Home > Fashionably Dead in Diapers (Hot Damned #4)(14)

Fashionably Dead in Diapers (Hot Damned #4)(14)
Author: Robyn Peterman

"Do me have to?" he pouted. "They look so pretty."

"Yes, you have to."

Grudgingly, he did. He scrunched his little face and icy pale blue crystals showered the room, restoring everyone's skin to its original color. The loud sighs of relief from the most powerful immortals in the world made me giggle.

"Ooookay, let's get down to business," I said cheerfully to the room full of unhappy people who watched me through narrowed eyes. Motherhumper, this was such a stupid idea. I should have just sent out a mass email or text. Shitfirebuttballs. "I have a few questions and then I'm going to lay out a few new laws. Failure to comply with said laws will result in maiming, blood loss and Sammy privileges being revoked. Does anyone have any questions?" I asked, only to be greeted by stony silence. Well, that was weird. No one had anything to say? Mother Nature always had something to say…not to mention Pam.

"You took their voices," Ethan reminded me.

"Shit, that's right." I waved my hand and returned their voice boxes. "So…questions?" Still met with silence, I bravely or very possibly stupidly soldiered on. "So as you can see Sammy speaks and can reassign skin pigment. He can also raise Zombies and conjure Trolls and Gnomes. He can animate inanimate objects and he seems a bit prone to violence. He's extremely loving and is growing at an alarming rate. He has a wonderful imagination…however, I have a difficult time believing he imagined the motherfucking six-headed Demon he conjured up last night."

"Motherfucking," Sammy shouted.

"Yes, and he likes to repeat things so from here on out all swearing around my child will stop. I simply won't tolerate it," I muttered, not making eye contact with anyone.

"Pot, kettle, black," Pam said as the others nodded in agreement.

"Fine," I hissed. "I realize I'm the main offender, but I know for a fact I didn't teach him about boobies." I stared hard at my Baby Demons who raised their tiny hands guiltily.

"Me sorry," Abe said.

"Me sorry toooooooo," Beyonce added morosely.

"We no take him to strip clubs anymore," Ross said as Rachel nodded solemnly at his side. Ethan tensed and I shot him a look. I didn't want him to kill anyone in front of our son. We had enough problems without that added to them.

"The six-headed Demon?" I inquired.

"Sorry," Satan said sheepishly. "Those don't even exist. It was a harmless bedtime story. I'm thoroughly impressed that he can do that though."

"Well, I'm not. I'm tired of almost dying on a daily basis."

"Noted," Satan said.

"Fire breathing kittens?" I asked.

"Me," Mother Nature admitted.

"Dogs with dagger paws?"

"Um, me," Satan said. "They were the heroes in the story."

"Of course they were," I snapped. "Flaming midgets?"

"As in gay or on fire?" Mother Nature asked logically as she tossed her shiny red curls over her shoulder.

"On fire."

"Oh." She giggled. "That was me."

"Great," I snapped. "Just so you know, it's highly unpleasant to be in the tub and dive bombed by burning little people."

"I can see how that wouldn't appeal," she agreed.

"So here's the deal. We all, including me, have to behave around Sammy. He's impressionable and innocent. I want him to stay that way as long as he can. Capisce?"

"You do realize he's a True Immortal," my adorable little Grandpa said.

"I figured as much," I mumbled as Ethan tensed beside me.

All True Immortals were almost impossible to kill and nine existed. God was Good. Satan was Evil. Grandpa was Wisdom. Mother Nature was Emotion. The Angel of Death, Hayden, was Death, and the Angel of Light, Elijah, was Life. Dixie was Balance and Lucy was Temptation. I rounded out the motley crew as Compassion. What in the Hell could Samuel possibly be? Everything seemed to be covered already.

“So Asshead," Pam, my Guardian Angel, said. "Are you finally ready to hear what gift your son has been given?"

"Nope, but I'm sure you're going to tell me anyway." I grabbed Ethan's hand and touched Samuel with my other. How bad could this really be?

"Samuel is Utopia," Mother Nature said reverently.

"He's an imaginary island?" I asked, wondering why in the Hell my son was a land mass and what that could mean.

"Of course not," Mother Nature trilled. "He's a visionary. He's ideal."

"He's all of us," Grandpa said. "Samuel embodies the powers and gifts of all the True Immortals. He is the strongest of us all."

Son of a bitch. They had to be joking. My son was good, evil, wisdom, emotion, life, death, balance, temptation and compassion? Therapy wasn't going to be able to touch that clusterfuck of a combination. Maybe a lobotomy…but no one was going to touch my baby with a knife and live to tell.

"Sammy is Upoopia!" my baby shouted and clapped his hands, instantly bringing all the furniture in the room to life. Couches and chairs upended their occupants and began to dance around the room recklessly.

"Outstanding," Satan yelled as he tangoed with a chaise. "My great nephew is tremendous."

How the Devil didn't look like an idiot was beyond me. He actually made dancing with a sofa look hot. Mother Nature was doing something akin to humping with an ottoman and the rest of the crew were partnering up with pillows, end tables and knickknacks.

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