Hell On Heels(21)

I was the black sheep of my family. There was my dad, me and the Seven Deadly Sins. My dad had been around since time began, and as history implied he was quite the ladies man. It was an irony that he had no sons, but as I learned in sex ed, the sperm determines the sex of the child so my dad was to blame for the overload of estrogen in Hell. However, his pregnant consort Amanda was possibly pregnant with a boy. That small fact could upset the hierarchy in Hell and had sent the Sins into a tailspin, especially my sister Wrath.
After a particularly violent and ugly episode where she'd tried to off Amanda and failed thanks to my cousin Astrid, she'd been punished—harshly. She and two of my other screw-up sisters, Lust and Greed, had been sent to Nirvana to be taught a lesson by Mother Nature. My stomach roiled at the thought. I knew Gigi liked me, but punishment by her hand even scared my dad.
My black sheep status stemmed from my inability to derive pleasure from evil. I assumed that was why I had no power or magic. This infuriated my dad to no end. He told me I had the potential to be the strongest of all his children. That was definitely a responsibility I didn’t want. My punishment, as I saw it, was to attend group therapy to learn to become a harbinger of evil.
Well, I suppose everyone had to start somewhere. "I'm ready to kick some ass," I blurted to the shocked trio.
Myrtle grinned with excitement. "Now you're talking."
I prayed silently to my cousin Jesus that I wouldn't regret my new and improved attitude and that I'd be able to walk later.

Chapter 9
 
I was sore and bruised, but amazingly I'd held my own—or they'd just taken it easy on me. Carl punched like a bomb and Myrtle was no slouch. The big surprise was Janet. She was the reason I would have difficulty sitting for a few days. As a Demon I healed fast, but a beating is a beating. The pride they took in the black eyes and bruised ribs I dished out was encouraging, but I felt terrible for injuring them. And now on top of everything I'd been summoned to the Dark Palace for a party. My father's shindigs were infamous and I hoped to Hell I wasn't going to be featured this evening. Being summoned to the Dark Palace was not always a good sign. More often than not it was a very bad sign.
The Dark Palace was Satan’s main residence and the home I grew up in. It was a sight to behold, and to me it was the loveliest place in Hades. It was nestled on about a thousand acres of the most beautiful and fertile property in Hell. Trust me, Hell was fertile and I’m not talking about the fact that I have seven sisters and a sibling on the way. . .Our climate was warm, breezy and balmy year round. Hell had more varieties of exotic plants, trees and flowers than Heaven did. My dad shoved that in his brother's face every chance he had.
The palace property was loaded with streams, ponds, rolling hills and meadows filled with blindingly colorful wildflowers. My bungalow was tucked into the far northwest corner of my father’s land. My corner boasted huge weeping cherry trees, orchids and scads of bougainvillea.
The palace itself sat on forty very manicured acres. It looked like a giant Gothic cathedral. It was the grandest castle in the world including Heaven, Hell and everything in between.
I arrived early, handed my Porsche over to the valet Demon and made my way to the palace entrance. I was a little nervous. I was guessing my deportment date would be handed down this evening, but I couldn’t imagine my Father would make it such a public event.
I’d dressed with care. My father expected no less from his daughters. My smokin' hot Stella McCartney dress and my Prada stilettos were the typical uniform that was expected. I carefully made my way to the huge carved teak doors guarded by the vicious Hell Hounds.
Vicious, my rear end. Another very well kept secret in Hell. . .the Hell Hounds were just big ugly puppies with razor sharp fangs and claws. I loved them and they loved me. The two that normally guarded the Palace entrance were my favorites, General George Patton and Bambi. They’d slept in my room when I was a child and I’d secretly pretended Bambi was my mother—a five hundred pound snaggle-toothed mother.
I was tempted to run up and bury my face in Bambi's fur, but I knew better. Appearances counted, and no one in Hell was to be privy to how sweet the Hounds really were. Not that they weren't deadly. . .they were, but only to the enemies of my father.
I was disappointed that General George wasn't standing duty, but I was delighted to see Bambi. She purred as I passed. I blew her a quick kiss. I missed them terribly. Their fur was so soft and silky and they smelled like brownies.
"Hi Bambi," I whispered when I was sure no one was watching. "I wish General George was here too."