Chapter 3 Astrid
ASTRID
“Do not under any circumstances show me your junk,” I shouted at Uncle Fucker as he unzipped his pants and prepared to drop trou.
We were in the ornate foyer of the Cressida House and it was fast becoming a zoo.
Martha, Jane and Connie, still greased up, but thankfully dressed, were standing at the base of the grand staircase with their mouths wide open.
Martha and Jane clutched the railing to stand upright due to the unsightly new boulders hanging off their bony chests.
All three were bleeding. Jane had a gnarly black eye.
Martha had lost part of her saggy ass, and Connie sported a fat lip and a bloody nose.
A bunch of undead Nosy Parkers were huddled on the stairs waiting for the Devil to reveal his private package.
Lizard stood with his boss. The beret-wearing Demon was shaking his head, chomping his gum and doing his best not to laugh. He was failing.
“I am going to prove that my cock is enormous,” Satan bellowed. “I do NOT have a petite pecker.”
Shit. This was not how I saw my day unfolding. I was already dealing with a slimed up human witch and the grossly overendowed Martha and Jane. Who did I fuck over in a past life to have to deal with so much crap?
“Nope,” I hissed, raising my sparking hands over my head. “If you pull that thing out, you’re gonna lose it.”
Satan’s eyes narrowed dangerously and he glared at me. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
It was a standoff. The Devil had his hand in his pants holding his peen and mine were poised ready to zap it off. How was this my life?
“I’m fucking Satan,” he roared. “If I want to reveal the extraordinary size of my cock to prove its outstanding girth and length I shall do so. Lizard, take out your phone and record. We shall post my manhood on the internet as proof.”
Lizard pulled out his phone. I was so done.
“DUDE,” I yelled, swallowing back a half-scream-half-laugh.
“How many times do I have to tell you to get a new catch phrase? Unless something has changed and you can now bang yourself, the I’m fucking Satan thing is a total cringe.
It’s gotta go. And Lizard, put your damn phone away.
” Point to me for using the younger generation’s lingo in a sentence. Samuel would be proud.
Lizard obeyed with a grin. He was enjoying the Hell out of this.
On the other hand, the Devil looked as if he was going to implode.
I almost conceded and let him pull his wank out to avoid an explosion that would level the Cressida House, but self-preservation prevailed.
Seeing my uncle’s junk was something I couldn’t come back from. The Cressida House could be rebuilt.
“Take that back,” he ground out.
I rolled my eyes. “Can you bang yourself?”
“Of course not,” he growled.
“Then I can’t take it back,” I replied, hands still over my head ready to castrate the Devil. The odds that he’d ever been castrated in the billions of years he’d been alive were seriously low. Going down in history as the one who’d de-peckered Satan wasn’t on my bucket list or my fuck-it list.
Slowly Uncle Fucker pulled his hand from his pants. I lowered mine even slower. The standoff was far from over. The devilish gleam in his eyes—pun very much intended—meant we were just getting started.
Shit.
“Fine,” he said with a wicked grin. “I must say, I love what you’ve done with your hair, niece of mine.”
My eyes narrowed to slits. It was clear his words weren’t a compliment. I waited for the other shoe to drop.
It dropped.
“Yes,” Satan purred. “How on earth do you get it to come out of your nose like that?”
If we were gonna play that game, he was about to lose. “You know… you’ve had eternity to be a gaping jackass. Maybe you should take today off.”
He zapped me. I zapped him back. The undead on the stairs took off like their asses were on fire. Martha, Jane, Connie and Lizard pulled cash out and started making bets. We both smacked out the fires and kept going.
“Ohhh, Astrid,” Uncle Fucker said, still smoldering. “I’m an acquired taste. If you don’t adore me, you need to acquire some taste.”
“Nice one, boss,” Lizard said.
“Milk-bomb McJugs,” Martha hooted. “Don’t let that autogamous turd best you!”
Everything stopped and we all stared at Martha.
“Umm…” I squinted at her. “Define autogamous.”
She looked confused. “I don’t rightly fuckin’ know what it means. Connie fed me the line.”
Connie Raven Enid Delacroix stepped forward with a grin so wide it had to hurt.
Her face was a mix of sticky white sunscreen and blood pouring from her nose and lip.
It wasn’t a good look. “Autogamous is the term used for an organism that can self-fertilize. It has been noted in certain hermaphroditic plants, invertebrates, protozoans and clearly Satan himself.”
Oh my God. The witch was either severely brain damaged or had a death wish. Whatever. It was genius.
I threw my head back and laughed. Connie Raven Enid Delacroix could stay for a week. Satan, on the other hand, screamed and stomped his foot so hard it created a decent sized crater in the marble floor.
“I am NOT fucking myself,” he roared. “And why is a slimy human in the Cressida house?”
“She’s a witch,” I said quickly, wiggling my fingers and dropping a protection ward around her just in case Uncle Fucker wanted retribution. No Immortal species was allowed to harm humans, but we were dealing with Satan’s dick here. No telling what could go sideways.
“Oh. Okay,” he said as if it was normal to have a smack-talking witch caked in white goop and blood hanging out in a Vamp compound. He eyed her. “Watch your mouth, witch.”
Connie Raven Enid Delacroix saluted the nutbag. “Will do, your excellency.”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” he announced triumphantly while giving me the stink eye. “A little respect for your elders. And you, Astrid… you should grab a straw because you suck.”
“Interesting take, turd,” I said in a sugary sweet tone that made his brows shoot up. “If you have a problem with me, write it down on a piece of paper, fold it and shove it up your ass.”
I punctuated my diss with an electrocution to his rear end. His shocked expression was priceless. Of course, the zap I received back was equally as shocking. My left butt cheek was on fire. Not a problem. I stopped, dropped, rolled and hopped back to my feet with my middle finger extended.
He laughed. I raised the other middle finger and gave him the double birdie.
“You seem pale and soooo tired,” the Devil said way too casually. “I think it best you take a coffin break.”
“Don’t worry about me,” I shot back. “Worry about your eyebrows.”
“Blasphemy,” he shouted. “First you insult my cock and now my brows?”
“Actually, I didn’t insult your ween. I just repeated what I’d heard. You said Vamps were pussies. Totally different circumstances,” I snapped. “You’re a dumbass.”
“Vamps are pussies,” he said with a shrug. “The truth hurts. AND, I want to know the names of the soon to be deceased shits who are spreading such vicious lies about my manhood.”
“Oh my Hell,” I muttered, pressing the bridge of my nose. “I think I’m getting brain damage listening to you talk.”
“Yes, well, you’re giving me mental hives,” he informed me.
Lizard stepped in. That was not necessarily a good thing. There was no telling what he would say. “I think we can agree that all Immortals can be pussies occasionally.”
“Not me,” Satan insisted, perturbed. “I’m not a pussy and I have an enormous member.”
“Vamps are not pussies,” I added. “Ever.”
“And I have enormous tits,” Jane joined the conversation, pointing with both hands are her F cups and promptly falling over.
She was electrocuted simultaneously by both Uncle Fucker and me.
“As I was saying,” Lizard continued, helping Jane to her feet and then giving both her and Martha loud wet kisses with lots of tongue that made me want to hurl. Again, I was reminded that Vamps could not empty the contents of their stomachs even if the situation merited it. “Let’s define pussy.”
“Let’s not,” I said in my outdoor voice as Connie Raven Enid Delacroix stepped up to chime in. This had devolved into something icky. Seriously icky.
“No worries,” Lizard said. “Lend an ear. I have a story for you. It’s about how we can all be friends.”
“Fuck,” I heard Satan mumble under his breath.
I couldn’t have agreed more.
“A few decades back, I attended a human baseball game,” Lizard began, reminiscing with great fondness.
I was terrified.
“It was me and some buddies—Mr. Rogers, Kirk the Angel, a Vampyre named Wipe, and a Fairy called Jiminy. We walked into the park on a sunny September day and…”
Uncle Fucker raised his hand. Lizard acknowledged him.
“Is this the set up for a crappy joke?” he asked, confused. “I don’t do jokes. So, if it’s a joke, be prepared to be set on fire.”
“No joke,” Lizard assured him with a grunt of amusement as he smacked on his gum.
“Kirk, Wipe, and Jiminy had been drinking for the prior three weeks straight. Bastards were soused. We all know Mr. Rogers is a teetotaler, and I only indulge on Tuesdays. It was difficult for the boys to tie one on but doable if one imbibes ten thousand beers.”
“What the actual fu…” I said, rolling my eyes. “Vamps can’t drink beer.”
“Wipe is ten thousand years old,” Lizard informed me. “Trust me, that dead man can drink.”
“Got it.” When I reached the ten-thousand-year mark, I would eat my own weight in doughnuts.
“Keep going.” I had no clue how this related to Immortals being pussies or friends and would probably be no clearer on the subject once the story was over, but now I was curious.
Granted, curiosity killed the cat, but I was already dead. Win-win.