“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.”
“Do you consider yourself evil?” Dixie inquired.
“Absolutely not,” I shot back.
“But you committed murder.”
Wow, harsh, but correct . . . “It was self defense. Me or them.”
“I didn’t realize the Ten Commandments had a self defense clause.”
“Okay, fine. I suck. I’m evil. Next question, did you . . . ”
“It’s about balance, Astrid,” Dixie cut me off. “You can’t have good without evil or you wouldn’t even know what good meant. One cannot exist with out the other. Satan and God. Heaven and Hell. It creates a balance.”
“But your father creates death and hatred,” I countered, trying to remember what I’d learned in Sunday School a million years ago. Fuck. I couldn’t remember anything.
“Nope. My father punishes those that choose to do evil. God, your uncle and mine, gave man free will. Man has a choice and his choice determines his afterlife. This little ditty was a huge mistake on God’s part and my father takes great pleasure in his brother’s faux pas.”
“How is free will a mistake?” She was crazy and had clearly drunk the Kool-Aid. “And did you say God was our uncle?” WTF?
“Yep, I did. And personally I don’t think it was a mistake at all, but God is pissed that so many have chosen the wrong path. His words, not mine, but it’s too late. What’s done is done.”
“So God’s mad that humans suck and Satan is happy he gets to punish them.”
“That’s a little simplistic, but kind of accurate.” She nodded her head and went on. “Technically, Demons are forbidden to create or cause true evil—we’re only allowed to siphon off the energy from evil caused by humans. But Demons, like humans, also have free will. While mild violence, deceit, stealing, promiscuity and cheating are standardly overlooked, acts of terror, mutilation or hobbies resulting in the death of others are strictly forbidden. Trust me, there are plenty of Demons residing in the Basement of Hell. It can be difficult and tricky to control something that thrives on evil, yet isn’t supposed to commit it.”
“Hell has a basement?” I asked, trying to absorb the massive amount of info she’d just spit out.
“That’s your question after what I just told you?”
“Yep.”
“Ooookay,” Dixie laughed. “Yes. Hell has a basement.”
“And nine other levels?”
“Um, no. Dante was completely wrong.”
“You’re kidding me,” I gasped. Was everything I knew about Hell a fairy tale?
“Dante will be here on Thursday. It’s poker night. You can grill him then. He’s been pissed for ages. He went ballistic when he found out the actual layout.”
“So much of what you just said was screwed on so many levels.”
“Nine?”
“Touché,” I laughed. “Dante lives in Hell? And he plays poker?”
“No and yes. Dante resides in Heaven, but comes over every Thursday to play poker with my dad.”
“God lets people out to play poker?” This was too much for even me to believe and I was a Vampyre. A myth . . .
“Free will, Cousin. God has no say if his residents want to vacation in Hell.”
“Does that work both ways?” I asked, still amazed that Satan played poker with Dante.
“Absolutely not. God doesn’t let evil touch his doorstep.” Dixie sniffed with disdain.
“Who else plays poker with your dad?”
“It depends. Most of the time Hemingway comes. Occasionally Marilyn Monroe, Elvis, Picasso and Mother Teresa.”
“Back the fuck up. Mother Teresa plays poker with the Devil?”
“Why wouldn’t she? My dad is charming and throws a great party. Besides, she’s always trying to reform him.” Dixie giggled and shook her head. “Oh, and one time Nixon came.”
“How’d that work out?”
“Dad says he cheats.”
“Of course he does,” I muttered, wondering if she was just pulling all of this out of her ass and fucking with me . . .
“With all that being said, it would be a grave mistake to assume Demons are goody goodies. They’re not . . . alright, I kind of am, but I’m a freak here.”
“I have no issue with freaks. I ride that train too,” I told her.
“Here’s the bottom line. I’ve been raised to be grateful to evildoers, because without them Demons wouldn’t exist. We derive our power and magic from the chaos and evil of humans. So while we don’t necessarily cause it, we thrive on it or feed on it, so to speak. Don’t forget that our Uncle God dealt out the free will thing, not my dad. And now to combat his error in judgment, God and his army of Angels keep trying to end evil so my dad and his people, including me . . . and you, will cease to exist. No offense, but God really screwed himself by letting men and women choose their own paths. If he wanted everyone to be good, he should have come up with a better plan. Daddy thinks that particular subject is hilarious.”