Fashionably Fooled

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Fashionably Fooled Page 17

by peterman, robyn


  “No, Murry,” I said, heaving out a sigh of relief as Elle smiled and put the knife back in her pocket. “You’re not going back to Tennessee.”

  “You will live in the Dark Palace with us,” Elle said as she got to her feet with Luke sleeping soundly in her arms.

  I hoped like Hell Luke wouldn’t remember this day, but for some strange reason I knew he would.

  “Will I get my own bedroom?” Murry asked and then backpedaled immediately. “I mean, it’s okay if ya want me to sleep in the basement. I’m used to that.”

  Breathing in through my nose and slowly out through my mouth, I recalled the promise I’d made to Mammy. I was appalled that so many were here to witness my largess, but it was what it was. I wasn’t always a man of my word, but today I was. Tomorrow would be anyone’s guess.

  “You will have a suite, Murry. Your own suite. You will never live in the Basement of Hell. I shall protect you and watch over you until the end of time,” I said.

  “Can I call ya Pappy?” he asked.

  “Absolutely not,” I shouted and then reined it in when Elle pointed to her pocket. “Lord of Darkness will be fine.”

  “Ya got it, Lord of Dark Shit,” Murry said bowing respectfully. “Thank you.”

  He clearly had a slight hearing issue like his mother. I let it go. It had been a rough fucking day.

  “You’re welcome,” I said, shaking my head in horror at my good manners.

  I heard a few gasps from the crowd. I decided to ignore them. Being forced to electrocute anyone after the evening we’d just lived through didn’t appeal to me. Plus, I secretly liked most of the people still here.

  “Will ya go to the Red Lobster with me?” Murry asked shyly.

  Fuck. The word no was on the tip of my tongue until I noticed Elle had gone for the butter knife again. “Yes,” I choked out as Elle gave me a smile that lightened my black heart. “Sounds like a plan—a bad one, but a plan nonetheless.”

  “I told you he was good,” my mother squealed to Steve Perry. “You really should get to know Lucifer. You would probably be best friends!”

  Rolling my eyes, I shook my head.

  “I’m not good. I’m not even nice. I’m an asshole,” I corrected her much to the amusement and agreement of all present. “Leave Steve Perry alone, Mother.”

  “Seriously?” my mother asked, shocked.

  “Seriously,” I assured her.

  “Can I come out of hiding now?” Mr. Rogers called out from under the table as Lizard poofed back into the room.

  “Yes, Fred,” I said with a chuckle as I put my arms around Elle and kissed Luke’s fat baby cheek. “Did you actually go to Purgatory?” I asked Lizard as he grabbed his horribly dressed women and pulled them close before walking over to Murry.

  “Nope, I was here the whole fuckin’ time just in case you needed backup,” he told me as he gave Murry a heartfelt man-hug which consisted of an awkward embrace and a few backslaps while chomping on his ever-present gum. “But I’d be up for a game of hide and seek with Fred anytime.”

  “Next Thursday in Purgatory?” Fred suggested as he crawled out from under the table and joined the group.

  “It’s a date, you sexy-assed, sweater wearin’ hot piece of man meat,” Martha yelled.

  “Damn straight, you tennis-shoe changin’ love machine,” Jane added with a shimmy.

  Fred looked positively terrified, but he was a polite man. He smiled weakly and gave the trio a thumbs up.

  “Well,” Astrid said with an exaggerated sigh as she held hands with her mate and her son. “This was one fucked up party.”

  “Understatement,” I muttered, nodding to Ethan and Samuel. I had wanted to save what I was about to say for a private meeting between Astrid and myself, but it was more appropriate and humiliating to announce it with company. Astrid had earned it. “You shall receive a favor.”

  “From you?” Astrid inquired with a laugh.

  “From me,” I said. “What would you like?”

  “I’ll have to get back to you on that,” she replied with a wicked grin, using my own line on me.

  “Of course, you will,” I said dryly, unable to hide my smile.

  The other Vamps, The Kev, Gemma, Dixie and her mate Hayden all said their goodbyes and left. I was ready to call it a night, but a few stragglers remained.

  “I miss everything,” my father yelled as he arrived in a small explosion of bright blue magic with his hair still wet from the shower.

  “Sorry about that, Bill,” I said as I approached him and hugged him. I was relieved he didn’t reek of monkey shit.

  The man was insanely huggable. It was difficult to keep from squeezing him until his ribs cracked. Everyone wanted to love on Bill. Normally, I denied myself the pleasure of hugging my father. It was undignified and weak. Tonight, was a different story.

  As much as I wanted my son to see me respect my own mother so he would respect Elle, I wanted him to see me show my father affection. I wanted Luke’s affection—not the fake kind. The real deal was all I would settle for. And I would earn it starting now.

  Bill hugged me back, and I rested my head on his shoulder.

  “I killed my daughter,” I whispered.

  “No, son. She killed herself,” Bill contradicted me. “Your mother told me everything.”

  “Then why do I feel bad?” I asked.

  Bill smiled and touched my face. “The circle of life is not for the fainthearted. At some point in every life, a person has a choice of path to follow. When Immortality is on the table, there are far too many paths to choose from. Wrath chose the wrong path over and over. Madness took her, and her fate was set.”

  I sighed and let his words sink in. I would not leave my six other daughters in the Basement of Hell. The chance of madness taking them was high if they burned in fire for centuries. Wrath had been a lost cause for thousands of years. The others? Maybe… maybe not. I would give them a chance. They would still suffer a punishment, but it wouldn’t cause permanent damage.

  Of course, if they pulled anymore deadly shit, all deals were off.

  Elle walked into the center of the guests who still remained and cleared her throat. “We had wanted to announce this at the party, but…”

  “But things did not go as planned,” I finished her sentence, joining my lover and gazing at the people around me.

  I wished my brother was still here, but I would phone him tomorrow. My mother and father were here. Elle’s mother remained. Murry was trailing Elle around like a puppy. I seriously hoped he wasn’t afraid of the dark and would ask to sleep with us. It would be very bad form to electrocute the Dragon.

  Astrid, Ethan and Samuel had yet to leave. Lizard, Martha, and Jane were present and, presently, in the act of a lewd public display of affection. Turning away so I didn’t have to zap them, I scanned the rest of the group.

  Steve Perry, Dr. Ruth and Fred Rogers stood slightly outside the circle of family and watched with smiles on their faces. I was fully aware it would be very simple to coerce the lead singer of Journey into being my best friend after what had happened tonight, but I chose not to. He would always be my favorite singer in the Universe. That would remain unchanged. But I was tired—tired of games. Tired of cheating. Tired of lies. If I were ever to become friends with Steve Perry, it would be because both of us sought the friendship. Plus, it was delightful stalking him. Hell, I might not even like him if I got to know him. Doubtful, but possible. Of course, the altruistic attitude that had infected me would be gone tomorrow after a marathon of sex and a good night’s sleep.

  It wouldn’t do to have a nice Devil.

  Today had been beautiful. Today had been devastating. Tomorrow was a new day—a fresh start. Punishments must be doled out and chaos must be encouraged. A vacation would be lovely, but there was no rest for the weary… or the evil.

  “It’s definitely an understatement about the plans going awry,” Mother Nature said with a pout. “I didn’t even get to pole dance for
the guests.”

  “Maybe some other time, darling,” Bill said as he took my mother’s hand in his and squeezed.

  “Or not,” I added with a grin as my mother shot me a glare. “Elle, would you like to do the honors?”

  “Yes, Lucifer. I would,” she said, smiling down at the sleeping child in her arms. “You will announce his first name. I shall announce his middle name.”

  “He has a middle name?” I asked, confused.

  “He does,” Elle assured me.

  “Are you sure?” I asked, growing concerned.

  “Very,” Elle replied.

  “How sure?”

  “Very, very, very sure,” she said as her eyes flashed in warning.

  Shit. It was going to be bad.

  “As you wish,” I said. “Our son’s name is Lucifer, but we will call him Luke.”

  “Beautiful,” Sadie said. “It’s a perfect name.”

  “For a perfectly wonderful and naughty little boy,” Mother Nature added with a giggle.

  “Love it,” Astrid said. “If Luke grows up as fast as Samuel did, they can be best friends.”

  “It’s fated,” Elle said, looking over at Samuel with a bright smile. “I see it. The future holds many adventures for the two of you.”

  “I look forward to it,” Samuel said with a respectful nod to both Elle and me.

  It was a fascinating and somewhat alarming hint to what lay ahead. Samuel was the strongest True Immortal of us all. He hadn’t come into his power yet, but when he did it would be something to see. Would Luke be his friend? Would Luke be his foe? Only time would tell.

  “And Luke’s middle name?” My father pressed with a twinkle of delight in his eyes.

  Elle glanced over at me and mouthed the words I’m sorry. Her grin grew wide as my eyes grew huge. I had no clue what my crazy woman was about to say, but it was going to be hideous. Of that I was sure.

  “Luke’s middle name is in honor of the woman who helped bring him into the world and saved him from leaving it,” Elle said with a tear running down her lovely cheek.

  “Holy shee-ott,” Murry shouted. “His middle name is Mammy?”

  “His middle name is Mammy,” Elle confirmed. “Luke Mammy the Heir to Hell.

  My son was going to suffer many ass kickings on the playground. I bit down on my tongue and held back every inappropriate and profanity laden retort that came to mind. Elle still had a dull butter knife in her pocket, and I wanted my Johnson to be able to perform tonight. Plus, she was correct. As awful and humiliating as the name was, it was fitting. My boy was going to be a badass.

  He would have to be with a middle name like that.

  Reaching out my hand to the woman who gave me the will to live, I addressed our guests while staring into her lavender eyes. “Good night, everyone. I’d say thank you for coming, but I’m not into that kind of thing. However… thank you for staying. If you repeat what I said, I will make your lives a living Hell. It’s my specialty.”

  I didn’t see anyone leave. I heard none of the goodbyes. My eyes were glued to the mother of my son. Her beauty slayed me, but it was her heart that I desired.

  “Come with me,” I whispered.

  “Always,” Elle said. “I will follow you to the end of time.”

  “Promise?”

  She placed her hand on her heart and smiled. “Promise.”

  “I will hold you to that, Siren.”

  “I would expect nothing less, Devil,” she shot back. “You’re a terrible, awful man.”

  “And you’re a deceitful shrew of a woman.”

  “Thank you,” Elle said with a giggle.

  “My pleasure. I’m curious about something,” I said, as we left the empty ballroom and made our way toward our suite.

  “Yes?”

  “What exactly is cheeseburger sex?”

  Elle’s laugh rang out. Her delight made Luke grin and gurgle in his slumber. “You don’t know about cheeseburger sex?” she asked with a wicked grin.

  “Can’t say I do,” I replied with a laugh. “I wouldn’t be opposed to learning.”

  “It’s a deal, lover,” Elle said as she picked up her speed. “It shall be your birthday gift.”

  * * *

  Cheeseburger sex was now permanently on rotation in our very active sex life. It was deliciously naughty, and my lover was an outstanding teacher.

  Happy, Happy, Happy Womb Eviction Day to me.

  Epilogue

  The sun rises. The sun sets. And the Earth still spins on its tilted axis in reaction to the day the rightful heir to Hell was almost destroyed.

  The battle was epic, and the scars left behind eventually became the strengths that would mold the child. In the sheer violence of that day, the bloody clash ended some, and chose others to remain. It was beautifully brutal.

  Beauty created in fury and rage was still beauty.

  Or was it…

  The Devil had known grace. The Devil knew evil. And now the Devil understood love. But most of all the Devil knew how to have an outstanding time doing outrageously bad things. His son would be no different.

  As the son of the Dark Angel, the heir to Hell was in for a wild ride—some of his own making… some, a matter of circumstance.

  Apples do not fall far from trees… just ask Adam and Eve.

  The future of Luke would indeed be tangled with the future of Samuel and a royal female of Fairy descent. The future was hazy even for Fate to see clearly. Not to mention, the pesky concept called free will could alter the winds of change in less time than it took to blink an eye.

  But for now, the child would grow. He would grow up strong. He would grow up devastatingly beautiful. He would grow up knowing he was loved.

  And he would be one Hell of a handful.

  What did you expect?

  He’s the fucking son of Satan.

  # # The End… for now # #

  Note From The Author

  If you enjoyed reading Fashionably Fooled, please consider leaving a positive review or rating on the site where you purchased it. Reader reviews help my books continue to be valued by resellers and help new readers make decisions about reading them.

  You are the reason I write these stories and I sincerely appreciate each of you!

  Many thanks for your support,

  ~ Robyn Peterman

  Want to hear about my new releases?

  Visit robynpeterman.com and join my mailing list!

  Excerpt from: It’s A Wonderful Midlife Crisis

  This is an excerpt from Book 1 of the Good To The Last Death Series!

  GET YOUR COPY HERE.

  Book Description

  Whoever said life begins at forty must have been heavily medicated, drunk, or delusional.

  Thirty-nine was a fantastic year. I was married to the man I loved. I had a body that worked without creaking. My grandma, who raised me, was still healthy, and life was pretty damned good.

  But as they say, all good things come to an end. I’d honestly love to know who ‘they’ are and rip them a new one.

  One year later, I’m a widow. My joints are starting to ache. Gram is in the nursing home, and dead people think my home is some kind of supernatural bed and breakfast. Gluing body parts onto semi-transparent people has become a side job—deceased people I’m not even sure are actually there. I think they need my help, but since I don’t speak dead, we’re having a few issues.

  To add to the heap of trouble, there’s a new dangerously smokin’ hot lawyer at the firm who won't stop giving me the eye. My BFF is thrilled with her new frozen face, thanks to her plastic surgeon, her alimony check, and the miracle of Botox. And then there’s the little conundrum that I’m becoming way too attached to my ghostly squatters… Like Cher, I'd like to turn back time. Now.

  No can do.

  Whatever. I have wine, good friends, and an industrial sized box of superglue. What could possibly go wrong?

  Everything, apparently.

  All in all, it’s s
haping up to be a wonderful midlife crisis…

  Chapter One

  “No. Way. Are you freaking serious?” I screamed as I flattened myself against the wall of my laundry room with a thud, trying not to hyperventilate. “There’s a hand in the laundry basket. There’s a hand in the laundry basket. There’s a hand in the damn laundry basket.”

  Sliding carefully along the wall so the unattached appendage didn’t jump out and grab me, I eased my way out of the tiny room and sprinted to the kitchen. It had a door that led outside, just in case the hand was up to no good.

  Wait. What kind of good could a lone hand in a basket of dirty laundry be up to?

  No good. That’s what kind of good a companionless hand could be up to.

  “I’m nuts,” I muttered, closing my eyes and pressing my fingers to my temples. Forty was supposed to be the new thirty, according to all the magazines. If this was forty, I was going to take a pass. I’d only been forty for three hours and it was already seriously bad. The solitary hand was the rancid icing on top of a really crappy birthday cake.

  Pacing my kitchen and keeping my eyes peeled for more random body parts, I spotted the empty coffee container and almost cried. Handling the ridiculously absurd while un-caffeinated was not going to end well.

  “I don’t have the energy for this right now,” I told no one in particular, since I was alone. “Who did I screw over in a former life that I’m dealing with this shit?”

  Unfortunately, I’d been seeing semi-corporeal versions of dead people for a few weeks. I’d become the kid from the Sixth Sense except that was a movie and this was real life… and my dead people did not look like Bruce Willis.

 

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