Fashionably Dead and Wed Book 7

by Robyn Peterman

  I stared at him and said nothing. He thought he knew me, but he was wrong—even though he hated being wrong, he was.

  “However, a piece of advice,” Satan continued. “Let the humanity go. You can’t have it back no matter what you do.”

  “Being psychoanalyzed by the Devil is a little disconcerting,” I muttered sarcastically.

  “Yes, well, I’m good like that.”

  “But you’re wrong,” I said calmly.

  “Am I?”

  His voice was silky and his eyes narrowed. My tummy flipped and I felt a bit light headed, but I wasn’t some wimpy little girl. I was a True Immortal Vampyre-Demon with untold power and an extremely foul mouth. I could go toe-to-toe with the Devil. Would I win? Probably not, and I never wanted to test that theory, but I wasn’t about to let him leave with any misguided illusions about me. Satan wasn’t used to being contradicted, but he wasn’t used to having a niece with no filter either. Yes, he was one of the most powerful beings alive. Yes, he could wave his hand and incinerate the world as we knew it… but he was wrong.

  “Yep. You’re wrong. I know I’m not human anymore. If I had the chance to go back, I wouldn’t. I have Ethan and I have Samuel and I wouldn’t change that for anything in this world or any other.”

  “I’m not following, my dear niece. How am I wrong?”

  “I may not be human, but I haven’t lost my humanity, and I won’t. You seem to be forgetting that I’m Compassion,” I reminded with a smile. “I will always have a conscience and I will let it guide me.”

  “Like that horrid little bug, Jiminy Cricket?” Satan inquired with a smirk.

  “Yes. Exactly like the horrid little bug,” I agreed with a laugh.

  “Fine,” Satan said with a put upon sigh. “You’re good and kind and blah, blah, blah. But I do have some marital advice for you.”

  “Maybe we could save it for another time,” I suggested hopefully.

  “No. I’m on a roll here. This kind of magnanimous attitude is rare. I’d suggest you take advantage of it,” he replied.

  “Oookay,” I said, dreading what was about to come out of his mouth.

  “Blow jobs are important—remember this. The occasional threesome or foursome adds a little spice. Orgies are interesting, but I’d suggest holding them once every three months or so and don’t invite people you have to see on a daily basis. Awkward is an understatement. I’m pretty sure they say not to go to bed angry—whomever the Hell they are—but I find being pissed off makes for very good sex—hence my date.”

  “Um, aren’t you going to be late for that?” I asked praying to every deity I could think of that he would leave.

  “Yes, I am. That will be to my advantage,” he replied with a wink that made me gag. “Affairs are fine, but don’t flaunt them and never hog the remote. Any questions?”

  If I could have found my voice I would have screamed NO, but as it was trapped somewhere in my body I simply shook my head.

  “I’m fairly sure I covered the important things, but if I’ve forgotten anything please feel free to call or just pop over to Hell for lunch sometime,” he said as he stood and stretched his powerful frame.

  Again, I simply nodded mutely. There was nothing I could say that would be even remotely polite or not completely rife with swear words. He then bent over and touched his toes. Weird, but he was the Devil. Bizarre was normal. I assumed he was limbering up for his date.

  Never assume…

  “There you are,” he said as he plucked the heinous statue out from underneath the chair. “I could feel you but the info was coming in all muddled so I knew you’d been disrespected.”

  “You talk to statues?” I asked with a bad feeling beginning to grow in the pit of my stomach.

  “Charles isn’t a statue,” Satan said as he brushed the hideous thing off and placed him lovingly back on the coffee table. “He works for me.”

  “Oh my Hell. You use that thing to spy on us?” I hissed.

  “Of course I do. I can’t be everywhere at once,” he replied as if what he said made all the sense in the world.

  “That’s just wrong,” I snapped.

  “And your point?”

  “I’m gonna destroy it.” I raised my hands, ready to blast it into a million little pieces.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Satan advised.

  “And why not?” I demanded.

  “Because it’s alive, O Compassionate One. Would you kill a defenseless three headed little monster that never harmed you?”

  He had me there. I glanced over at Charles and realized all three of his heads were staring at me with pathetic fear in their ugly, beady, little red eyes. Fuckballs. I couldn’t kill it. It was pitiful and somewhat cute in a vomitous way.

  “Take it with you,” I insisted, as I carefully circled the living piece of stone.

  “No can do. He’s yours. Yes, I might occasionally use Charles to glean information, but his true job is to protect Samuel. He stays or I send a few of the Deadly Sins to watch over our boy. You pick,” my Uncle said smugly, knowing full well I would take Charles over my insane cousins.

  “I’m extremely powerful.” Black glitter covered my arms and my hands sparked menacingly. “I don’t need a Charles to protect my baby,” I informed my overprotective and nosy uncle.

  Then I stopped short.

  I stopped short because all three of Charles’ heads were crying—slobbering and crying. And on top of that clusterfuck, six beady little eyes were beseeching me from their tear stained faces.

  Dropping my head to my chest, I let it swing left and right as I tried to figure out how I was going to explain Charles to Ethan. Just like Martha, Jane, Abe, Beyoncé, Ross, Rachel and Blobbityflonk, I was going to collect another stray. Satan knew me well and he always seemed to have the upper hand. At least it was because he cared—or enjoyed spying on us.

  I bit down on my lips to keep from smiling.

  I would keep Charles and I would take care of him. Whatever. Satan insisted Charles had to stay. Satan was using Charles to spy on us. Satan was going to pay. I’d bet my undead life that Charles would love to watch a continuous reel of Satan butchering Journey songs and possibly a few weeks worth of Full House reruns.

  “It will be fine. Welcome to the family, Charles,” I said, as I gingerly patted his lumpy heads.

  “Wonderful,” Satan boomed. “My work here is done! Can’t keep Esmeralda waiting too long. I’d hate to lose an appendage tonight.”

  With that, he disappeared in a giant blast of black glitter. I stared at Charles and Charles stared right back at me.

  “He’s nuts,” I told Charles.

  The three heads nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

  “Do you talk?” I asked.

  “Yesssssssssss,” the heads answered simultaneously, sounding more like Gollum than Gollum did.

  “Mmmkay,” I said, trying to hide my shudder. It wasn’t their fault that their voices were nightmare inducing. “Let’s keep the speaking to a minimum.”

  They nodded again and gave me thumbs up.

  “Look, I’ve got to go get laid. Will you guys be okay in here alone?” I asked, and then smacked myself in the forehead. What was I thinking? They’d been alone in here for months—spying on us.

  “Wiiiiillllllll youuuuu leaaaaaave the liiiiiiight oooooon?” the head in the middle asked hopefully. “Fraaaaaid of daaaaaark.”

  “Um, sure,” I said as I retrieved the singed pillow from the couch and laid it on the coffee table. I gently turned the statue on its back so the three heads were resting on the ruined pillow. “Do you dudes eat?”

  “Weeeeeee eat annnnnnnger,” Charles One, as I decided to call him, said on a sweet sigh as he snuggled into the pillow.

  “Weeeeeeee full from all theeeeeee annnnnnngry Vaaampyyyyreees in heeeerrrre toniiiiight,” Charles Two assured me.

  “Good to know,” I said, as I debated if I should kiss them goodnight. I was fairly sure they wouldn’t bite
my face off, but…

  Here went nothing.

  I bent down and gave all three heads a little peck and quickly stood back up just in case. I knew my face would grow back if they took out a chunk, but I really didn’t have the time—especially with Mary-Harry-Larry-Scary vying for my man’s attention. I knew the skank didn’t have a chance even if I was missing half my head, but I was a gal who liked to look her best when my mate’s former conquests were visiting.

  Charles’ happy giggling melted my heart. Tomorrow I would introduce the three-headed atrocity to the Baby Demons. I was certain that would lead to some massive home destruction, but things were just things. People—or Demons—were far more important than things.

  I prayed that Ethan would see it the same way.

  Chapter 8

  “Who is Jeff and who is Charles?” Ethan asked as he ran his hands through his hair and attempted to untangle my very strange tale.

  “Jeff is an Angel who is going to do our premarital counseling. Charles is the ugly three headed statue who is supposed to protect Samuel, but has been spying on us. Oh, and Satan took your desk,” I finished off somewhat lamely. Even I knew it was a lot to swallow.

  The look of abject horror on my mate’s face—or maybe it was complete confusion—attested to this.

  “Premarital counseling?” he asked, pressing the bridge of his nose.

  “It’s a human-ish thing,” I mumbled, not making eye contact. “You talk with a minister or priest, or in our case, an Angel that’s been forced on us by God because his panties got in a wad due to the Devil getting dibs on our wedding before he did.”

  Ethan stood as still as a statue for a long moment and tried to absorb my fucked-up run on sentence. If I were being honest—which I wasn’t because it would only make matters worse—I was trying to take it all in as well.

  “Let’s start with something I can actually understand,” Ethan said slowly, clearly still processing. “Are the portals closed?”

  “Yes and no,” I replied, glancing around the unfamiliar suite delighted to avoid the Jeff and Charles subject for a minute or two.

  It was lovely, as were all of the guest suites in the Cressida House. This one was done in creams and navy—clean lines and huge dark cherry furniture. The bed was positively enormous and was calling my name. However, I needed to get through the pertinent information before I let my inner-hooker fly free.

  “Define,” Ethan said, displeased. “How are they closed but not closed?”

  “Satan said he closed them, but a few have been reopened. He’s got his Demon SWAT team on it, and if they can’t figure it out, he’s calling in the God Squad.”

  With a shake of his head and a muttered curse Ethan sat down on the couch and crossed his arms over his chest. “The potential of a war breaking out between the God Squad and the Demon SWAT team is high. That’s an incredibly bad idea.”

  “I didn’t suggest it, Satan did. I didn’t even know all that crap existed until tonight. Do you want me to summon Satan back here? Shit.” I shuddered. “He’s on a date right now with some woman named Esmeralda. There’s a slim but terrifying chance if I call him back he’ll bring her. She’s violent,” I explained to Ethan as I realized my own nookie plans were looking pretty dismal.

  “I’m not even going to touch that one,” Ethan grumbled.

  “Right,” I muttered trying to block out the image I’d just conjured up. “What should we do?”

  “We wait,” Ethan stated pragmatically. “However, I want a heads up before the God Squad gets involved.”

  “No worries. If we tell Charles, Satan will hear it,” I replied surprised to find myself somewhat relived that my uncle had planted a bug—or monster, as it were—in our house. It was way easier than summoning him and lessened the chances of losing more furniture considerably.

  “Expound on Charles again please,” Ethan said as he stared at the ceiling.

  Never a good sign.

  “Well, um… he’s got three heads and an alarming voice. He’s afraid of the dark and he won’t bite your face off if you kiss him. And he’s sort of cute in a buttass ugly kind of way.”

  “No, Astrid,” Ethan cut me off. “We are not keeping Charles. He’s Satan’s spy.”

  “But he cried,” I reasoned, sounding like an idiot even to my own ears. “All three of his hideous heads sobbed and I felt bad.”

  “Dear God,” Ethan groaned. “We already have a baboon.”

  “And the Baby Demons,” I reminded him.

  “Yes, and the Baby Demons,” he agreed with a wince.

  “And Martha and Jane,” I whispered in a tiny voice wanting to get it all out on the table before I negotiated keeping Charles.

  “Getting a little ill here,” Ethan said.

  “Look, he doesn’t eat anything except anger. I’m guessing you can’t poop out anger, so that means we don’t have to potty train him. Hell, if Charles wasn’t potty trained your office would have smelled like a toilet for months. That’s a real plus,” I said in a bright tone with a forced smile as I gamely fluffed the decorative navy pillows on the bed.

  If the look on my beautiful mate’s face was anything to go by, he wasn’t buying what I was selling. Shit.

  “Okay, fine. Charles is seriously gross—and I mean seriously—but if we don’t keep him Satan threatened to send some of the Sins here to protect Samuel.”

  “Unacceptable,” Ethan grunted with an expression of horror marring his handsome face.

  “My feelings exactly. Charles is a far lesser evil—at least I think he is. I say we keep him. Plus we can send messages to Satan through Charles which means Satan won’t be around as much. If he’s not here he can’t pilfer your office supplies and there will be fewer explosions in the compound.”

  “You’ve got this all figured out, don’t you my love?” Ethan asked with a chuckle and an exasperated shake of his head.

  “Actually, I just pulled all of it right out of my ass, but it did sound pretty good if I do say so myself,” I shot back with a cocky grin.

  “Fine. We keep Charles for the time being, but if he causes any destruction or bites anyone, he’s gone.”

  “Fair enough,” I said with a seductive grin, desperate to change the subject. “Can we stop talking about three headed monsters and move on to a one eyed snake?”

  “Your way with words never ceases to alarm me. However, the sentiment is something I can get on board with,” he said. His eyes began to glow green with desire and his fangs dropped.

  “God, you are so hot,” I yelled as I whipped my dress over my head and tossed it on the floor. “I want to make this a loud one.”

  “I can work with that,” Ethan said as he tore off his shirt, ripping it in two.

  In a flurry of flying clothing, laughter and grab-ass we made it to the bed—hot and very, very bothered.

  “I love you,” I whispered into his mouth as his tongue caressed my bottom lip.

  “Back at you,” he murmured huskily, running his open mouth from my lips to my collarbone making little stars burst across my vision.

  “Should we play a game?” I whispered. I arched my back giving him much better access to the girls.

  “”What did you have in mind?” he asked as he nipped at my breast with his fangs eliciting whimpers from deep in my throat.

  “Um, how about… Wait. What the Hell was that?” I demanded sitting up and glancing around the large suite.

  “Not familiar with that game,” Ethan said as he pulled me back down and went back to work worshiping my body.

  “No seriously,” I said as I sat back up and quickly covered his God-Bod with the thick down comforter. “Someone is at the door.”

  “Are you expecting a guest?” he asked clearly unhappy that ‘Wait. What the Hell was that?’ wasn’t a game involving foreplay, penetration or a blowjob.

  “I’m not expecting anyone. Are you?” I asked with narrowed eyes as the knocking grew bolder.

  “Are you serious?” he de
manded.

  “No,” I said sheepishly. I knew he was all mine. I was a jealous sort, but I wasn’t a dumbass. “But someone is at the door. Do you think it’s Mary-Harry-Larry-Scary?”

  “If it is, she’s going to be headless shortly,” he growled.

  “That is so fucking sexy,” I squealed as I jumped up, dragging the comforter and wrapping it around my naked body to answer the door. “Put the sheet over your Johnson. That’s my Johnson. No one else is allowed to see that behemoth.”