asked. "There's got to be some good eye-candy in purgatory, right?"
Justine shoved a fire-resistant pillow in the dragon's mouth and gave her a quelling glare before turning to her mom. "What did Melvin say?"
The pillow shot past Justine's head, a trail of sparks behind it.
Iris didn't even blink at the stuffed projectile. "Melvin has much higher clearance with heaven than his predecessor and got the inside scoop. Apparently, Satan has spent the last two hundred years trying to get access to me."
"Satan?" Justine gaped at her mom in horror. "The leader of the Underworld wants you? Why?" Dear God. There was no way that could possibly be a good thing.
"What kind of access does Satan want?" Theresa asked. "Wooing, dating, shagging, that kind of thing?"
Justine smacked her friend. "Theresa! Don't even joke about that—"
"I'm not joking!" Theresa held up her claws in defense. "It's well-known that Satan only cares about finding women to have sex with. It's what he does."
"Well, my mom isn't a sex object. There's no way—" Justine's voice trailed off when she saw the flush of her mom's cheeks. "Theresa's, right? Satan wants to have sex with you?"
"Yep."
"Oh, God." Justine sat down hard on the couch next to Theresa, her stomach churning. "I think I'm going to throw up. I don't know what's worse, that Satan wants you, or the reason that he wants you."
"Your mom having sex is the bad part," Theresa said. "I heard Satan's great in bed, and he's super hot. So, it's the mom-sex thing that's making this so awkward, for sure."
"And that's not all." Iris's eyes were gleaming now. "He also wants me to be the queen of his domain. Queen of hell, basically."
"Oh, dear God." Justine sank back against the cushions, horrified.
"Holy crap." Theresa gave a low whistle. "That's bad shit right there."
Iris nodded. "After submitting seven hundred and sixty-two thousand unsuccessful petitions, he finally picked the right Afterlife official to bribe last month. His petition was greenlighted for consideration last week. As of now, they are officially evaluating his petition to have me expedited to hell."
"Don't even tell me they're thinking of granting him permission?" Theresa's golden eyes were wide and unblinking, her nostrils flaring in agitation.
"Well, at this point, it's basically a political decision," Iris said. "It's always good to keep Satan happy, so sacrificing me isn't really a big deal for them. Plus, there are a few Afterlife officials who would love to have a reason to send me to hell. Not quite over my little incident. And since your true self hasn't emerged, well, nothing is really stopping them."
True self, where are you? "So how long until they decide?"
"Melvin was lobbying for two hundred years, but Satan got them down to two weeks."
"Two weeks? Are you serious?" Justine leapt to her feet. "No! They can't do that!" Her face began to tighten in that "I-might-freak-out-really-soon" mode, alleviated only when Theresa gave her a reassuring tail flick. Surely, a dragon and a Guardian could handle this situation, right? Urk.
"Apparently, Satan can be very convincing," Iris said. "He even got them to permit him to come into purgatory to try to win me over while the petition is pending. If he can convince me to go with him of my own free will, then the petition won't even matter." She patted her blouse. "The clothes are from him. He does have excellent taste."
"What? They're from him? Why are you wearing them?"
Iris raised her brows. "The clothes are lovely. What purpose would it serve not to accept them?"
Had her mom lost her mind? "Oh, I don't know. Discouraging him, maybe?"
Iris started laughing. "You think I could discourage Satan by doing something as mundane as rejecting his gifts? Dear heavens, Justine, have you learned nothing in two hundred years?"
Justine blinked. "I've learned plenty. It seems pretty logical not to accept his gifts—"
"Satan's a rat bastard," Theresa interrupted. "Justine and I will go t
o hell, assassinate him, and call it a day."
Iris looked thoroughly amused now. "I appreciate the sentiment, Theresa, but if you and Justine murder the leader of hell, that would most likely send me to hell anyway. Remember the Qualifying Incident? Murdering Satan might not exactly be considered resisting Justine's dark side."
"We'll find another way to save you," Justine said, clenching her fists. "I'll find a Qualifying Incident and prove to them you deserve better than to spend eternity as Satan's harem girl."
"I love the optimism, girlfriend, but how are we going to find a Qualifying Incident when we never leave the condo?" Theresa asked. "It's too iffy. Our best option is to take him out." Puffs of smoke and orange sparks began to dance from her snout. "Please? Can we kill him? I'm happy to do it and take the blame. Being a dragon is always a good excuse. Everyone knows dragons are prone to destruction, so we get a lot of leeway."
"They're not going to hold me blameless if you murder Satan!" Justine pointed out quickly, half-terrified Theresa was about to bolt for the door, screaming for revenge. "You're my best friend and my successor! They'll know we were in it together."
"Hey, girls, calm down." Iris kneeled in front of Justine and rested her hands in the middle of Justine's thighs. "Listen to me, baby. I made the choices that put me in this position. If that's my fate, then that's my fate." She paused to take a deep breath. Then she lifted her chin and nodded firmly. "At least I'll have good sex and gorgeous clothes forever, and I'll have full access to Satan to make his life a living hell twenty-four/seven, no pun intended." She managed a too-bright smile. "Things could be worse."
"Worse than being Satan's concubine for all of eternity?" Justine cleared her throat to get the panicked squeal out of it. "What's worse than that?"
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