Three of my most vicious Demons—Dagwood, Darby and Dino—stood on the curb outside of the studio. Their recently chosen names pained me, but as long as I had their complete loyalty I had to let the little things go. What in the name of all things evil was wrong with the names Skuolonu, Bealsahm and Gamunoch? They were fine names, but clearly I wasn’t in tune with modern times. After all, I’d been given Hell for using the term bosom. Apparently, I was not current with my lingo but if the names Dagwood, Darby and Dino were current, I’d happily stay in the Dark Ages.

I stared at them silently as they lowered their heads in deference. Letting my Demons find themselves creatively had begun to bite me in the ass. The dreadful names changes were difficult to say without laughing. Considering all three had chosen the middle name Dick and surname Demon, it was all I could do not to burn them to ash. To make matters more appalling, they were wearing berets similar to Lizard’s. It made me itchy.

Reminder to self… bad fashion sense and farcical names weren’t good enough reasons for dismemberment.

Behind my unfortunately monikered and hideously clad minions sat a black stretch Hummer. I kept a fleet of cars on Earth since it wasn’t exactly good form to transport in front of humans. Mind-wiping was fine every now and then, but generally speaking it was best to keep it to a minimum. However, it did chap my ass that my brother was fond of making humans remember the ridiculous miracles of his do-gooder Angels. The bastard always seemed to get off scot-free because his meddling was good.

Whatever. God had to be crapping his pants knowing how much better my book was selling than his. It was the little things that helped get one through the centuries.

“Sire,” Dagwood said. “Is there any clean up to be done before we depart?”

“Not today,” I replied. “Didn’t get to decapitate anyone. Hell knows I wanted to but Astrid wouldn’t let me.”

“Like I have any say in what the Devil does,” Astrid griped with an eye roll as she climbed into the limo. “Pretty sure I said I wouldn’t write your piece of shit autobiography slash romance and somehow I did.”

“I blackmailed you,” I reminded her with a grin.

“No duh,” she grumbled, getting right back out of the idling Hummer. “And now, so my home doesn’t become an enormous penis, it’s looking like I’m gonna to have to write your piece of poop movie—which by the way, I have no fucking knowledge of how to do.”

“Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit. However, true knowledge is knowing not to put it into a fruit salad,” I said.

“All right Uncle Fucker, that was a total wanker statement. If you’re going to talk about tomatoes, we’re gonna have a smackdown right here—right now,” Astrid snapped as her hair began to blow around her head signaling an explosion was imminent.

“Not following,” I said, knowing I was in for something confusing and potentially violent. The morning was looking up.

Astrid stomped her Prada clad foot and her black glitter covered her upper body. It was magnificent. However, it was clear a little mind-wiping was going to be in order when she was done with her fit. I just hoped it didn’t include an explosion. I had places to be and things to do. Los Angeles might also be known as Hollyweird, but we Immortals took the cake for unusual. The humans on Rodeo Drive were a tad too interested in my sparkling niece.

“It’s bad enough that I’m being blackmailed again, but talk of tomatoes makes me think of pizza. I love pizza—more specifically pizza with mushrooms, sausage, jalapeno peppers and Tabasco sauce from My Big Fat Italian Pizza on Third and Main or Mission Impizzalbe on Short and Lime or my very favorite Chunky Donkey Pizza on South Plaza in that shitty strip mall where I died because I was trying to fucking stop smoking. And Chunky Donkey makes me to think about dessert like any normal person would. Dessert would be black raspberry chocolate chip ice cream followed by three gallons of Coke and then topped off with chips and extra hot salsa, which also has tomatoes in it. So talking about tomatoes is going to get you an asskicking, I don’t care who you are.”

Darby, Dagwood and Dino backed away quickly. They’d seen my niece in action and wanted no part of it. Food was no laughing matter with Astrid. Since she’d died, eating was out.

“And this is somehow my fault?” I inquired.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault. I’m saying I blame you. Big difference, asshat,” she snapped.

Hell on fire, her belligerent obnoxiousness was invigorating. I’d have to remember that one. It was good.

“How about this,” I offered feeling, only the slightest bit guilty about bringing up food. “I’ll get John Houston or Mel Brooks to write the movie.”

“You would do that for me?” she asked with narrowed eyes and sparks flying from her fingertips.

“Yes. I would.”

“So I’m off the hook?” she pushed, knowing me so well.

“Absolutely not,” I replied with a grin that I knew was devastatingly charming. “I’ll get back to you with what I want.”

“Today is sucking,” she muttered, unmoved by my charm as she herded Martha, Jane, Tiara and Lizard into the limo.

I had to agree with her, but for different reasons entirely.

“Gentlemen,” I said to my Demons. “Mind-wipe. Now.”

“We’re on it,” Dagwood said with an evil smirk.

Today might suck, but being the Boss of Everyone did not.

* * *

Thankfully the limo was large. Darby and Dino were up front. I sat in the very back in between Astrid and Tiara. Unfortunately it gave me an excellent view of Martha, Jane and Lizard. Poor Dagwood was on their end of the seating arrangement. It was abundantly obvious he was trying not to maim or head-butt the potential ménage. It was a very good thing that Martha and Jane were undead. Procreation with Lizard would amount to a clusterfuck of disastrous ramifications.

“Sweet Baby Jesus on a three day bender,” Astrid muttered on a gag while eyeing the socially awkward foreplay. “I’m gonna hurl.”

“You’re dead. You can’t,” I reminded her. “However, if any of them disrobe I will be forced to end them. While I normally enjoy viewing sexual debauchery, this is simply wrong.”

“That’s mean,” Astrid said.

“What? Ending them?” I asked.

“No. Reminding me I can’t hurl.”

“I feel you,” Tiara agreed and glanced out of the tinted window. “Uncle Fucker, where exactly are we going?”

“To the desert. There’s a portal to Hell and it will be far easier to use than me transporting everyone,” I said. “Besides, it’s a nice Hummer.”

“Umm, I think we’re about to see a hummer in the Hummer,” Tiara choked out with a wince of horror, pointing at the unappetizing action unfolding on the far end of the limo.

“So do you have a mate, you sexy piece of man meat?” Martha purred while ungracefully straddling a very pleased Lizard.

Of course, not wanting to be left out, Jane removed Lizard’s beret and plopped it onto her mostly bald head. She gyrated in her seat and hummed something that was completely unrecognizable as music. Lizard just grinned like a fool.

“We’re available in case you want to play a little hide the salami,” Jane announced as Dagwood slammed his head against the window in agony.

“There is nothing little about my salami,” Lizard bragged as the women squealed and shimmied in anticipation.

I had a vague and horrifying idea of what their threesome would entail and I was positive I wasn’t going to witness it. Ever.

“Can I decapitate them?” I inquired.

“No, you can’t,” Astrid said through gritted teeth, clearly tempted to give me the go ahead.

“Incinerate?” I suggested.

“No,” she repeated.

“Turn them into gnats? And then we can swat them?” I said, trying a more creative proposal.

“You can do that?” Astrid asked, surprised.

“I’m fucking Satan, of course I can do that,” I hissed.

“Because you’re a contortionist?” Tiara asked, smiling wide.

“Because I’m a what?” I demanded, pressing the bridge of my nose while I considered turning everyone into bugs so I could crunch them beneath my feet.

“You know, someone who can twist their body in weird ways,” she said with a giggle. “You’d have to be to fuck yourself.”

Closing my eyes, I remembered why I enjoyed working alone. My family was destroying my sanity—or what little I had left. Offing my nieces would make me wildly unpopular. However, I was very close.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Jane announced with glee as she went to remove the sorry excuse of a halter top she was wearing.

“You take that off and I will shove your head up your ass. For real,” Astrid warned Jane.

“Permanently?” Jane asked, weighing her options and then deciding to leave the horrid top on without waiting for Astrid’s reply.

“I really want to behead someone today and they are seriously asking for it,” I reasoned.

“While this may be accurate,” Astrid conceded. “It’s wrong.”

“Your point?”

“You can’t kill them. They were instrumental in saving my son. However, it would be okay to remove their appendages. They’ll grow back,” she said with a shrug.

“I can work with that,” I said, wildly relieved to do some damage. It really wasn’t my normal modus operandi to get permission to wreak havoc, but I was trying to be more socially acceptable a couple days a week.

“No, wait,” Tiara said frantically, grabbing my hands before I could render them limbless. “If they have no arms and legs we’ll have to carry them and they bite.”

“Motherhumpin’ buttballs,” Astrid moaned. “She’s right. Maybe just send them to Hell.”

“Trust me, they’ll be in Hell soon enough,” I said with a shudder. “I do not want them there any earlier than they’re supposed to be.”

“Well, do something,” Astrid hissed. “If I have to watch this any longer, I’m going to kill them and that would make me feel really good for seven minutes and twenty-two seconds and then I’d feel awful. Sometimes it sucks so hard being compassionate.”

“I’m not compassionate,” I said with great relief. “And I will take care of it.”

“Sire,” Darby called out from the driver’s seat. “We’re being tailed.”

The clumsy ménage was immediately forgotten. I stiffened and glanced out of the back window. The atmosphere in the car went from grossly bizarre to deadly serious in a heartbeat. The highway we were on had been deserted only moments ago.

“How long?”

“Just now,” Dino said. “They appeared from thin air.”

“How far are we from the portal?”

“About six miles, my Liege.”

“Dreams do come true,” I said, feeling my adrenaline spike.

“What are you talking about?” Astrid snapped as her fangs dropped and her eyes began to glow. She turned in her seat and scanned the horizon. “Holy Hell, that’s the biggest freakin’ tank I’ve ever seen.”

“Trolls are large,” I replied, rolling my neck and smiling wide.

“You think those are Trolls?” Tiara asked.

“Know—I know they’re Trolls. My guess is they’re a little put out that I offed their King. I really don’t see the big deal. It’s not like I destroyed the entire species.”

The Trolls had been working with Fate and they had stolen something that was mine—Elle’s soul, to be more specific. Being a somewhat reasonable sort, I’d asked that it be returned. They didn’t comply with my polite request so they died. Very simple.

Touching my breast pocket, I felt the warmth of my Siren’s soul. They’d get it back from me over my dead body—and that was an impossibility. As a True Immortal, I was very hard to kill.

“If they’re looking for Elle’s soul they’re barking up the wrong tree. You gave it back to her before she left,” Astrid said, pulling weapons from her bag and arming herself.

Not that she needed them. Astrid was a destructive force of nature with her power alone. Of course no one in the limo held a candle to me, but that was to be expected. I was the goddamned Devil—pun intended.

And now I was pissed.

“Actually, that’s not quite how that little exchange went,” I replied cryptically.

“Care to explain?” Astrid asked with a raised brow.

“No. Dagwood, drive another five miles and stop the car. We’re sitting ducks like this. Can Martha and Jane fight Trolls?” I asked tersely.

“Like banshees on steroids wearing thongs that are one and a half sizes too small,” Martha grunted.

“Like fucking pissed off hookers on payday whose pimp spent all their money at Taco Bell buying tacos for big knockered strippers from Big Sean’s Booby Bungalow,” Jane added. “And not just regular tacos. Noooo, that motherfucker bought Cool Ranch Doritos Locos Tacos.”

“Like a wasted David Hasselhoff at a hamburger convention,” Jane said, clearly not wanting to be outdone by the Big Sean’s Booby Bungalow slash Taco Bell reference.

“We fight bigger than Liam Neeson’s bratwurst,” Martha informed the now confused crowd.

“Like a tornado of crap in a…” Jane kept going.

“Stop,” I snarled, fighting not to decimate my small army before the battle. “I didn’t understand a word of that. Can they fight or not?”

“They can,” Astrid confirmed, shaking her head and biting back a laugh. “However, they’ve had no experience with Trolls.”

“My Lord, if I may,” Lizard said, bowing his head to me. “I’d like to request that my newly acquired undead concubines refrain from fighting. Since my ladies have no prior history with Trolls, I’d like them to hide under the Hummer. This will ensure that I get a hummer later.”

Speechless. I was speechless. However, his concubines were not.

“While I find it motherhumpin’ heart-warming that a fine piece of ass like yourself would want to protect us…” Martha started.

“Gives me a robust lady boner,” Jane interjected.

“Yep, my muffin is toasty,” Martha agreed. “Clearly our bits are on board with your chauvinistic jackhole bullshit, but we’ll have to pass. We ain’t pussies. And if you suggest anything as fucking insulting as keeping us out of a smackdown ever again, we will remove your schwantz with a plastic spork.”

“We might not be pussies, but we definitely have them. And Hell knows they might have grown shut since we haven’t used them in so long. So if we have to yank your giggle stick off, we’ll both take a quick joy ride on it before removal,” Jane finished off.

Lizard appeared surprised, but aroused by the violent talk from the horrifying Vamps.

“None of you speak another word,” I warned with a shudder. “If you’d like to see tomorrow you will listen. Martha and Jane will fight. To kill Trolls, you need to pierce the left side of the neck. Go clean through with your sword. Magic won’t work. Decapitation also gets the job done, but getting too close is a grave mistake,” I directed, waving my hand and producing a pile of enchanted swords.

“Martha and Jane will burn in the sun,” Tiara reminded us. “Not that it would be a great tragedy, but I just thought I should point that stanky fact out.”

Waving my hand again, I cast an enchantment over the old women’s wrinkly skin and just for good measure I coated Astrid and Tiara as well. I knew they could withstand the sun, but they were of my line and I wanted to keep it that way.

“The sun will not be a problem,” I said.

“Do we want them dead?” Astrid asked as she centered herself and wiggled her menacing and fiery hands in the air.

“Who us?” Jane asked, alarmed.

“No, you hat of ass, the Trolls,” Astrid said with an eye roll.

“Yes, but leave one alive. And tamp that fire back until we’re out of the Hummer. No need to burn us to a crisp before the battle,” I instructed.

“A tank can hold twelve Trolls,” Dagwood said, grabbing a sword with his eyes glowing a menacing red.

“The more the merrier,” I said flatly.

“How is this a dream come true?” Astrid asked as the Hummer skidded to a halt.

“I’ve been itching to decapitate someone today. No one is going to be put out if it’s a Troll,” I relied with a shrug and a lopsided grin.

“Sire, do you think they’re still loyal to Fate?” Darby asked.

“Trolls are loyal to no one. If Fate’s behind this, she has something on them. I’ve been looking high and low for that abomination. Maybe we’ll get a clue to her whereabouts,” I said, tucking the hilt of one of the swords into my hand. “Or maybe something more delightful will occur.”

“You really think she’d show her face after all the shit she pulled?” Tiara asked doubtfully.

“One can only hope,” I said. “Everyone out on three. One. Two. Three.”

And the battle began—vicious, deadly, and wildly unexpected.