Fashionably Dead Down Under(52)

“I’m sorry, what?” I asked, taking a closer look at the tray. Sure enough it was loaded with little pastry covered cocktail weenies. “Satan likes tiny hot dogs?”
“Oh yes, but the fake meat kind. He also likes Velveeta cheese dip and s’mores. I think Carl is serving the dip and Myrtle is passing around the s’mores,” she chirped happily and popped a soy weenie in her mouth.
“Wow.” I stopped there, swallowing all the other things that came to mind.
“Want one? They’re the bomb,” she explained with her mouth full.#p#分页标题#e#
“Um, no. I don’t eat food.”
“Right,” she said, mortified. “My goodness, I’m so sorry.” In her nervousness, she shoved about six more mini dogs into her mouth.
“No worries.” I gave her a quick squeeze and a hearty slap on the back as she choked on her mound of weenies. “So this is your job?”
“It is now.” She swallowed and stood up straighter. “We’re living in the Dark Palace preparing to go to Earth with Dixie in six months. Satan, my savior, wants us close so he can monitor our progress.”
Satan, my savior? Sweet Cousin Jesus in a miniskirt, I needed to get the hell out of here soon. “Well, that sounds awesome. You guys doing therapy anymore?”
“Definitely.” She nodded and popped a few more weenies in her mouth. “We have a new therapist though. Oh my, will you look at that?” She stared in shock at her serving tray. “The weenies are gone. I need to get more from the kitchen before the Devil gets here or there will be hell to pay.” She guffawed at her pun and scurried away. I was tempted to tell her she’d eaten a dozen in my presence alone, but that would be rude and I liked her.
Dante refused food or drink, but Hemingway was chowing down on the s’mores. Mister Rogers had brought his own snack. He laid apples, peanut butter and carrots neatly on a plate that he pulled from his pleather briefcase. Tucking a napkin into the collar of his shirt, he dug in while Hemingway watched in fascination.
“Are you for real, man?” Ernest bellowed at Mister Rogers.
“Oh yes,” Fred replied kindly. “Would you care for an apple? I may even have a protein bar in my bag.”
“No, no. The s’mores are just fine,” he grumbled and shoved one whole s’more into his mouth to punctuate his point. Fred just smiled and gave Hemingway a neighborly thumbs up.
Surreal didn’t even begin to cover this evening. There were six chairs at the table and I wondered if Mother Teresa might still show up . . . Nope. That hope was dashed when one of the uptight Demon guards removed the sixth chair and took it from the room. The music pounding through the speakers stopped abruptly and a hush went through the room. I stuck close to Ethan for many reasons. He smelled amazing and I wasn’t sure which one of us was stronger at the moment. There was no way in Hell or anywhere else I would let anything happen to him. Ever.
“Please rise for the King of the Underworld,” one of the guards grunted in a menacing voice.
Everyone did.
Satan’s entourage entered first; his second in command Cole, looking very foreboding, followed by an overly made up and scantily clad Amanda. I stared in wonder at her repaired lips. I was certain they were bigger.
“That’s Satan’s consort,” I told Ethan. “She’s pregnant with his child and claims it’s a boy.”
“Would a male child knock one of the Sins out as the heir apparent?”
“No clue, but that could be a clusterfuck.” That really could be a clusterfuck . . .
“That’s an understatement.”
Speak of the Devil, pun intended, next came the Sins—all seven of them. They were dressed in evening attire and they were gorgeous. Lust in particular was striking. She glanced over at us and her eyes rounded for a brief second in shock, then narrowed to slits. I wanted to tear her ass apart. I knew that wouldn’t go over too well at a party, so I decided bide my time.
“Good evening,” Satan shouted joyously from the doorway. He’d chosen his entrance well. The backlighting from the hallway bathed him in a golden glow, creating the illusion of an entire body halo. I grinned at his audacity. He was a first class beautiful bastard and I liked him. “Theodore, please share the rules with our guests.”
One of the Demons stepped to the middle of the room. Satan waltzed in and trapped Amanda in a passionate embrace. Watching the Devil seduce a woman was like watching live porn. Holy Hell, I bit down on my lip to keep from shouting, “Get a room.” The Sins did some massive eye rolling and Cole turned away in embarrassment or disgust—I couldn’t tell which.