Chapter 8
The party had been interesting but exhausting. Most of the Demons kept their distance, but a few adventurous Minions of the Devil offered up their necks and begged to find out if being bitten was as sexual as they’d been led to believe. I politely declined and stuck close to my cousins. Not that I really wanted to hang out with the Facebook addicted freaks, but everyone gave them a wide berth due to the simple fact that they were scarier than Hell itself and they were using the Facebook Insult Creator to all in their path. My favorite of the evening was Dicknose Boner Socket. I would store that one for future use.
Uncle Satan held court with scads of fawning women. His magic and power filled the room to the point I almost felt claustrophobic at times. Amanda never came back. I idly wondered if they had plastic surgeons in Hell or if she’d have to take a trip to Earth to fix her kisser. Next time I’d pop her boobs.
“So why did your sisters beat up your grandpa?” I asked. Curled up on Dixie’s couch with a borrowed pair of comfy sweats, I was much happier than I’d been a short hour ago.
She giggled. “They didn’t beat him up. He’s just so adorable that they get overexcited and squeeze him too hard.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“It’s difficult to explain. You’ll get it when you meet him.”
“Look, here’s the thing, I’m not staying around much longer so if you want me to meet Grandpa and Grandma you should call them and invite them over.”
Dixie blanched and put her hand over my mouth. “Sweet Baby Satan, do not mention grandma. Don’t even whisper about her. The last time she was here Daddy had to rebuild his entire mansion.”
“Your, um . . . the person married to your Grandpa knocked down your dad’s monster party house?”
“Yes.”
“I was joking,” I said, trying to wrap my head around the kind of power Grandma must have.
“I wasn’t.” Dixie shuddered and peered fearfully around her living room.
“Is she here?” I asked, worried that I’d conjured up something better left alone.
“No, but she can hear everything.”
“Demons can hear everything?” I gasped and looked under the couch. Fuck, Dixie was making me nervous.
“She’s not a Demon.” She giggled, but didn’t let her guard down. She searched the room carefully.
“What the hell is she then?” What else was in my bloodline besides Vampyre and Demon?
“Shhh,” Dixie said, rushing to her window. “No more or she’ll hear us and that would suck beyond anything you could imagine.”
Her fear was real and my curiosity was piqued. Was my grandma on my daddy’s side as heinous as my mother? My mother was here in Hell . . . A stupid, pathetic and needy part of me wanted to see her, but I assumed she was in the Basement and that could be an image thousands of years of therapy would be unable to erase. The simple fact that I still wanted her love me was mind-boggling. However, since I’d been the one who killed her and inadvertently sent her to the Basement, I knew that wouldn’t bode well for a mommy-daughter get together.
“Okay, relax your crack,” I told her. “Let’s talk about me getting out of here before my mate takes it upon himself to come and get me.”
“He can’t,” Dixie said, still staring out of the window.
“What do you mean?” My heart sank and I placed my hands over my secret inside my tummy. Without my power, I suppose I somehow thought Ethan would be able to save me.
“Vampyres can’t exist in Hell. Wait, I think they can survive for a couple of days, but I can’t remember how many.”
I jumped up and yanked her away from the window. “What would happen to a Vampyre in Hell and why isn’t it happening to me?”
“Astrid, you’re half Demon—you’re fine,” she said reassuringly. “But a pure Vampyre will suffer a brutal death down here.”
“What happens? Is it at the hands of the Demons?”
“No, Demons can’t kill.”
“Bullshit,” I hissed. “My father was a Demon and he killed so cut the crap about how sweet and harmless you people are.” I paced the room. I had to move or I would burst. I wanted to crawl out of my skin. I wanted to go home. I needed Ethan.
“You’re one of us,” she whispered, backing away.
“No. I’m not,” I shot back, getting angrier by the second.
“Look at your arms.”
Lifting my hands in front of me, I gasped. The black sparkling gloves were back which meant the place could blow any second.
“Son of a . . . ” I muttered and quickly shut my eyes and pulled images of people I loved to the forefront of my mind. It was harder this time. The glitter crawled up my arms and began to cover my chest. Ethan, Nana, Gemma. Not working . . . Pam, The Kev, Venus. It crept higher and I felt the warm dark magic on my neck. The problem was that it felt good. I liked it. I wanted it. No. No, the darkness didn’t own me. I owed it. Motherfucker . . . My baby. My beautiful sweet little boy. I pictured a perfect tiny replica of Ethan and the heat that tried to control my body began to recede.
“You’re amazing,” Dixie said. “How did you do that?”
“Which part?” I asked, making sure my evil gloves were gone.
“Either.”
“Not sure,” I told her. “Although it seems to have something to do with getting pissed off.”