Chapter 7 Satan #2
“I’m so sorry,” I said, kneeling down and helping…
not. The idiot carried his wallet in his briefcase.
It was like stealing from a baby. I much preferred a more complicated heist, but this would have to do.
Pulling a polite voice out of my ass was difficult but doable.
His wallet was already in the roomy pocket of my Prada frock. “I didn’t see you, sir. My apologies.”
“Yes, well,” he huffed, getting to his feet. “Next time look where you’re going, woman. I’m an important man with important things to do.”
Gritting my teeth together and faking a smile sucked.
However, one rude exchange deserved another.
I clapped my hands and smiled for real. As he hustled away muttering about clumsy, stupid women, I enhanced him.
Mr. Pompous now had a nice sized gap between his teeth, about thirty extra pounds on him, and a large hole in the ass of his Savile Row trousers. Good riddance to shitty rubbish.
Walking over to the woman he’d yelled at and pushed over, I held out my hand.
I pulled her to her feet then checked her over for injuries.
Her smile of thanks was genuine. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure Astrid and the crew couldn’t see me, I pulled out the wallet and examined the contents.
Mr. Pompous was a wealthy man. There was over five-hundred-pounds in notes and every credit card available.
“Thank you for helping me up, kind sir,” the frail woman said with a toothy smile.
It stopped me for a beat. I wasn’t a sir. I was a ma’am. Was she senile? Probably.
“This is for you,” I said, handing her all the cash.
“Oh my,” she said, holding up gnarled hands. “I can’t take that, sir.”
“I insist,” I told her, pressing the money into her hands. “Get something to eat.”
She giggled and hugged me. It was incredibly awkward. I was proud of myself for not zapping the old gal.
“Bless you. Bless you!”
“Enough of that,” I said sharply. “That’s more my brother’s territory.”
“But of course, sir!” she replied.
I tilted my head and stared at the woman. The conversation was odd. Whatever. She was senile and possibly somewhat blind. I’d done something kind. It made me itchy. What I needed was a little violence. And I would get it.
The next part of my plan was ready to go. As I rejoined our group, I held up the wallet with a grin.
“You stole that,” Astrid said flatly.
“Yes. And?” I shrugged, ignoring her murderous glare that darkened my eyes, making me even more roguishly handsome and sexy. “None of you thought to bring money. The man who I took it from was an asshole and deserved it. Trust me on that.”
She shook her head. “I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to,” I told her. “I would think one crime is better than multiple.”
“Explain,” she said, sighing dramatically.
“With pleasure. If we snuck into all the tourist attractions you pathetically want to go to, everyone would be committing crimes. I have saved all of you from guilt and prison time by perpetrating only one unlawful act. I see it as a favor. Plus…”
“Plus?” she asked, squinting at me with distrust.
“Plus… while it might be easy to slip into the Tower of London undetected, it would be far more difficult to pay the bill at a restaurant.”
I watched with amusement as the realization hit and bells rang loudly in her head. The Vampyre almost fainted when she realized where I was going. It was delightful.
“Oh my God,” she gasped out, placing her hand on the stone wall so she didn’t drop to the ground like a sack of potatoes in Armani. “I can eat. I can’t believe it wasn’t the first thing I thought of.”
I was silent as I let her fondest desire sink it.
“I can eat food,” she whispered. “I can put it in my mouth. I can chew it. I can taste it. I can swallow it without being in agony for a week.”
“Pasta,” I said.
“Street tacos,” she squealed.
“Steak,” I added.
“Chips and salsa. Full sugared Coke. Cheesecake. Candy. Black raspberry chip ice cream. French fries. Cheeseburgers. Fried chicken.” She began to skip in circles. I was getting dizzy. “Sushi. Chips and hummus. Baby back ribs. Cinnamon toast. Potato chips. Oh my GOD! I can eat.”
Holy Hell, the Vampyre was going to put an extra fifty pounds on my gorgeous body.
“Congrats, Titty LaMongo!” Jane yelled. “Me and Martha are gonna viciously live through you.”
“Vicariously,” Astrid corrected the old idiot.
“Right,” Jane said, smacking herself in the head with her cane and leaving a mark.
I wasn’t sure how the two old bags were still alive. They were not only a menace to society and my own sanity, they were also a threat to themselves.
Astrid paused her skipping and squinted at me. “Are you sure the person you pilfered the wallet from was an asshole? Like a total real and absolute asshole.”
“Quite,” I replied. “I zeroed in on the jackass when he pushed a homeless woman to the ground.”
“Wait. What?” she asked, moving to go to the homeless woman. “A woman is on the ground?”
“Not anymore,” I replied with a wince of horror. “I might have… umm… remedied that.”
She stopped and stared. I noticed a small smile playing at her lips. It was wildly annoying.
“How?” she asked.
I rolled my eyes. “Suffice it to say, she is no longer on the ground and much richer than when she woke up this morning.”
Saying the words was excruciating, but I didn’t need Astrid running off and searching for a homeless human who had vision problems. I had places to go and rumormongering Demons to decapitate.
She giggled. “You’re Robin Hood,” she stated. “You stole from the rich and gave to the poor.”
Now, she was really pissing me off. “If you’re implying that I’m good, I will be forced to smite you.
And I shall enjoy it,” I ground out. Turning to Martha, Jane and Lizard, I laid out the warning.
“If any of you speak of this, I will dismember you, shove your appendages up your asses, then rinse and repeat when they grow back. This will go on for one century—possibly two. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, my liege,” Lizard said with a smirk. “Abundantly.”
“Roger that, Robin,” Martha said with a cackle.
“Good one!” Jane hooted, giving Martha a double high-five.
Without their canes holding them upright, they both fell on their asses. It was well deserved.
“Get off the ground before your ruin your suits,” Astrid ordered.
The old biddies stood up, dusting their butts as they leaned against each other to stay upright. “No harm, no foul,” Martha exclaimed. “Suits are right as rain.”
Appeased, Astrid clasped her hands together and bounced on the balls of her feet. “I am so ready for some Crème br?lée.”
“Sure,” I replied, making a mental note to avoid bakeries. The woman was voracious. Although, if she ate so much that she needed to undo her trousers button, it would be easier to pants her when I found my prey.
“I’m ready,” Astrid announced. “Ready to eat my way through London!”
“Not so fast,” I said, holding up a hand. “For the favor of paying for you to eat your way through London, you shall owe me a favor of my choosing.”
She blew out a raspberry. There was no way she would say no. The thought of stuffing her face was too enticing.
“What do you want?” she queried cautiously.
“Names,” I stated. “Two names.”
“Names of who?” she asked.
“The fuckers who are spreading heinous untruths about my cock.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “What are you going to do to them?” she demanded.
This wasn’t how I saw this exchange panning out. She was supposed to cave immediately due to her unhinged desire to eat.
I shrugged, trying to keep the atmosphere light, fun and casual. “Have a chat. Show them my cock then rip their heads off. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“No can do, Uncle Fucker,” she hissed. “Demons making fun of your junk should not and will not be sentenced to death. Not on my clock… or your cock.” She pointed to the area where my magnificent manhood resided. “Pun intended.”
“Cheeseburgers,” I growled. “Fish and chips. Scones and clotted cream.” Her mouth was watering. I could break her. I would break her. “Cookies. Carrot cake with cream cheese icing. Doughnuts. Girl Scout Cookies—the ones with coconut.”
She steeled herself and glared at me. “Just so you know, I’m drooling on your custom Armani and will continue to do so until I shove some food in my cake hole.
However, I will not even lick a French fry until you promise not to kill the Demons.
And… just so you know, they’re thinking about putting the rumor on the internet. ”
“FUCK,” I bellowed. “Unacceptable.”
“I feel your pain, Uncle Fucker,” she said. “It’s up to you.”
“Beheading is off the table?”
“Yep,” she said with a barely concealed eye roll.
“Can I maim them?”
“No,” she said. “No removal of appendages.”
“Electrocution?”
She nodded. “Yes, that’s acceptable.”
“Multiple electrocutions?” I pressed.
“Define multiple,” she shot back.
“Ten thousand,” I answered. That was letting the bastards off easy.
“Two,” she countered.
Closing my eyes, I counted to ten. Sogdroth had recommended counting when I was tempted to commit mass destruction.
It didn’t work. I tried again. Still didn’t fucking work.
Sogdroth was worthless. He’d also encouraged reasoning.
It was repulsive and weak, but I was running out of options that didn’t end in bloodshed.
Bloodshed would lead to me being stuck with a vagina until the end of time.
“Let me turn the tables, Astrid,” I said through clenched teeth. “If someone disparaged, belittled, ridiculed, slandered and mocked your bosom in the company of others, what would you do?”
“Ummm,” she choked out trying to stifle a laugh. She failed. Without missing a beat, she pointed at the old idiots. “Gals, would you like to field this question?”
“With fuckin’ pleasure, Boobs McMelonKnockers!” Martha said gleefully. “Hooters LaBumpBump is a real good sport about me and Martha knockin’ on her knockers.”
“True that,” Jane chimed in. “Sweater-meat Joobs La LadyNuts don’t give two craps. In fact, she just calls us names right back, like cantankerous, stank-crotch old geezers.”
“That was a good one!” Martha said with a chuckle. “More fittin’ for Jane than me.”
“Take that back, hussy,” Jane snapped.
“Make me,” Martha said, raising her cane high in the air.
Astrid stepped between them, still drooling. “I’ve already warned you once. If either of you mess up your Chanel pantsuits, I will move your unappetizing hooters to your foreheads and send you home.”
“Harsh,” Martha muttered, lowering her cane.
“Mean,” Jane added.
“Don’t care,” Astrid said. She turned her attention back to me. “Sticks and stones… and canes might break your bones but words will never hurt you, Uncle Fucker.”
I heard her. I didn’t agree. However, if I slipped and decapitated them, I wouldn’t technically be breaking the rules.
“Fine,” I said emotionlessly. “I agree to the terms. I shall take you to multiple dinners today. Give me the names.”
She paused for a long beat and examined me. I was fairly sure she didn’t quite believe me. She was smart. But in the end, I got what I wanted. Always.
“Critter Steve and Trapper Rick.”
My gaze shot to Lizard’s. I hadn’t seen either of those Demons in at least a century—not since I’d punished them for insolence and sentenced them to work as Night Soil Men. Was it possible they were still pissed about that?
Absurd.
Didn’t matter if they were still put out. Making fun of my wand of life would not go unpunished no matter how much words weren’t supposed to hurt.
“Are you ready to eat, Astrid?” I inquired.
“Does the Pope wear a pointy hat?” she shot back.
I rolled my eyes. “Let’s not bring my brother’s people into this. Are you ready to have some fun?”
I winced as she wiped away the drool with the arm of the Armani jacket. “I’m ready.”
And so was I. My agenda was for her to eat her way through London and end up on Oxford Street. It had been a shitty day thus far, but I planned to have it end on a fabulously violent note.