Fashionably Dead Down Under(37)

“Can I ask why I need to do this?”
“No,” Bambi said.
“Fine,” I grumbled and shoved my hands into their mouths. Time was of the essence and if they wanted to eat my appendages, I was quite sure they could do it without my blessing.
The insides of their mouths were spongy and warm. The scent of hot brownies grew stronger and I closed my eyes. If this turned out to be a bad move I planned to conjure up my black gloves and fry their asses. The light pressure of razor sharp teeth scraped my palms and rough tongues bathed my hands in what truly felt like brownie batter . . . ewwwww. Every instinct I had was to yank my hands out, but their lips had closed around my wrists in a seal-tight lock.
“Fuck,” I shouted and futilely tried to disengage as their teeth pierced my skin. A rush of something cold shot through my body and landed right between my eyes, giving me one of the worst brain freezes I’d ever felt—black raspberry chip ice cream had nothing on the Hell Hounds.
Gasping in pain and dropping to my knees, I lamented my utter stupidity. I attempted to use my varied and sundry magic on them, but I was blocked. No matter how hard I tried to call upon my power, nothing happened. My eyes were screwed shut in agony from the headache pounding in my skull. Prying them open took everything I had, but I needed to look at them while they killed me. I wanted them to see how much I hated them.
The love and compassion on their hairy faces threw me and made me second guess for a brief moment, but the icy cold shooting through my veins brought me back to my bleak reality. I had trusted the bad guy . . . or rather bad dog. And then it stopped . . . The shock of being released was jarring. I quickly scooted away and cloaked myself in invisibility.
“Are you alright?” Bambi asked kindly. WTF? I heard her voice, but her eyebrows were still. I didn’t answer.
“We can see you,” General George said. And just as with Bambi, his bushy eyebrows were immobile. “We can also hear you, so if you’re going to be rude you might want to rethink it.”
“Why?” I yelled. “Will you sink your teeth into my ass or my head next time?” That hairy bastard had one hell of a nerve. And how could they see me? I was cloaked . . . and furthermore how in the hell could I hear them when they weren’t actually talking through their eyebrows? Shit. Were we connected? Did the freezing cold bite connect us somehow?
“It did,” Bambi snorted gleefully. “When we descend to the lower levels, we need to communicate. It will be the simple difference of you making it out alive or dead.”
“So that excruciating chomp was a love bite?” I snapped, still not willing to let bygones be bygones.
“Exactly,” she agreed and rubbed her big soft head on my leg.
“You’ll have to stay cloaked and just think your thoughts at us. We can speak as much as necessary and no one will be the wiser.” General George’s voice bounced around inside my head.
“Okay,” I said internally. “Can I ride on your back?”
“If it pleases you.” He chuckled. “We used to ride Dixie around for hours on end.”
“Can she talk to you?”
“Oh no, dear,” Bambi said. “Not yet, but soon.”
It was clear that was as much of an explanation as I would get from them about who could hear them and who could not. Whatever. There were far more important things pressing at the moment.
“Are we ready?” I asked, wishing I had weapons on me. I would just have to defend myself and my furry friends with magic.
“The question is, are you?” George countered.
“I was born ready.” I grinned and hopped on his back. Bambi pushed the door open with her hoof and we descended into the abyss.
***
Whatever I had expected, it certainly wasn’t this. Lines of desks and filing cabinets littered an area roughly the size of a football field. Harsh fluorescent lighting bathed everyone’s skin giving it a greenish hue. Demons hustled around in a business-like manner. Wearing suits and ties and conservative dresses, they manned computers and phones. Most of the Demons looked like humans, but there were a few who resembled my father. I watched in shock as they all worked like a very well oiled machine. Several of the heinous Demons had human looking hands or hair. Maybe they were wearing wigs . . . but the hands were real. But the strangest thing of all was the purple and red and black darts of light flying around the room bashing into everything. The demons seemed to take no notice of the spastic lights, but occasionally swatted them away if they got right in their faces. WTF?
“What’s the deal with the ugly Demons?” I asked, wishing we could get a closer look.