“Hold my what?” I said as my eyes narrowed to slits. I ignored their unflattering name for Astrid. She’d had them turned into Vampyres. She could fight her own battles over what they called her.
“Relax your crack, Hotty McHot Pants,” Jane said as she punched Martha in the head and sent her flying. “My ugly mother humpin’ sidekick lost brain cells in Nam. Just fuckin’ ignore her. Everyone knows that a man can’t have a camel toe due to lack of a muff.”
“Are you serious?” I asked, wishing I’d chosen a different Demon for the job, but Lizard was my best bet since Dino, Dagwood and Darby had set their asses on fire.
Jane got lost in thought for a long moment which was terrifying. “I suppose if you were wearing tight white spandex and the seam of your pants separated your brussel sprouts, it could count as a camel toe,” she mused aloud as I fought with myself internally not to pick up the sword and remove her head. “So, Martha, while you are a brain damaged asshat, I’d like to apologize for punching you. As Satan said, a man can wedge his gangoolies into a camel toe too.”
“I said no such thing,” I snapped as my fingers began to spark.
“Damn tootin,’” Martha added as she stood up, waddled back over to the couch in a daze and straddled the arm. “We’re gonna become writers now. Lizard said we did not suck at it.”
“But we suck other things,” Jane added, cackling like a fool and elbowing Martha so hard she grunted like she was dying and writhed all over the couch like a wrinkled slug. “Just ask Lizard.”
“I’ll pass,” I said flatly, wondering if I could still have a working relationship with my Demon if I offed his mates.
Anyhoo, as I was sayin’,” Martha went on as if this was a normal exchange between adults with working brain matter while still writhing on my couch. “After we got thrown in the human pokey for stalking Simon Cowell, while wearing only a thong and pasties, we’ve given up our dream of winning American Idol and decided to become authors. Of course, we did win Idol in Zanthia. Those fuckin’ Fairies love us.”
“Fairies are tone-deaf,” I muttered. Note to self—incinerate the couch when they leave.
“What’d ya say?” Jane asked.
Damnit, it wasn’t prudent to piss off Lizard when I needed him. “Umm… I said Fairies are scone chefs.”
“Hell has a Fairy scone chef?” Elle called out sleepily from our bedroom that adjoined my office.
I was certain I paled considerably, and I knew I gasped. However, I played it off like a champion. “Yes, darling. I brought one here for you.”
“How sweet,” she replied as she sounded like she was falling back into slumber. “I won’t cut your legs off or rearrange your face later, my lover.”
“That’s outstanding,” I answered her as I wiggled my fingers and closed the door between the rooms. I also dead bolted it and re-enforced it with strong magic in case Elle changed her mind and felt the need to remove a few of my appendages in front of Lizard and his idiots.
“Well, I’ll be damned. Didn’t know you guys were into the kinky shit,” Martha said with a grin.
“We’re not,” I said through clenched teeth. “Elle is having a few issues with her lady time.”
“Aunt Flow?” Jane inquired with a grunt of disgust. “That old bee-otch is a real pain in the vag.”
“She’s real?” I asked, surprised. Was there a chance Astrid was incorrect?
“Real as my fabulous knockers,” Martha said, grabbing one of her saggy sacks of flesh. “Hate her guts. I’d love to kill that skanky hooker dead.”
My mind whirled with possibilities that made me want to grab the sword from my desk and plunge it into my gut again. But the thought of having to potentially decapitate myself to keep the love of my evil life entertained outweighed my common sense. Maybe Martha and Jane could help or maybe I’d lost what was left of my mind. It was worth a shot. Losing my head was something I didn’t have time for at the moment. Plus, I loved the head that I had now. I was gorgeous.
“You could help Elle navigate Aunt Flow’s visit?” I asked warily. “You could ensure that her hangry state won’t result in my having to regrow limbs?”
“Not. A. Problem, Fine Ass McBooty,” Jane assured me. “You got chocolate in Hell?”
“I do.”
“Potato chips, doughnuts, ice cream, greasy burgers, fries, tacos, and