Fashionably Dead Down Under(25)

Satan turned his attention to her. “What’s wrong?” he snapped impatiently.
“Nothing,” she said from behind her hand, staring daggers at me. “I bit my lip, excuse me.” She left. Quickly.
“What was that about?” Satan turned to where we were huddled laughing. We all shrugged innocently, but his gaze narrowed in on me. Holy Hell he was magnetic. To hide my fear and guilt, I smiled and waved. Thankfully his attention was demanded by his people and I was safe—for the moment.
“Brilliant,” Greed congratulated me. The rest looked on with approval.
“The sheer fact that you called her Donkey Nipples makes me love you,” Pride offered dryly. “You’re alright with me.”
Dixie squeezed my hand and grinned. I was fitting in with the Seven Deadly Sins and it felt good. Was this what it was like to have sisters?
“Has Astrid met Grandpa yet?” Sloth inquired as we began to head out.
“We have a grandpa?” Help me Cousin Jesus. I couldn’t imagine he was going to be delighted that I’d offed his son.
“Oh, yes,” Sloth told me, clenching her teeth like she was talking to a puppy or a baby. “You’ll love him. Why isn’t he here?” she asked her sisters.
“Because there are too many of us present. Besides, he’s still recovering from the broken ribs and concussion you gave him,” Gluttony snapped.
“You broke his collarbone last month,” Sloth countered nastily.
WTF? They beat up their grandpa?
“Whatever. He heals.”
Groping with the thought of these gals performing a smackdown on their grandpa, I revised my thoughts about having sisters.

Chapter 8
The party had been interesting but exhausting. Most of the Demons kept their distance, but a few adventurous Minions of the Devil offered up their necks and begged to find out if being bitten was as sexual as they’d been led to believe. I politely declined and stuck close to my cousins. Not that I really wanted to hang out with the Facebook addicted freaks, but everyone gave them a wide berth due to the simple fact that they were scarier than Hell itself and they were using the Facebook Insult Creator to all in their path. My favorite of the evening was Dicknose Boner Socket. I would store that one for future use.
Uncle Satan held court with scads of fawning women. His magic and power filled the room to the point I almost felt claustrophobic at times. Amanda never came back. I idly wondered if they had plastic surgeons in Hell or if she’d have to take a trip to Earth to fix her kisser. Next time I’d pop her boobs.
“So why did your sisters beat up your grandpa?” I asked. Curled up on Dixie’s couch with a borrowed pair of comfy sweats, I was much happier than I’d been a short hour ago.
She giggled. “They didn’t beat him up. He’s just so adorable that they get overexcited and squeeze him too hard.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“It’s difficult to explain. You’ll get it when you meet him.”
“Look, here’s the thing, I’m not staying around much longer so if you want me to meet Grandpa and Grandma you should call them and invite them over.”
Dixie blanched and put her hand over my mouth. “Sweet Baby Satan, do not mention grandma. Don’t even whisper about her. The last time she was here Daddy had to rebuild his entire mansion.”
“Your, um . . . the person married to your Grandpa knocked down your dad’s monster party house?”
“Yes.”
“I was joking,” I said, trying to wrap my head around the kind of power Grandma must have.
“I wasn’t.” Dixie shuddered and peered fearfully around her living room.
“Is she here?” I asked, worried that I’d conjured up something better left alone.
“No, but she can hear everything.”
“Demons can hear everything?” I gasped and looked under the couch. Fuck, Dixie was making me nervous.
“She’s not a Demon.” She giggled, but didn’t let her guard down. She searched the room carefully.
“What the hell is she then?” What else was in my bloodline besides Vampyre and Demon?
“Shhh,” Dixie said, rushing to her window. “No more or she’ll hear us and that would suck beyond anything you could imagine.”
Her fear was real and my curiosity was piqued. Was my grandma on my daddy’s side as heinous as my mother? My mother was here in Hell . . . A stupid, pathetic and needy part of me wanted to see her, but I assumed she was in the Basement and that could be an image thousands of years of therapy would be unable to erase. The simple fact that I still wanted her love me was mind-boggling. However, since I’d been the one who killed her and inadvertently sent her to the Basement, I knew that wouldn’t bode well for a mommy-daughter get together.