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 . . . Suck it up and deal with it. 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 slipped 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 . . . they would see me. 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 a 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 As.” 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.
A ghost of a smile touched 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 said and 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 his 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?”