Fashionably Dead and Wed Book 7 Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Edition License Notes

  Praise for Fashionably Dead

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Note From the Author

  Excerpt: Nearly Departed In Deadwood

  Excerpt: READY TO WERE

  Chapter 1

  Excerpt: SWITCHING HOUR

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Book Lists (in correct reading order)

  About Robyn Peterman

  Fashionably Dead and Wed

  by

  Robyn Peterman

  Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should delete it from your device and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is coincidental.

  This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under.

  Copyright 2016 by Robyn Peterman

  Cover by Rebecca Poole of dreams2media k12

  Edited by Meg Weglarz

  Praise for Fashionably Dead

  Uproariously witty, deliciously provocative, and just plain fun! No one delivers side-splitting humor and mouth-watering sensuality like Robyn Peterman.

  This is entertainment at its absolute finest!

  ~ Darynda Jones, NY Times Bestselling Author of the Charley Davidson Series

  Acknowledgements

  Writing books is the best job I’ve ever had. Sitting in my sweatpants, t-shirt, sparkly Uggs and no make-up totally works for me! However, as solitary as the writing process may be, putting a book out is a group effort. There are many important and wonderful people involved and I am blessed to have such a brilliant support system,

  Rebecca Poole, your covers are perfect and your imagination delights me.

  Thank you.

  Meg Weglarz, you save me from myself constantly with your editing.

  Thank you.

  Donna McDonald, you are my partner in crime, one of my dearest friends and one hell of an author. I’d be in deep doodoo without you.

  Thank you.

  Donna McDonald and JM Madden, you are the best and most honest critique partners a gal could have. I don’t know what I would do without your eagle eyes and good taste.

  Thank You.

  My beta readers, Wanda, Melissa, Susan and Karen, you rock so hard.

  Thank You.

  And my family…thank you for believing in me and understanding deadlines and my need to discuss fictional characters as if they were real people. None of this would be any fun without your love and support.

  And my readers…I do this for you.

  Dedication

  For Steve. I’d marry you over and over and over.

  Chapter 1

  “Explain to me again how this happened,” I hissed. I throat punched a viciously aggressive Demon gunning for my head—bloody mouth open and razor sharp claws extended. Killing things with teeth as long as my forearm was definitely not my idea of a good time, but when we’re talking Us or Them, it was simply a necessary evil.

  “It was a shiny rock. How in the hell was I supposed to know it was a motherhumpin’ portal to Hell?” Martha wailed, slamming an impressive right hook into the jaw of one of the slimy bastards.

  “I told her not to touch it,” Jane grunted. “But did she listen to me? No. She didn’t listen.”

  We were three Vampyres against twenty Demons and it was only 10 am. This did not bode well for the rest of my day. Nor were the odds what I would have chosen, but it was what it was. The evil shits had shown up uninvited and quickly worn out their welcome.

  Today had started so perfectly with a marathon of closet sex with Ethan, followed by a rousing game of Candy Land with our son Samuel and his pet baboon, Blobbityflonk. Now this… a normally beautiful, peaceful field of wild flowers and trees polluted with ugly, stinky, evil Demons from Hell who were definitely not supposed to be in Mossy Creek, Kentucky. If I had to hazard a guess, the bastards were from the worst part of Hell—otherwise known as the Basement. The fragrant spring breeze was filled with the acrid odors of burnt flesh and bad breath. Occasionally, the super duper gift of Vampyre smelling ability bit me in the ass—or gag reflex, to be more accurate.

  “Just blast ‘em,” Jane shouted, taking two of the Demons into a chokehold and squeezing so hard they popped.

  They burst like blood filled balloons and I choked back a dry heave. Not that I could throw up or anything helpful like that, Vampyres didn’t have that particular talent.

  “I can’t. Too many Demons,” I ground out, as I smacked down on one who’d taken a chunk out of my leg. Damn it, the gaping hole would take at least an hour to grow back and possibly leave a scar. “We’re three miles from an elementary school filled with human children. The explosion would rock the entire town, you imbecile. This one is hand to hand.”

  Time and time again I internally bitch slapped myself for having Martha and Jane turned in the first place. The two eighty-nine year old dumbasses had caused more trouble in the short time they’d been undead than our entire race had in centuries. My compassion continually reared up and smacked me right upside the head where they were concerned.

  “After we’re done here, remind me to decapitate both of you,” I said. Then I back-flipped and scissor-kicked the noggin right off the Demon who’d made the grave mistake of thinking he could take me out.

  “Will do,” Martha grunted, tossing knives and throwing stars around like they were beads at a Mardi Gras parade.

  Her aim was appalling and I ducked before she accidentally nailed me.

  “Holy shit on a sharp stick in the left eyeball,” Jane screeched as she removed a misfired dagger Martha had planted in her ass. “They’re running away.”

  I shot back up from my crouched position and let out a furious curse. Sure enough, the remaining Demons fled across the field too fast for a human eye to detect—flaming dots of red fire mixed with the pink and purple flowers that were now wilted due to the sulfur from Hell blanketing the field like an ominous fog.

  We’d killed twelve. That meant eight had escaped and were going to wreak havoc on Earth. Not good. Not good at all.

  With a flick of my hand, I sealed the portal shut and let my head fall back on my shoulders. What to do now? Did I go after the bloodthirsty denizens of Hell? Or should I tie Martha and Jane into an undead human pretzel and throw them into the portal I’d just closed?

  Decisions sucked.

  “Um… Boobs McGee?” Martha asked quietly as
she poked me in the arm. “Do you want us to go after the fuckers or go get some backup first?”

  “I want you to have never opened the portal in the first place,” I snapped, ignoring the nickname. I’d long ago given up on reminding the two idiots that my name was Astrid.

  I paced the open field in agitation and watched the Demons we’d killed turn to gooey dust before my eyes. These Demons were far worse than the last bunch that had gotten through the portals, and their visits were becoming more frequent. My Uncle Satan had some explaining to do.

  Glancing over at Martha and Jane, I had to laugh. They were a hot mess and not just because they were covered in blood and had been fighting bad dudes from the Underworld. Nope. They’d taking up jogging and had the heinous outfits to prove it—teal booty shorts and yellow sequined jog bras coupled with black socks and expensive running shoes. The sparse tufts of grey hair on their heads were held back with headbands that would have made Richard Simmons proud. I was surprised they hadn’t scared the Demons back to Hell with their sportswear.

  “Why the left eye?” I asked Jane. I pressed the bridge of my nose and reminded myself it would be wrong to blast their sorry flat asses into tomorrow.

  “What the hell are you babbling about, Hooters McHootieland?” she asked, completely confused.

  “Why the crap on a sharp stick in the left eye instead of the right one?” I asked again.

  “Hell if I know,” Jane grumbled and shrugged her bony shoulders. “It’s just the way it is, Melons O’Chesty. Sun comes up in the morning. Sun goes down at night. George W. is better lookin’ than Jeb. Sharp sticks covered in poo go in the left eye.”

  It was difficult to render me mute, but these two gals did it repeatedly.

  “You really gonna rip our heads off?” Martha asked.

  My chin dropped forward to my chest. They knew as well as I did that I wasn’t going to remove their heads. As much they deserved it, I would never do it. They’d been instrumental in saving my son’s life and for that, I would be eternally grateful—not that I really wanted to spend any quality time with them, or any time at all for that matter. They didn’t need my help with losing an appendage. At the rate the dingbats were going, they were going to get their heads torn off by someone else anyway.

  “No, not today,” I told them as I approached them.

  They held their ground warily and gave me pathetic smiles and waves. Holy Hell, it looked like Jane might have lost a few teeth in the melee. I stared hard at the ancient pains in my butt as they fidgeted like children and I tried to figure out what to do with them. Maybe if I just knocked their heads together really hard, I’d feel better. It wouldn’t kill them. As Vampyres, they were very hard to eliminate. And these two numbnuts had proved without a doubt that being undead and stupid made them even harder to kill.

  “We’d be more than happy to go after the creepy flesh eating turd waffles,” Martha told me as she picked up the weapons she’d flung around.

  “Nope,” I said. “You’re underqualified and I can’t risk that you wouldn’t open more portals along the way. You’re going back to the Cressida House and you’re not allowed off the property until I say so.”

  “That’s a little harsh,” Jane muttered, helping her sister dig through the slimy ash to retrieve the weapons.

  “No, it’s actually very nice,” I said so calmly they both blanched in terror. “The harsh part is that you will wear clothes that completely cover your bodies until further notice.”

  “No booty shorts?” Martha asked as she paled considerably.

  For a Vampyre that was difficult…

  “Nope.”

  “No mini skirts?” Jane inquired almost inaudibly.

  “Nope.”

  “I’m guessing thong bikinis are out as well,” Martha added sadly.

  The thought of them in ass baring swimwear was therapy inducing. Their boobs hung to their belly buttons and their skin was all pickled and spotted. They were an anomaly in the blood-sucker world. Usually when someone was turned from human to Vampyre, their natural beauty was enhanced to the point of ridiculousness. Martha and Jane—not so much.

  “Thong bikinis are against the law for eternity. You two will wear clothing that covers every inch of your bodies except for your wrinkly faces.”

  “Sweet Jesus on a tractor with a farmer’s tan,” Martha cried out. “Are you trying to kill us?”

  “Trust me, if I was trying to kill you, you’d know,” I replied with an eye roll, still considering the possibility. “This rule goes into effect as soon as we get back to the compound. Am I clear?”

  “As mud,” Jane bitched.

  “I have a question, Knockers McMilkbomb,” Martha said, raising her hand politely as if that would negate the fact she’d basically just called me a cow.

  “Spit it out, old lady.”

  “How did you know to come and find us?”

  That was a fine question and one I couldn’t quite explain. I’d just felt that something was off and let my instincts guide me. I’d left ten shocked and snooty Vampyres mid-conversation in the formal parlor of our home. Apparently they were taking issue with the fact that Ethan and I were getting married when we were already mated. Ethan had seemed surprised at my abrupt departure, but he took my oddities in stride. He also knew I couldn’t stand Vampyre politics and tended to shove my foot in my mouth more often than not.

  The old school Vamps couldn’t wrap their pea brains around my need for a human ceremony and had been very vocal with their displeasure. I’d explained as diplomatically as I could at a Formal Summit Council meeting for the Vampyre Who’s Who that they could shove it their up their non-breathing asses and skip our wedding. Needless to say, that went over like a lead balloon. As penance, I’d been writing apology notes to dead people all week.

  “I’m not sure,” I told the gals truthfully. “I just knew something was wrong.”

  “Well, um... thank you,” Martha mumbled.

  “I’m sorry. What?” Had my super sonic hearing failed me? Had the nasty grizzled freak- show actually expressed gratitude? Had Hell frozen over?

  “I’m not sayin’ it again,” Martha groused, trying unsuccessfully to hide her grin.

  “But since she did say it, maybe you could reconsider the ban on booty shorts,” Jane chimed in hopefully as she wiped Demon goop off of her dagger and onto her unfortunate choice of clothing.

  “Nope. You will be garbed completely. Period.

  “We’re gonna look like fucking nuns,” Martha groused.

  Now there was an idea…

  ***

  “They can’t wear habits,” Ethan said as he scrubbed his hands over his gorgeous face and tried not to laugh.

  “Why not?” I argued. “It’s a vast improvement over glittery boob tubes and hot pants.”

  “While this is true, having them impersonate nuns is sacrilegious,” he explained logically, pacing his office.

  “Are you serious?” I asked, carefully moving an ugly three-headed statue from the coffee table to a new home underneath a chair. I was certain the heinous thing cost more than the national debt, but I couldn’t look at it anymore.

  “Yes. Plus, we have visitors from other parts of the territory due to the influx of Demons. I’d think profane followers of Christ might be a bit off-putting,” Ethan said, retrieving the statue, examining it with a wince and placing it right back under the massive leather chair.

  “It’s ugly,” I commented with a grin.

  “It is,” he agreed. “However, it’s a gift from Satan. If he visits, put it back.”

  “Will do. Are you sure about the habits?”

  “Quite,” he replied. “We’re not Catholic.”

  “I can see where you’re going with this, but I still think it’s an awesome idea. It’s a twofold win. It would piss Uncle Satan off royally if he thought I had nuns in the house and was siding with Uncle God. And more importantly, we wouldn’t have to look at half-naked, insane, desiccated Vampyre boobs for
the foreseeable future,” I explained with an evil little grin.

  “Astrid, your devious mind never ceases to amaze me or turn me on,” Ethan said as he wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my head. “But I still think it’s a bad idea.”