Chapter 7 Satan
SATAN
We’d transported to London en masse. It was a regrettable move. I’d gotten slapped silly by Martha’s appalling jugs, and Astrid hadn’t fared much better next to Jane. Only Lizard seemed to have enjoyed the bumpy ride. The Demon was wacked.
It was noon in London. Of course, if I’d stuck with the rules of the Universe, it would be midnight.
That simply wouldn’t do. Instead, I fucked with time a bit.
Rules were for pussies. I was not a pussy.
I was fucking Satan. Wait. NO. Son of a bitch.
I was not fucking myself. Astrid was correct.
I needed a new catch phrase. Old habits were hard to break, but I was going to let that one go.
It was mortifying. Whatever. I needed a daylight to put my plan into action.
None of my traveling companions knew I had a plan and that was exactly the way I’d planned it.
We’d landed between some old buildings in a deserted alley.
I hadn’t been specific when I’d led the transport.
Not my best move. Of course, admitting I had no fucking clue as to our whereabouts in London wasn’t happening.
I was the Devil. Faking it until making it was routine.
I was the supreme bastard of the Universe. Weakness wasn’t in my DNA.
“Where in tarnation are we?” Martha asked, tucking her massively offensive bosom back into the stretchy scrap of material she called a top. I glanced around and tried to appear confident. “London, of course.”
Astrid, who clearly didn’t care about being all-knowing, motioned for us to stay back. She walked to the end of the alley and checked out the surroundings. She turned and smiled. “We’re near Hyde Park.”
“I know that,” I snapped.
“Bullshit,” she said, rejoining the group. “I say we do some sightseeing.”
I rolled my eyes and took in the visual of our motley crew. “That’s a deranged idea.”
“Why?” she demanded.
“We’re rather conspicuous,” I stated. “Martha and Jane look like geriatric strippers who won their bosoms in a contest, and the implants were put in by a blind surgeon with only one hand.” The two idiots in question grunted their agreement with wide grins.
I continued. “I look like a housewife with no taste and terrible aim with lipstick. Lizard looks like Lizard. Enough said on that subject. And you… you’re wearing shorts.
” I crossed my arms over my chest then promptly dropped them to my sides.
Touching my niece’s boobs, even if it wasn’t voluntary, was not happening.
“There’s a fine chance that we’d be arrested for indecent exposure or shitty taste.
Being incarcerated won’t end well… for anyone. ”
“Balls,” Astrid muttered, realizing I was correct. She then perked up. “Not a problem.”
The go-get-em Vampyre was not one to give up easily.
With determined focus she waved her hands in the air.
Martha and Jane were suddenly wearing chic black Chanel pantsuits and sensible Prada flats.
She’d even had the wherewithal to give them pearls.
There was no hiding their alarming chest size, but the outfits Astrid had chosen were slimming.
She was a smart girl. My niece then clad Lizard in a casual navy suit, a crisp, sky-blue shirt and Hugo Boss slip-ons.
My knees almost buckled. I’d never seen the Demon in anything but a tacky beret and a tracksuit with black socks and sandals.
Unfortunately, she left the beret, the wad of gum and the baseball bat.
“Welp, slap my tush and call me Satan,” Martha squealed, turning in a circle and falling to said tush due to her monster bosom.
“Holy Hell,” Astrid said with an impressive eye roll.
She conjured up four walking canes and slapped one into each of the old biddies’ hands. Problem solved.
Mostly.
She and I still looked like shit on a sharp stick.
“Are the clothes we dressed each other in permanent for the week?” I asked with a raised brow, pointing at the hideous Hawaiian shirt.
“Only one way to find out,” she replied. Without a second thought that she might render us completely naked for the foreseeable future, she clapped her hands and went for it. Honestly, naked would have been far superior to the fucking shorts.
I saw myself and grinned. She’d chosen a custom Armani black suit.
Perfect. For herself, or rather, me at the moment, she chose a simple black Prada knee length dress with fabulous pockets and stunning low-heeled sandals.
While our clothes were more fitting, she still sported the large bald spot at the front of my head and from the expression on her face, I still had half a head of hair and lipstick all over my face.
“One more thing,” she said, snapping her fingers.
A baseball cap that clashed tremendously with the Armani now sat on her head.
Yesss, the bald spot was covered, but a baseball cap?
Fucking Hell. However, that was mild compared to what she’d done to me.
I was now wearing a side ponytail and a black cloche with lace netting in front of my face.
I supposed it could be pointed out that I was the one who’d smeared the lipstick, but I never pointed anything out where I didn’t land on top.
“We’re good to go sightseeing,” Astrid announced, taking a bow. Martha and Jane banged their canes on the ground in appreciation, and Lizard gave her a thumbs up. “How about the Tower of London and then the Tower Bridge?”
“No,” I said flatly.
“Mmmkay,” She kept going. “Westminster Abbey?”
“Absolutely not,” I told her. “Demons have been known to disintegrate in churches.”
“Not true,” she snapped. “The London Eye?”
Lizard raised his hand. Astrid nodded at him.
“I tend to get a little gassy with heights,” he admitted sheepishly, chomping on his gum.
“True that,” Martha said, slapping her man’s butt with her cane. “My sexy Demon’s airborne toxic events are the theme of the next top twenty hit Jane and me are writin’. We got the title down and the guitar riff. Simon Cowell is gonna love it!”
“Yeppers!” Jane said with a grin. “We’re callin’ it, My Demon Loves A Chocolate Air Freshener.”
Thankfully, Astrid zapped the old coot. It saved me from having to do it myself.
“Okay,” she said, pressing her temples in frustration. “Let’s go at this another way. Does anyone have an idea of what they’d like to see in London?”
I knew exactly what and whom I wanted to see.
My lovely niece had let it slip that the two Demons who’d disparaged my cock and started the heinous rumor lived in London.
Lizard had mentioned Oxford Street. When the shady witch had suggested we go to London, England, I realized it was my chance to kill two fucking Demons with one stone…
so to speak. Of course, I would have to get Astrid to drop trou and show them my member before I decapitated them.
That could present a few problems since she was opposed to having anything to do with my manhood, but I’d figure out the minor details as they came up. I’d pants her if I had to.
The first thing I needed were their names. And I had a fine idea of how to get them.
“Astrid,” I said with a raised brow. “I’m quite surprised at you.”
Her eyes narrowed. She thought I was fucking with her. I was.
“Spit it out, Uncle Fucker. Why are you surprised?”
“Shall we start with logistics?” I inquired.
“Since I have no idea what you’re talking about, then sure,” she replied warily.
“Did anyone happen to bring a wallet?” I asked.
Lizard shook his head. Martha and Jane also hadn’t thought about that. Astrid hadn’t either.
I smiled slyly. Astrid wasn’t one for stealing or breaking the law. Twas a pity—for her. We couldn’t get into any of the tourist traps she was so keen on seeing without paying. She was about to play right into my plan. That twas not a pity.
“Hold those thoughts and stay here,” I said as I walked to the end of the alley and waited patiently.
The sidewalks were filled with tourists and fancy business people striding quickly to lunch. Humans were always in a hurry. Such a shame. I had nothing against humans per se. Some I quite enjoyed. But there was no time for niceties, not that I was nice, since I was on a mission at the moment.
First, a woman with her giggling child in tow passed by.
That was a hard no for me. Stealing from a mother was shitty.
I might be an asshole, but I wasn’t a dick.
Next, a father with two little ones dressed as superheroes walked past. Again, a no.
I held children in a different category from adult humans.
I found them precious like puppies. I quite liked the little creatures.
Their lack of filter was amusing. Admitting this flaw publicly was off the table.
I had a self-serving, carefree, dastardly asshole reputation to uphold.
It wasn’t until I spotted a pompous pasty businessman who rudely yelled and pushed an old homeless woman to the ground that I pegged my target.
I might be in Astrid’s skin, but I was the Devil in disguise.
Different face. Same playbook. Timing my walk, I exited the alley as he hurried by and knocked the uppity bastard on his ass.
His shock and fury were delightful. Demon lore had it all wrong.
My people didn’t practice or cause evil, we simply thrived on it.
Technically, it was God’s fault that mankind could be awful specimens.
He’d given them free will, and I was pretty sure my brother regretted that greatly.
Too bad, so sad. Inhaling and basking in the evil of the human world was like drinking fine wine.
“Watch where you’re going, imbecile,” the man hissed in a posh British accent, trying to gather his belongings that had scattered when he’d dropped his briefcase.