daughter, Elle apologized for enjoying my multiple impalements. Of course, twenty minutes later she nailed me with a fork to the forehead for touching a cookie.
Mammy had the wherewithal to stock the suite with enough food to feed an army. Elle had gone through most of it. Thankfully, Sadie estimated the birth—or womb explosion—to be imminent. This was a good thing. Who knew what would go down if we ran out of cookies?
“Alrighty,” Mammy said, doing a few jumping jacks, deep knee bends and popping her neck. “When the boy makes his entrance, ya’ll just backass up. Gonna get messy.”
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” I asked, getting worried.
Elle was my world and my son came in a very close second. Losing my Siren was unacceptable. My desire to exist would vanish.
“I’m gonna pretend ya didn’t say that,” Mammy growled as golden smoke wafted out of her nose and ears. “There’s a couple things I know how to do. Make beans-n-franks, trim hair, and birth a baby.”
“Dangit,” Mammy said, giving my mother a thumbs up. “Almost forgot about that. Thanks, Gaia.”
“No worries, Mammy. Glad to help.”
“You’re an assassin?” Sadie inquired, impressed.
“Darn tootin’” Mammy answered as she got Elle settled on the bed. “I can fry the head off a jackass from a mile away.”
“You’re not blind?” I asked, confused. “You trimmed your son bald and blew the arms off my assistant whose name escapes me.”
“Did it on purpose for a little fun,” Mammy explained as she plumped the pillows for my lover. “Gotta keep ‘em on their toes—keep it spicy, if ya know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t,” I said, getting seriously concerned that the certifiable whack job was about to deliver my son. “Ask for a favor.”
“What’d ya say, Lord of Dark Crap?” she asked, piling towels next to the bed and making sure the ornate cradle my mother had produced from thin air was placed next to the bed.
“A favor from the Devil is the most coveted prize in the Universe,” I said, as I walked to the head of the bed and tucked Elle’s hair gently behind her ears. “You will receive a favor as long as the love of my evil life and my child come through this unharmed and untrimmed.”
Mammy cackled as she continued to work. “Ya already done it,” she said. “This is me payin’ ya back for ya grantin’ my Murry the ability to read and offering to watch after the dumb-ass if anything ever happens to me.”
“I didn’t exactly offer,” I clarified as I heard my mother’s swift and surprised intake of breath.
“Oooohhhh, I’m so proud of you, Lucifer,” my mother said. “I knew deep down inside you were a nice man.”
“I am not nice,” I snapped with an enormous eye roll. “I’m fucking Satan—the most evil badass to ever live.”
“And clearly a contortionist,” Sadie muttered with a laugh.
Son of a bitch. I’d done it again. Ignoring the chuckles at my expense, I glared at Mammy. “Ask for another favor. NOW.”
“Whatever ya say, Lord Dumbass,” Mammy said with an evil little smirk. “I wanna trim ya. Never trimmed a celebrity before. Martha and Jane read me some of yer new book. It’s so damn good. Almost peed my knickers I was laughin’ so hard. Gonna be a big hit. That’s the favor I want.”
Just when I thought a fork to the head was the worst thing that could happen today…
“Why don’t you think about it for a while and get back to me on it,” I said, trying to be diplomatic which was not my normal style. Electrocution and decapitation were more in my wheelhouse than reasonable negotiation.
“Nope. That’s what I want,” Mammy said. “It’ll be good fer my Ball Shop business if I’ve de-haired the Lord of Dark Shit. Ya feel me?”
“Oh my Hell,” Elle grunted out as her stomach went as hard as a rock and her breathing grew labored. “Hurts. Hurts so bad.”
“Do something,” I shouted frantically, seeing my life vanish before my eyes. “Fix it.”
“It’s fine,” my mother assured me as I paced the suite in a panic. “It’s normal.”
“Sonofabitchshitdamn,” Elle screamed as her hands searched the bed.
“What do you need?” I demanded. “I’ll get you whatever you want. Jewels? Cars? A new wardrobe? Beans-n-franks? A monkey? Blueberry muffin bread? Just tell me,” I shouted as she continued to moan and search the bed.
“A butter knife,” she shrieked. “Have to remove your shmackle immediately. I can