Chapter 31
Mother Nature slid down the pole . . . kind of. It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t pretty. It was difficult to watch, especially when she got stuck, hung upside down and cussed like a sailor for five minutes.
After three more stalled attempts she made it to the floor, and under the covert direction of Grandpa, the crowd went wild. She took eight bows and then did an abrupt about-face and narrowed her gaze on her sons.
“Hello boys,” she purred. I even felt bad for them.
“Hi Mom,” Satan squeaked. God couldn’t even get his voice box to work.
As she moved toward them her skimpy pole dancer outfit was replaced by flowing robes. She was exquisite. Her hair blew wildly around her head and her animals darted around her.
“So what brings you here, Mom?” Satan whispered.
“I heard there was a party. My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.”
“Oh,” he croaked. “I think God was supposed to tell you about it.”
God shot Satan a look that was covered in ‘I’ll smite your ass later.’ “No,” he said in a voice that wasn’t nearly as melodic as it had been. “It was all Satan’s fault. He said he didn’t want you here.”
Satan tackled God and they began to pummel each other and roll all over the stage. Thankfully I had use of my feet again and was able to jump out of the way, or they’d have taken me down with them.
“Enough,” she bellowed. They froze. The entire room froze. “So, Astrid darling. Was I amazing or what?” she asked, referring to her pole debacle.
“Gigi, it was okay. You need to practice more and I think you need to cut the cussing part back by a minute or so.”
I’m sure I heard Satan and God whimper. Gigi considered me for a long moment and I wondered if my uncles knew something I didn’t . . .
“Brilliant,” she shouted and the walls rumbled. “I shall take those notes and incorporate them into my new routine. Do you see why I like her?” she demanded of her boys.
“Yes,” they muttered meekly.
“She tells me the truth. Which is more than I can say for the rest of my family.” She stomped her foot and the back wall of the dining room collapsed.
“Gigi,” I admonished. “Chill out. If you want to be invited, you can’t destroy your son’s house every time you show up. Deal?”
“Deal,” she said and pursed her pretty lips. “Would you people have me over more often if I didn’t leave such a mess?”
“Um . . . sure,” Satan said, looking to me for guidance. Even though he had fucked with me, I gave him a nod. He was a bastard, but I liked him.
“I’d be willing to host a family dinner every now and then,” God offered in a shaky voice.
“Will you come visit me in Nirvana every Tuesday?” she inquired. “I’ll cook.”
Both men sucked in a quick breath and shuddered. “Can we bring take out?” Satan asked.
She gave him the evil eye and then laughed. “Of course. I can’t cook for shit.”
“Mom, Astrid is the next True Immortal,” God told her. Satan flipped him the finger. Apparently he had wanted to spring the news.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” she cooed, letting them know that nothing got by Mother Nature. “I’ve known that since the minute the child was born. It was difficult to let her grow up the way she did, but that’s what the Fates demanded. Those gals are bitches,” she muttered and wandered over the cage. “Why are three of my granddaughters caged like animals?”
“We had some issues. They’ll be living in Purgatory for the next few years,” Satan explained.
Gigi circled the cage and the Sins trembled. “I have a better idea,” she crowed with excitement. Her robes billowed around her and her beautiful eyes lit up. “I shall take them home with me and teach them manners! Plus I need some new people to clean the monkey shit off of the furniture.”
“Um . . . ” Satan waffled.
“Excellent,” she squealed. “We shall leave immediately. Bill, are you ready?”
Grandpa ran forward and blew me a kiss as he took his true love’s arm.
“See ya, boys.” He grinned and winked and they disappeared. Within seconds the room was restored to its former glory and the cage was gone.
“Did that just really happen?” God asked, dazed.
“It did,” Satan said and ran his hands through his hair.
I felt Ethan’s presence beside me and all was right with my world. He kissed my temple and wrapped his arms around me.
“I must take my leave,” God said. “Astrid, it was lovely to meet you. I will assume this is your Ethan. You two have a very important job ahead.” He touched my stomach and a warm burst of loving magic spilled into me. “A very important job.” He turned to his brother and they embraced. The crowd was awed. I was awed.
God clapped his hands three times and he disappeared along with his entourage.
“Wow, people come and go so quickly here.” I giggled at my Wizard of Oz reference, but nobody got it so I shut my mouth.
“Everyone clear the room. You are dismissed,” Satan said. “Now.” The room emptied quickly except for Ethan, myself, Dixie and the Devil.
“Goodbye, Astrid,” Dixie said. Her eyes were full of tears and her hands shook. “I’ll miss you.”
She threw her arms around me and buried her face in my neck. I squeezed her and rocked her like a child. She longed for a mother like I did. It made my heart hurt. “Dixie.” I lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “I’ll see you in six months. It’s not that far away.”
“You’re right,” she said and forced a smile to her lips. “Six months.”
She hugged Ethan and her father and disappeared in a cloud of pink glitter.
“I have one thing left to do before I go home,” I told Satan. He nodded his head and bowed to me. I turned to the man that made living for eternity worth it. “I don’t want to do this alone. Will you come with me?”
Ethan brushed his lips against mine and whispered, “Always.”
I took a deep breath, touched the amulet on my neck and turned back to Satan . . . but he was gone. In his place sat the General.
“George?”
“I answer to that.” He chuckled and loped closer. “I also answer to Satan, Lucifer and the Prince of Darkness in a pinch.”
I was speechless . . . almost. “You’re a motherfucker,” I gasped. “Does anyone else know?”
“No—well, Bambi does.” He gave me a grin. I shook my head and tried to clear it.
“Does she shift to a Demon too?” I asked. I hoped with all my heart that Bambi wasn’t Amanda.
“No. She’s my Hell Hound lover.”
“Of course.” I rolled my eyes and laughed.
“Put your hand on my back, children and I’ll take you where you want to go.”
***
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. It was simply sad. I called her name and she came to me. Her beauty was still there, but her mind was gone. She thought she was supposed to lead. The amulet could kill one—the one who was meant to lead.
I told her I loved her and she just looked confused. She was broken beyond repair and I had one last gift to give her. The gift of mercy. I was Compassion and it was my gift to give.
I touched the amulet and it turned to dust in my hand. Her end wasn’t brutal like her life had been. It was quiet and peaceful. She looked in my eyes and for the first time in my life I think she really saw me. She smiled and then . . . she was gone.
I turned to Ethan and I fell into his arms. “I will love you till the end of time.”
“And I you,” he replied and held me tight.
I pulled myself together and turned to Satan. He had transformed back to his breathtaking self. “I want to go home.”
He held his hand out to me and I went to him without hesitation. He held me like a father holds his daughter and kissed me on my head. “Would you mind if the Babies stayed for a while? I find them quite amusing.”<
br />
I looked up at the Devil and narrowed my eyes. “No strip clubs?”
“I promise.”
I didn’t believe him for a second, but I knew he’d take care of my little monsters. “One week and then you will send them home.”
“Yes, one week. This promise I shall keep.” He grinned and I giggled. “Are you ready?”
I glanced around the Basement one last time. I took Ethan’s hand in mine and I nodded to my uncle. “Yes. I want to go home.”
“As you wish.”
THE END (for now)
###
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KEEP READING in this ebook to read an excerpt from Robyn’s “Ready To Were” story appearing Summer 2014 in the THREE SOUTHERN BEACHES anthology and an excerpt from “The Demon of Synar” Book 1 of the Forced To Serve series by Donna McDonald
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Other Books by Robyn Peterman
Hand Cuffs and Happily Ever Afters
How Hard Can It Be?
Size Matters
Cop A Feel (Coming June 2014)
and unfortunately
Pirate Dave and His Randy Adventure
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Hot Damned Series
Fashionably Dead
Fashionably Dead Down Under
(Coming Spring 2014)
Hell on Heels
(Coming Fall 2014)
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Excerpt from “Ready To Were”
“You’re joking.”
“No, actually I’m not,” my boss said and slapped the folder into my hands. “You leave tomorrow morning and I don’t want to see your hairy ass till this is solved.”
I looked wildly around her office for something to lob at her head. It occurred to me that might not be the best of ideas, but desperate times led to stupid measures. She could not do this to me. I’d worked too hard and I wasn’t going back. Ever.
“First of all, my ass is not hairy except on a full moon and you’re smoking crack if you think I’m going back to Georgia.”
Angela crossed her arms over her ample chest and narrowed her eyes at me. “Am I your boss?” she asked.
“Is this a trick question?”
She huffed out an exasperated sigh and ran her hands through her spiked do making her look like she’d been electrocuted. “I am cognizant of how you feel about Hung Island, Georgia, but there is a disaster of major proportions on the horizon and I have no choice.”
“Where are you sending Clark and Jones?” I demanded.
“New York and Miami.”
“Oh my god,” I shrieked. “Who did I screw over in a former life that those douches get to go to cool cities and I have to go home to an island called Hung?”
“Those douches do have hairy asses and not just on a full moon. You’re the only agent I have that can pass as a model so you’re going to Georgia. Period.”
“Fine. I’ll quit. I’ll open a bakery.”
Angela smiled and an icky feeling skittered down my spine. “Excellent, I’ll let you tell the Council that all the money they invested in your training is going to be flushed down the toilet because you want to bake cookies.”
The Council consisted of supernaturals from all sorts of species. The branch that currently had me by the metaphoric balls was WTF, Werewolf Treaty Federation. They were the worst as far as stringent rules and consequences went. The Vampyres were loosey goosey and the freakin’ Fairies were downright pushovers, but not the Weres. Nope, if you enlisted you were in for life. It had sounded so good when the insanely sexy recruiting officer had come to our local Care For Your Inner-Were meeting.
Training with the best of the best. Great salary with benefits. Apartment and company car. But the kicker for me was that it was fifteen hours away from the hell I grew up in. No longer was I Essie from Hung Island, Georgia—and who in their right mind would name an island Hung—I was Agent Essie McGee of the Chicago WTF. The irony of the initials was a source of pain to most Werewolves, but went right over the Councils heads due to the simple fact they were older than dirt and oblivious to pop culture.
Yes, I’d been disciplined occasionally for mouthing off to superiors and using the company credit card for shoes, but other than that I was a damn good agent. I’d singlehandedly brought down three rogue Weres who were selling secrets to the Dragons—another supernatural species. The Dragons shunned the Council, had their own little club and a psychotic desire to rule the world. Several times they’d come close due to the fact that they were loaded and Weres from the New Jersey Pack were easily bribed. Not to mention the fire-breathing thing . . .
I was an independent woman living in the Windy City. I had a gym membership, season tickets to the Cubs and a gay Vampyre best friend named Dwayne. What more did a girl need?
Well, possibly sex, but the bastard had ruined me for other men . . .
Hank the Tank Wilson was the main reason I’d rather chew my own paw off than go back to Hung Island, Georgia. Six foot three of obnoxious, egotistical, perfect-assed, alpha male Werewolf. As the alpha of my local pack he had decided it was high time I got mated . . . to him. I, on the other hand, had plans—big ones and they didn’t include being barefoot and pregnant at the beck and call of a player.
So I left in the middle of the night with a suitcase, a flyer from the hot recruiter and enough money for a one-way bus ticket to freedom. Of course nothing ever turns out as planned . . . The apartment was the size of a shoe box, the car was used and smelled like French fries and the benefits didn’t kick in till I turned one hundred and twenty five. We Werewolves had long lives.
“Angela, you really can’t do this to me.” Should I get down on my knees? I was so desperate, I wasn’t above begging.
“Why? What happened there, Essie? Were you in some kind of trouble I should know about?” her eyes narrowed, but she wasn’t yelling.
I think she liked me . . . kind of. The way a mother would like an annoying spastic two year old who belonged to someone else.
“No, not exactly,” I hedged. “It’s just that . . . ”
“Weres are disappearing and turning up dead. Considering no one knows of our existence besides other supernaturals we have a problem. Furthermore, it seems like humans might be involved.”
My stomach lurched and I grabbed Angela’s office chair for balance. “Locals are missing?” I choked out. My Grandma Bobby Sue was still there, but I’d heard from her last night. She’d harangued me about getting my belly button pierced. Why I’d put that on Instagram was beyond me. I was gonna hear about that one for the next eighty years or so.
“Not missing—dead. Check the folder,” Angela said and poured me a shot of whiskey.
With trembling hands I opened the folder. This had to be a joke. I felt ill. I’d gone to h
igh school with Frankie Mac and Jenny Packer. Jenny was as cute as a button and was the cashier at the Piggly Wiggly. Frankie Mac had been the head cheerleader and cheated on every test since the fourth grade. Oh my god, Debbie Swink? Debbie Swink had been voted most likely to succeed and could do a double backwards flip off the high dive. She’d busted her head open countless times before she’d perfected it. Her mom was sure she’d go to the Olympics.
“I know these girls,” I whispered.
“Knew. You knew them. They all were taking classes at the modeling agency.”
“What modeling agency? There’s no modeling agency in Hung Island.” I sifted through the rest of the folder with a knot the size of a cantaloupe in my stomach. More names and faces I recognized. Sandy Moongie? Wait a minute.
“Um, not to speak ill of the dead, but Sandy Moongie was the size of a barn . . . she was modeling?”
“Worked the reception desk.” Angela shook her head and dropped down on the couch.
“This doesn’t seem that complicated. It’s fairly black and white. Whoever is running the modeling agency is the perp.”
“The modeling agency is Council sponsored.”
I digested that nugget in silence for a moment.
“And the council is running a modeling agency, why?”
“Word is that we’re heading towards revealing ourselves to the humans and they’re trying to find the most attractive representatives to do so.”
“That’s a joke, right?” What kind of dumb ass plan was that?
“I wish it was.” Angela picked up my shot and downed it. “I’m getting to old for this shit,” she muttered and refilled the shot glass, thought better of it and just swigged from the bottle.
“Is the council aware that I’m going in?”
“What do you think?”
Fashionably Dead Down Under Page 26
