Fashionably Dead Down Under (4 page)

How on Satan’s Red Earth did she know Dixie
was a virgin? Was Dixie a virgin? Wait. That was none of that
bitch’s 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.

“Your pockets are talking,” Dixie said as she
tossed me a pile of dresses to try on. The therapy crew had left
and we had several hours before we had to be back at the estate.
From the looks of the clothes my cousin dropped on me, it was a
formal affair.

“Yep, I know.” I examined the goldmine Dixie
had deposited in my lap and hoped that ignoring my Baby Demons in
my pocket would make my cousin follow suit.

No such luck.

“Are they hungry?”

“Is who hungry?” I asked as I stuck my hands
in my pockets and attempted to quiet my tiny monsters.

“The little Demons in your pocket. Are they
hungry?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I
replied as I pinched Abe, Ross, Rachel and Beyonce. They didn’t
help matters by giggling and poking their little heads out. “Fuck,”
I muttered and shook my head in disgust.

“They’re adorable.” Dixie giggled and reached
out to them.

“No,” I shouted and slapped her hand away. I
quickly grabbed my little Demons before they ate my cousin. “Dixie,
stay back. They eat Demons and I kind of like you . . . so just
back away. Slowly.”

“We no eat her,” Ross screamed and laughed
like he was on crack. “She pretty and she good. Me like to touch
her boo . . . ”

“Enough,” I snapped before Ross waxed poetic
about my cousin’s hooters. “You won’t eat her?”

“Course not, Moooommmmmyyy,” Beyonce chimed
in. “She not evil. She be sweet and funny and me like her.”

My Demons crawled out of my pockets and
slowly made their way up my body. The tiny three-inch monsters
perched on my shoulders and watched my cousin with intense
curiosity. My little monsters were a recent and constant addition
to my new Vampyre world. Much to my great surprise and delight, I
could see Demons that others could not. In my FUBAR undead life, my
little Demons brought me joy and hours of laughter—not to mention
the gifts of more power than I knew what to do with. I’d forgotten
they were in my pockets when I was dragged to Hell and my gut
clenched in fear. What on earth could happen to them in this place?
Would they be safe? It was overwhelming enough to have to take care
of myself and my baby living inside me . . . how was I going to
manage to keep my little monsters from harm too? Out. I needed to
get out of Hell. Now.

“She is sooooooo pretty,” Rachel whispered
loudly.

“Thanks,” Dixie said. “Can I touch you?”

“Yessssssssssss,” Rachel squealed and hopped
off my shoulder into Dixie’s open hand. “Don’t touchy Ross or Abe.
They like boobies.”

“Um . . . okay.” Dixie laughed. “Are they
yours?’ she asked me as she gently stroked Rachel’s little
head.

“Yes, they’re mine and they’re innocent, so
if you have any ideas of turning them into evil little shits,
you’ll have to go through me,” I snapped and took Rachel back.

Dixie was stunned by my anger and stood
mutely in front of me. My Demons began to laugh hysterically and
pummel each other.

“Ohhhh, Mommmmmy so funny,” Abe screamed and
began to twerk on my shoulder. I plucked him off and put him on the
floor. Breakdancing was one thing, but shoulder twerking was an
entirely different matter.

“She no hurt us and nobody can make us bad,”
Ross explained to me and rubbed his little Velcro head on my
cheek.

“You’re sure about that?” I asked.

“Absofuckinglutely,” Beyonce yelled as she
flipped off my shoulder and onto Dixie’s.

“Language,” I hissed at them and they
shrieked with delight.

“Mommmmmmmy has mouth like drunk sailor man,”
Rachel told my now amused cousin. “She know all the bad words ever
made!”

“Great,” I muttered. “That’s just fucking
great.”

“Seeeeeeeee,” Abe grunted as he twerked a
figure eight around my feet. “Mommy has filthy poopy mouth. That’s
why we love her.”

“Well, maybe she can teach me a few things,”
Dixie said as she lifted Beyonce off her shoulder and cradled her
like a baby. Beyonce,
the traitor
, purred like a kitten and
promptly fell asleep. “Do you think they’re hungry?”

I paused. How to answer that . . . They were
probably
not hungry
considering they’d eaten my very large
and evil father not all that long ago. I was still coming to terms
with the fact that my adorable little monsters ate bad Demons—more
specifically, my father. Although I hadn’t watched, the sound of
the cannibalization of my pappy would stay with me for eternity . .
.

“Well, I’m gonna go with a no on that one,” I
said and grimaced as I relived their last meal.

“We still full from eating your daddy,” Ross
crowed as he yanked up his shirt and slapped his little round
belly. “He was sooooo tasty. Taste like chicken.”

“Wow,” Dixie said. “That’s a bit unexpected,
but, um . . . interesting and gross.”

“Yeah, well, at least you weren’t there,” I
snapped.

The silence was deafening. Several times I
started to explain, but decided against it. I didn’t owe Dixie or
anyone in Hell an explanation for anything. The less everyone knew
about me the better. I grabbed the pile of clothes and made a
no-way pile and an oh-my-God-I-love-this pile. Ridiculously
expensive clothing could take my mind off of almost anything.
Almost.

“We no need to eat for weeks,” Abe said as he
humped my ankle. “And I no think your daddy taste like chicken. He
taste like stinky cheese.”

“Me say fish tacos,” Rachel chimed in.

Okay, ewwww. “Me say enough,” I said before
they gave a play by play.

Dixie laid the sleeping Beyonce down on the
couch and flipped through my “good” pile of eveningwear. Pulling
out a drop dead Stella McCartney, she held it up to me. “Wear this.
You’ll be stunning.”

“Look, I’m sorry if my manners are lacking,
but I need to leave and going to a shindig at your daddy’s is not
high on my priority list.”

“Astrid, Satan is fair and he is not
demanding anything unusual of you. I think you should just play
along until you can leave,” Dixie said as she rifled through some
jewelry.

She was probably right. Was she as sweet and
innocent as she appeared to be? She was the daughter of the Devil.
How could she be so freakin’ nice?

“How old are you?”

She stopped and heaved a weary sigh. “I’m
twenty.”

“Twenty plus what?” I asked. Did she think I
was an idiot? Every immortal looked somewhere in their
twenties.

“Twenty plus nothing.”

“Wow, you’re a baby.”

“Not much more so than you,” she replied and
handed me a diamond necklace and earrings. “These will be pretty
with the dress. What size shoe do you wear?”

“Seven. So you haven’t been alive very
long.”

“Nope.”

“And there are more of you?” Stop being
bitchy and learn something. Something helpful. Something that will
help me get the hell out of Hell . . .

“No, there’s only one me, but I do have
sisters. Seven of them.” She stared at me expectantly.

“What am I missing?” I asked. Was this a game
show? Did I have to guess everything? I pinched the bridge of my
nose to ward off the headache that was threatening.

“You don’t know?”

“No.” I rolled my eyes. “If I knew I wouldn’t
ask.”

“Seven,” Rachel screamed, waking Beyonce from
her slumber which led to a baby Demon smackdown of epic
proportions.

Ignoring the violent wrestling match at my
feet, I stared at my cousin. “I’m sick of cryptic. Just fucking
tell me.”

“The Devil has seven daughters. I have seven
sisters.”

“Actually he has eight,” I corrected her.

“True, but for thousands of years he had
seven. I’m very new,” she said. “I wear a six and a half shoe. Do
you think you can squeeze your feet into these?”

I was momentarily speechless as she held up
the hottest Prada pumps I’d ever seen.

“Oh my God,” I gasped. “Are those this
season?”

“They’re next season.” She grinned and handed
them over.

“I’d consider cutting off some toes to fit
into these babies.”

“That would be gross,” she giggled. “Did you
figure out the seven yet?”

“I think so,” I said as I attempted to wedge
my size seven foot into her size six and a half shoe. “But it’s so
appallingly cliché it’s pathetic.”

“Then you got it right.”

“Your sisters are the Seven Deadly Sins?” I
laughed and then groaned. My toes were on fire. “Shitfuckshitshit,
these are way too tight.”

I felt like the ugly stepsister from
Cinderella as I tried in vain to shove my foot into the slipper . .
. no fucking go.

“Yes, they are. I can call Greed and see if
she’ll loan you a pair. I’m pretty sure she wears a seven.”

“Someone named Greed is going to let a random
cousin she doesn’t know borrow her shoes?” I asked and reluctantly
handed her back the gorgeous footwear.

“She doesn’t like to part with her
possessions, but getting to meet you before all the rest of them
should be enough incentive for her to agree.” Dixie grinned with
glee and texted her sister.

“What about Sloth?” I asked. “Would she just
sleep though us pilfering her shoes?”

“Trust me, you don’t want Sloth’s shoes.”

“Why? No. Don’t answer that. The less I know
about all of you, the better. I’ll just wear my own.”

“You’re wearing black Converse. I don’t think
that will work with Stella McCartney.” Dixie laughed and sat down
on the floor with my exhausted Demons. Beating the living daylights
out of each other tended to wear their little monster asses
out.

“I think Converse goes with everything,” I
said and joined her on the floor. “Why are you nice? Aren’t you
supposed to be evil and mean?”

“You think I’m nice?” Dixie’s eyes lit up and
she grinned happily.

“I do,” I admitted, biting back my own grin.
I really didn’t want to like her, but she was making it difficult.
“However, you’ve been kind of useless to me so far. Aren’t you
supposed to bring me up to speed about my heritage so I can get the
hell out of Dodge?”

“What do you want to know?”

The floor and walls of Dixie’s bungalow
shuddered. I scooped up my babies and held them to my chest. Big
mistake as Abe and Ross took that as a cue to feel me up.

“What was that?” I demanded as I peeled my
little boys off my boobs.

“I have no idea.” Dixie literally disappeared
and rematerialized by her window. “It felt like a Hellquake, but
it’s the wrong season for those.”

“Hellquake?” I laughed and rolled my eyes.
“Is that Hell’s version of an earthquake?”

“Yes, Miss Smarty Pants, it is. Well, nothing
is on fire out there and my security team is still in place so no
one has breached the barrier and tried to kill us. We’re fine.”

“Fine? We’re fine?” I asked in a voice that
sounded weird even to me. “We are not fine. I don’t belong here. I
have a mate and a family that will be looking for me and I have no
time for this crap.”

“You’re going to have to make time,” Dixie
said. “If you don’t, you’ll find that time is all you have.”

“Oh, for shit’s sake,” I groaned, “you sound
like a freakin’ fortune cookie.”

“Whatever,” she huffed. “Ask your questions
and I’ll answer what I can.”

“Why aren’t you evil?”

Dixie rolled her eyes. “Not all Demons are
evil and not all Angels are good. Nothing is that simple. There’s
no such thing as pure evil and no such thing as pure good.”

“Mommy is good. She kill her mommy and daddy
today,” Rachel chimed in. “They baaaad mamba jambas.”