Fashionably Dead Down Under(96)

His voice rang in my head and I found him in the crowd. He was staring at me with wonder and love.
I was Compassion?
Me?
I slowly bent forward at the waist, as my feet still wouldn’t move. I took the Sword in my hands. It was heavy and drenched with more magic than I’d ever felt. My head spun and I had to force myself to stand up straight.
“Behold the next True Immortal,” Satan shouted.
“Wait,” I hissed at the Lord of the Underworld. I felt the black gloves slide up my arms and I knew my skin had turned sparkly. There was a fine chance I was going to kick everyone’s ass in the room . . . “What kind of bullshit did you put me through?”
“The kind of bullshit that will save you from centuries of bullshit in the future,” he said and smiled. I so wanted to smack the grin from his mouth, but I realized what he had done. The anger inside of me remained, but it was tempered with something far more profound.
He had tested me and made me prove myself to those who would test me later. He was well aware that Wrath would eventually have his throne, but now she knew what I could do to her. The Sins may not like me, but they had a healthy fear of me—as did the rest of Hell. Satan was an ass, but he was a clever ass. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be Compassion, but it appeared that I might not have much of a choice.
“You’ll have to do a bit of work in Heaven too,” God informed me and I shot him an evil glare.
“Both of you are pansy asses,” I snapped. God was taken aback at my candor, but Satan chuckled.
“Prove it,” a Demon cried out.
“I don’t believe it,” an Angel yelled.
God and Satan rolled their eyes simultaneously and I laughed. They looked so much alike, I couldn’t help myself. They turned to me and simply stared. Shit. The pansy asses wanted me to prove it and there was only one way to do that.
The weight of the Sword in my hands made my fingers tingle—not in a bad or frightening way. A new and unusual way. I had no fear of the Sword and if I’d come this far I might as well go all the way. I caught Mister Rogers out of the corner of my eye giving me the thumbs up. WTF? But more importantly, I locked eyes with Ethan. He nodded and I knew everything was going to be fine.
I raised the sword and the entire room sparkled with what I would call Fairy dust. Iridescent crystals clung to all the Demons and Angels in the room. A strange purr of contentment burst from the crowd. I wasn’t one for self-inflicted pain, but I figured the faster the better. I raised the Sword in one hand and extended the other. The breathing in the room had halted—even Satan’s and God’s. Holy hell, were they unsure I was really a True Immortal? The whispers came back and I was assured by both that they believed in me. The only one left that mattered was me . . . Did I believe in me? Could I do this? Hell, I didn’t even know the job requirements, but if it simply boiled down to figuring out the definition of fair in a very gray world . . . I could do that. Yes. I could do that.
I sliced my arm and hissed at the excruciating pain. It burned like a motherfucker, but I didn’t die. I mean, I was dead, but I wasn’t dead-dead. The Demons and Angels went wild. Crying and bowing and wailing. Most of them dropped to their knees and begged my forgiveness.
I rolled my neck and looked directly at Satan. “I want to go home.”
The room trembled and the walls began to buckle. Trees, grasses and flowering vines exploded out of the floor and walls. Tables became boulders and the chandeliers dripped with flowers and fruit. Monkeys and birds hopped on the heads of Demons and Angels and everyone, including Satan and God, blanched and cowered in terror.
A huge pole appeared in the middle of the room. It went from the floor to the ceiling and at the top was Gigi.
“Astrid,” she shrieked. “Look at me! I’m a pole dancer!”
“What did she say?” God asked his brother.
“I believe she said she was a pole dancer,” Satan replied, completely baffled.
“That can’t be right,” God muttered.
“Oh, yes it can,” I said, grinning from ear to ear.

Chapter 31
Mother Nature slid down the pole . . . kind of. It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t pretty. It was difficult to watch, especially when she got stuck, hung upside down and cussed like a sailor for five minutes.
After three more stalled attempts she made it to the floor, and under the covert direction of Grandpa, the crowd went wild. She took eight bows and then did an abrupt about-face and narrowed her gaze on her sons.
“Hello boys,” she purred. I even felt bad for them.
“Hi Mom,” Satan squeaked. God couldn’t even get his voice box to work.