Fashionably Dead Down Under

by Robyn Peterman

  “Lucifer’s Bouncing Balls, I hadn’t even noticed her absence! Was anyone hurt?” Janet gasped and pulled on her beard in distress.

  “Unfortunately, no,” the icky therapist said, “but we hope she makes better choices next time.” She took a pause, giving each of the group the evil eye through her bandages while still ignoring me as if I didn’t exist. “Myrtle, you’re next.”

  Myrtle fidgeted in her chair. I figured she had to be a couple of hundred years old like Janet, but she looked like she was about fifteen. Most Demons, like Vampyres, stopped aging somewhere between twenty and thirty, so it was difficult to determine true age. I wasn’t sure why Myrtle looked so young.

  “Um . . . well, I enjoy going to Earth and playing dead in public places. When I’m surrounded by humans I take perverse pleasure in jumping up and scaring the fucking shit out of them as they wail in anguish over my perceived death.”

  WTF? These Demons were nuts.

  “Have you caused any heart attacks or strokes doing this?” Miss Bitchy Shrink grilled Myrtle.

  “No, I can’t say I have. A couple of them have wet themselves,” she offered meekly.

  “Anything else?”

  “Ummm, sure.” I watched Myrtle wrack her brain. “I do enjoy kidnapping people’s dogs and cats. I groom them and dye their fur so they resemble wild animals. I then return them to their rightful owners in the dead of the night. I derive huge amounts of satisfaction watching our citizens walk their tigers, skunks and panda bears around town.”

  Everyone was speechless. That had to be one of the weirdest things I’d ever heard.

  “Do you ever eat any of the animals you kidnap?” the therapist asked.

  “No, I’m a vegetarian,” Myrtle informed the group.

  “A vegetarian Demon?” the bitch from hell shrieked, her eyes turning blood red.

  Myrtle cowered behind the chair she’d formerly been sitting in. Janet started crying and braiding her beard, Carl looked mighty uncomfortable and Dixie looked like she wanted to do some damage. I suppose a veggie-Demon was an anomaly, but this shrink was a hag.

  “I’ve heard of that,” Dixie piped up, ignoring the look of hatred from the therapist. She tried not to fidget, but I could tell she was lying from a mile away. I was actually enjoying myself. These people were fucking crazy. “Those Demons get their protein from soybeans.” Dixie had a captive audience so clearly she decided to elaborate. “I’ve heard of Veggie-Demons destroying thousands of acres of soybean fields on Earth just for an appetizer.” She had to have yanked that whopper right out of her rear end.

  Myrtle glanced over at Dixie gratefully. The lovely therapist looked as if she wanted to nail my cousin’s ass to the wall, but she didn’t dare. Dixie might have issues, but she was the head honcho’s daughter. No one was stupid enough to fuck with that . . . or were they?

  “Sooo, Your Highness,” the bandaged skank began, “let’s go over your list of problems...or should I say virtues. Shall we?” She laughed wickedly. “You’re a straight A student, you remember birthdays, you clean your room, people describe you as kind, you pioneered the first Meals on Wheels in Hell, you donated a million dollars to feed humans on Earth, and you’re a virgin,” she sneered. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  How on Satan’s Red Earth did she know Dixie was a virgin? Was Dixie a virgin? Wait. That was none of that bitch’s business . . . and why did I even care? I barely knew my cousin, but I was pissed. I glanced around the little bungalow for something to throw at that woman’s already injured head and I felt a dark power and magic run through me. Different from my Vampyre magic. Stop. This was not good. Did Satan send me here so I’d get pissed and turn fully into a Demon? If I pulled on the dark magic and destroyed the therapist would I be permanently stuck in Hell? I took a deep breath and said nothing. Thankfully I didn’t have to. Myrtle stepped in.

  “I don’t know about you guys,” Myrtle grunted, “but I’m feeling the need to bust on Dixie’s coffee table and beat the living hell out of our therapist again.”

  Carl, Janet and Dixie grinned from ear to ear and I couldn’t suppress the giggle that escaped my lips. Miss Bitchy Pants stood up and backed her way towards the front door.

  “All of you, including the Vampyre have to report to the Dark Palace,” she haughtily informed us.

  “Now?” Janet asked hopefully. I assumed she hoped to avoid the enforced hair removal she was about to endure.

  “No!” Meanie snapped. “This evening. After you get de-haired, you repulsive...”

  “Enough,” Carl shouted advancing on the horrid woman. She turned and ran from the house. Like a coward . . . foul, disgusting, bandage covered cowardice hag.

  We stood quietly and looked at one another—the Princess, the Strong Man, the soon to be hairless Bearded Lady, Myrtle . . . and me.

  Myrtle broke the silence. “So you’re a Vampyre?”

  “Apparently,” I answered, hoping she didn’t attack. I kind of liked her and really didn’t want to kill her.

  “Cool,” she muttered and the rest of the freak show nodded their approval.

  “She’s part Demon too,” Dixie added, giving me a shy smile.

  “Very small part,” I explained. “And I need to get home. Soon.”

  “I’m sure Daddy will send you home. I think he just wants to know you better.”

  “That’s just awesome,” I replied in a voice laced with sarcasm.

  “He’s really not that bad when you get to know him,” Dixie said.

  “He’s worse,” Myrtle mouthed to me out of Dixie’s line of vision.

  Fucking great. This was going to be a good time.

  Chapter 4

  “Your pockets are talking,” Dixie said as she tossed me a pile of dresses to try on. The therapy crew had left and we had several hours before we had to be back at the estate. From the looks of the clothes my cousin dropped on me, it was a formal affair.

  “Yep, I know.” I examined the goldmine Dixie had deposited in my lap and hoped that ignoring my Baby Demons in my pocket would make my cousin follow suit.

  No such luck.

  “Are they hungry?”

  “Is who hungry?” I asked as I stuck my hands in my pockets and attempted to quiet my tiny monsters.

  “The little Demons in your pocket. Are they hungry?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I replied as I pinched Abe, Ross, Rachel and Beyonce. They didn’t help matters by giggling and poking their little heads out. “Fuck,” I muttered and shook my head in disgust.

  “They’re adorable.” Dixie giggled and reached out to them.

  “No,” I shouted and slapped her hand away. I quickly grabbed my little Demons before they ate my cousin. “Dixie, stay back. They eat Demons and I kind of like you . . . so just back away. Slowly.”

  “We no eat her,” Ross screamed and laughed like he was on crack. “She pretty and she good. Me like to touch her boo . . . ”

  “Enough,” I snapped before Ross waxed poetic about my cousin’s hooters. “You won’t eat her?”

  “Course not, Moooommmmmyyy,” Beyonce chimed in. “She not evil. She be sweet and funny and me like her.”

  My Demons crawled out of my pockets and slowly made their way up my body. The tiny three-inch monsters perched on my shoulders and watched my cousin with intense curiosity. My little monsters were a recent and constant addition to my new Vampyre world. Much to my great surprise and delight, I could see Demons that others could not. In my FUBAR undead life, my little Demons brought me joy and hours of laughter—not to mention the gifts of more power than I knew what to do with. I’d forgotten they were in my pockets when I was dragged to Hell and my gut clenched in fear. What on earth could happen to them in this place? Would they be safe? It was overwhelming enough to have to take care of myself and my baby living inside me . . . how was I going to manage to keep my little monsters from harm too? Out. I needed to get out of Hell. Now.

  “She is sooooooo pr
etty,” Rachel whispered loudly.

  “Thanks,” Dixie said. “Can I touch you?”

  “Yessssssssssss,” Rachel squealed and hopped off my shoulder into Dixie’s open hand. “Don’t touchy Ross or Abe. They like boobies.”

  “Um . . . okay.” Dixie laughed. “Are they yours?’ she asked me as she gently stroked Rachel’s little head.

  “Yes, they’re mine and they’re innocent, so if you have any ideas of turning them into evil little shits, you’ll have to go through me,” I snapped and took Rachel back.

  Dixie was stunned by my anger and stood mutely in front of me. My Demons began to laugh hysterically and pummel each other.

  “Ohhhh, Mommmmmy so funny,” Abe screamed and began to twerk on my shoulder. I plucked him off and put him on the floor. Breakdancing was one thing, but shoulder twerking was an entirely different matter.

  “She no hurt us and nobody can make us bad,” Ross explained to me and rubbed his little Velcro head on my cheek.

  “You’re sure about that?” I asked.

  “Absofuckinglutely,” Beyonce yelled as she flipped off my shoulder and onto Dixie’s.

  “Language,” I hissed at them and they shrieked with delight.

  “Mommmmmmmy has mouth like drunk sailor man,” Rachel told my now amused cousin. “She know all the bad words ever made!”

  “Great,” I muttered. “That’s just fucking great.”

  “Seeeeeeeee,” Abe grunted as he twerked a figure eight around my feet. “Mommy has filthy poopy mouth. That’s why we love her.”

  “Well, maybe she can teach me a few things,” Dixie said as she lifted Beyonce off her shoulder and cradled her like a baby. Beyonce, the traitor, purred like a kitten and promptly fell asleep. “Do you think they’re hungry?”

  I paused. How to answer that . . . They were probably not hungry considering they’d eaten my very large and evil father not all that long ago. I was still coming to terms with the fact that my adorable little monsters ate bad Demons—more specifically, my father. Although I hadn’t watched, the sound of the cannibalization of my pappy would stay with me for eternity . . .

  “Well, I’m gonna go with a no on that one,” I said and grimaced as I relived their last meal.

  “We still full from eating your daddy,” Ross crowed as he yanked up his shirt and slapped his little round belly. “He was sooooo tasty. Taste like chicken.”

  “Wow,” Dixie said. “That’s a bit unexpected, but, um . . . interesting and gross.”

  “Yeah, well, at least you weren’t there,” I snapped.

  The silence was deafening. Several times I started to explain, but decided against it. I didn’t owe Dixie or anyone in Hell an explanation for anything. The less everyone knew about me the better. I grabbed the pile of clothes and made a no-way pile and an oh-my-God-I-love-this pile. Ridiculously expensive clothing could take my mind off of almost anything. Almost.

  “We no need to eat for weeks,” Abe said as he humped my ankle. “And I no think your daddy taste like chicken. He taste like stinky cheese.”

  “Me say fish tacos,” Rachel chimed in.

  Okay, ewwww. “Me say enough,” I said before they gave a play by play.

  Dixie laid the sleeping Beyonce down on the couch and flipped through my “good” pile of eveningwear. Pulling out a drop dead Stella McCartney, she held it up to me. “Wear this. You’ll be stunning.”

  “Look, I’m sorry if my manners are lacking, but I need to leave and going to a shindig at your daddy’s is not high on my priority list.”

  “Astrid, Satan is fair and he is not demanding anything unusual of you. I think you should just play along until you can leave,” Dixie said as she rifled through some jewelry.

  She was probably right. Was she as sweet and innocent as she appeared to be? She was the daughter of the Devil. How could she be so freakin’ nice?

  “How old are you?”

  She stopped and heaved a weary sigh. “I’m twenty.”

  “Twenty plus what?” I asked. Did she think I was an idiot? Every immortal looked somewhere in their twenties.

  “Twenty plus nothing.”

  “Wow, you’re a baby.”

  “Not much more so than you,” she replied and handed me a diamond necklace and earrings. “These will be pretty with the dress. What size shoe do you wear?”

  “Seven. So you haven’t been alive very long.”

  “Nope.”

  “And there are more of you?” Stop being bitchy and learn something. Something helpful. Something that will help me get the hell out of Hell . . .

  “No, there’s only one me, but I do have sisters. Seven of them.” She stared at me expectantly.

  “What am I missing?” I asked. Was this a game show? Did I have to guess everything? I pinched the bridge of my nose to ward off the headache that was threatening.

  “You don’t know?”

  “No.” I rolled my eyes. “If I knew I wouldn’t ask.”

  “Seven,” Rachel screamed, waking Beyonce from her slumber which led to a baby Demon smackdown of epic proportions.

  Ignoring the violent wrestling match at my feet, I stared at my cousin. “I’m sick of cryptic. Just fucking tell me.”

  “The Devil has seven daughters. I have seven sisters.”

  “Actually he has eight,” I corrected her.

  “True, but for thousands of years he had seven. I’m very new,” she said. “I wear a six and a half shoe. Do you think you can squeeze your feet into these?”

  I was momentarily speechless as she held up the hottest Prada pumps I’d ever seen.

  “Oh my God,” I gasped. “Are those this season?”

  “They’re next season.” She grinned and handed them over.

  “I’d consider cutting off some toes to fit into these babies.”

  “That would be gross,” she giggled. “Did you figure out the seven yet?”

  “I think so,” I said as I attempted to wedge my size seven foot into her size six and a half shoe. “But it’s so appallingly cliché it’s pathetic.”

  “Then you got it right.”

  “Your sisters are the Seven Deadly Sins?” I laughed and then groaned. My toes were on fire. “Shitfuckshitshit, these are way too tight.”

  I felt like the ugly stepsister from Cinderella as I tried in vain to shove my foot into the slipper . . . no fucking go.

  “Yes, they are. I can call Greed and see if she’ll loan you a pair. I’m pretty sure she wears a seven.”

  “Someone named Greed is going to let a random cousin she doesn’t know borrow her shoes?” I asked and reluctantly handed her back the gorgeous footwear.

  “She doesn’t like to part with her possessions, but getting to meet you before all the rest of them should be enough incentive for her to agree.” Dixie grinned with glee and texted her sister.

  “What about Sloth?” I asked. “Would she just sleep though us pilfering her shoes?”

  “Trust me, you don’t want Sloth’s shoes.”

  “Why? No. Don’t answer that. The less I know about all of you, the better. I’ll just wear my own.”

  “You’re wearing black Converse. I don’t think that will work with Stella McCartney.” Dixie laughed and sat down on the floor with my exhausted Demons. Beating the living daylights out of each other tended to wear their little monster asses out.

  “I think Converse goes with everything,” I said and joined her on the floor. “Why are you nice? Aren’t you supposed to be evil and mean?”

  “You think I’m nice?” Dixie’s eyes lit up and she grinned happily.

  “I do,” I admitted, biting back my own grin. I really didn’t want to like her, but she was making it difficult. “However, you’ve been kind of useless to me so far. Aren’t you supposed to bring me up to speed about my heritage so I can get the hell out of Dodge?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  The floor and walls of Dixie’s bungalow shuddered. I scooped up my babies and held them to my chest
. Big mistake as Abe and Ross took that as a cue to feel me up.

  “What was that?” I demanded as I peeled my little boys off my boobs.

  “I have no idea.” Dixie literally disappeared and rematerialized by her window. “It felt like a Hellquake, but it’s the wrong season for those.”

  “Hellquake?” I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Is that Hell’s version of an earthquake?”

  “Yes, Miss Smarty Pants, it is. Well, nothing is on fire out there and my security team is still in place so no one has breached the barrier and tried to kill us. We’re fine.”

  “Fine? We’re fine?” I asked in a voice that sounded weird even to me. “We are not fine. I don’t belong here. I have a mate and a family that will be looking for me and I have no time for this crap.”

  “You’re going to have to make time,” Dixie said. “If you don’t, you’ll find that time is all you have.”

  “Oh, for shit’s sake,” I groaned, “you sound like a freakin’ fortune cookie.”

  “Whatever,” she huffed. “Ask your questions and I’ll answer what I can.”

  “Why aren’t you evil?”

  Dixie rolled her eyes. “Not all Demons are evil and not all Angels are good. Nothing is that simple. There’s no such thing as pure evil and no such thing as pure good.”

  “Mommy is good. She kill her mommy and daddy today,” Rachel chimed in. “They baaaad mamba jambas.”

  “Do you consider yourself evil?” Dixie inquired.

  “Absolutely not,” I shot back.

  “But you committed murder.”

  Wow, harsh, but correct . . . “It was self defense. Me or them.”

  “I didn’t realize the Ten Commandments had a self defense clause.”

  “Okay, fine. I suck. I’m evil. Next question, did you . . . ”

  “It’s about balance, Astrid,” Dixie cut me off. “You can’t have good without evil or you wouldn’t even know what good meant. One cannot exist with out the other. Satan and God. Heaven and Hell. It creates a balance.”