[Anh Ngữ] Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1) - Robyn Peterman (English)

[kenny0112]

Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1)
by Robyn Peterman
Genre: Funny
​

Spoiler: Chapter 39

It was ninety-eight degrees. About one hundred and fifty sweaty townsfolk stood outside the Town Center Hall in their redneck Sunday best to pay their respects to a woman they didn’t really know or like. Brad and Angelina must have advertised, because I knew these people were not friends with my mother. She didn’t have friends. She barely had acquaintances. I supposed they were here out of respect for Nana—or maybe me. I knew some were here just to be nosy, but I was truly moved by the turnout.

Martha and Jane were dressed up. They’d traded their sweatpants for tight polyester leggings paired with house slippers and some kind of shiny stretchy tops. It was hard to look away, kind of like a train wreck. The house slippers were hurtin’ me bad.

Niecey and Charlie and several others from my senior center art class held gaily-wrapped boxes. I would on my non-life they contained phallic gifts for me. I grinned and continued to glance around.

I smiled and waved at Hattie, who was able to attend because we weren’t at the funeral home. Then my gut dropped. The frighteningly-clad old biddies were marching toward me. I tried to run, but they were damn fast for old ladies.

“Sorry about your mother,” Martha snapped.

“She was a whore, bless her heart,” Jane added.

“Yes . . . well, aren’t we all.” I patted her on the head like a dog. This confused her and amused me.

“We like that Paris Hilton.” Martha got up in my face. I backed up a few steps to get away from her hot rancid breath.

“Paris likes you too.” Damn, sometimes a highly developed sense of smell was not a gift.

“She doesn’t own any hotels,” Jane informed me, touching my arm and coming dangerously close to my breast.

Why did they feel the need to get so close to me? Were they hitting on me? Please God, no. Their invasion of my personal space was unsettling and alarming. Why were they being so nice, relatively speaking? “Well . . . ” I backed further away. “We all have our crosses to bear.”

“Yes, like all homophobics actually wanting to suck dick,” Martha said, grimacing.

“Exactly,” I said, “just like that.” I grinned and waited to see what was going to come out of Jane’s mouth.

“All Republicans are hookers,” Jane choked out and turned an awesome shade of purple.

“Wow,” I laughed and quickly made my getaway as they slapped each other silly. Sweet Baby Jesus, I needed to get Paris to teach me how she’d done that.

My Vampyre entourage was blending into the crowd. How was that possible? They must be cloaked. They were far too pretty not to be noticed. Ethan was right, I didn’t see him or any of the Elite Guard, but I could detect his scent and it made me smile.

I spotted Gemma trapped by Brad Pitt and Angelina Jinkers-Pitt. Time to save my girl. I knew she would do the same for me.

“Astrid, please accept our condolences. You are looking lovely on this fine evening,” Brad droned.

“Get a load of that shit,” Angelina hooted, slapping Brad on the back. “He’s turned into a pussy! If I tell him to lick my shoe, he will! Watch!”

I watched. He licked.

Oh my God, what had I done? I felt sorry for him. Angelina was horrid and mean. Brad had never been mean. Stupid and chauvinistic and foul, but not mean. I looked at Gemma. She was as shocked and dismayed as I was. I had two choices . . . Green Eye Angelina and turn her into a lady or Green Eye Brad and return him to his former disgusting self.

“Brad, could I talk to you privately for a moment?” I took his arm and led him around to the side of the building.

“Hey,” Angelina yelled, “tell him to dance like a monkey. It’s hilarious.”

An expressionless Brad on autopilot began to spastically undulate and make monkey sounds. I was so stunned, I stopped and watched. It was revolting.

My eyes flashed green and I slammed poor Brad Pitt up against the wall of the building, effectively ending the monkey dance. “Look at me,” I hissed. “You no longer have to obey your wife. You have not been yourself for about three weeks. That’s over. You are now the same disgusting, good ol’ boy pervert you’ve always been, bless your heart. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.” He was dazed.

“Good,” I snapped. “Now why in the hell is everyone waiting outside the building, Brad?”

He stared at me, confused and lost. Oh God no, was it non-reversible? My stomach roiled with baby nausea and guilt. Had I sentenced him to a lifetime of servitude, including shoe-licking and monkey dancing?

“Well, now darlin’,” he started slowly, but his leer warmed up. “There’s some hot-as-shit big blonde in there that I wouldn’t mind gettin’ down on, if you know what I mean,” he snorted and grabbed his crotch. “She’s a-sayin’ no one’s allowed in ‘til you get your sweet, tight ass cheeks here.”

Alrighty then. “Did she actually say ‘sweet, tight ass cheeks’?” I asked.

He thought for a moment. “Naw, that was just me complimenting your fiiine as wiiine butt.” He went to grab his package again and I stopped him with a glare that brought him close to peeing himself.

“Since my cheeks are here, we may as well let everyone in and get this over with.” I sighed, disgusted with him, but somehow more disgusted with myself for having tried to change him.

“We tore up that big photograph and built that there monument you wanted, sweet potato,” he proudly informed me.

“What monument?”

Brad slapped his jiggly thigh and burped, “I just love how you pretend to forget stuff, Sugarbuns. You are one hundred percent on the right track to gettin’ into my pants. A man sure loves him a dumb woman with nice tits. So you just keep that shit up and you’ll get a piece of me in no time.”

“Pardon me while I vomit, Brad.” God, he was a wart. “But what the fuck are you talking about?”

He cocked his greasy, bald, combed-over head, grabbed his package and grinned, “Why dontcha just come on in and see, schnookie-bottom?”

“I’m not referring to your pencil dick, Brad. I’m referring to the monument.”

He stood there and looked confused. Whether it was about his dick or the monument, I didn’t know, but I didn’t have time for this shit. I left him there to go in and get to the bottom of this.

Good God, what had Brad Pitt built? And who told him to build it? It had to have been Julie. Where in the hell was she, anyway? I quickly went in. On the far end of the meeting hall was a very large something covered in white sheets. It stood about ten feet high and about fifteen feet wide.

I tried to make my way towards the tower of sheets, but the room was jam packed with people. How did they get in here so fast? I picked up on snippets of conversations as I pushed my way through the crowd. Chats about my mother, my Nana, how much better female blood was than male blood, Brad Pitt’s monkey dance . . .

I whipped around. Who in the hell was debating the benefits of male versus female blood?

I scanned the people in my vicinity. All mortals. Had I misunderstood?

“Julie,” I called out to my sister, spotting her on the other side of the room. That sister thing was going to take some getting used to. She was surrounded by a group of well-dressed people wearing hats. They looked like they were going to the Kentucky Derby. How odd, they definitely weren’t locals. She was talking to them with great animation.

“Hey Julie,” I tried again. She glanced my way and smile-grimaced. Lovely.

Who were those people? I could only see their backs from this angle. There were about thirty of them and they were all riveted by my big, blonde bitchy sister. Maybe she was more fun than I’d given her credit for. Maybe I shouldn’t be so mean. Maybe she was tight on funds due to the extravagant shindig she was throwing for our mother and that was why she clipped my fingernail polish and God knows what else. Maybe she was desperate.

A waiter passed with a tray of hors d’oeuvres in one hand and flutes filled with champagne on a tray in the other. What the fu . . . ? We catered the memorial? No wonder everybody and their brother showed up. Free booze in a dry county!

“Are you okay?” a small voice asked.

I turned expecting to find Paris standing there, but it was a man. A small, slightly built, delicious little man who was definitely not human stood in front of me.

“I’m . . . um . . . fine, and you?” I was so taken with this creature.

He smiled at me and I felt a wash of tingly Magic rain over me. “I’m fine too,” he giggled and took my hand, putting gentle pressure on it. A warm and floaty feeling danced through my body making me sigh with pleasure.

“Who are you?” I asked, refusing to let him go.

“I’m a friend of Lucinda, your Nana. I have a message for you.”

God, he was such a lovely little thing. I wanted to squeeze him. I knew my jaw had clenched and my lips had pooched out. It was the face I got when I saw a crazy cute baby or puppy. I was itching to pick this little man up and take him home with me and feed him and play with him and dress him up and . . .

“I’m sorry, but what are you?” I didn’t want to be rude, but I was this close to grabbing him, cuddling him to my bosom and showering him with kisses.

He tilted his head which made him even more adorable. “I’m a Sprite and I only have about thirty seconds left in this dimension.”

“Oookay,” I pinched my leg to make sure I was awake.

“Remember,” the edible little Sprite said. “Beyonce is a genius.”

“Beyonce is a genius?” What the hell was he talking about? “Do you mean Beyonce the singer or my Beyonce—the Demon?” What kind of cryptic bullshit message was that?

He pursed his precious little lips and shrugged his delightfully tiny shoulders and disappeared in a shimmering mist. I looked around to see if anyone noticed. Nope, they were too busy with the free booze and pigs-in-a-blanket.

“What did that little bastard want?” Samuel whispered in my ear, startling me. “Those damn Sprites can be rude and disgusting. Did he grab your ass?”

“No.” I tried unsuccessfully to suppress my laughter at the thought. “He was a total gentleman and gave me a message from my Nana, but it was bizarre and I don’t get it.”

“What did he say?”

“He said, ‘Beyonce is a genius’.” I shook my head.

“To the left, to the left, ‘Single Ladies’, ‘Crazy in Love’ with Jay Z, Beyonce?” Samuel asked without a hint of irony.

His knowledge of popular music delighted me. Who knew Samuel was a Beyonce fan? “No,” I replied, “I think he meant my little Demon baby, but it’s still useless. Samuel, I had the worst urge to squeeze that little man. What the hell was that?”

“It’s the Sprite charm. Those little shits look all cuddly and sweet, but they bite. Never, ever put your fingers near their mouth,” he warned.

“You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

“He seemed to like me.”

“Goddamn.” Samuel shook his head in amazement. “Sprites hate Vampyres. They’re not fond of other groups who bite. You are most definitely the Chosen One. I don’t think there’s a species yet that hasn’t been attracted to you.” He began to blend back into the crowd, but not before he saluted me with his middle finger. “Keep your eye on the King,” he said wiggling his finger. I didn’t even try to hide my laughter as I gave him the finger back.

I had kept my eye on the King since we arrived. I knew where he stood at every moment. I had not let him out of my line of vision once. Even when I reversed Brad Pitt, I could still see the King.

“Don’t forget, I’m quite the killing machine myself.” The man in question grinned at me and discreetly placed his hand on my stomach.

“I know.” I grinned back, covering his hand with my own. “Can the humans see you guys?”

“Yes, but we’ve dulled our appearances. We’ve also cloaked our scent so the Rogues would not recognize that there are other Vampyres here.”

“Could the Rogues be cloaking themselves too?” I asked, unnerved by the thought.

“No,” The King assured me, “they would need guidance from a Vampyre at least five hundred years old or older. It’s possible, but highly unlikely.”

I felt my tension subside. That was a relief. “Well, so far, so good,” I smiled.

He squeezed my hand. “I’ll be near the front entrance with Cathy. The only other way in or out is behind that . . . What is that?” the King asked, indicating the sheet covered lump on the other side of the room.

“I’m not sure. I think my sister Julie had a monument built.”

“Dear God,” the King muttered and I laughed.

“My sentiments exactly. Look, we’ll stay for another hour or so and then we can leave.”

“Whatever makes you happy, child.” He touched my face and glided towards the front door.

I shook a bunch of hands and hugged a lot of people as I tried to get closer to Julie and the sheet covered monstrosity that everyone kept inquiring about. I saw Paris and Venus watch the crowd on my left. Sir James and Gemma watched on my right. Samuel had the back door covered and the King and Cathy were at the front entrance.

Ethan, can you hear me?

Are you all right? He sounded tense. I felt bad for worrying him, but I needed to be here. I needed to pay tribute to a woman I loved despite the fact she didn’t return it.

I’m fine and so is the King. Anything unusual outside?

No. He sounded relieved.

I met a Sprite, I told him.

Did he grab your ass?

No. Samuel asked me the same thing, I laughed.

Those guys are pricks, very sneaky. They use that cute thing to take advantage of women and get into their pants.

Ewww, I groaned, that’s foul.

Yes, he agreed. Now focus and pay attention in there. I love you.

I love you too. I smiled and scanned the room. My eyes were drawn to Julie who looked shaken and pale, even for a Vampyre. She was staring in the direction of the entrance. I quickly looked at the front door. Only Cathy and the King. Did she know them? She caught my eye, pointed at me and mouthed Don’t fuck up, and then made her way to the back exit. God, she was definitely more my mother’s daughter than I was.

I tried to get over there to see if she was all right, but the crowd was against me. Ethan, my sister just left the building through the back exit. See if you can stop her and introduce yourself. She looked upset.

Holy Mother of God, Ethan gasped. What does your sister look like?

Tall, blonde, beautiful, Russian-looking . . . She’s wearing a red dress, I told him.

Oh fuck no, he ground out. She’s my . . .

What? What was he saying? She’s supposed to be dead, for five hundred years. He sounded furious.

My stomach dropped and I started to shake. What was he talking about? My sister was supposed to be dead? No, wait . . . His sister was supposed to be dead. Is Julie his sister? No, of course not. His sister’s name was Juliet. Oh shit, was his sister my sister? Did I mate with my brother?

Ethan! I was panicked. I was trying to put this together, but my brain was shutting down to protect me from something big and ugly.

I’m going after her. His voice conveyed his fury.

That was the last thing I heard from him before all hell broke loose.

 

[kenny0112]

Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1)
by Robyn Peterman
Genre: Funny
​

Spoiler: Chapter 40

The Rogues did have someone over five hundred years old to help cloak their scent. They had Julie, or rather Juliet. They also had hats to disguise the fact that they all resembled me.

It happened in slow motion, like a bad, bloody horror movie. Juliet left the building. The hat-wearing Rogues let out inhuman screams, the doors magically bolted themselves shut and people started dying.

Glass shattered and rained down from above as Heathcliff and the rest of the Elite Guard stormed the building. Unable to get through the doors and unwilling to give up, they pulled a Paris Hilton and came blasting through the windows. We were outnumbered, but not by much.

A dagger ripped into my thigh before I had the wherewithal to activate my shield. It hurt like hell and destroyed yet another piece of my Prada wardrobe. Do not mess with my friends, myself or my Prada. I quickly touched my chest and a burst of Glitter Magic engulfed me. Without a thought, I grabbed the dagger from the offending Rogue, plunged it into her heart and twisted, killing her instantly. One down . . . a lot to go.

Shit, where was the King? My eyes frantically searched the room. Oh thank God, he was surrounded by five Elite Guards. He was safe.

I watched in abject horror as two Rogues ripped the arms off of the Police Chief and ate him. Niecey was crying hysterically and crouched down in the middle of the room with Charlie, frozen in fear. I grabbed them and tossed them to Venus, who flew to the windows with my friends and outside to safety. Thus the routine began. Try to mortally wound a Rogue or toss a mortal out of the window.

The people from my town ran around like bumper cars, not knowing who to trust. They were fighting the good Vampyres who were trying to shield them from death. It was a total clusterfuck.

One would think the Rogues would be gunning for me, with a ten million dollar bounty on my head, but they weren’t. I wasn’t safe from harm, but they were trying to kill everything, not just me. They were destroying anything they could get their hands on or their teeth into.

At least the humans were starting to understand the windows were the key to staying alive. They began to willingly go to the Elite Guard who were closest to the walls.

Four Rogues were feasting on a pile of still living mortals they’d trapped in a corner. The screams and moans were brutal to hear. Chills shot through me as I spotted Martha and Jane trying to fight their way out of that corner. Martha’s face was covered in blood and Jane was dragging her by her hair trying to get her to safety.

Goddamn it, I hated those women, but nobody was going to kill them while I stood there and watched. Rage boiled in my veins. I pressed hard on my Angel Wing tattoo and hurtled myself towards the corner at a speed that rendered me invisible to the human eye.

With my bare hands, I ripped the head off of the Rogue who was trying to choke Jane. He dropped to the ground with a thud. I quickly unsheathed my katana and beheaded two others while the fourth tried to run. I pivoted and shot silver bullets from my fingertips completely shredding the top half of that Rogue Vamp.

“Holy Jesus Christ,” Jane shrieked. “What in the hell are you?”

Martha lay practically dead on the floor. Jane approached me fearlessly and examined my fangs and blazing green eyes. I stood silently.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” she wheezed, “you’re a Vampyre.” She shook her head and grabbed me for support, “A fake boob-ed, slutty creature of the night. Bless your hea . . . ” She collapsed at my feet.

I realized her entire back had been ripped open and she was bleeding out. Son of a bitch, I had always envisioned killing them, but it was just a fantasy, not something I actually wanted to happen. I looked at the two old bags dying on the floor in front of me and a hot flash of grief gripped me.

“Paris,” I yelled. “Get over here.”

We stared at the gals for a moment. I could feel my nausea bouncing around. I had a sour feeling in the pit of my stomach. I wasn’t sure if it was my baby or the decision I had just made.

“They’re dying,” Paris whispered

“Change them,” I said through gritted teeth.

“What?”

“Change them,” I barked. “You care about them, right?”

“Right.” Her eyes lit up with joy.

“You’ll be in charge of them, not me,” I bit out and pressed hard on the bridge of my nose wondering where in the hell my self-preservation instincts had gone.

Paris grinned. “Yes.”

I rolled my eyes and an uncontrollable smile split my face. “Fine. Do it.” I turned away and threw myself back into the fight before I changed my mind. I had certainly already lost it. I had just sentenced myself to an eternity of being called an irresponsible slut. I should be filled with dread. I wasn’t. I felt proud. Therapy . . . I definitely needed therapy.

Oh God, no . . . Angelina Jinkers-Pitt lay scattered in pieces all over the floor. Brad ran around picking up her body parts and trying to put them back together. His tear-drenched eyes met mine.

“Help me,” he moaned. “If we find it all, they can sew it back on.” He held her arm up to her hand to make his point. His voice was rough with shock. “I need some ice so she doesn’t turn black. Do you have any ice on you, darlin’? I need ice for my baby . . . ” He began to shake violently, then began to vomit. He tried to pick up the pieces of his wife that he had dropped, but he slipped in her blood and landed on the pile that used to be Angelina.

This shit had to stop. Who the fuck did these Rogues think they were? They were destroying my people. The backward-ass rednecks that I loved. They had to die.

Amidst the raging battle, I gently picked Brad up off of what was left of Angelina and made eye contact with Heathcliff. He was beneath one of the windows, just having completely torn apart three rogues with his bare hands. He nodded. I threw Brad across the room and Heathcliff flew him to safety. I looked at poor Angelina. She was mean, but she didn’t deserve this. I swallowed the bile that had risen in my throat and dove back in with a vengeance.

I heard a scream and my body went cold. Gemma. She wasn’t equipped to fight these bastards. Why in the hell did I let her come tonight? She could die because of me. My eyes flashed and my fists clenched. Damn it, I could hear her . . . why couldn’t I see her?

“Over there,” Venus shouted, and pointed to the far left side of the building.

There she was. Three Rogues had her. One held a dagger to her neck, while the other two pinned her to the wall.

“Come and get her,” a male Rogue hissed at me.

Shit, shit, shit. I tried to enter their minds so I could make them explode, but they were closed to me. Why were they closed to me?

I approached slowly, dropping my katana and dagger as I went. How was I going to kill them without hurting Gemma? I held my hands up. “Let her go,” I ground out. “If you do, you can leave free and clear.”

“You will join us, Astrid,” the female spat. Her eyes were wild and unfocused.

“Yes,” I said. “I will go with you.”

“No,” Gemma gasped. “Baby.”

She did know. She knew I had my baby inside of me. I felt a tingling in my stomach. It wasn’t the nausea I’d been experiencing. It was magical. It was a beautiful little spark of life. I smiled reassuringly at Gemma with a strength and purpose I never knew I possessed. I had a better chance of getting away from the Rogues than she did. She had no chance at all. I loved her so much. There was no way in hell she was going to die today, and neither was I. We had far too much to live for.

Gemma’s eyes began to turn an icy silver blue. She was furious. The Rogues were so fixated on me they didn’t seem to notice that the beautiful little Fairy they had trapped was morphing into a god-awful looking monster.

She was magnificent. She glowed an iridescent silver and became the size of a large SUV. She was covered in silver and golden scales and her fangs made my fangs look like baby teeth. Her claws were obscene and as sharp as knives. I was astonished. I clapped my hands together in delight for my beautifully grotesque best friend.

She ripped into the Rogues with a viciousness I’d never seen. I’d heard Fairies were incredible warriors, but this was crazy. She cut one Rogue completely in half, starting at the head and ending at the crotch. The other two screamed and tried to run, but she pierced them with her claws. She swung them around violently before she popped them into her mouth and ate them.

Alrighty then . . . didn’t see that one coming.

“Well, I do believe that was the fourth Mortal String,” Gemma’s sweet voice said, coming out of the bloody-fanged mouth of her alter ego. “Can you believe I ate them?” she giggled.

“Um . . . no,” I said, retrieving my katana and dagger. “That was pretty fucking gross,” I told her.

“Yep,” she agreed, “but they were tasty.” She paused. “I don’t really know how to change back.”

The Rogues had frozen when Gemma shifted and the Elite Guard had captured them, tying them up with barbed silver chains, silver handcuffs and leg shackles. Only ten out of the thirty had survived.

I scanned the room and took inventory of my people. I knew Ethan had taken Luke, Princess Raquel and Princess Lelia to go after Juliet. I had so many questions for that bitch. Most of the Elite guard was accounted for. The King and Sir James were with Heathcliff, Cathy and Venus. I knew Paris had left with the old ladies, so everyone was here and okay.

Samuel.

“Where is Samuel?” I demanded.

Venus looked down. Heathcliff stepped forward and took my hands, “He didn’t make it.”

“Where is he?” My voice broke and my eyes filled.

Heathcliff led me to Samuel’s body. He’d been decapitated. I felt raw and jagged inside. He was my friend and I loved him. I sat down on the floor and took his broken body into my arms and I cried. I tried to push his head back onto his shoulders. It rolled off and nestled close to my thigh. I felt a kinship with Brad Pitt in that moment. I wanted to put some ice on Samuel and sew him back together. I could still hear his voice, giving me shit and encouragement at the same time. He and The Kev had made me the fighter that I had become. He made me feel good about being a Vampyre. He was my friend when everyone else treated me like a pariah. I was going to miss him terribly. How in the hell could the Chosen One not save one of her chosen ones?

I felt something pounding deep within my body. If I’d had a working heart, that’s what it would have sounded like as it broke . . . but I didn’t. It was grief—mind-numbing, angry grief. Samuel turned to dust in my arms. Oh my God . . . my wish. I still had my wish. My mood shifted from despair to pure joy. Magic flowed through me, everyone within ten feet of me getting doused with Fairy Glitter.

“Hear Me, O Fairies,” I sang out in a strong voice. I clutched handfuls of Samuel’s dust. “Please give my friend Samuel back his life . . . that is my wish.”

I closed my eyes and the building began to shake. My body was suffused with heat and Samuel’s ashes were on fire. Literally. I dropped his dust and scooted away. And then . . . nothing.

I turned to Gemma. My desperation was palpable. “My wish . . . can’t I use my wish?”

“It’s too late,” she whispered, her huge gleaming body pressing against mine.

“What do you mean?” I shouted, scattering what remained of Samuel everywhere.

“In order to bring someone back, they must still have a body.”

I hated her answer and I tried to hurt her. I slammed my body into hers as my tears blinded me. “Why don’t you help me . . . why? You’re the fucking Fairy Queen,” I screamed.

“It’s not my place to determine fate, Astrid,” she said, her own sparkling tears flowing. “I’m not God.”

I looked at Samuel’s ashes, feeling shame that I hadn’t saved him. I slowly turned to Gemma and additional shame washed over me. She tentatively held her arms out and to me and I collapsed into her hulking embrace.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered to her. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too,” she said. “I’m sorry too.”

 

[kenny0112]

Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1)
by Robyn Peterman
Genre: Funny
​

Spoiler: Chapter 41

Sixteen mortals and twenty Rogue Vampyres died. Eight of the Elite Guard had died, including my Samuel.

“How do we explain this?” I asked Heathcliff. The death toll was high and the damage was massive.

“Fire,” he said.

“What fire?” I looked around to make sure we weren’t on the verge of getting crispy.

“The fire we will start when we’re done in here.”

“What about the humans that escaped?” I asked. The horrific image of my townsfolk all battered and bloody as we flew them to safety was stuck in my head, but that paled in comparison to Brad Pitt sobbing over Angelina lying dead and mutilated on the ground. I pushed the images away.

To pay my respects to Samuel, I would stay strong. He always told me to cry hard and then get over it. After that, laugh heartily and go out and kill something. Ahhh, the logic of a very old Vampyre . . . I wasn’t sure I could do it, but I’d try. I had already cried. Now it was time to move on, laugh and kick some ass.

“The humans have been tranced. They believe a fire broke out during the memorial and people got trapped,” Heathcliff said, briskly assessing the damage in the room.

“What about bones and DNA and things left in the ash that could cause questions and lead to problems far bigger than what we’re dealing with here?” I had a hard time comprehending problems bigger than what I was looking at, but I knew they existed.

“Don’t worry,” Heathcliff assured me. “There will be nothing left after this fire.” He glanced quickly at Gemma. “Are you stuck like that?”

“Not sure.” She shrugged her massive shoulders.

“Gem, where is The Kev?” I asked, still awed by her transformation.

“He’s forbidden to come to me until I have completed the fourth Mortal String. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say I need to shift back before I’m done. I wish to God I knew how. I’m feeling a little self-conscious like this,” she giggled. It was beyond surreal to hear a huge, scaly monster giggle, but leave it to Gemma to make the stuff of nightmares appealing.

“Okay then.” Heathcliff considered the options. “We could probably cover Gemma with those sheets draped over that . . . what is that?” he asked, referring to the mound on the far side of the room.

“It’s a monument.” I shook my head. “I’d like to make it clear that I had nothing to do with it. My sister . . . or rather . . . ” I looked to the King. “Your dau . . . ”

“We’ll discuss that later,” Heathcliff cut me off. “When we are sure.”

He raised an eyebrow and I nodded. It would be cruel to say something to the King, if Julie wasn’t Juliet. Although the chances of that were slim to none.

“Hey, I know,” Gemma volunteered. “I’m the size of a truck,” she laughed. “Just cover me and put me behind one of your vehicles and pretend to tow me back to the Cressida House.”

“Good God almighty.” Venus threw her head back and let out a huge peal of laughter. “That I’ve gotta see.”

“You had best not be laughing at me,” Gemma warned Venus, her silver-blue eyes twinkling. “I eat people.”

Venus squealed and darted away from Gemma’s massive body. “I’ll go get your outfit,” she laughed as she ran to the other side of the room to retrieve the sheets.

I tentatively let my lips curve into a smile. The moment I did, I felt Samuel’s spirit pass through me. It tickled and a small laugh escaped from my sad body. A warmth folded around me for a heartbeat and then floated away. I felt sure that Samuel would be hanging out with my Nana in Heaven. I knew I was going to be okay. Samuel would expect me to be okay.

There was an audible gasp as Venus revealed the monument. It was the tomb. The tomb from my dreams. How was that possible?

“My God.” The King was awestruck. “It looks like a crypt for a Queen. A Queen from when I was human.”

I knew they were discussing the tomb, but I couldn’t hear them. All I could make out was static. A compulsion, stronger than any I’d ever known controlled me. I walked slowly toward the tomb, my hands outstretched. I could feel the tingling in my fingertips. It quickly spread down my arms, through my chest and into my legs. I knew my heart lay dormant in my body, but I would swear I felt it pounding in my chest. My stomach twisted and although I didn’t breathe I felt like I was suffocating. A gust of wind burst through the Town Hall and blew my hair wildly around my head. The sense of deja vu was chilling.

“Push, Astrid,” she gasped. Oh my God, the lady was in the tomb.

I placed both of my hands on the tomb and began to push. The tomb started to crumble under my fingers. The stone turned to cold hard diamonds—beautiful sparkling sharp ice that sliced into my hands. My hands bled, but I didn’t stop. I was so close. The blood ran from my hands, down my arms and seeped into the soft white cotton of my shirt. The stunning diamonds were awash in my blood . . . I knew if I pushed a little more . . . I could . . . The pain was becoming intolerable. Every nerve ending in my body was on high alert, screaming for me to stop.

If I could just push harder . . . I felt silk, soft slippery silk between my fingers. Her dress . . . I was touching her dress. I was so close to her. I knew I could save her. I needed to pull her out. I looked down and watched my blood turn her beautiful sheer, green silk dress to crimson. She was laughing with joy. She was so proud of me. I had waited my whole life to hear her tell me she loved . . .

A brilliant flash of light exploded as the tomb continued to crumble. I backed away as the light bounced around the room, momentarily blinding me. Streaks of red lightening zipped down from the ceiling, bathing the rubble in an angry pink glow. Where in the hell was the tomb lady?

“Hello, Astrid,” a hollow voice rasped.

“Mother?” I gasped. She was breathtaking, but there was something wild and untamed about her now. Unhinged might be a better term. Her pale green dress, stained with my blood, billowed around her. It was definitely my mother, but she appeared to be transparent.

“In the flesh.” She flashed her teeth at me and gave a brittle laugh. “Well, almost.”

“Are you a ghost?”

“No, darling, I’m in between worlds . . . for the moment.”

“Can I touch you?” I needed to touch her. I had always needed to touch her and I had prayed my entire life that one of these times she would want to touch me back.

“With those filthy hands? I think not.” She gave me a withering stare. “Besides, as you can see, I’m not quite corporeal.”

She leaned toward me with a real and gentle smile on her face. She was so pretty. My body tingled to be the recipient of that look. I reached for her. She reached for me and released a blast of red lightening from her hand. It grazed my shoulder, sending shock waves of excruciating pain through my body and bitch-slapped me back to the reality of the abusive relationship I’d always had with my mother. I refused to make a sound. How did that lightening get through my shield?

“Whoops, sweetie.” She made a sad face. “Did that hurt?”

I couldn’t speak. I wanted to scream in agony, but I refused to cry in front of her. I stood silently and watched her.

“You see, Astrid,” she said, her voice clipped and business-like, “I have three hours to find someone. Someone very important to me.” She smiled and reached out to me. I flinched away. Her smile disappeared and her eyes turned cold and hard. “I need to borrow your body.”

“What? No!” I was shocked. Fear and anger knotted up inside of me. She was not taking my body, whatever that meant. I was not the only one inhabiting my body right now and I sure as hell didn’t want her to know that.

“You don’t have to be a bitch about it,” she hissed.

Then from behind me, a pathetic chorus of voices began calling out.

“Take mine.”

“I’ll die for you, sweet mother.”

“Take me, mommy.”

“I am yours, mother.”

“I love you.”

The Rogues began wailing and moaning and crying. They were calling her Mother.

Holy shit, she was their mother? They were the brothers and sisters Julie told me about?

This was fucking fantastic. Those killing machines that ate people were my siblings? I’d a lot of money that we shared the same Demon King daddy. I felt ill.

Her eyes whipped to the corner of the room where the Rogues, her children, were chained. She gasped and quickly masked her astonishment and rage at their presence. She was such a good mother. Her tone was venomous. “You’re worthless,” she screamed at them. “Look at you chained like a common human.”

Their wailing was pitiful. They were begging her to use them, to love them. I thought I had nothing in common with them, but I was wrong. We all wanted that monstrosity’s love.

Her voice was low and calm. Truly terrifying. “None of you have accomplished what your sister has.” She pointed at me. They spat and bared their fangs. “I had such high hopes for all of you, but you failed me. For five hundred years I’ve been giving birth to you hideous creatures and I hate all of you.” She smiled at them. The wails increased to deafening volumes.

“Shut up,” she screamed. She floated toward her children and they cowered in fear. “There, there . . . ” She gave them a hostile glare. “Don’t be frightened. All I ever wanted was for one of you to release me between my wretched mortal lives, but you were too stupid and useless to do it.”

She shot lightening at two of them, severing their heads off. “God, that felt good!”

Joy bubbled in her laugh and her eyes shone bright.

“The stupidest and most worthless one of all accomplished what none of you could. Bow to her,” she shrieked, killing three of my brothers who dared to defy her. “Bow to the bitch. She has released me.”

They bowed. I’d pretty much had all of her compliments that I could take. She was batshit crazy and I had to get rid of her. Except I had no idea how.

“Are you a Demon?” I asked her.

She pivoted mid-decapitation and gave me a lovely smile. “No, my sweet,” she cooed, “your daddy is a Demon. He’s Abbadon, King of the Demons.

I glanced back. The Elite Guard had surrounded the King. They looked dull and colorless to me. They were cloaked. She couldn’t see them.

“What about Julie, Mother?” The puzzle that was piecing itself together did not look good. “Is she really my sister? We look nothing alike.”

“I know.” She eyed me with disdain. “Juliet is beautiful . . . hard to believe you’re sisters.”

Why did her hatred still hurt? “We must have different fathers.” I tried to goad her into completing the picture.

“Yes,” she sighed and looked wistful and lost. “She’s quite old.” My mother’s voice dripped with jealousy. “She’s immortal, just like you, Astrid.”

“How old is she?” I asked. Please say a hundred or two hundred or even four hundred. Do not say five hundred or so. Do not let her be Ethan’s sister. Do not let my mother be the . . .

“She’s five hundred and nineteen, isn’t she, Petra?” The King stepped out from behind the Elite Guard and shed his cloaking. He confronted the horrific creature that had given birth to me.

“Brilliant,” Petra screamed in delight. “I don’t need your body after all,” she told me. “Astrid, Astrid . . . God, if I’d known you’d be so useful, I would have treated you better. You brought me what I wanted. You’re such a good girl!”

Her eyes were wild and she shivered in anticipation.

The puzzle came together in my mind with a sickening click. My mother was Petra, the banished wife of the King. Juliet was her daughter. Juliet was my sister. Juliet was Ethan’s sister. Which means I mated with my brother. Wait. Think . . . They have different mothers and we have different fathers so . . . I’m so confused, but I’m pretty sure that Ethan and I weren’t committing incest. His father was the Vampyre King and mine was the Demon King. His mother died in childbirth and mine was the psychotic bitch flying around the room trying to kill everybody and take over the world. We were safe. Thank you, Jesus. As relieved as I was that I hadn’t mated with a relative, I was also terrified that my lovely mother was getting ready to do some bad mamba jamba.

“What do you want, Petra?” I asked, stepping between her and the King.

“Isn’t it obvious, dear?” she replied sharply. “I want to live forever. I’m so sick and tired of dying and starting over, time after time,” she moaned. She was coming unhinged. I watched in fascination as her eyes turned black with fury. “What I’m really sick of is fucking your Demon father. I hate fucking Demons and producing worthless shit,” she screamed.

Her eyes blazed with insanity. She flew on a gust of wind back to the Rogues who, despite her hatred of them, reached lovingly for her. “You are scum,” she spat as they sobbed. She laughed maniacally and blasted them with red lightening, killing all of them instantly.

She wants to live forever. She wants the King. She wants . . . Oh shit, no.

I unsheathed my katana and waited. She flew around me. I kept the King behind me the entire time. Heathcliff, Cathy, and Venus sprinted in and we had the King sandwiched between us. Gemma moved forward with Sir James and the rest of the Elite Guard drew their weapons.

“Do you think you can kill me with your little toys?” She was positively gleeful. “I’m a spirit, you imbeciles. Watch,” she yelled. She ran her body through Sir James’ outstretched sword. Nothing happened. She was becoming more transparent with each passing moment.

“Shit,” Cathy muttered.

“Agreed,” Heathcliff whispered. “How in the hell do we kill her?”

“Astrid, I think this is where you being the Chosen One comes in,” Venus said. My panic escalated.

“Don’t forget,” the King added, “I know her quite well and I’m not helpless. I’m completely armed.”

“With all due respect my Liege, not against a transparent flying psycho witch shooting red lightening out of her hands,” I said and I started to laugh. I tried to suppress it, but I couldn’t. The utter insanity of what was happening was too much. It was either laugh or freak out.

We were Vampyres trying to kill what basically amounted to a ghost, who happened to be my mother and the former wife of the King. She wanted to drink the King’s blood, rip his heart out and eat him. Then she planned to take over the world with my Demon daddy, which besides being disgusting, was so not going to happen today.

I had apparently been created for this exact moment and I had absolutely no idea what in the hell to do. I didn’t know how to kill her and therefore I couldn’t keep the King safe. I let my spirit leave my body and tried to enter her, but there was nothing to enter. My spirit floated through her as if she wasn’t there. If she was non-corporeal, how was she causing such damage?

“I don’t have much time, Astrid,” she said through clenched teeth. “Move away from my husband, or I’ll kill everyone in the room.”

“Can’t do that, Mom.” I decided on a new tactic. “Does my father know you don’t like to fuck him? God, I wouldn’t want to have *** with something that disgusting either. I don’t know how you did it for five hundred years.”

She began to hiss and turn more transparent.

“I don’t think he likes you much either, because after he beat the hell out of you, he stood there and watched while all of his friends ate you . . . and he laughed the whole time.”

“Shut up,” she hissed. Her face hardened with rage and her flying became erratic.

“It must suck to get knocked up century after century by someone who hates you. If memory serves, I believe he called you a bitch. Now that’s just not nice.”

“I’ve had enough of this,” she shrieked. “Abaddon loves me.”

She raised her hands in the air and red lightening rained down striking everywhere. I threw my body over the King. Heathcliff, Venus, and Cathy piled on top. Petra let out a piercing wail and wave after wave of dark Magic surged through the room. I couldn’t see or hear. The evil juju she was causing felt like icy pinpricks all over my skin. I knew I was screaming. I could feel the vibrations in my body. I had just lost the ability to hear it.

Then it stopped. It was over. We all stood up and realized Petra was gone. So was the King.

“Oh dear God, where is he?” Sir James began to frantically search the room for the King.

Cathy and Venus dug through the rubble while Heathcliff looked through the pile of dead Rogues.

“Astrid,” Gemma said. “Where did she take him?”

“I don’t know.” I dropped to the ground and hugged my knees to my chest.

“Where are they?” Gemma asked again.

“I told you I don’t know,” I ground out, my jaw clenched tight.

“Yes, you do,” she said calmly. “Focus.”

I closed my eyes tight, fighting against my desire to attack her. Why did she think I knew? They were all wrong. I was not the Chosen One. I was nothing.

I tried to focus. On what? I didn’t know. I pushed everything out and let my spirit float freely inside of my own body. I had never done this before. The minute I relaxed, images raced through my mind like a crack addict channel surfing. Ethan’s smile, Nana’s eyes, Angelina Pitt’s scattered remains, Samuel’s middle finger, Ross’ Velcro hair, Abaddon’s claws, undulating Demons, Petra and the King surrounded by the gorgeous rocks at Diamond Caverns.

“The caves,” I gasped. “She took him to Diamond Caverns, near the Portal to Hell.”

“It will take at least thirty minutes flying at full speed,” Heathcliff said, tucking his dagger into his belt and readying himself.

“He’ll be dead,” Sir James said.

“It will take me thirty seconds and he will not be dead. It’s not his day to die,” I told them. I flung my arms out scattering Fairy Glitter everywhere and disappeared.

***


Ethan burst through the doors of the Town Hall, followed by Luke, Princess Raquel and Princess Lelia. “We lost Juliet, but it’s definitely her.” He scanned the room quickly. “Where’s Astrid? Where’s my father?”

“Queen Petra took your father to Diamond Caverns and Astrid transported after them,” Sir James told him.

“Goddamn it.” Ethan turned to leave.

“Ethan!” The serious tone of Sir James’ voice stopped him. “She’s pregnant.”

Ethan blanched and everyone except Gemma gasped. “How? That’s not possible,” he whispered.

“She’s the Chosen One. It’s ordained,” Sir James smiled.

Ethan’s fists clenched as tears of disbelief and joy threatened to fall. This was something he had never even imagined, something no Vampyre had the right to even dream of. This was the secret she was going to share tonight. He gathered himself, turned to his people and roared, “Fly. Now.”

As they hit the air, Cathy flicked her fingers at the Town Hall. It exploded and burst into a raging fire equal only to the white hot fury burning through Ethan’s body at the thought of harm coming to the two . . . no, the three people he loved most in the world.

 

[kenny0112]

Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1)
by Robyn Peterman
Genre: Funny
​

Spoiler: Chapter 42

It was too quiet. Was I wrong about where they had gone? Was I too late?

I pressed my body against the wall of the cave and quickly made my way through the corridor, looking for the Portal to Hell. I knew I was close. I could smell the sulfur and burning flesh. I squatted down and laid my palms on the limestone floor, absorbing as much Magic as my body would take in. I had depleted myself by transporting and I needed no weaknesses right now, real or perceived.

“Are you okay, Mommy?”

What the fu . . . ? My pockets were talking. Four little grinning heads popped out. I slapped my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.

“Oh my God, you scared me to death,” I chastised Ross, Honest Abe, Rachel and Beyonce. “How did you get into my pocket?” I whispered.

“We be here the whole time, Mommy,” Honest Abe giggled softly, “and you already dead.” Ross high-fived him for the death joke. I rolled my eyes.

“Your Mommy worse than my Mommy.” Beyonce shook her head in disgust. “She bad.”

“Yep,” I agreed. “You guys need to stay in my pocket. It’s going to get ugly and I want you safe. Do you understand me?”

I tried to be stern, but I was so happy to see them I almost cried. I was scared. Scared I would screw up, and there was simply no room for error.

“We hear you, Mommy,” Rachel said sweetly. The others nodded.

If I’d had time, I’d examine that answer a little deeper. It sounded as if they were acknowledging what I said without agreeing to abide by it. I had their number. I pulled that crap all the time with Nana growing up. I heard moaning and laughing. We all froze. I pushed them back into my pocket and moved toward the voices.

I got down on my stomach and shimmied to the archway of a magnificent room, with crystals cascading like diamond curtains from the ceiling to the floor. The King was bound with silver chains and my mother floated around him. She was agitated and angry.

“I despised you for not changing me.” Her lips were thin and her eyes were slits of fury. “Then I found out how noble you were, knowing how it would have killed me.” Her laugh was reminiscent of nails on a chalkboard. “I just hated you more, you stupid, stupid man.”

“What are you waiting for, Petra?” The King goaded her. Why was he doing that? Did he want to get his heart ripped out?

“I haven’t finished my story yet,” she snapped furiously at his challenging words. She was beginning to flicker and become more transparent. The angrier she got the more she faded. My King was a smart man.

“I have spent the last five hundred years building an army of Rogues,” she shrieked. She stilled suddenly and composed herself. “Our daughter helped me,” she smiled at him with intense pleasure. Her moods shifted on a dime, like a schizophrenic.

“How did you convince her?” he asked. I could tell Juliet was a painful subject for him. So could my mother.

“It didn’t take much,” she giggled. “I gave her all the affection she craved and then I withheld it until she begged,” she informed him icily. God, somebody should have tied her tubes hundreds of years ago. She was the sorriest excuse for a mother I’d ever seen.

“So you begat half Demons, Juliet turned them into Vampyres, and you turned them into monsters,” he said with disgust.

“Correct,” she cooed. She raised her hand and shot a bolt of lightning at his chest. He grunted in pain, but he did not cry out. God, he was tough. I had been ready to lose it after a graze on the shoulder, but he stayed quiet even when the equivalent of a jagged burning spear got shoved into his chest.

I could see blood seeping through his shirt and I watched in horror as she flew to him and lapped at it. She raised her head, her face was covered in his blood and she smiled.

“I did love you,” she whispered seductively. “You’re so pretty, but you loved that bitch Paloma more than you loved me,” she growled and went back to licking and sucking at his chest.

How was she doing that? She was a spirit. It had to be the caves. The level of Magic in this particular room was high. I could feel it wash over me. She was becoming less transparent the more blood she drank. Shit, this was bad. No, wait . . . it might be good. As long as she didn’t drain him completely, the more human she became, the better chance I had of killing her. It was difficult, but I waited.

“Get your skanky, skinny-ass, fucked up, demon-slut hands off of my man,” Pam bellowed and the room shook.

“You!” Unintelligible curses spewed from Petra’s mouth as she tried to clutch the King to her, but she wasn’t solid enough to accomplish it. Her face was a mask of rage. “You’re too late, whore,” she screamed. “He’s dead.”

Time for a change of plans.

“Of course he’s dead, he’s a Vampyre,” I yelled as if I was in a vaudeville show and I had the punch line of the joke. I placed myself directly in front of my mother, blocking her view of Pam.

Petra screeched like a harpy and buzzed around the room like the Tasmanian Devil, shooting lightning at the King with every pass. His body jerked and convulsed on the floor. He was bleeding heavily. Both Pam and I tried to make our way to him, but the lightning was too much. Every time we tried we were flung back into the walls.

Petra was insane. Her eyes blazed and she couldn’t seem to focus on any one thing. The King was almost dead. I wasn’t sure what she had done, but it wasn’t good. I needed to get him away from her before she ripped his heart out.

I flicked my fingers at Petra and knocked her across the room. Thank God. She was solid enough that some of my Magic would work.

“Pam, get the King,” I yelled to her. She didn’t need to be told twice. She transported across the room and covered his body with hers.

“I have been waiting five hundred years to get back in your pants,” she threatened him. “Don’t you dare die on me now.” Pam removed the silver, shook him and forced him to feed from her.

“I’m going to kill you,” my mother shrieked and flew at me like a freight train.

I ducked and shot a spray of silver bullets from my fingertips as she crossed over me, but they went right through her. Magic, yes. Conventional weapons, no.

I focused and yanked my spirit from my body and tried to enter her. Again, nothing. There was not enough of her to enter. How in the hell was I supposed to kill her?

Petra, not being one to give up, came back at me screaming like a banshee and shooting lightning from her hands.

I felt a piercing hot knife of lightning slice into my stomach. Oh God, no. No, no, no. I dropped to the floor and clutched my stomach. My hands were covered in blood. Rage boiled through me. I will kill her over and over again for the rest of my life if she harmed my baby. I tried to get up, but I couldn’t, not yet.

The tingling I’d felt earlier was gone. My little spark of life disappeared. My baby had died. I knew it, and the grief that ripped through my body was debilitating. I was consumed with a white hot fury. That woman had tried to destroy me, but I never let her. I was so much stronger than I had ever given myself credit for. I’d be goddamned if she was going to destroy my baby.

“Hear me, O Fairies,” I gasped through my pain. “Let my baby live . . . that is my wish.” I was glad I was on the floor as a wave of dizziness consumed me. My body convulsed and curled into a tight ball. My hands still clutched my stomach, so I was very aware that the bleeding had stopped.

A chilly blast of Magic engulfed me and it came back . . . the little spark of life came back. I could feel it smiling inside of me. My tears of joy made little pools of red on the limestone floor. I closed my eyes and I saw him. A beautiful little boy who looked just like his daddy. He tilted his little head to the side and blew me a wet baby kiss. I opened my eyes and the image disappeared, but his presence inside me remained strong.

I slowly lifted my head to gauge where the bitch would come from next, but she was gone. Where in the hell was she? I scanned the room. She was nowhere to be found. I crawled across the floor toward Pam and the King. If we could get out before she returned, there was a chance we would all live.

Something wasn’t right. Pam wasn’t feeding the King. She was feeding from the King. His body was limp in her arms and her face was dripping with his blood.

“What in the hell are you doing?” I dragged myself to my feet.

She grinned at me. Oh thank God, she was doing some weird Angel thing with the King to save him. Immortals had the strangest habits. “Pam, we have to get out of here.”

She nodded, and then she tore the King’s hand off and ate it.

What the fu . . . ? I staggered back in shock and disgust. I gagged as I watched her chew and swallow his hand.

“Pam.” I moved toward her. “Stop.”

She looked up. For a moment she was terrified and confused, then it was gone. She stared back at me with an expression of supreme satisfaction in her eyes, but they weren’t her eyes. They were Petra’s eyes. Son of a bitch, Petra had gone into Pam’s body and was going to fulfill her destiny through Pam. Her smile broadened and she winked at me.

I saw red. Since I’d become a Vampyre I’d been living one cliché’ after another. I had been rooted to the ground, felt thick silence, heard a pin drop, but none could compare to seeing red. A heat suffused my body and I trembled with an anger so deep it was boundless.

Pam was immortal . . . if I killed her she’d come back. Right? I needed to get her off the King before it was too late. I reached into my pocket to retrieve a throwing star. I would behead Pam and then when my mother left Pam’s body, I’d kill Petra with every bit of Magic I had left in me. Even if Pam didn’t come back, I knew she’d never be able to live with the fact she’d cannibalized and killed the love of her life. I would want the same done for me.

My pockets began to shriek as I went for my throwing stars. I looked down and Beyonce began to recite.

“Between this world and the next,

There’s only one way to kill.

A magic secret blown in the ear

Do not cave into yourself

Be strong like a rock and save us.”

Oh my God, Beyonce was a genius! That little ass-grabbing Sprite was telling the truth. It was in the poem all along. That was why Nana sent me the message. “Cave into yourself” says it’s in the caves. “Between this world and the next” is exactly where Petra was. To kill her I’d have to blow a magic secret into her ear. Secret, something not meant to be known by others. Magic . . . something wonderful.

I finally knew how to kill my mother, and damn, I was looking forward to it.

I watched in horror as Pam began to ingest the King’s arm. Dinnertime was so over. I flew across the room at over two hundred miles an hour and plowed into Pam, throwing her into the wall so hard I was sure I broke every bone in her body. The impact was so severe it knocked Petra right out of her.

Petra’s screams were inhuman. “No, I’m not done,” she wailed.

“Oh yes, you are,” I muttered, trapping her mostly solid body in the corner. She growled and snapped like an animal. I needed to calm her down. “Mother,” I hissed, “stop it. I knocked you out of her body so you can enter mine. I want to be the one who saves you, not her.”

It took her a few minutes to focus on me and comprehend what I had said. “Yes, yes darling,” she grunted, “that’s wonderful.” She smiled and her eyes rolled back in her head, “Hurry, I’m still hungry.”

Oh hell no . . . that was disgusting. “Mother, I want one thing from you.” I moved closer to her.

“What do you want, my sweet?” She was shaking with excitement. Her tongue was foamy and hanging out of her mouth like a rabid dog.

“No, Astrid,” Pam moaned. “Don’t.”

“Shut up,” Petra growled at her. “Can we kill her?” she whined like a spoiled child begging for a toy.

“Of course,” I told her lovingly. “Right after you grant my wish, I’ll kill her. I want to hug you and I want you to hug me back.”

She looked taken aback. “Why?”

Even when I was about to get her everything she ever wanted, she still couldn’t hide her disdain for me.

“Because you’ve never hugged me and that’s what I want,” I said.

She considered for a mere heartbeat. My mother lifted her arms to me, the very same way I had always dreamt her doing it. “Come hug Mommy, sweetheart.”

I leaned into her and she hugged me. My chest clenched and tears flooded my eyes. This was what I had wanted my whole life. She held me tight and it felt so good. I lay still in her arms for a moment, memorizing the feeling. I loved her as much as I hated her, but it was way too little . . . way too late.

“Mother?’ I whispered in her ear.

“Yes?” she answered. She trembled with excitement.

“I’m pregnant.”

It was definitely a secret and God knew it was Magic. I blew in her ear and she died in my arms. I stared at her beautiful dead body for what felt like an eternity. Why did I love this horrible woman? Was it simply because she was my mother and daughters were supposed to love their mothers?

I realized in that moment that I didn’t love her, not in the true sense of the word. I loved the idea of loving her. I didn’t hate her either. I felt nothing. She was nothing to me. When you die, the only things you leave behind are memories in the minds of those who loved you. That was how you lived on. My mother would not live on . . . at least not through me. I put her down on the cold floor and I walked away from her. Forever.

Pam limped over to me, a mess of broken bones and bruises. “Well, Asscrack, you scared the fuck out of me for a second there, but you did good.” She reached up and stroked my face lovingly. I knew what unconditional love was. I didn’t get it from my own mother, but I was lucky enough to have some amazing people in my life who adored me.

I moved to the King. He opened his eyes and smiled. “You are beautiful, child.” He was clearly in pain, but his arm and hand were already growing back. Incredible.

I lifted him and carried him to Pam. They cradled each other lovingly. I collapsed on the ground next to them. All I could think about was how much I loved Ethan and our baby boy . . . and how much I wanted a long hot bath. I had no idea how he would react to the news of our son, but I had a feeling he’d be over the moon. I couldn’t wait to tell him . . . God, I had so many questions for Sir James.

The clapping started slowly and gained speed until the wind from the motion was blowing my hair around my head. I looked up and there stood my Demon daddy. Could this day get any worse?

“Hello, daughter,” he said, his voice still ragged as if shards of glass were caught in his throat. “I see you’ve killed your mother.”

“Yes Sir, I did.” I almost laughed. The ridiculousness of my life never failed to amuse me at the most inappropriate times.

“Leave her alone, Demon.” The King tried to sit up.

“This has nothing to do with you, old man,” the Demon King barked. Old man? Wasn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?

“What do you want?” I interrupted. I was sick of cryptic bullshit. I wanted to get right to the point.

“You,” he said.

“Not gonna happen,” I shot back. It was starting to look like my day could get worse.

“Do you dare defy me?” he roared. The room shook with his fury. His huge teeth clicked and his burnt bloody body trembled with rage. Right about the time I knew I was a goner, my pocket started dancing. Oh. My. God. I quickly looked down because my grin almost split my face.

I turned to the King. “If anything happens to me, tell Ethan everything. Everything.” He nodded, but his eyes were troubled. I said a quick prayer and knelt down before the Demon King.

“I’m so sorry Daddy,” I cowered. “I will never defy you again. I’d like to give you a gift.”

I heard Pam gasp, but I ignored her.

My father’s smug satisfaction was delightful to me. He nodded his head. I reached into my pocket and presented my father with my baby Demons.

“Snack time,” I yelled as I tossed them at the Demon King. They shrieked with joy and they ate him. Every disgusting, smelly, foul inch of him.

“You will pay for this,” he screamed in agony. Terror shot through me. My mother had done a shitload of damage after being eaten by Demons. I sincerely hoped my daddy couldn’t do the same. Of course, my mother was a reincarnated mortal and had been eaten after she was already dead. My daddy was a live meal . . . Wrapping my mind around all this was too much. I’d figure it out later. At best, he was gone for good. At worst, it bought me a little time.

The grunts and shrieks and cracking of bones as my babies ate about did me in, but it was him or me. I had no plans to visit Hell any time soon. I wanted to go home. I needed to tell Ethan he was going to be a daddy and he was going to have to marry me human-style. I was not going to walk around town knocked up and single.

My little Demons finished their meal in no time flat, let out some rather disgusting belches and jumped back into my pocket. It still amazed me that something three inches high could eat something the size of my daddy. The mechanics of that were mind-boggling. I had looked away while they dined. The image of my babies chowing down on my daddy was not one I wanted to remember. It was bad enough that I could hear it.

I was so lost in my own little dream world planning my wedding and ignoring the feeding frenzy, I neglected to realize that the room had suddenly filled with Bad Demons. I should have known nothing good could come from killing both of your parents in one day.

***


The Vampyres entered the Cavern fully armed and ready to fight. Princess Lelia ran to her mother Pam, and held her as she cried. The King was attended to immediately.

“Where is she?” Ethan demanded.

“They took her,” Pam whispered. The shock of what had happened and seeing her daughter had almost rendered her speechless.

“Who took her?” Ethan’s voice was clipped. He was panicked.

“The Demons,” the King said raggedly. “Astrid killed Petra and Abaddon, and then the Demons came through the Portal. They called her their Queen and forced her down to Hell.”

Ethan was furious. He went deathly still. Power and anger rolled off of him, filling the room. It rumbled through the floor and shook the walls. No one moved. “She killed over twenty Demon-Vampyres today alone, including their King. How did common, run of the mill Demons force her to do anything?” he roared.

“They threatened her,” Pam choked out.

“With what?” Ethan demanded.

“Son, Astrid is pregnant . . . ”

“I know,” Ethan said, perilously close to destroying something.

“They told her they would slip inside her and kill the baby.” Pam’s voice was flat and sounded dead.

Without pause, he turned to Heathcliff and Raquel. “If I’m not back in three days, come for me. If I’m gone, find her and bring her home.”

They nodded.

“What are you doing?” the King gasped.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” His voice was controlled . . . barely. “I’m going to Hell to get my child and my mate.”

“You can’t,” the King gasped trying to rise. “A Vampyre won’t last more than a week in hell.”

“Then I suppose I’ll have to work fast.”

“That’s a death wish,” the King muttered, taking an amulet from his pocket and tossing it to his son.

“Without her, I have nothing to live for. What is this?” he asked, examining the clear stone.

“It will kill one. Only one. The one meant to rule. Use it wisely.”

“Post guards at this entrance and kill any demon that comes through,” Ethan said, checking his arsenal.

“But this is neutral territory,” Heathcliff said.

“And your point is?” Ethan inquired coldly.

“It shall be done, my Liege.” Heathcliff bowed his head.

Ethan nodded curtly, stepped through the Portal and disappeared.

THE END

Spoiler: NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

If you enjoyed this eBook, please consider leaving a positive review or rating on the site where you purchased it. Reader reviews help my books continue to be valued by distributors/resellers and help new readers make decisions about reading them. I value each and every reader who takes the time to do this and invite you all to join me on my website, blog, Facebook, Twitter, or Goodreads.com for more discussions and fun.

You are the reason I write these stories and I sincerely appreciate you!


Many thanks for your support,


~ Robyn Peterman

 

[kenny0112]

Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1)
by Robyn Peterman
Genre: Funny
Excerpt from Fashionably Dead Down Under
​

Spoiler: Chapter 1

Pain—then ice—then intolerable heat. A second took years, yet time stood still.

The claws of those that trapped me were razor sharp. They tore through my flesh as the ones who owned them grunted and screamed with delight.

I struggled for balance, but realized I was standing on air. Violet and silver dust engulfed me as I choked on the odor of burning flesh and anger.

How was this happening? I was supposed to be planning my wedding to my hotter-than-Satan’s-underpants Vampyre Prince, not taking a ride to Hell with smelly and disgusting Demons.

Shitshitdamnitshit.

***


Journey? The soundtrack in Hell was Journey? I would have thought Nine Inch Nails or AC DC, but certainly not Journey…Don’t get me wrong, I loved Journey, but Don’t Stop Believing just didn’t seem like an appropriate anthem for the Underworld. Was I even in Hell? Maybe this was Purgatory or some other random plane of existence? Although I would expect Barry Manilow, John Tesh or Kenny G if I was stuck in Purgatory.

“Where in God’s name am I?” I muttered as I gingerly pried my dry eyes open.

One thing I was absolutely sure of—I definitely wasn’t on Earth. The ride to wherever the hell I was with the stinky Demons had sucked the big one. It was violent, smelly and it hurt like a son of a bitch.

Easing my body to a sitting position was difficult but doable. Now, to figure out where I was…

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I moaned, both from the pain shooting through my limbs and the simple fact that Faithfully was blasting from invisible speakers hidden somewhere in my cell.

Wait. Was this a cell? A trap? A bedroom?

A bedroom? I was in a bedroom?

This couldn’t be Hell. It had to be some kind of holding area. The Underworld was supposed to smell like sulfur and look like post-Armageddon. This place looked more like some douchenoggle with big bucks and debatable taste had shopped at all the most expensive home stores on Fifth Avenue…while they were drunk.

My body ached like I’d been beaten and I checked myself for wounds. Surprisingly I was fine. Maybe all that flesh tearing had been an illusion. Being a Vampyre I healed quickly, but the trip to Hell, or where ever I was, had been rather turbulent. Turning my head took effort, but I needed to figure out my location and how to get out.

Interesting. I was on a large bed draped in cheesy and predictably slippery black silk. The walls of what I decided to assume was a massive bedroom were all done in burnished gold leafing. Thick and ornate crown molding framed the walls. The shades of the molding were more muted and depicted horrific scenes of mutilation and decapitations of some kind of animal looking thing. Okay, this was more like the Hell I expected. The artwork added to the ambience— frescos of orgies and graphic depictions of group *** and death graced what had to be twenty-foot high walls. The floor was so highly waxed it literally sparkled—the uninviting cold black marble stretched from one end of the huge room to the other.

Trying to block out Steven Perry singing Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin’ was almost impossible. I had a bizarre urge to sing along…

Wait a fucking minute…were the walls breathing?

Stop. Pull yourself together—walls didn’t breath. I needed to deal with the situation at hand. I would not let Steven Perry or walls with a heartbeat derail me from getting the hell out of Hell.

First things first, I needed to get up. I wasn’t chained to the bed. I was able to move as freely as my battered body would allow. I suppose the most unnerving part was that no one was around…or were they? I hadn’t seen anyone or anything since my forced arrival. Could Demons cloak themselves like I could?

“Astrid,” a disembodied voice hissed from out of nowhere.

“Holy Hell,” I screamed and dove under the bed, slamming the side of my head on the metal frame and bending back all the fingers on my left hand. “Who’s here?” I shouted, nursing my painfully throbbing fingers and head not to mention the rest of my body.

“Al Pachino.”

“Al Pachino lives in Hell? I didn’t even know he died.” Plus he seemed more like a Purgatory guy to me. “Bullshit,” I muttered, cautiously peeking out from under the bed. There was no one in the room but me. Maybe the walls were alive. “You are not Al Pachino. You don’t even sound like Al Pachino. Who in the hell are you?”

“I’m part of you,” the wall whispered.

“I’m a fucking wall?”

The wall laughed heartily. So heartily it pissed me off. “So, did you enjoy your trip, Astrid?”

“Are you kidding me? It sucked,” I snapped and scanned the room for a hidden Demon. There had to be someone in here. Walls did not talk.

“What on earth did you expect my dear? You’d just killed their leader who happened to be your Father,” the voice informed me. “Not to mention you offed your psychotic bitch of a somewhat human mother not even ten minutes before your father arrived.”

“My father was no prize either. He was a gross, stinky, disgusting and evil Demon and wasn’t even upset that I snuffed out my mother,” I shot back. Fine. I’d lost it. I was talking to a wall…

“Darling girl, if you were able to kill both your parents why didn’t you stop the Demons from taking you to Hell?”

“Well, Wall, you seem to know quite a bit already. I’m sure you know exactly why I couldn’t stop the Demons.”

“Couldn’t or didn’t?” the wall inquired politely.

I’d had enough of the wall. “What does it matter? I was a bit tired from offing my parents and I had, um…other reasons.” Damnit, this was impossible. Was I really talking to a wall? Yes. Yes, I was.

“Ah, yes,” the wall said lovingly. “Your unborn child. That child will also be part of me.”

“Look, no offense, but you’re a freakin’ talking wall. I don’t really see the connection between you, me and my baby.”

“If you’re not going to be pleasant, I’ll leave,” the wall huffed and the heartbeat disappeared. WTF?

Fucking. Awesome. The wall was gone because I pissed it off. Not only had I made myself an orphan earlier and earned a lovely unplanned trip to the Land of Damnation, but I’d made a talking wall in Hell angry with me. What did a girl have to do to catch a freakin’ break? I’d done everything that was expected of me and still I got the shaft…I’d fulfilled the crazy Vampyre Prophecy. I’d saved the Vampyre King and proved I was indeed their Chosen One. Although I might have reconsidered the job had I known ending up in Abyss of Darkness was part of the description.

“Are you screwing with me?” I shouted at the wall as Open Arms surrounded me on all sides. The incredible urge to sway and sing along was almost debilitating. There had to be something subliminal going on here…Was Journey part of some evil plan? Was it laced with hidden references to Hell and debauchery? Was Steven Perry a succubus? Either someone downunder was obsessed with 80’s pop music or I wasn’t in Hell at all.

“Oh my god,” I gasped as crawled out from under the bed. I very slowly stretched out my cramped legs and arms. “I clearly fucked someone over in a former life to have to deal with this.”

“Why would you think that?” the disembodied wall voice hissed.

“Mother fucker,” I screeched, grabbing a pillow off the bed and hurling it at the wall. “Do not scare me like that. I’ve had enough surprises today.”

The wall chuckled in reply.

The Demons had unceremoniously dragged my ass through the portal to Hell insisting I was their new queen—like that was ever going to happen. If they hadn’t arrived in such large numbers, I might not be sitting in Hell right now talking to a wall and trying to make my body work, but I was…and I was furious.

However, as unhappy as I was about my new address, I would hazard a guess that my beautiful mate, Ethan, had gone ballistic. He would have arrived at the caves by now where my deadly family reunion had taken place and would know that I’d been abducted. My gut clenched at the thought of what he would do. His father, the King of the Vampyres, would have clued him in to the somewhat unbelievable story of my pregnancy and Ethan would…Shit, I didn’t know what he’d do, but I needed to get out of here quickly before he attempted to come to Hell and rescue me.

I’d lost enough. I would not lose the man who was my world and I flat out refused lose my baby. Unease skittered up my spine like little mice and I shivered involuntarily as Steven Perry began to belt out Wheel in the Sky. OMG.

Could the talking wall keep me from leaving? Time to find out.

On the far left side of the room was a bay window. I wondered how high up I was and if I could jump. What was I thinking? I could fly for fuck’s sake. I grimaced and stood. I just needed to find a way out of the garish bedroom and make my way to a portal that would take me back to Earth.

Of course since I had no idea what that portal might look like or where to find one, that might prove to be a clusterfuck in the making. Awesome. I needed to figure out where I was.

Walking hurt so I decided to fly to the window and check out the landscape. After two pathetic attempts that resulted in my ass hitting the floor—hard, I realized my powers weren’t the same in Hell as they were on Earth. Not. Fucking. Good.

“Looks like you lost some power, my dear,” the wall said.

“Ya think?” I snapped. Why was I even talking to the wall? It was a wall. I would ignore it and if it got mad—so be it.

My eyesight, hearing and sense of smell were still bionic, but my ability to cloak myself was gone along with my ability to fly. I needed to get the hell out of the room.

Staying low and away from the walls just in case they had hands too, I slipped out of the bedroom and made my way down a massive hall. Ironically—or maybe not—Steven Perry belted out Separate Ways.

Who in the hell knew Journey had so many hits?

Something was off besides the fact that the walls talked. Why was I able to breath and why in the hell did Hell smell so good? Was I even a Vampyre anymore? If descending to I-have-a-shit-ton-of-money-and-no-taste-and-Journey-is-the-best-band-ever Land meant that I had turned into a full Demon someone was going to pay.

Not wanting to show fear, but filled with dread that made my heart beat like the drum section of a percussion happy high school band, I stood in the center of the dimly lit hallway. If the Demons had wanted me dead they would have already killed me. I was creeped out that I’d been talking to a wall and had seen no one. It felt like I’d plopped down in the middle of a game with no rules…

This world was filled with dark magic and Steven Perry…and strangely, I found that combination appealing. Very appealing. It was unlike the foul magic of my Mother or my Father and his minions. This was smarter and a whole hell of a lot more dangerous.

Thankfully my body was becoming my own again. The pain was receding although I was still without my undead powers.

Voices. I heard voices…and they didn’t belong to Steven Perry or anyone from Journey as far as I could tell. A man and a girl.

Oh, I wanted to go home. Where were my ruby slippers or at the very least a Fairy Godmother? This was bad…very, very bad.

Moving quietly toward the sound with as much outward calm as I could muster my stomach roiled. Why, why, why did shit like this seem to happen to me on a daily basis? My karma couldn’t be that bad…I’d just defeated massive evil. I killed my vicious Father and my bat-shit crazy Mother in the space of twenty minutes. Not something I was proud of or wanted to brag about, but it was me or them and clearly I had more to live for…I was a kick butt half-Vampyre half-Demon who was pregnant. I was a virtual impossibility. I could do this. I’d talk my way out and go home. Or I’d whack a bunch more Demons and go home. Done. No fucking problem.

However, when I reached the source of the voices my courage disappeared. The sheer amount of magic in the room was like nothing I’d ever felt. The darkness wound around me like a perfectly cut cashmere wrap and the magnetic pull was intoxicating. There was no turning back. It felt right to be where I was in this very moment. I was positive this was where I would get some answers. Luckily I slipped into the room unnoticed. In the spirit of self-preservation and utter terror, I quickly hid behind a massive black brocade curtain as Steven Perry appropriately busted into Who’s Crying Now.

***


“Dixie, this behavior is unacceptable!” the man bellowed.

He was magnificent and frightening. His magic was stronger than any I’d ever witnessed. I sipped farther into the shadows so I wouldn’t be seen. Fuckity fuck fuck. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to run away, but that was impossible…my chances of sneaking by them a second time were nil. This was a mistake—possibly a deadly one. But, I’d been drawn here by an unmistakable pull. As much as I wanted to disappear, I wanted to stay even more.

The beautiful man stood at least six feet six inches tall and had long raven black hair—identical to the girl named Dixie he was displeased with. She was stunning, yet her demeanor was meek. Their eyes were golden like mine, although his turned ruby red as his anger mounted. Was the girl related to the man? Who in the hell were they?

Their skin color differed. His was more of a pale mocha and hers was a peaches and cream. They were both long and lanky and reeked of magic. The girl, Dixie, appeared to be about nineteen or twenty and the man? Who knew…

“I’m sorry,” she muttered staring at her fingernails. She picked nervously at the chipped black polish.

“Would you like to explain these grades?” The air crackled with his anger and energy. He threw the paper to the ground at her feet.

Grades? WTF? This was Hell…people got report cards in Hell?

“Um…I studied?” she whispered, ducking her head to avoid a blow.

“No child of mine receives straight A’s.” His voice was soft and menacing.

I was so fucking confused I almost stepped out from my hiding place, but sanity prevailed and I stayed put.

“I said I was sorry, Dad. I’ll try harder to fail next time.”

One question answered…

“Where did I go wrong?” he lamented. I watched him pace. His presence filled the room completely, leaving little space for anyone or anything else. His very expensive black leather pants and black silk shirt matched his hair perfectly. It was clear the girl loved him and was upset with his displeasure.

He threw his hands up in disgust, “I’ve given you everything, and this is how you repay me?”

“Didn’t realize there was a price,” she muttered quietly.

“Everything has a price,” he hissed.

Damn, he had really good hearing.

Dixie shrunk down low and waited. I held my breath wishing I hadn’t chosen this particular room to explore.

“You will drop the goody-goody act. You will be rude, promiscuous and scandalous. You will not be compassionate unless I am concerned and I expect you to flunk out of The Demon College just like all of your sisters did. Do you understand me?” he demanded.

“I’m really sorry, Dad,” she sounded like a broken record—this was clearly a familiar conversation for them.

“I am Satan,” he bellowed and the room vibrated. “I have a reputation to uphold. You are a Demon Princess, you have a Porsche, your own bungalow in the most exclusive zip code in Hell and certainly more money than anyone your age should have access to and yet you throw all this in my face? Why Dixie, why?” He wearily dropped down on the couch next to the girl and she put her arms around him.

“I love you,” she whispered.

The ghost of a smile touch his lips. “And I you.”

He wrapped his arms around her and looked into her eyes. “Is it true that you donated one million dollars of my money to feed hungry humans on Earth?”

“Yes,” she buried her face against his chest. “I did.”

He heaved an enormous sigh, “I have to punish you, you know.”

“I know.”

He put his finger under her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “If I don’t punish you, all hell will break loose down here. No pun intended,” he grinned.

“Daddy, that pun was totally intended,” she giggled.

“That it was.” He stood up and ran his big hands through his hair and turned and mesmerizing gaze on her. “You are so like your mother.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” she challenged.

“It’s an interesting thing,” he conceded. His voice was melodic and hypnotizing.

“Dad?”

“Yes, Dixie?”

“What’s my punishment?”

He gave her a terribly evil and intoxicating smile. “I’ll have to think about it.” He turned and walked toward my hiding spot. Shit. Why did I have to be so freakin’ tall? Please walk by me. Please. He stopped a foot from where I hid. I held my new-found breath and prayed to everything and anything I could think of…including him.

“Come out, Astrid. I’ve been expecting you.”

Sweet baby Satan, this day couldn’t get any worse. Actually it probably could…

 

[kenny0112]

Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1)
by Robyn Peterman
Genre: Funny
Excerpt from Fashionably Dead Down Under
​

Spoiler: Chapter 2

Shitfire, hell and damnation. This was bad. Satan was expecting me? How was that even possible? And how did he know I was hiding behind curtain number two? Although he was Satan or Lucifer or Beelzebub or the Prince of Darkness or...

“I prefer Satan. Lucifer is fine on Tuesdays and the Prince of Darkness will do in a pinch,” he said smoothly in his dark, rich voice.

Son of a—I quickly slammed my brain doors shut and hoped I still had at least that ability. Test it, my filterless and quick to come up with horrific ideas brain told me. Fine…Satan is a douchebag who wears ladies underpants and picks his nose...Nothing. No reaction. Thank you Jesus and Buddah and Moses and Judas and whoever else was kind enough to be helping me out at the moment. Wait. I take back the Judas thing. Don’t want to pray to a dude who gets people crucified. Dumb, dumb, dumb. I idly wondered for a moment if Judas lived down here. Focus. Satan was on the other side of the curtain I was hiding behind and he’d requested the pleasure of my company. Fuck.

I was southern and I had manners. If I could teach art to genital-obsessed seniors, I could converse with Satan. Right? Right. If he was expecting me, he was probably aware of my recent patricide and matricide…Would he be impressed or pissed? After all, my Father had been in charge of Hell. Wait. How was my stanky Father in charge down here if Satan existed? This made no sense. Were the Vampyres wrong? Was my Father a big fat hairy liar? Who in the hell did I kill an hour ago? Was he even my Father?

“I’m waiting,” Satan informed me in a tone that got my feet moving quickly.

“Hi,” I said as I burst from the curtains and shoved my hand out to shake his, acting like it was the most natural thing in the world to be eavesdropping on the King of Debauchery’s conversation from behind black brocade. “I’m Astrid and there was clearly some major fuc...mistake. I don’t live down here and I’m not dead. Well, actually I am dead, but not dead-dead. I’m undead and my undead, um…husband is going to be pissed. I’m a newlywed of sorts in a Vampyre undead way and I need to go home, your Honor of Darkness. Now.” I expelled a loud and long breath as I hadn’t inhaled through my insane diatribe.

“Interesting,” he purred and watched me. He hadn’t taken my hand and I let it drop limply to my side. “So you’re the Chosen One.”

“Apparently,” I snapped, annoyed that he didn’t have the decency to shake my hand. “And you’re the bad guy.”

“Occasionally,” Satan laughed and all the air left my lungs. God, he was beautiful…and scary.

“Cigarette?” he offered holding a pack of my favorite brand out to me.

I was soooo tempted. I could breathe for God’s sake. Would one measly cigarette hurt me? Um, yes. Yes, it would. In my struggle with temptation, I’d all but forgotten I was pregnant. Would I have taken it if I didn’t have my little miracle inside of me? I’d like to think no, but I wasn’t too sure. Hell was going to be hell.

“No, I quit,” I said looking away from my former vice.

“Such a shame,” he replied watching me intently.

It was if he could read me without diving into my mind. Shit. Time for a change of subject…“I thought my Dad was in charge down here.”

“You do realize down is a misnomer,” he informed me. He was in my space and I itched to take a step back, but knew in my gut if I moved away I would lose a few points in whatever fucked up game we were playing.

“I’m not following,” I said politely, very aware he avoided my statement.

“My dear beautiful creature,” Satan said moving even closer. “It’s a misconception is that Hell is below and Heaven is above. What does that even mean? Nothing is up or down, that’s just mundane human mythology. Most likely the poor mortal fools made the mistake because Hell is occasionally called the Underworld. So very literal, those humans…Hell and Heaven are simply on different planes, accessible through Portals. Earth was modeled after a combination of the seasons, climates and terrains of Heaven and Hell. We all share the same moon, sun and stars.”

“Interesting. So about my father…” I said, ungracefully changing the subject. Again. Although what he said was fascinating and I did want to know more I was in a bit of a time crunch. The faster I could get out of here the better. I was certain Satan already knew if he was going to kill me, so I had very little to lose. I wanted answers not a history lesson.

“Yes,” he replied silkily. “Tragic ending.”

“Who was he?” God, the Devil was more cryptic than the Vamps. “I thought he was in charge down here.”

That stopped the Devil in his tracks. “Did he tell you that?” he demanded in a voice that made my stomach drop to my toes.

“Um, no…not exactly. I guess I just assumed or maybe my mom told me.” Under no circumstance would I tell him the Vampyres believed my dead pappy, Abaddon, was the leader of the Underworld.

“How rich,” he laughed, going from deadly back to blindingly beautiful in the matter of a moment. “Your father,” he spat derisively, “was definitely not in charge here. He was my minion and managed a certain—how shall I put it—area of Hell…but he was weak and stupid—unfit to rule.”

I stayed silent. The way he stared at me made my skin heat. He was breathtaking, but I wasn’t pulled to him in a sexual way. It was a power thing…I think.

“Daddy, you should tell her more,” Dixie said quietly from across the room. I’d forgotten she was still here. Her Father’s presence was so large and overwhelming everything around him disappeared.

“She’s on a need to know basis,” he informed his daughter. “Welcome to Hell, Astrid. Say hello to your cousin, Dixie.”

“My cousin?” WTF? If she was my cousin then he was my…

“Uncle,” Satan supplied as I quickly re-shut the faulty doors in my mind. Damnit to hell. I was one walking defect…nothing worked.

“That’s just awesome,” I gushed inching my way to the door, “but I have to go. It’s been kind of lovely meeting you and I seriously hope we don’t have too many get-togethers and…”

“Halt,” my Uncle, the Fucking Devil hissed.

I did.

“Don’t you think it only fair that you learn about your other part of your heritage?” he half asked-half insisted turning his back on me.

“Um, no that’s okay. I’ve seen enough in the last couple of hours to last a life time…a long one—like mine.”

“Unacceptable,” he replied so quietly I wasn’t sure I heard him, but the if look on Dixie’s face was anything to go by, things were about to get hinky. Shit. “You will stay here until I deem it reasonable for you to leave. You will immerse yourself in the Demon culture and you will get to know your family.”

“There’s more than just the two of you?” I asked hoping there wasn’t.

“Oh yes, my lovely niece. Many more.”

“There will be people looking for me,” I said racking my brain for any excuse to leave.

“That should be fun,” Satan grinned and I almost fainted. His charm was addictive.

“The longer I’m here the better the chance that there will be problems for you.”

“Trust me my dear, there are already problems…Plus time runs differently here than it does on your chosen plane,” he said and turned to leave.

“What the hell does that mean?” I demanded. I had no clue if he knew I was pregnant, but if time was screwed down here what did that mean for my baby?

“It means,” my uncle replied slowly while staring me down, “that I determine how much time you miss on Earth. A week here could equate with a minute in your world…or it could equate to a year or ten. That my dear will be up to you.”

“To me?”

“Yes, good behavior will be in you favor. Remember that.”

With that he disappeared in a blast of black glitter and smoke.

Son of a bitch, this day just kept getting worse…

“Come with me,” my cousin Dixie said. “You’ll stay at my place during your visit.”

I rolled my eyes at the use of the term visit, but didn’t correct her. There was something fragile and trusting about Dixie. Honestly, I kind of liked her, but more than that I was hoping I could use her to get the hell out of…well…Hell.

 

[kenny0112]

Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1)
by Robyn Peterman
Genre: Funny
Excerpt from Fashionably Dead Down Under
​

Spoiler: Chapter 3

Dixie’s bungalow was really freakin’ nice. Gorgeous and graceful—very much like her.

Actually all of Hell was lovely. It reminded me of Kentucky in the spring…but on crack. Blooming tress and roses and climbing blossoms everywhere. Literally.

The scented air calmed me with its familiarity and I wondered how in the hell my Father fit in here.

Dixie drove us from the Devil’s estate back to her place in her Porsche. That’s right a Porsche.

“Um, Dixie, did you know my dad?”

She paused and considered her answer. Her body language was stiff and childlike. “Well, I’d met him, but he lived in another area.”

“Another area? Like a different state?”

“Kind of,” she hedged. It was clear she had no clue what she could tell me and what she couldn’t. This could work to my advantage…use the naive cousin. Find out what I need to know and get the hell out of dodge.

“Look, I won’t tell anyone what you tell me. I thought I was supposed to learn about my, um…heritage. How exactly am I supposed to do that if no one answers my questions?”

“Good point,” she agreed. “Listen, I have my therapy group coming over for a session. How about we talk afterwards.”

“Fine.” I caved.

Maybe if I was agreeable I could make her like me and she would slip up and tell me how to find a portal.

“Can I sit in on your session?”

She giggled and shook her beautiful head. “Yep, but stay over on the side of the room. It gets somewhat violent at times.”

“Noted.” Hell was weird.

***


There were three in Dixie’s group besides her and the therapist, who was sporting a full body cast. WTF? They were as curious about me as I was about them. We all chatted a bit then Dixie simply introduced me as her cousin. Nothing more. Nothing less. That was fine with me. I eyed the strange Demons and wondered if any of them would accept a bribe to get me to a portal.

Carl, Myrtle and Janet…I dubbed them the strong man, the bizarre little one and the bearded lady. Literally. Janet had a beard…

Then there was the very angry therapist, who if she had a name, I was not made aware of it. Again, fine by me. She was creepy and she smelled strange.

I sat back in my corner and watched Hell’s version of the Jerry Springer show unfold.

The tension in the room was palpable. I scanned Dixie’s living room for exits just in case this wonky little party of weird got out of hand.

Carl, the Strong Man, rubbed his bald head the same way I rubbed my calf when it fell asleep. He rubbed so hard and fast, I was sure the skin was going to come off and his brain would fall out. I waited in anticipation and fear to hear what he had to say. I hadn’t heard him speak yet. He did a few bizarre dance moves when I’d asked him a question earlier. I’d bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, so I didn’t laugh at him and I backed off. Janet, his bearded girlfriend, interpreted for him, but no more. The therapist, sporting a bad attitude and a thin reedy voice, was very clear. Carl had to speak for himself.

I wondered if this wrinkle would cause a violent episode. I kind of hoped it would. A small zap of something warm shot through my body at my destructive little thought. I dismissed it and continued to watch the scene play out. Janet squeezed Carl’s hand and smiled.

“I enjoy uthing my metal detector at family functionth. Preferably not my family. I made forty-nine dollarth and theventy-two thenth in jutht under nine hourth at a family reunion latht Augutht.” Carl smiled. He actually had beautiful teeth and cute dimples, but the lisp…Hoo baby, now I knew why he preferred to communicate through interpretive dance. On Earth he could have had speech therapy, but in Hell I’m sure he got the crap beat out of him.

“All right then Carl,” the therapist snapped, “have you ever considered just stealing the money from the purses and wallets of the party guests? Or perhaps holding them at gunpoint and demanding their money and jewelry?”

“Um…no,” Carl muttered, “I can’t thay that hath ever occurred to me.” He scratched his bald head in confusion.

As far I could sense, Carl didn’t have magic or power. Hmmm.

I watched the therapist jot down notes and make disapproving tsking sounds. She avoided looking at me at all. Acted as if I didn’t exist. Interesting. She clearly didn’t want me here. Maybe she was the one to bribe…

“Janet,” the therapist smiled nastily through her bandages, “you have a waxing and electrolysis appointment after this session.”

“But I like my hair,” Janet stammered, her stubby little fingers instinctively went to her face to protect her beard and ‘stache. Was she going to cry?

“Yes, but you’ve had over three hundred years to become evil and you have not succeeded. Your hair,” the smelly, bitchy counselor sneered in disgust, “seems to be your most prized possession, so it will be taken from you.” She smiled. She really was a bitch.

“Forever?” Janet whispered. Her little body trembled and

“Forever,” the therapist wasped.

“I am so glad I busted on your ass with the coffee table,” Myrtle muttered under her breath.

“What was that, Myrtle?” the therapist hissed.

“Nothing.” Myrtle smiled and gave me a covert thumbs up. Again I had to chomp down on my cheek to keep from laughing.

I found myself happy that Myrtle had nailed the therapist with a coffee table, of all things. Myrtle was my kind of girl. My guess was that it had been quite an entertaining show. A burst of magic rushed through my body as the violent thought manifested itself in my brain.

Glancing down at my fingers I noticed a black glitter coating them. WTF? Was this Demon voodoo magic? I quickly rubbed it off and tried to focus on the meeting. Satan had sent me with Dixie for a reason. There must be something in all this strangeness I was supposed to learn…

“Soooo Janet,” the nasty shrink challenged, “do you have any hobbies you’d like to share?”

Janet took a deep breath, regained control of her shaky little body and got back up in the saddle. “I too enjoy taking other peoples money, but I really enjoy working in television. I spend all of my free time, plus some of the time I’m supposed to be stoking the Hell Fires, following news trucks around and appearing in the background of live news reports!”

“She’s been on TV at least forty-two times in the last three months alone,” Myrtle gushed, giving Janet a high five.

Did Hell have it’s own TV stations?

Janet, gaining confidence from the high five, proudly shouted, “All of the local stations have taken restraining orders out on me!”

“Interesting,” the mean ho-bag therapist droned. “Have you ever attacked a reporter or shouted obscenities on live television?”

Janet was crushed. “No. I haven’t.”

“I thought not,” Miss Meanie replied writing in her notebook. “I’d like to point out that Muffy the Contortionist is no longer part of our group. She has graduated. She blew up a Dairy Queen on Earth last night. Apparently she felt she had been over charged.”

“Lucifer’s Bouncing Balls, I hadn’t even noticed her absence! Was anyone hurt?” Janet gasped and pulled on her beard in distress.

“Unfortunately, no,” the icky therapist said, “but we hope she makes better choices next time.” She took a pause, giving each of the group the Evil Eye through her bandages while still ignoring me as if I didn’t exist. “Myrtle, you’re next.”

Myrtle fidgeted in her chair. I figured she had to be a couple of hundred years old like Janet, but she looked like she was about fifteen. Most Demons, like Vampyres, stopped aging somewhere between twenty and thirty, so it was difficult to determine true age. I wasn’t sure why Myrtle looked so young.

“Um…well, I enjoy going to Earth and playing dead in public places. When I’m surrounded by humans I take perverse pleasure in jumping up and scaring the fucking shit out of them as they wail in anguish over my perceived death.”

WTF? These Demons were nuts.

“Have you caused any heart attacks or strokes doing this?” Miss Bitchy Shrink grilled Myrtle.

“No, I can’t say I have. A couple of them have wet themselves,” she offered meekly.

“Anything else?”

“Ummm, sure.” I watched Myrtle rack her brain. “I do enjoy kidnapping people’s dogs and cats. I groom them and dye their fur so they resemble wild animals. I then return them to their rightful owners in the dead of the night. I derive huge amounts of satisfaction watching our citizens walk their tigers, skunks and panda bears around town.”

Everyone was speechless. That had to be one of the weirdest things I’d ever heard.

“Do you ever eat any of the animals you kidnap?” the therapist asked.

“No, I’m a vegetarian,” Myrtle informed the group.

“A vegetarian Demon?” the bitch from hell shrieked, her eyes turning blood red.

Myrtle cowered behind the chair she’d formerly been sitting in. Janet started crying and braiding her beard, Carl looked mighty uncomfortable and Dixie looked like she wanted to do some damage. I suppose a veggie-Demon was an anomaly, but this shrink was a hag.

“I’ve heard of that,” Dixie piped up, ignoring the look of hatred from the therapist. She tried not to fidget, but I could tell she was lying from a mile away. I was actually enjoying myself. These people were fucking crazy. “Those Demons get their protein from soybeans.” Dixie had a captive audience so clearly she decided to elaborate. “I’ve heard of Veggie-Demons destroying thousands of acres of soybean fields on Earth just for an appetizer.” She had to have yanked that whopper right out of her rear end.

Myrtle glanced over at Dixie gratefully. The lovely therapist looked as if she wanted to nail my cousin’s ass to the wall, but she didn’t dare. Dixie may have issues, but she was the head honcho’s daughter. No one was stupid enough to fuck with that…or were they?

“Sooo, Your Highness,” the bandaged skank began, “let’s go over your list of problems...or should I say virtues. Shall we?” She laughed wickedly. “You’re a straight A student, you remember birthdays, you clean your room, people describe you as kind, you pioneered the first Meals on Wheels in Hell, you donated a million dollars to feed humans on Earth, and you’re a virgin,” she sneered. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

How on Satan’s Red Earth did she know Dixie was a virgin? Was Dixie a virgin? Wait. That was none of that bitches business…and why did I even care? I barely knew my cousin, but I was pissed.

I glanced around the little bungalow for something to throw at that woman’s already injured head and I felt a dark power and magic run through me. Different from my Vampyre magic. Stop. This was not good.

Did Satan send me here so I’d get pissed and turn fully into a Demon? If I pulled on the dark magic and destroyed the therapist would I be permanently stuck in Hell?

I took a deep breath and said nothing. Thankfully I didn’t have to. Myrtle stepped in.

“I don’t know about you guys,” Myrtle grunted, “but I’m feeling the need to bust on Dixie’s coffee table and beat the living hell out of our therapist again.”

Carl, Janet and Dixie grinned from ear to ear and I couldn’t suppress the giggle that escaped my lips. Miss Bitchy Pants stood up and backed her way towards the front door.

“All of you, including the Vampyre have to report to the Dark Palace,” she haughtily informed us.

“Now?” Janet asked hopefully. I assumed she hoped to avoid the enforced hair removal she was about to endure.

“No!” Meanie snapped, “this evening. After you get de-haired, you repulsive...”

“Enough,” Carl shouted advancing on the horrid woman. She turned and ran from the house. Like a coward…foul, disgusting, bandage covered cowardice hag.

We stood quietly and looked at one another, the Princess, the Strong Man, the soon to be hairless Bearded Lady, Myrtle…and me.

Myrtle broke the silence. “So you’re a Vampyre?”

“Apparently,” I answered hoping she didn’t attack. I kind of liked her and really didn’t want to kill her.

“Cool,” she muttered and the rest of the freak show nodded their approval.

“She’s part Demon too,” Dixie added, giving me a shy smile.

“Very small part,” I explained. “And I need to get home. Soon.”

“I’m sure Daddy will send you home. I think he just wants to know you better.”

“That’s just awesome,” I replied in a voice laced with sarcasm.

“He’s really not that bad when you get to know him,” Dixie said.

“He’s worse,” Myrtle mouthed to me out of Dixie’s line of vision.

Fucking great. This was going to be a good time.

 

[kenny0112]

Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1)
by Robyn Peterman
Genre: Funny
Excerpt from “The Demon of Synar”
​

Spoiler: welcome

Two years ago….

“I was nervous the first time I bound myself to a female as well,” Dorian said, watching his best friend and current captain pace the room.

“What makes you think I’m nervous?” Synar asked.

Dorian laughed when Liam paused his restless pacing and gave him a strange look. “What still shocks me is that Ania Looren passed up dignitaries, presidents, other ambassadors, and more warriors than I can count to tumble into your bed like a love stricken Earthling. I’m in awe of you turning out to be the one male in her entire life that she couldn’t refuse.”

“If you think I’m going to be indiscreet and brag about my bonding time with Ania, you are mistaken my friend.” Synar grinned at Dorian’s guilty, and disappointed, look.

“Being a Siren, my vows of abstinence are hard to endure every day. You have known me long enough to realize that this is a profound truth, Liam. But today the most celibate planet in the Alliance is tuned into your mating vibrations, as am I. As your best friend, the least you can do is let me live vicariously through you once in a while,” Dorian teased. “I know you were Ania’s first breach. She told me.”

“Yes I was, but I’m still not telling you any details. The first time is a private matter and a special sharing. You’ve been alone too long, Dorian. Find a willing female and start living again,” Synar ordered.

“I want peace, not another mate. It hasn’t even been a century since I lost the last one. I know not all creatures live as long as Sirens, but a century doesn’t feel all that long when you are grieving.” Dorian narrowed his eyes as his friend picked up his walking speed again. “Liam, you’re going to wear out your footwear if you keep that up.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me—just can’t seem to stand still. I’m truly not nervous taking Ania as a formal mate, just impatient to get the public ceremony over. My intuition is sending out massive warning signals, but I can’t tell if they are real or just a reaction to the events of this day.”

Synar frowned at Dorian who wasn’t even trying to hide his amusement. “Glad one of us can laugh about it. I don’t want to be an embarrassment to Ania in front of her family, so I haven’t said anything about my concerns.”

“Perhaps I should mark this historic day in my journal. The ever stoic Liam Synar has been brought to his emotional knees with mating nerves. Why are you even doing this ceremony? I distinctly remember Ania saying it wasn’t necessary for her sake. She said you filed the legal forms before ever leaving the ship.”

“Yes. I did,” Synar confirmed.

Dorian smiled and nodded. “That means all the Peace Alliance planets will honor your commitment. What will this ceremony accomplish?”

“Ania is a high-level Peace Alliance ambassador. You don’t just throw one of those over your shoulder and run off to your quarters with her screaming that she’s yours,” Synar answered dryly, shaking his head at Dorian’s outright laughter.

“You can laugh until it’s done, but it’s still happening. This ceremony is not for Ania or me. It’s for her family. They’ve waited a long time for their only child to take a mate. At least one of us is represented. My mother declined to be here, which was just as well since she hasn’t spoken to me in person since my father died. Mother says she is still grieving. I suppose that could be true. She had more trouble believing Conor killed him than I did. I’m not even sure she believes it now.”

Dorian could hear the pain in Liam’s voice without even looking at his energy. His previous losses were large, but the absence of family today was taking a toll on his Norblade friend. It was his first mating and yet he would have no other Synars standing at his side to bless the union. His Siren mother had attended both his matings, and been there to comfort at their deaths. Truly he couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to be shunned by a birth parent.

“Is your brother still exiled?”

“Yes,” Synar said, feeling Dorian’s sympathy reaching out to him energetically. He bowed his head to his friend to acknowledge the support. “And it will stay that way for at least the next century of my brother’s life. Mother will just have to deal with Conor’s punishment and be glad that at least he isn’t dead.”

“Have you told Ania about your family? And your. . .inheritance?”

“No,” Synar answered, adjusting the cuffs on his uniform jacket. “I ordered Malachi to block Ania from knowing for now. Once Jonas is gone, the demon is going into the sacred amulet until I can find the proper person to rule him.”

Skipping over the advice he wanted to offer Liam about the dangers of keeping such a large secret from the person closest to his spirit, Dorian instead focused on the main issue he saw as a problem. “How can you be so sure that you are not the proper person, Liam?”

Synar looked and held Dorian’s gaze until he was sure his friend saw the truth in him. “No one in my family is worthy to rule the demon any longer. Certainly not Conor or me. It’s time the burden was passed on.”

“I can tell you sincerely believe that, but I think you are more suitable than you realize.”

Dorian glanced at the timekeeper on the wall of the room they were in and saw it was time for them to go.

“Enough of this morbid conversation,” he said briskly. “This is a day to celebrate. There will be plenty of time for you to mourn your errors later when you realize how much taking a mate is going to complicate your life.”

Synar snorted, refusing this time to laugh at Dorian’s teasing about Ania. “Your words offer me no comfort at all, Dorian. Tell me why we are friends again?”

“Because I haven’t had children yet and having a much younger friend is the closest I intend to get for a while,” Dorian replied. “Your blind spots about your life are very entertaining. You see only a very small part of the female who waits for you at the altar, my friend. It’s going to be interesting to witness your shocked reaction when you find out the rest.”

“Enlighten me about Ania’s character then,” Synar demanded on a laugh. “That’s what friends are supposed to do about each other’s females.”

“Well, I am an unusual friend if that’s the case. I consider your enlightenment to be Ania’s task, not mine.” Dorian smiled wider as Liam shook his head. “This is why I have told both of you that I refuse to mediate your mating relationship. But I confess it is amazing to watch two of the most intuitive beings I have ever met completely ignore their intuition about each other.”

“Maybe Ania and I know all we need to know.”

With Dorian still laughing, Synar smiled as he stepped out of the vestibule. He looked across the room at the female who turned and smiled at him as he headed to her side. Certainly he was attracted to Ania’s beauty, but there was something else that drew him, something indefinable in her spirit. All the challenges of their mating faded when he acknowledged that larger pull to be near her. He’d never felt it with any other female.

Dorian followed closely as Synar walked to stand at Ania’s side, feeling the respectful silence of the congregation descend around the two of them like a cloak. Defying convention on her planet, he held out a hand to his mate, smiling as Ania placed hers in his without even glancing at anyone else. On a planet where all touching was considered something to do behind closed doors, her easy acceptance of his hand holding hers was more significant to him than any ceremony could ever be.

Synar glanced at Dorian standing taller than anyone else in the assembly and his first mate, Jonas, standing by Dorian’s side. He nodded his head to both of them that he was ready. Then he formally inclined his head to the entire assembly, before repeating the action for the officiant. Finally, he bowed to the female facing him. Her accepting smile as she held his gaze was all the assurance he needed that mating her was right.

“Ania Looren, before this congregation of friends and family I openly declare my sincere desire to be your mate for the rest of my life. All that I am and will ever be, I give into your power this day. Do you accept my offer and pledge?” Synar asked.

“Aye, Liam Synar. I accept your offer and pledge. All that I am and ever will be, I give into your power this day as well. Let us be declared as mates,” Ania answered, pleased that her voice was as confident and as sure as Liam’s.

“Let it be declared that this couple is mated,” the officiant announced loudly.

“Joined by the will of the Creators,” the congregation added, the sound of their common support rolling up the walls of the room and filling every fraction of space with joyful energy. Then the celebratory music began, the vibration of it swelling.

Smiling that the ceremony was almost over, Synar turned his head slightly and watched in stunned disbelief as Jonas fell to the floor, a large hole blasted through his chest, his life force leaving rapidly.

“Malachi! Come forth and stop those that seek to do harm,” Synar yelled, watching the mist come out and briefly hover over Jonas before moving off to do as asked.

Dorian and two other crew members scrambled to find those responsible.

“Liam, who. . .?” Hearing her new mate call out an unfamiliar name, Ania instinctively turned to the crowd and saw a weapon flash. Without stopping to think, she stepped in front of him and felt a searing fire in her back. She called out as she fell.

“No,” Synar yelled in shock, clutching Ania’s falling form in his arms. “Malachi! Kill them all but one.”

It will be done as you command. Not wanting to waste the energy needed to form sound, Malachi mentally sent his compliance and moved quickly to obey.

Synar sank to the floor clutching Ania’s weakening body. “What have you done, Ania? Why did you step in front of me? That blast was not meant for you.”

“Take care for your life,” Ania said, trying to tell him what she had seen even if she was too late to stop it. “I am returning to the Creators. Do not mourn me long, Liam. You know I have planned for this day.”

“No—this will not be, must not be.” Synar looked around the room, now mostly vacant except for the dead and dying bodies lying scattered across the floor. When the mist appeared above him, hovering and waiting for acknowledgment, Synar looked up in numbed surprise. He could barely think.

The attackers are all dead except the one being restrained by your Lieutenant Zade. Even he is starting to wish he had suffered the same fate. Let Zade finish him for you and be done with this fight, Liam. You and I have a bigger problem to attend to because Jonas Tangier is no more, Malachi sent.

Synar looked at the male cowering by Dorian and at the carnage on the floor. He swallowed, focusing his thoughts. Are any of the Pleiadians who tried to stop them still alive?

One or two linger, but not for long, Malachi reported.

Go into the largest one for now, but do nothing else until I command you, Synar sent. Do not reanimate him.

As you wish, Malachi sent back, heading for the best body he saw, glad that Liam was letting him choose his host this time. Jonas Tangier had not been his choice, though he had grown quite fond of the easy going male host over time. Being in Jonas had been like taking a holiday from warring because the Greggor male loved nothing better than bonding with females and making music. Before Jonas, Liam’s father Bogdan had put him into an uneducated, giant stump of a Norblade. Malachi didn’t even want to think about that host body and what it had done.

Looking over the choices lying in front of him, Malachi thought he probably should have felt more over the loss of a host like Jonas. But after so many years and so many hosts, he could not seem to conjure the energy setting for such a corporeal emotion. In mist form, there was only the divinely driven need to find a way to continue his existence. Knowing Liam was still watching and waiting for him to comply, Malachi quickly disappeared into the largest Pleiadian guard he saw.

After Malachi was gone from sight, Synar lay Ania’s mostly unconscious form down on the floor and stood to walk over to the cowering male Dorian held firm. He looked down at his uniform covered in life force. Knowing it was Ania’s had his eyes glowing red. The killer glared back defiantly at him, but Synar also saw fear in his eyes. If there hadn’t been any, he would have made sure to put some there. And though he’d never ordered it done to a captive yet, Malachi was well skilled at torture.

“Did my brother Conor send you to kill me?” Synar demanded. “I warn you, your death means nothing to me now, so you might as well try to redeem yourself before the Creators receive you.”

“Yes. Conor sent us. He wants you and the demon. He said to take you alive, but kill everyone else that got in our way. The stun was meant only to wound, not to kill you. I swear it.”

“If my mate dies, you will die. If she lives, you will take a message back to my brother and tell him that killing Malachi’s host bodies won’t gain him anything. Your inept group left plenty more bodies for the demon to inhabit.”

Synar turned from the nodding male to look at Dorian. “Take this coward out of my sight and send medical help to look after Ania.”

“Indeed,” Dorian said, grabbing the male by his arm and dragging him out of the room.

Synar went back to his mate, kneeling down to cradle her again. “Ania? Can you hear me?”

“I don’t know why I did not see this coming, Liam. I’m sorry. I guess all I could think about today was you.”

Ania tried to reassure her worried mate with a smile, but her eyes closed and the blackness she drifted in claimed her once more.

“Malachi, come out now and do no harm,” Synar called, his voice heavy. In his concern for Ania’s impending death, he forgot not to speak. Despite his natural Norblade calm, the pressure inside him to scream was barely restrained. He couldn’t let Ania die when he had the power to stop it from happening. He just couldn’t.

“Damn me if you must—but I don’t care if this is right or wrong,” Synar said, sending the words to the Creators of All.

He looked then at the demon mist floating in front of him. For a single moment he paused, but when he finally spoke, all hesitation was gone.

“Malachi. Demon of Synar. Enter this female’s body and lend her your life. Ania Looren is your new host.”

But Liam—you can’t mean to put me in a female. Malachi’s vibrations wavered as he protested the gender with both disdain—and shock.

“You will go into the host body I have chosen and do all I ask. You will repair Ania’s physical form and take no more from her than what is necessary for your survival. She is never to know you inhabit her. She is to remain just as she was before you,” Synar ordered. “Enter the female and heal her. I am your master. As I command, you will obey.”

This is a mistake, Liam, Malachi chastised. I am to be put into warriors and used to fight evil armies. Why do you dishonor the sacred contract? There is no redemption for me in this enlightened female.

“It’s either go into Ania Looren, or into the amulet, demon. If Ania dies, I will lock you away and drop the amulet into the volcanoes on Terris One. Your spirit will not die, but you will never live in a host again either. You can truly spend eternity in a fiery pit like many beings fear doing.”

Malachi hovered, flexed, but finally acquiesced. His tie to the Synar family exceeded his power to deny his current master. Cursing the Creators of All once more, he resigned himself to a dreary existence in the female for a while. He pulled his mist form together more tightly. I hear and will do all that you command, he vowed, disappearing quickly into the body of the female while Liam turned his head away until it was done.

Moments later, Ania’s eyes fluttered open and Synar let out a ragged breath of relief that he hadn’t been too late. “Ania—are you still with me? Help is on the way.”

“What happened, Liam? Jonas. . .”

“Rest. . .don’t try to talk. We were attacked by an enemy, Ania. Fortunately, the weapon was not set to kill instantly. You are severely wounded, but I believe you will survive.”

“Good. Is everyone safe now?” Ania asked, moaning at the pain.

“Yes, but I fear this is not the end of it. I must leave you and go seek those that did this to make sure they will not do so again,” Synar said sadly. “You will be safe with your family. I will come back for you when I am done.”

“Take me with you. I’ll heal on the ship,” Ania demanded.

“No. I can’t put a high-level Peace Alliance ambassador at so much risk. Heal while I am gone. Let your family care for you. Serve your planet until I return from my task.”

He stroked his mate’s cheek, wanting nothing more than to take her with him as she demanded. But Conor’s hired thugs would just come after them both. Since he did not know when he would do it again, Synar bent to brush Ania’s lips with his. “I know you don’t like kissing, but I need to reassure myself that you live.”

“Perhaps I’m getting used to it,” Ania joked, struggling to return the pressure of his mouth.

“Help is coming shortly, I swear it. Let them repair your body, Ania. You will be weak for a while, but soon this will be nothing more than a bad memory.”

When she didn’t answer, Synar realized Ania had fallen into the healing sleep of the demon. Malachi was already working on her.

Now he needed to focus on the actions that would make Malachi’s efforts count.

Dorian soon returned and walked to where they were still on the floor. “Help is on its way. The medics were afraid to come inside. How is she?”

Ignoring Dorian’s concerned question, Synar raised his gaze to his friend’s face.

“We are taking the bodies of Jonas and the Pleiadian male Malachi went into earlier with us. Put both on the shuttle. I will explain later. I will register the body we are stealing as host to my demon now. Then we are going to release the killer we captured and send him back to warn Conor that I’m going to be actively searching for him. If we check, I we discover Conor is no longer confined to the planet he was exiled to.”

“Is the Pleiadian male joining our crew once the demon reanimates him?” Dorian asked the question, but dreaded the answer. The words were distasteful, but Liam’s legacy was not a pleasant burden to bear.

“No. The Pleiadian male will not be reanimated. The dead body is a ruse to fool Conor. I have given Malachi a more noble assignment.”

Dorian looked at Ania’s body then, seeing the energy signature but not wanting to believe it. He prayed the Creators of All would have mercy on her spirit. “Ania was prepared for her death, Liam. Do you know how much she would disapprove of what you have done?”

“Yes. Ania might have been ready for her death, but I was not. The contract is made, and I will not be changing it. I chose to tell you only because I need your help.”

Dorian saw Ania’s lashes flutter open at the same moment he heard the medics finally running in to their aid.

“Hello Dorian. I forget sometimes how tall you are. It’s still like looking up at a mountain to see you from the floor. This sure hasn’t happened in a very long time.”

Dorian watched Ania follow her painful laugh with a moan. Despite his beliefs and his sense of foreboding about what Liam had done, he smiled down at his teacher and friend with great relief. Ania remained herself so far as he could see. He hoped that would always be true.

“Be assured that I have never forgotten a single moment of my training at your hands. And I would gladly reverse our positions if I could.”

Dorian saw Ania laugh genuinely at his comment, but it obviously hurt her badly to do so. Then her eyes closed again. With a tired sigh, he saw her enter the blackness calling to her.

As several healers rushed to help them, he and Liam slipped out of their way. They stepped away from the medics, keeping their voices low.

“Well? What is your answer?” Synar demanded.

“Though I have many concerns about the wisdom of your actions, I will help you hide this from your brother,” Dorian said at last. “I pray the Creators forgive us both if we are mistaken.”

Synar watched the medics load a still living, breathing Ania onto the levitating transport. No matter what the Pleiadian healers thought about her weakened condition, he knew Malachi would completely heal her in time. It might be the first truly noble duty the demon had ever performed.

“Ania took a laser blast meant for me, Dorian. Pray all you want for your own forgiveness. I don’t need any. I have no regrets about saving Ania’s life.”

“Let’s hope that remains true over time, Liam. Go with your mate and see to her. I will take care of the rest.”

Synar nodded and followed the medical transport bed out of the building.

 

[kenny0112]

Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1)
by Robyn Peterman
Genre: Funny
​

Spoiler: About Robyn Peterman

Robyn Peterman writes because the people inside her head won’t leave her alone until she gives them life on paper.

Her addictions include laughing really hard with friends, shoes (the expensive kind), Target, Coke Zero Cherry with extra ice in a Styrofoam cup, bejeweled reading glasses, her kids, her super-hot hubby and collecting stray animals.

A former professional actress, with Broadway, film and T.V. credits, she now lives in the south with her family and too many animals to count.

Writing gives her peace and makes her whole, plus having a job where you can work in your underpants works really well for her. You can leave Robyn a message via the Contact Page and she’ll get back to you as soon as her bizarre life permits! She loves to hear from her fans!