“That’s not possible,” I replied sharply.
“It’s possible,” he said. “But highly improbable and quite difficult.”
“Is Heaven behind this?” I felt restless, irritable and freaked out.
“Very good guess, my child, but no,” Grandpa sighed. “The Demons have been ravaging Angels in the most heinous ways even in neutral territories. God is definitely not behind this. We need to find the Balance of Chaos.”
"Did you say Fairies?"
"I did," he replied.
"How in the Hell did I not know that Fairies existed?" I moaned and dropped my head into my hands.
"Trust me, they do and they're not sweet and they do not grant wishes easily. I'm not even sure how they got involved in this mess," he mumbled.
“And I’m supposed to fix the shitstorm of a bunch of immortal asswipes, including Fairies that I didn't know existed?”
"You forgot a part."
"Oh right, and find the elusive, stupid, freakin' Balance of Chaos?"
My grandpa raised one eyebrow and stared at me in silence.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I was trembling and furious with my father. “Why would Dad send me into something like that?”
“He doesn’t have a choice. It’s part of the deal he made. In fact, I think he's a couple of years behind on that deal,” he answered.
I waited for more but none came. I’d about had it with my family’s love of cryptic bullshit. “Would you like to tell me what that means?”
“I’d love to.” He smiled and clapped his little hands.
I waited.
“But I can’t,” he said as he produced a wicked-looking dagger out of thin air and placed it in my suitcase.
“What’s that for?” I asked as I tried not to laugh hysterically or scream in frustration and terror. Was I supposed to use that to slice up the Rogue Demons to save the freakin' Fairies? If they thought I was going to cap that problem they were seriously mistaken.
“If I did something repulsive for you, would you honor me by going along with it?” he inquired as he continued to conjure weapons out of the air and pack them carefully in my suitcase.
“Is this a trick question?” I wondered what in the Hell the most adorable man in the world could do that would strike me as repulsive.
“No, Dixie, it’s not a trick.”
Crap. “Um, okay. . ."
My delightfully scrunchy and addictive grandpa produced yet another knife from out of nowhere. This one was different. The handle was encrusted with diamonds. It shimmered and winked at me—a perfect combination of beauty and death. He raised the knife to his neck and sliced.
I screamed.
“Holy Hades, Grandpa,” I screeched, trying to pry the knife from his fingers before he took his head off.
“Dixie, stop,” he commanded. Occasionally his adorable factor made me forget he could level a continent with a flick of his fingers. I froze and watch the blood gush out from his neck. “I want you to drink from me.”
“Like a Vampyre?” I was in shock.
“Yes, like a Vampyre.” Grandpa grinned and used two fingers to pretend they were fangs.
“Oh my Hell.” I gagged as I turned my head away from the sight of my beloved grandpa bleeding all over my favorite down comforter. For Satan’s sake, did he slice into an artery or what? “Can I ask you a question?” I choked out.
“Make it quick. Feeling a little queasy here,” he replied.
“Oookay, drinking your blood seems kinda cannibalistic and beyond disgusting since I'm not a Vampyre. You want me to do this why?” I tried desperately to keep a tight rein on my gag reflex.
"Your cousin Astrid did it," he informed me.
"My cousin is a Vampyre. She likes blood. Why do I have to do it?"
He swayed from blood loss. “Your father isn’t allowed to because of the deal he struck, but no one said anything about me.”
“I am so confused and grossed out I don’t know where to begin.”
“Drink my blood, Dixie. If you want to survive Earth, you must do this. Trust me, I find it as unappealing as you do, but there’s no faster way.”
“Faster way to what?” I felt the bile rising in my throat.
“To give you Black Magic.”
I gasped and grabbed my bedpost to steady my quaking knees. Only the highest level Demons had Black Magic. The only ones I knew for sure that possessed the gift of Black Magic were my father, my grandfather and my cousin Astrid. I suspected some of my dad’s top generals might have a small amount, but me? Why in the world did they want me to have Black Magic?
“Does Dad know?” I whispered.
“He suspects,” Grandpa muttered. “He would do it himself if he could, but as I told you he can’t. Now drink before I faint,” he insisted.