for thousands of years and they’d turned out dreadfully. Each had a different mother except for the triplets. I’d had no plans to raise the Demons until each of their mothers had dropped them on the front doorstep of the Dark Palace never to be heard from again. There were those in Hell who surmised my daughters had eaten their mothers. I’d lost a few nights of beauty sleep over that rumor, but they were all vegetarians so it couldn’t be true. I hoped.
The mothers of my daughters knew what they were doing when they ditched them. I actually admired the balls one would have to be sporting enough to do such a dastardly thing to one’s own child. At this point, I was ready to banish all seven of them from Hell and send them on a search to find their egg donors. I’d had them for thousands of years. Fair was fair. It was time for their mothers to bail them out of prison and pay for retail therapy.
Wrath, Lust, Greed, Envy and the triplets, Sloth, Gluttony and Pride made me wish that I’d had a vasectomy a few thousand years ago. Of course, my eighth daughter, Daisy, made me happy I hadn’t, not that surgery would work on an Immortal anyway. But Dixie lived on Earth with her mate, the Angel of Death—a man I loved to hate. As long as he was good to my daughter, I wouldn’t have to remove his body parts.
The seven standing before me? I wasn’t so sure they would leave in one piece. I’d gotten them out of more trouble in their long lives than should be legal—not that I was fond of legal means. I loved bad behavior and cheating and stealing, but attempted murder and trying to basically ruin my life was another thing altogether. Thankfully, they were terrified of Elle. My lover was the Keeper of Fate. My daughters were mean, but they would be fools to mess with karma. They were not fools.
With cell phones glued to their hands, the Seven Deadly Sins scrolled and insulted each other as if their evil lives depended on it.
“I refuse to accept that Princess Einstein’s Phlegm is my royal name,” an angry Gluttony shouted.
“That’s nothing,” Lust chimed in with a hiss of displeasure. “My stupid name is Princess Hobbit Nipple. Who in the Hell created this name generator? I’d like to skin them alive.”
“You’re both imbeciles. Boiling is quicker and less messy than skinning,” Pride growled. “Mine is the worst. I’m Princess Rancid Orgasm.”
“But that’s actually true,” Gluttony squealed with glee only to be singed with a vicious fireball by Pride.
Not one to let a fireball go, Gluttony clapped her hands and turned all the hair on Pride’s head a puke green color. My children were such a delight.
“You’re a bitch,” Pride shrieked.
“Your point?” Gluttony inquired with a smirk.
“Whatever,” Pride hissed and went back to her phone. “Anyhoo, it says right here that Envy’s new moniker is Princess Muffdust the Pecker Wrecker.”
“Ohhhhhhh,” Envy snarled as she swiped Pride’s phone and incinerated it to ash. “While that may be, looks like ’ol Wrath is Princess Lubed Up Assbasket.”
“Fitting,” Sloth said with a giggle as she glanced around in confusion. “Why are we still in Hell? I thought we were poofing to Paris for lunch and a crime spree.”
“In a moment,” Wrath said, acknowledging me. “Hello, Daddy. We’re here for our allowance.”
“Ahhh, the fuckening has arrived,” I said, eyeing the hot mess of evil with annoyance.
“Pardon me?” Greed snapped then cowered immediately as I raised my brow.
“You know,” I said with a grin. “The fuckening. When you’ve had a shitty day and you think nothing can make it worse… and then it happens. That’s the fuckening.”
“Kinda rude,” Gluttony mumbled.
“Kinda true,” Sloth said with another giggle.
Sloth was my favorite next to Dixie. It was too bad that she hung out with the rest of the hooligans.
“Apples never fall far from trees,” Wrath said in a cool tone.
“Good to know you’ve read your Uncle’s Book,” I replied silkily.
“Actually, we didn’t make it into Uncle God’s book,” Envy said grumpily.
“And it looks like we didn’t make it into your book either, Daddy,” Pride hissed.
“I didn’t write it, so I can’t be blamed,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest and eyeing them suspiciously. Could one of my ungrateful daughters have sent the letter? It would be just like them to ruin my party. Only one way to find out.