I had to let my anger go before I developed my glittery black sleeves in front of my cousins. Furthermore, I needed to learn a lot more. “So what’s in the Basement?”
“I believe our pretty little cousin needs a History of Hell lesson,” Envy said as she made herself comfortable on Dixie’s couch. “Dixie, you’ve been shirking your duties.”
“No,” I countered. “She’s explained quite a bit. We just hadn’t gotten to the geography section yet.” I wasn’t going to let them come down on Dixie. It seemed that they took far too much pleasure in doing that. “She’s been lovely.”
“Of course she has,” Lust hissed and shoved Dixie to the side as she took her place next to Envy. Greed sat down on the arm of the couch leaving the armchairs for me and Dixie. I sat and waited.
“Wrath and Pride enjoy the Basement.” Greed shuddered. “It’s the lowest level.”
“So there are levels?” I asked and wondered if Dante had gotten some of it right.
“Yes,” Greed nodded, “but if you’re thinking Dante, think again. The man is an idiot. You should have seen his face when he realized how wrong his little work of fiction was. Priceless.”
“Anyhoo,” Envy took over, “the Basement sucks. You know, the Hellfire and brimstone, screaming in agony, burning for eternity Hell. The Hell from the movies . . . That’s where the most evil go when they die. Those bastards are punished in fire until the end of time. Nobody can give an exact definition on what the end of time actually means. You would assume that my dad or his brother Uncle God would have an idea on that one, but if they do, they’re playing it close to the chest.”
“And my father did what down there?” I asked, sickened by the thought of the Basement.
“He controlled the thermostat,” Lust spat. “He burned people alive, and from everything I’ve heard he enjoyed it.” She stared at me with such contempt my fingers itched to smack her. Thankfully I didn’t. Good ideas in the moment often turned out to be shitty ideas in the long run. The others seemed nonplussed by Lust’s viciousness. I suppose they were used to it or she was like this with everyone. Lovely.
“So he killed people?”
“No. They’re already dead. They’re souls,” Greed explained. “He doled out punishment . . . ” She paused and glanced at her sisters. Dixie nodded at her. She hesitated but continued. “Demons can’t actually kill. We just siphon energy.”
“My father killed people and his minions killed people.”
Greed sucked in a weary breath. “You father was an anomaly. A problem—which is why he was delegated to the Basement. He wasn’t suppose to leave, but he was crafty and . . . well, he was stupid. He had free will just like the rest of us and chose to use it unwisely. You actually did Satan a rather huge favor by killing him. My father would have loved the honor, but as I said . . . we can’t actually kill. We all have a purpose in the balance between good and evil.”
“What in the hell was his purpose?” I clenched my fists at my sides. This was simply too much information, but I knew I needed to hear it as much as I didn’t want to.
“Possibly to sire you—I’m not sure.”
“Fucking awesome.” I had more questions, but I didn’t know if I wanted the answers. “Did I really kill him? Is he gone for good?”
“Oh, yes,” Envy said. “You did excellent work.”
“I’d say thank you, but I’m not exactly proud of what I did.”
“Now your mother is a different story,” Lust said, enjoying the look of horror on my face at the mention of my mother. “She’s down here. I’d love to take you for a visit.”
“Lust . . . ” Greed warned. “You have no jurisdiction over those matters. I’d suggest you back off,” she added in a voice that sent chills down my spine.
My mother was here. It wasn’t unexpected. I certainly didn’t expect her to go to Heaven. I searched my heart and realized I felt very little. Had I become hard or had she just beat any feeling out of me? I assumed she was in the Basement, but I refused to ask. My parentage was so appalling, I just wanted to avoid the topic altogether.
“She’s really quite pretty . . . well, she was,” Lust purred, making me want to beat her senseless. I was now quite sure my mother was burning in the Basement. I knew she deserved it, but . . . As much as I couldn’t ratchet up any feelings for my mother, I wanted to destroy anyone who spoke badly of her. I was the only one who was allowed to do that.
“Back to the lesson,” Envy said, cutting off any more input from her nasty sister. “The next level up is the Sub-Basement. The Sub-Basement is for lesser evil souls when they die. There’s fire there too, just not as hot. The lucky humans who reside there weren’t quite bad enough for the Basement, but not quite good enough for Purgatory. I know, many doubt Purgatory, but it exists.”
Dixie piped up. “I’ve been there and trust me, you don’t want to go. It’s boring and beige, it smells stale and they play bad cheesy elevator music 24/7.” She giggled and shuddered. I gave her a smile and Greed nodded her head in agreement.
“Kind of like nails on a chalk board. Too close to Heaven for me,” she said and winked.
I liked Greed. I mean, I wasn’t into greedy people but the girl was funny and a lot nicer than the others.
“Ohhhh, don’t forget about the Rehab Room,” Dixie said.
“Daddy likes to pretend that one doesn’t exist,” Lust laughed. God, she was really beautiful. As much as I didn’t like her it was almost impossible to dismiss her appeal.
“Right,” Dixie agreed. “It’s a room where souls do penance so they can leave Hell and ascend to Purgatory . . . then possibly Heaven. It’s a major long shot, but there are some who I do think end up down here by mistake. Not that I would share that with my dad—my good report cards are about all he can take. The flip side of that is that some in Purgatory end up becoming violent and have to descend into Hell. Personally, I think the constantly piped in elevator music causes some souls to snap. It would make me want to tear my own head off.”
“Agreed,” Envy said. “And why in the hell are you still getting good report cards? Did you not listen to my lecture on skipping class?”
“I like learning,” Dixie whispered, clearly afraid of ridicule.
“Listen, sweetie,” Greed told her. “You can still learn everything you want. Absorb all of it. I did. You just need to blow your tests—on purpose. It will get Daddy off your back and it’s what’s expected of you. We have a reputation to uphold, dear.”
Greed really was nice, but had a fucked up idea of what was right . . . Although what did I know? Hell was not my territory and I didn’t want it to be.
“Don’t forget the main floor.” Envy stood up and walked over to me. “That’s where we are now. It’s as big as the United States, but most the action takes place in the north east corner in an area about the size of Washington D.C. This is where the Demons live. We’re born in Hell and we are the loyal army of Satan, my dad. Many Demons take the portals back and forth to Earth all the time. Personally, I’d rather stay in Hell with my family no matter how dysfunctional we might be.” She eyed her sisters and they all laughed.
“I like going to Earth,” Lust cooed. “Humans are such a delight to fuck . . . and so are Vampyres.”
“You’ve slept with a lot of Vampyres?” I asked. I could see Vampyres being attracted to her. I could see almost anything being attracted to her. Although once they got to know her . . .
“A few.” She laughed and examined me like I was a science project. “I could go for some more Vamp sex. In fact . . . ”
“Give it a rest,” Envy snapped. “You’re such a slut.”
“Jealous much?” Lust snapped back.
“Enough.” Greed stood up. “It was lovely to meet you, Astrid. We’ll be seeing you at the gathering shortly. Enjoy my shoes and remember, everything comes at a price.” She winked and all three of them disappeared in a flash of glitter and smoke.
“Holy shit,” I muttered looking at Greed�
�s shoes and wondering what kind of hellish price tag they came with.
“That was nothing,” Dixie said and flopped down on her couch. “They were on good behavior. Just wait till you meet Wrath.”
I glanced over at my cousin and gave her a smile that I was sure resembled a grimace. I had a lot to digest from this little get together and it exhausted me. “I can’t wait. Truly. I can’t fucking wait.”
Chapter 6
The Devil’s estate was called the Dark Palace. From the way Dixie picked at her nail polish on the car ride over made me think being called to the palace wasn’t a good thing. At all.
“The Dark Palace is Daddy’s main residence,” Dixie explained as she ripped off a large intact piece of polish while driving. “I grew up there.”
“Is the weather always so nice?” I asked the most benign question I could think of, wishing I had some of my own polish to rip.
“Yep. Warm, breezy and balmy all year round. We have more varieties of exotic plants and animals than Heaven. That really pisses Uncle God off royally.” She giggled and seemed to relax a bit.
I glanced out the window of the car and took in the beauty. The palace property was loaded with streams, ponds, rolling hills and meadows filled with blindingly colorful wild flowers. Dixie’s bungalow was tucked into the far northwest corner of her father’s land. Her yard boasted huge weeping cherry trees, orchids and scads of bougainvillea. Absolutely beautiful and the total antithesis of what I expected in Hell . . . although the Basement might cause me to reconsider.
I learned the palace itself sat on forty very manicured acres. It looked like a giant gothic cathedral. It was the grandest castle in the world, including Heaven and everything in between.
“We’re a little early,” Dixie said as she handed her keys to a valet in front of the massive doors of the palace.
I was a bit nervous, but my cousin was a wreck. She was chewing her nails like she hadn’t eaten in a month. “Are you okay?” I whispered and pulled her fingers from her mouth.
She giggled and wrung her hands. “I’m just a little nervous that my dad is going to hand down my punishment for feeding the hungry humans tonight.”
“Surely he wouldn’t do that at such a public event.”
“You don’t know my dad.”
Shit—and I really didn’t want to.
Dixie had dressed with care. Her very fitted Prada cocktail dress was the bomb and her Lanvin stilettos were the stuff my dreams were made of. I knew I was no slouch either. The Stella McCartney rocked and Greed’s shoes capped it off perfectly. I suppose if I had to be in Hell it was nice to dress up in clothes that equaled my entire salary as an art teacher for two years . . .
Of course the jewelry my cousin had lent me made me a bit uncomfortable. From the size of the rocks in my ears I’d assumed they were fake . . . Never assume. That makes an ass out of you and me. To my horror they were real. Six freakin’ carats in each ear. I was wearing a house—a really nice one. I tried to take them off, but Dixie insisted I wear them and informed me I’d be keeping them . . . as a gift from her and her father. She was in for a rude awakening because she was getting them back. I couldn’t even imagine the price that would go along with that gift.
As our Jimmy Choos and Lanvins clicked on the fieldstone tiles that led to the huge carved teak door, I jerked to an abrupt halt.
“What the fuck?” I gasped. Two of the most vicious looking animals flanked the door and watched us with beady little yellow eyes. I was so not walking past that.
“What?” Dixie asked with alarm.
“Those things,” I said under my breath, just in case they understood English. “Those things look hungry . . . and pissed off.”
“Oh, the Hell Hounds?” Dixie laughed and leaned in close. “You can’t tell a soul, but the
Hell Hounds are just big ugly puppies with razor sharp fangs and claws. I love them and they love me. Those two are my favorites, General George Patton and Bambi. They slept in my room until I moved out of the Palace a couple of years ago.”
“For real?” I asked doubtfully. They did not look anything like puppies to me. “What in the
hell do they eat?”
“Cheese pizza.” She giggled. “I want to go love on them, but Daddy would be furious if word got out that the Hell Hounds were big cuddly, slobbery babies. I don’t mean to imply they’re wimps—if anyone even looked at me, my sisters or Hell forbid, my dad sideways, the Hell
Hounds would kill them in two seconds flat. Other than that, they’re sweet.”
“Awesome,” I said, still not moving.
“Come to think of it, they’ll automatically protect you too.”
“Right.”
“No, they will. You and I have the same blood. We’re related. They can tell.”
General George and Bambi purred as we passed. I instantly relaxed. Dixie giggled and blew them covert kisses, bumping into Bambi on purpose. I gently ran my hand over General George’s head. His fur was soft and silky and he smelled like brownies. Who was I to judge things by the way they looked? I was in love with my Baby Demons and they were definitely not winning any prizes in the looks department, but they were beautiful to me. I glanced back at the Hell Hounds and they both gave me a slobbery smile and a quick wink. Of course I made friends with the weirdos . . .
I took a deep breath and followed Dixie inside. My pace was slow, but I felt like I was walking to the guillotine.
A very well put together woman clad head to toe in designer Chanel made a beeline for us.
“Dang it,” Dixie moaned. “That’s Daddy’s new consort. What is her name?” Dixie’s fingers flew back into her mouth. “It’s something like Sandra or Miranda or . . . crap, I’m sure it ends in an A.”
“Hello Dixie,” the consort ending in A said while ignoring me completely. She was dressed to the nines and she was short. Even with her four inches heels, she was still a good deal shorter than both me and my cousin, but then again, we were on the tall side. I had a tough time seeing what Lucifer saw in this gal. I would assume he could have his pick of anyone. She was definitely pretty in a blonde Barbie doll kind of way. She did have big boobs and a nice backside, but she was a mean Demon. My Baby Demons would definitely find her appetizing . . . Note to self: leave Babies at Dixie’s while in Hell. This one, whatever her name was, seemed smart. Mean and smart. Well, not so much smart as sly and greedy. She eyed my ears with great interest.
“Those are lovely earrings,” she purred, addressing me and the rocks in my ears that could feed a small country. She made a lovely face as if I either smelled bad or she was in serious pain.
“Yep.” I grinned, then sniffed the air around her and gagged.
She pressed her overly enhanced lips together and decided to ignore me again. Fine with me. She rolled her eyes and stared daggers at Dixie.
“Oh, right,” Dixie stammered. “This is my cousin Astrid. Astrid this is, um . . . this is . . . ”
“Amanda,” she hissed. “My name is Amanda.”
“I knew that.” Dixie smiled at her. “And I have to agree with you, Astrid’s earrings are lovely. They’re a present from my dad.”
“My, my, my,” Amanda choked out. “Such a lovely gift for one so distantly related . . . and a Vampyre to boot.”
Dixie shifted uncomfortably back and forth on her stilettos, but I’d had enough of the icky Amanda. I flashed her some fang and smacked my lips together hungrily. She was gone in a heartbeat.
“That was awesome.” Dixie giggled and hugged me tight. “I can’t stand her. I hope Daddy doesn’t keep that one around for long. I preferred Kitty, the last consort. She was as dumb as a box of hair, but she was a great cook and she smelled like honeysuckle.”
I really had nothing to add to that.
“Hey Dixie. Hey Astrid.” Myrtle, the bizarre little gal from the therapy session, ran up to us and slapped me on the back with such force I almost hit the deck. Holy Hell, she was strong.
“Sorry,” s
he muttered and grinned sheepishly. She wore a black tracksuit with black Pumas on her skinny little body. Her hair was pulled away from her face. She had a pretty face. I hadn’t noticed that earlier. “This place gives me the heebees,” she said. “No offense, Dixie. I know it’s your dad’s crib and all, but damn.”
“None taken.” She laughed and hugged Myrtle. “Thank you.”
“For what?” Myrtle was confused.
“For being you.”
“Oh, okay,” she said. “Hey, do I...um, look alright?” she asked. Her face turned blotchy red in embarrassment.
“You look great,” I told her. Dixie nodded in agreement. “I didn’t realize how pretty you were until tonight with your hair away from your face.”
“Oh.” Myrtle was speechless. She looked like a fragile little girl and I felt an overwhelming need to protect her. Great . . . now I wanted to protect Demons? Home. Soon.
“Hey, um...” she continued, abruptly changing the subject, “is there a john around here? I’ve gotta take a leak.”
“Yes,” my cousin said, trying not to laugh. I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth to keep from giggling. Myrtle really was quite disgusting. “Go down that hall and you’ll find several johns.”
“Thanks.” The little Demon wandered off with a spring in her step and a new air of confidence about her.
Dixie took my hand and we made our way through the foyer. The foyer of the palace was tremendous. A huge curved marble staircase dominated the enormous space. The ceilings were three stories high with violent religious frescos painted on them.
“Oh my God.” I was shocked at how many works of art I recognized. “The paintings. Are they copies?”
“Nope. Real,” Dixie told me. “Quite a few famous artists have spent time in Hell. Some because they deserved it and others came for a visit out of curiosity. A couple of the visitors have chosen to stay on the main floor in Hell much to our Uncle God’s dismay. Apparently unless you’re burning in the Basement, Hell is a lot more fun than Heaven.”
“Huh,” I said, still shocked by the sheer amount of priceless art everywhere. “What the hell is hanging in the museums on Earth?”
Fashionably Dead Down Under Page 5
