Fashionably Fanged Page 5

  Gareth’s vicious growl made Satan bellow with laughter and prompted Ethan to step in front of his brother.

  “Venus is under my Domain,” Ethan said in a cool tone, eyeing the Devil warily. “Poaching is against immortal law—as is kidnapping.”

  “Your point?” Satan asked with a beguiling look of innocence on his face.

  “Oh my Uncle God,” Astrid snapped, smacking Satan in the back of the head. “You’re an idiot, but I can solve this quickly.”

  Gareth, Ethan and I froze. Who in their right mind smacked Satan?

  “Venus is a grown woman and can make her own decisions. Do you want to date the Devil?” Astrid asked me with a barely suppressed smile.

  “Um… while I’m wildly flattered… I’m seeing someone else right now,” I lied to Satan. Well, it wasn’t all a lie. I was flattered.

  “Your loss, you beautiful creature,” Satan replied with a mischievous glint in his gaze. “No luck finding your True Mate yet?”

  Staring at my feet, I shrugged and then raised my eyes to his. “No, and at this point I don’t expect to.”

  Satan looked confused for a brief moment but covered it quickly. “Fascinating,” he said, glancing over at the still growling Gareth. “The curse is well crafted. Who knew Vlad was so adept at screwing with the natural order of things?”

  “What do you mean?” Ethan asked. “And it wasn’t just Vlad. An Angel was involved.”

  Satan nodded thoughtfully, his focus still on Gareth. “Yes, I’ll be expecting both of those despots in Hell eventually.”

  “Okay,” Astrid said to her uncle, trying to get everyone back on topic. “You can do it. The question is will you do it?”

  “Anticipation is so exciting, isn’t it?” he shot back with a wink. He then furrowed his brow and feigned deep thought. “Yessssss. I can and I will. Gareth, I shall let you know the payment.”

  “When?” Gareth asked through clenched teeth, still trying to get himself under control.

  “Eventually,” Satan replied easily. “However, I want Vlad. When you’re through with him, he’s mine. I’ve been practicing my water boarding techniques—I think he’d enjoy helping me out.”

  “Our pleasure.” Ethan gave Satan a curt nod. “Although before we go through with this, I believe you said there’s another way.”

  “Yes, I did,” Satan replied. “Gareth would you like to share what that might be?”

  “No, Lucifer. I would not,” Gareth shot back.

  “That will cost you another favor,” Satan said as he sauntered over to Ethan’s desk and began going through the contents of the drawers.

  “I expected as much,” Gareth replied tightly.

  “Hello,” Astrid said in her outside voice. “Don’t really like being left out of secrets.”

  “You already know the answer,” Satan said staring hard at her. “I told you in the caves under Paris.”

  “So I’m the odd man out?” I questioned, confused by the cryptic banter.

  “Gareth?” Astrid prompted, letting him decide. She clearly remembered the other way as did Ethan who looked pained.

  Ignoring Astrid, Gareth approached the giddy Devil. Discord was delightful to Satan and the room was full of it.

  “Give me a stay on my illness. I will pay you what you choose. The other way isn’t possible. The curse has rendered that option moot—as you can plainly see.”

  “So be it. The other option might not work once I’ve done this,” Satan replied as he stood to his full height and put his hand on Gareth’s forehead.

  “I understand,” Gareth said.

  “And there are a few caveats,” Satan continued.

  “Of course there are,” Ethan muttered, which earned him a pissy glare from the Prince Of Darkness.

  “The stay lasts a week. If you haven’t accomplished your goal, the curse will resume. However, it will accelerate.”

  “Accelerate?” Gareth asked, looking far too calm at this new wrinkle.

  The Devil nodded and gave him a tight-lipped smile. “To the point where you will be on real death’s doorstep.”

  Wait. No.

  What in the hell was Gareth thinking? We hadn’t been able to track Vlad down for months. One week? He’d be dead in a week if we didn’t find the evil bastard and reverse the curse. The chances of that happening were slim.

  “No, it’s too risky,” I blurted out to the surprise of everyone including me.

  Gareth’s shoulders tensed and his hands fisted at his sides. Ethan and Astrid exchanged cryptic looks.

  “Ahhh the exquisite one speaks. I didn’t realize you cared,” Satan said to me while staring at Gareth.

  “I… don’t,” I lied once again in the presence of the Devil. “I mean, I… um, we might not apprehend Vlad in a week. And even if we do, it might take more time to reverse the curse. That’s what I meant.”

  “So you don’t care?” Satan pushed.

  “No,” I lied a third time and waited to be zapped by lightening. No such luck…

  “This is even better than Hoarders,” Satan said as he clapped his hands with glee. “Your turn, Gareth.”

  “I could die in a day,” Gareth said tonelessly without sparing me a glance. “I have no idea how much longer I have. We have a lead. I have an option. It may be the only chance I have for myself and my siblings. Death comes in many forms. Immortality can be a very prolonged death. I’ll take my chances.”

  What in the ever lovin’ hell did he mean by that? If he wanted to be an ass with a death wish, it wasn’t my problem. He wasn’t my problem. I wasn’t about to make him my problem. Shit, could this day get any worse?

  “I actually might like you,” Satan mused, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes at Gareth. “Of course that won’t get you out of your payment.”

  “I wouldn’t expect it to,” Gareth replied flatly.

  “I don’t have all night,” Satan said as he sighed dramatically and cracked his knuckles with an evil little smirk. “Hoarders waits for no one.”

  Speaking in a language similar to the one Astrid had used to summon him, the Devil closed his eyes. Magic filled the room and dulled my vision. The sound of Gareth’s excruciating cry as he dropped to the ground with a sickening thud felt like it ripped part of my soul away. But that was ridiculous. He meant nothing to me. I certainly didn’t want him to die, but…

  “If you killed him, I will kick your ass,” Astrid muttered as she squatted down next to the unconscious Gareth.

  My legs moved without direction from my brain and I too found myself on the ground next to him. He looked dead—for real dead.

  “Interesting,” Satan said, watching me closely. “He should have waited a few days. The bastard might have gotten off scot-free.”

  “What are you talking about?” I hissed, pulling Gareth’s arm out from beneath him so if he woke, he’d be comfortable.

  “Nothing, darling,” Satan said silkily, eyeing me like I was on the menu. “If you change your mind about a little night out, let me know.”

  On that note, he left in a blast of black and silver glitter—and with the pencil sharpener and a few other things he’d lifted off Ethan’s desk. He was some piece of work.

  “I think I might be dead,” Gareth choked out with his eyes still closed.

  “Nope,” Ethan said, relaxed now that the Devil had gone and Gareth was awake. “You look and sound alive to me. As a matter of fact, you look like you did before the curse.”

  And he did. And something was wrong. Prickles of something I’d never experienced danced like needles beneath my skin and I felt faint. Standing was a chore as my body wanted to stay close to the mess of a man on the floor. All my instincts had gone haywire and the only sensible plan of action was to leave. I needed to get the hell out of the office before I did something wildly embarrassing and horribly inappropriate.

  “Gotta go,” I whispered hoarsely as I forced my legs to walk through the door. “Let me know when you want me in solitary. Need to�
�� um, sleep or run or, um…”

  “You okay?” Astrid asked with concern as she watched me with unabashed curiosity and a small smile pulling at her lips.

  Strangely, my Prince had the same expression. It was only Gareth who looked as pained as I did.

  “I’m just tired and hungry,” I mumbled as I ran into the doorframe trying to make my escape.

  WTH? I felt like I was drunk which was virtually impossible for a Vamp.

  Leave. I needed to leave. Now.

  “See you tomorrow,” I called out as I picked up speed and ran down the long hallway.

  “Oh shit,” I heard Astrid say as I sped away. “This is going to be interesting.”

  “Understatement,” Ethan added.

  “Did Satan say the other way to break the curse might work or won’t work?” Astrid asked.

  “Might,” Ethan replied.

  “Thank Uncle God for that,” she mumbled.

  If I wasn’t a massive bundle of weirdness, I would have turned around and demanded my friend and my Prince explain themselves.

  However, I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know what they meant.

  Chapter Six

  “I know I should be fucking enjoying this, but I feel really bad,” Martha insisted as she purposely smacked herself in the head with the hilt of her sword.

  “Ditto,” Jane grunted as she too walloped Martha in the head.

  They stood in the middle of the gym looking like they’d just found out Santa didn’t exist.

  The gals sported blinding lime-green rompers, brown socks and black sandals. However, the crowning jewels—pun intended—were their scabby heads. Apparently the staples went into the afros far more easily than they had come out. Without much hair of their own to begin with, the staple holes were very evident and unfortunate to look at.

  Shaking my head and trying not to swear at the idiots, I put on my stern face. I’d gotten next to no sleep last night. Backtalk from fashion-free old ladies wasn’t going to fly today. “Who’s in charge here?”

  “Um… you are?” Martha guessed, looking unsure.

  “Yep.” I crossed my arms over my chest and gave them a hard stare. “I’m teaching you how to fight. What I say goes, so do it. This chance comes along once in a lifetime—and we live for a very long time.”

  “You want us to use knives?” Martha whined.

  “And our fists?” Jane asked with huge eyes and a shudder.

  “And our titties?” Martha continued.

  “No,” I choked out on a gag. “No boobs. Boobs are not weapons.”

  “Yours are,” Martha pointed out. “What are you? A perky 36C?”

  “I’d call her a 34C or possibly D,” Jane amended.

  “Let’s leave my girls out of this,” I said, shaking my head.

  This was not working the way I’d planned. I was due in solitary confinement in an hour and I needed to get beat up. Hoping to kill two birds with one stone, I was giving the ancient air bags a chance to really go at someone—me. Unfortunately, they weren’t on the same page.

  “So you’re just gonna stand there and let us whack the living hell out of you?” Martha asked, still searching for the catch.

  “Yes.”

  “While that sounds real mother humpin’ appealing in theory, in practice it kinda sucks balls,” Jane said while Martha nodded vigorously in agreement.

  “For the love of God,” I snapped. “I’m giving you a free pass. Take it.”

  “Why?” Martha questioned.

  “Because I said so.”

  “Don’t make much sense to me.” Jane scratched her scabby head and looked mystified. “And as much as I won’t admit it in public, I kinda like you. Seems wrong.”

  “When did you two grow morals?” I demanded with a huff of exasperation.

  “Um… just now?” Jane offered.

  “You’re all kinds of mean, but you have a nice rack and not many would want to train us without removing our heads. Which wouldn’t be such a bad idea right now considering they’re itching like a motherfucker. Who in the hell knew staples would cause so much damage?” Martha griped.

  This was not going to work. Self-inflicted wounds would look suspicious. I needed someone to go Rambo on my ass. At my age, I healed quickly so it needed to be violent.

  “Listen to me,” I growled. “While I can’t give you the details, this is a direct order from Prince Ethan. Due to a… um… situation, I need to look like I’ve had my ass handed to me. This is for the safety of our people, so unless you want me to put staples where the sun don’t shine, I’d suggest you two dingbats get to work.”

  “Well, in that case,” Martha said with a shrug as she hurled a knife at me.

  She completely missed. How in the hell were they still alive?

  “Dang it,” she shouted as she went to retrieve the dagger. “I should have nailed that one.”

  “What were you aiming for?” Jane asked, choking up on her sword in preparation to throw.

  “Left boob, it’s always the bigger one,” she muttered as she squatted down and picked up her weapon.

  Rolling my eyes, I stood there as Jane proceeded to toss three knives, two throwing stars and her sword at me. She missed every time. At this point it looked like self-inflicted wounds were going to have to suffice. I wasn’t at liberty to explain the mission, so getting a normal Vamp to kick my ass was out of the question. Everyone in the compound was terrified of me.

  Shit.

  “Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit,” Jane squealed, pointing to the seating area on the other side of the complex. “I didn’t know Billy Ray Cyrus was a Vampyre.”

  “He’s not,” I said as I looked in the direction Jane indicted.

  A wide smile pulled at my lips as I spotted the country singer.

  Jane was right… and she was wrong. Billy Ray Cyrus was sitting on the bleachers watching the shit show ensue. However, it wasn’t Billy Ray Cyrus at all. It was The Kev. I almost cried with relief. If anyone could kick my ass in the nicest way possible, it was the two thousand year old Fairy.

  The Kev took on the façade of different people—usually cheesy celebrities—because his natural form was so stunning, most couldn’t look at him. He’d taught both Ethan and Astrid how to fight and was one of the most feared beings in the Universe. He was also one of my favorites—kind, wise, deadly and silly.

  He was a goner for Gemma, who was his love and the soon-to-be Queen of the Fairies. Gemma was in my small circle of BFF’s. I knew she wasn’t looking forward to taking her rightful place amongst the crazy-ass Fairies, but fate was a bitch—and fate usually won.

  “Howdy,” The Kev drawled, sauntering over.

  “Oh my Hell, did you paint those jeans on?” I asked with a bark of laughter and an amazed shake of my head.

  “Nope,” he replied with a smirk. “However, it wasn’t easy. My man parts aren’t pleased.”

  “I learned how to twerk by watching your daughter on TV, Mr. Billy Ray,” Martha announced, all aflutter.

  “Martha, it’s The Kev,” I told her quickly as she began to demonstrate her horrifying skill.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Jane shouted. “You looked like Donny Osmond last time I saw ya! What in the hell do you really look like?”

  “Venus, will you be needing the service of the gals today?” The Kev inquired with a sly smile.

  “No, definitely not,” I told him, turning away from what I knew he was going to do.

  Thankfully the training facility was empty other than the four of us or what he was about to do would wreak havoc. A breezy magic filled the vast room and the scent of wild flowers and lemon permeated the air.

  “Holy shit on fire,” Jane screamed. “My goddang eyes are burning, but I can’t look away. Those pecs. I wanna lick those pecs.”

  “Sweet baby Jesus in a mankini,” Martha shrieked. “Look at the package! Gemma is one lucky gal. I’d like just ten seconds alone with that big ole…”

  And then th
ere was silence. Blessed silence.

  “Is it safe to turn around?” I asked with a giggle.

  “Yes, my friend, it is,” The Kev replied. Thankfully he’d reverted back to the doppelgänger of Billy Ray Cyrus.

  Martha and Jane were on the floor with enormous smiles on their unconscious faces. For a brief second, I’d been tempted to peek at The Kev in his true form, but I wasn’t an idiot.

  “They gonna be okay?” I asked, examining the passed out old fools.

  “They’ll come to in a few hours,” he replied with a grin and a shrug. “What exactly were you trying to accomplish here?”

  “Have you spoken to Astrid and Ethan?” I didn’t want to have to go through the entire explanation again, but I knew it was safe for The Kev to know the particulars.

  He nodded. “You’ll be going to solitary and then after Vlad. I get that, but why would you let Martha and Jane—for lack of a better word—beat on you?”

  “Juliette won’t buy it if I go to solitary without a scratch on my body. I’ve been trying to train the idiots,” I said referring to the lumps on the floor at our feet. “And I figured this would help them and help me. I was wrong.”

  “I see,” The Kev said trying to suppress his smile.

  He failed.

  “It was a lame idea.” I laughed and ran my hands through my hair. “However, I have a new proposal if you’re up for it.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “You go Rambo on my ass.”

  “Hmm…” The Kev tilted his head thoughtfully. “Not really my style. Plus if you just stand there and take it, it would be as obvious as self-inflicted wounds.”

  “This is true,” I replied, realizing he was correct. Lack of sleep was making me sloppy—damn Gareth straight to hell and back. Even though Juliette didn’t know me, I had to go on the assumption that she might know of my reputation as a warrior.

  “Should I try and find a Troll real quick?” I winced at the thought.

  Trolls smelled awful. I was fine with being a little bloody, but stinky was almost too much to take.