Fashionably Dead Down Under Page 4

  “But your father creates death and hatred,” I countered, trying to remember what I’d learned in Sunday School a million years ago. Fuck. I couldn’t remember anything.

  “Nope. My father punishes those that choose to do evil. God, your uncle and mine, gave man free will. Man has a choice and his choice determines his afterlife. This little ditty was a huge mistake on God’s part and my father takes great pleasure in his brother’s faux pas.”

  “How is free will a mistake?” She was crazy and had clearly drunk the Kool-Aid. “And did you say God was our uncle?” WTF?

  “Yep, I did. And personally I don’t think it was a mistake at all, but God is pissed that so many have chosen the wrong path. His words, not mine, but it’s too late. What’s done is done.”

  “So God’s mad that humans suck and Satan is happy he gets to punish them.”

  “That’s a little simplistic, but kind of accurate.” She nodded her head and went on. “Technically, Demons are forbidden to create or cause true evil—we’re only allowed to siphon off the energy from evil caused by humans. But Demons, like humans, also have free will. While mild violence, deceit, stealing, promiscuity and cheating are standardly overlooked, acts of terror, mutilation or hobbies resulting in the death of others are strictly forbidden. Trust me, there are plenty of Demons residing in the Basement of Hell. It can be difficult and tricky to control something that thrives on evil, yet isn’t supposed to commit it.”

  “Hell has a basement?” I asked, trying to absorb the massive amount of info she’d just spit out.

  “That’s your question after what I just told you?”

  “Yep.”

  “Ooookay,” Dixie laughed. “Yes. Hell has a basement.”

  “And nine other levels?”

  “Um, no. Dante was completely wrong.”

  “You’re kidding me,” I gasped. Was everything I knew about Hell a fairy tale?

  “Dante will be here on Thursday. It’s poker night. You can grill him then. He’s been pissed for ages. He went ballistic when he found out the actual layout.”

  “So much of what you just said was screwed on so many levels.”

  “Nine?”

  “Touché,” I laughed. “Dante lives in Hell? And he plays poker?”

  “No and yes. Dante resides in Heaven, but comes over every Thursday to play poker with my dad.”

  “God lets people out to play poker?” This was too much for even me to believe and I was a Vampyre. A myth . . .

  “Free will, Cousin. God has no say if his residents want to vacation in Hell.”

  “Does that work both ways?” I asked, still amazed that Satan played poker with Dante.

  “Absolutely not. God doesn’t let evil touch his doorstep.” Dixie sniffed with disdain.

  “Who else plays poker with your dad?”

  “It depends. Most of the time Hemingway comes. Occasionally Marilyn Monroe, Elvis, Picasso and Mother Teresa.”

  “Back the fuck up. Mother Teresa plays poker with the Devil?”

  “Why wouldn’t she? My dad is charming and throws a great party. Besides, she’s always trying to reform him.” Dixie giggled and shook her head. “Oh, and one time Nixon came.”

  “How’d that work out?”

  “Dad says he cheats.”

  “Of course he does,” I muttered, wondering if she was just pulling all of this out of her ass and fucking with me . . .

  “With all that being said, it would be a grave mistake to assume Demons are goody goodies. They’re not . . . alright, I kind of am, but I’m a freak here.”

  “I have no issue with freaks. I ride that train too,” I told her.

  “Here’s the bottom line. I’ve been raised to be grateful to evildoers, because without them Demons wouldn’t exist. We derive our power and magic from the chaos and evil of humans. So while we don’t necessarily cause it, we thrive on it or feed on it, so to speak. Don’t forget that our Uncle God dealt out the free will thing, not my dad. And now to combat his error in judgment, God and his army of Angels keep trying to end evil so my dad and his people, including me . . . and you, will cease to exist. No offense, but God really screwed himself by letting men and women choose their own paths. If he wanted everyone to be good, he should have come up with a better plan. Daddy thinks that particular subject is hilarious.”

  “I bet he does,” I mumbled and wondered how to broach the what-does-a-portal-look-like subject without seeming too obvious.

  “There’s a ton more for me to tell you, but we only have a couple of hours before we have to go and not to be rude, but you need a shower. You hair is kind of wild and there’s soot all over your face and you’ve got some dried blood on you.”

  “Um, you waited till after your therapy session to tell me I looked like a homeless person?” I snapped.

  “No, I did that on purpose. You look dangerous and crazy with all that hair and blood. I thought it might throw our bitchy therapist off her game . . . and it did.” Dixie grinned and gave me a thumbs up.

  I couldn’t bite back my grin. Dixie wasn’t quite as nice as I thought and I was glad. “Fine. Show me to your bathroom and I’ll get spiffied up for your evil shindig.”

  “Wait till you see your hair,” she giggled and led me deeper into her home.

  “That won’t happen,” I told her as I examined her house. It was awesome—all done in earthy colors with bold slashes of chocolate brown and dusty rose woven in. “I’m a Vamp. No reflection.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” she said. “The red streaks in your hair rock.”

  “What red streaks? I don’t have red streaks.”

  “Um . . . you totally have red streaks.”

  “Son of a bitch,” I muttered, running my hands through the tangled mess. “Is that some kind of Demon gift?”

  “Don’t know, but I sure wish I had them.”

  Her bathroom was huge and better than any bathroom I’d ever been in. On one side were floor to ceiling mirrors and Dixie was right—I was a fucking mess. I mean I was still hot in that Vampyre undead way, but I was covered in dried blood and my clothes were torn. But my hair . . . holy Hell. My hair was its usual dark brown, but there were blood red streaks running through it. She was right—it was hot, but it shouldn’t be there.

  Wait. WTF? I could see myself?

  I grabbed the counter for purchase and heaved in a huge unsteady breath—another thing I shouldn’t be able to do. My body shook as I peered at myself. The self I hadn’t seen since before I died. What did this mean? Was I still a Vamp? Had I become a Demon? Fuckityfuck, I needed to get back home soon before all of this was irreversible.

  “Are you okay?” Dixie asked, running over to me and easing my quivering body to the floor.

  “I can see myself,” I whispered. “This is not good.”

  “Okay,” she said and sat down next to me. “What can I do?”

  “Help me get out of here.”

  “Oh, Astrid, I can’t,” she said with remorse.

  “Then just get away from me,” I hissed and put my hands over my eyes and my head between my knees. Anger boiled inside me and black glitter covered my fingers and traveled up my arms. Coating them like sparkling black sleeves. It was beautiful in a macabre way. I felt the dark power weave its way through my body and settle next to my dormant Vampyre power.

  “Oh shit, Astrid,” Dixie gasped and backed away quickly. “Be careful. You could blow us to Kingdom Come with that much magic.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “What do you mean what am I talking about?”

  “Oh my God,” I shouted. “If I ask a question, it means I don’t know the answer. I don’t talk just to listen to my own voice. So just spit it out, Cousin.”

  “You have dark magic,” she said reverently. “And you have tons. I’ve never seen sleeves like that. Ever. Not even on my dad.”

  “How in the fucking hell do I make them go away?” I demanded, terrified that I would blow us up without even mea
ning to. I had no idea how I had this magic, what to do with it or how dangerous I was.

  “Think good thoughts,” she insisted frantically. “Think of people you love. Now.”

  I closed my tired eyes and willed Ethan to appear. I reached for him and he gently ran his hands over my stomach. Our child. Our baby that shouldn’t be, but was—against all odds and reason. I let my mind wander to my nana who was in Heaven and then I floated to my dearest friends, Gemma, Venus, The Kev and Pam . . . and the tension left my body. The sleeves disappeared. I was calm . . . I was okay.

  I opened my eyes to see a flabbergasted Dixie trembling in the corner of her bathroom.

  “What?” I asked.

  “What are you?” she asked so quietly I was sure I misunderstood.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “What are you?” she repeated.

  I glanced over at myself in the mirror, shrugged my shoulders and laughed humorlessly. “I have no fucking clue, but I’d like you to keep this little episode to yourself if you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Not a problem,” she said with a shaky smile. “No one would believe me anyway.”

  “Awesome. Now leave so I can shower and then stare at myself. I haven’t seen myself in a while.”

  “Will do,” she said, backing out of the bathroom. “Will do.”

  Chapter 5

  Clean as a whistle and confused as all get out, I sat down in front of the mirror to inspect myself. I traced my reflection and wondered if all Vamps could see themselves in Hell or if I was so freaky I was the only one. I was yanked right out of my pity party by voices. Female voices. Voices I didn’t recognize. Had Dixie told my secret? Had they come to get me and destroy me? Fuck.

  “I refuse to accept Einstein’s Snot as my cocktail name,” an angry voice shouted.

  “That’s nothing,” another chimed in. “My fucking cocktail name is Hobbit Nipple.”

  “You are both imbeciles,” yet another snapped. “Mine is the worst. I’m Rancid Orgasm.”

  “But that’s actually fitting,” the first voice squealed with glee.

  What in Satan’s name was going on out there? I heard something explode and Dixie scream. I yanked on the sweats that my cousin had left for me and raced from the bathroom to the living room where two very gorgeous women were slapping the fire out of their hair while another supermodel-looking gal laughed hysterically. Dixie stood in the middle, clearly furious with all of them.

  “This is exactly why I don’t invite you over here,” she yelled and helped put the fire out on the gals sporting the flames. She raised her hands and water shot from her fingertips, soaking the last of the burning embers from their heads.

  “They started it,” the one who had clearly caused the blaze whined.

  “If the three of you weren’t addicted to Facebook and playing those stupid name games there would be a lot less fire in Hell,” Dixie snapped at the girls.

  “I’m not addicted,” the dry one said, pointing at the unhappy wet ones. “Those slutty cock knobs are.”

  “You have some nerve, you dicknose turd waffle,” the wet one on the right screeched.

  I watched in shock as the wet one on the left frantically scrolled for something on her phone.

  “Got it,” she said and read straight from her phone. “You are a pie-eating fuck clown and a smelly crotch goblin. Take that.”

  “Help me, Satan,” Dixie muttered, removing the phone from whom I surmised was one of her sisters. Which Deadly Sins these were I had no clue . . .

  “I’ll take that and do you one better, you tone deaf rectum captain,” the dry one shot back.

  “Enough,” Dixie ground out through clenched teeth. “These are disgusting and you all sound like uneducated idiots. I mean really—an insult creator on Facebook? For real? All of you are at least a thousand years old.”

  Wow, these chicks were ancient.

  “And now that you’ve made asses of yourselves in front of our cousin, let me introduce you.”

  Three sets of eyes shot to me and examined me so intensely I grew uncomfortable. Their fascination wasn’t unexpected, but it was loaded. With what? I wasn’t sure . . .

  “Astrid, these are some of my sisters. The two wet ones are Lust and Greed and the dry one is Envy.”

  I stood my ground and studied them with the same razor sharp focus that they had leveled at me. I refused to be the first to glance away. Everything here was a game and the price for losing was high.

  It was obvious the girls were related, but by no means were they identical. Envy, the dry one, was a stunning brunette with golden cat eyes and a very voluptuous body. Her bosom practically spilled from her top and her curvy figure was one that drove men to kill.

  Greed was equally as gorgeous but different. Her locks were auburn, but her eyes matched the others and her body was sleeker and lankier than Envy’s. She had an air about her that dared someone to cross her. I didn’t plan to put that theory to the test. I’d just go with my gut on that one.

  Lust . . . Lust was breathtaking, even soaking wet. Her hair was dark and curly and her lashes defied nature. She was tall and thin, yet curvy in all the right places. Her appeal was immense and I would think she wasn’t often denied anything . . . ever.

  “She’s not all that,” Lust sniffed disdainfully, eyeing me critically.

  “Um . . . yes, she actually is all that and then some,” Envy dismissed Lust’s underwhelming description with a wave of her hand. She circled me and I stood very still, prepared to defend myself and my baby to the death if I had to. These gals were scary and slightly unstable. “You’re gorgeous and crazy powerful, I do believe.”

  I stayed quiet. There was no way I was going to be Chatty Cathy with these dangerous women.

  “Cat got your tongue, pretty girl?” Greed asked.

  “Nope.” I smiled and decided the less I said the more power I would wield. And considering I wasn’t in possession of my Vampyre gifts at the moment and I had no control over my emerging Demon magic, it seemed the smartest move.

  Shitshitshit. I quickly scanned the room for my Baby Demons. I did not want these gals to know about them. No trace. Clearly they’d hidden. They were far smarter than I gave them credit for. Part of me worried these Deadly Sins might be a little more appealing to my babies’ palates than Dixie. I grinned as I imagined the clusterfuck that would cause. How would I explain to the Devil that my little buddies had eaten his daughters . . . My grin disappeared as the gravity of that being any sort of reality set in. Note to self—do not leave Baby Demons alone with Sins. Ever.

  “If she doesn’t talk, how will we ever get to know our new cousin?” Lust asked as she glared at me with undisguised hostility. What the hell had I done to her?

  “Shut up, you nasty and ungracious bitch,” Envy snapped at her sister. “Astrid, what’s your last name?”

  “Um . . . Porter.”

  “Umporter or just Porter?” Greed asked, snatching her phone back from Dixie and scrolling quickly. Envy and Lust crowded her and tried to see the screen.

  “Porter.” What were they doing?

  “Alrighty then, your Sexy Pet name is Donkey Lips,” Greed informed me.

  “Well, that’s just lovely,” I deadpanned. “What’s yours?”

  “I’m Smelly Cha-chas,” Greed moaned with disgust.

  “Snuggle Cha-cha’s here,” Envy added.

  “Bulky Cha-chas,” Lust chimed in angrily. “And little precious Dixie is Honey Cha-cha’s . . . of course. She even gets good names. It’s just not fair. My cha-chas are far superior to any of yours in this room.”

  “Can it, sexy,” Greed told her whiny sister.

  “What’s your last name?” I asked all of them. I had no idea the Devil had a last name. I wondered if God did too . . .

  “Syn with a Y,” Dixie said, taking all of her sisters’ phones away from them. I suppose she’d had enough of the Facebook games. I declined to make a comment or a joke about their surname. I didn’t want to
get my hair fried.

  “So, I hear you need some shoes,” Greed said, reaching into a bag at her feet. “You’re a seven?”

  “Yep,” I said, wondering if her shoes were as incredible as Dixie’s. I shouldn’t have worried. She yanked out some Jimmy Choos that made me salivate.

  Greed grinned and handed them to me. “It’s nice to see you’re a whore for lovely things. I like a materialistic girl.”

  The compliment was somewhat of a slap, but the shoes were hotter than hell. “I’ve been called worse,” I grinned and slipped my feet into the insanely awesome four-inch stilettos. They were amazing and made my legs go on for days. Ethan would love them . . . My stomach dropped to my toes. What in the hell was I doing getting excited over shoes? Ethan had to be going out of his mind. Time to learn a little more about my heritage so I could get back to my real undead life.

  “So Daddy has a big announcement to make tonight,” Envy said, rolling her eyes.

  “It’s probably about Astrid’s visit.” Dixie squeezed my hand and gave me a small smile.

  “Nope,” Envy cut her off. “He’s been keeping a secret for at least a week. Astrid just got here today. Oh, and Astrid, Wrath can’t wait to meet you! When she heard you killed your parents she was wildly impressed. And just so you know, we all thought your father was an asshole.”

  “Good to know,” I muttered and meant it. I would have been screwed if I’d offed a favorite uncle. “Where exactly did he rule down here?”

  The silence was long and their eyes were round. Why was that such a difficult question? Then the laughing started. And it went on until they were doubled over on the floor in tears. Dixie was the only one who wasn’t amused.

  “Oh, that’s rich,” Lust said, wiping her eyes. “He didn’t rule anything. He was a guard of sorts in the Basement. He was an angry loose cannon.”

  Pot. Kettle. Black.

  I had no fond feelings for my father—none—but he was my father and Lust’s total disdain for him didn’t sit well with me. Her insults went far deeper that my father. I knew it and she knew it . . . She couldn’t stand me and the feeling was mutual.