I gathered her little body in my arms, the same body that had just evilly bounced me off of my bed, and I hugged her while she cried. Tremors shook her and I held her tighter. I wanted to kick that therapist’s ass. I wouldn’t mind taking a pass at that bitch with a coffee table leg. The more I thought about that smarmy hag, the angrier I got. Yep. I was becoming more Demon with each passing second.
My hands began to tingle. Oh Hell, I knew what was coming. Small red sparks started to fly from my fingertips. I gently disengaged Janet. I had no desire to light the hair she had left on fire. I took a deep cleansing breath and clapped my hands.
It stopped.
Damn if Myrtle wasn’t the smartest girl in the world. I grinned and wiggled my non-flaming fingers.
“Did you see me?” I blurted. I sounded like a five year old on her birthday, but I didn’t care.
“You controlled it,” Janet yelled, her hair issues forgotten. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Me too.” I grinned. “I’m ready to go downstairs and hand you your ass.”
“You sure?” she challenged gleefully.
“So sure,” I replied.
***
Being sure does not guarantee success, not by a long shot. Just ask my bruised and aching body. Fight training was ugly and painful. My pride was the only thing that had kept me from giving up. I’d never admit it, but Janet was right. They were kicking my ass. The training room was state of the art. Leave it to the Devil. . .Who in the Hell would have guessed the basement of a graceful Southern manor housed a torture chamber? Oops, I meant a large gym, with every conceivable machine and weapon known to man. There was a large, mat-covered open area for martial arts training and Jazzersize. Carl was addicted. The walls were covered with weapons: swords, daggers, throwing stars, guns, grenades, bombs. . .You name it, we had it.
There was also an area for knife throwing. I was sure I’d spend many hours there, certainly after I’d nailed Carl in the neck with a nice-sized dagger. Thank Satan we’re immortal. I was aiming at the wall. Carl just pulled it out of his jugular and kept on going, not even commenting on the unavoidable fact that he was bleeding profusely. I thought for sure I’d killed him. I even threw up a little bit in my mouth I was so upset, but Carl was fine. He wasn’t even mad at me.
That’s when Carl decided it was time to spar. He wasn’t as sweet as I thought. Pay back for an almost decapitation was a bitch, and that son of a bitch punched as hard as a freight train. If I didn’t have Black Magic I’d be so dead. After the third punch to my head, which probably caused brain damage, I understood why my dad sent Carl up to Earth with me. Carl the Destroyer was an apt name for him.
“Okay,” Carl explained, sweating up a rather unattractive storm. “When thomebody runth at you to kill you, you have to fight back.”
“I know, but Janet and Myrtle aren’t really going to kill me,” I patiently explained to Carl for the fifth time. “I don’t want to hurt them.” I referred to the still open knife wound on Carl’s neck. I heard Myrtle snort.
“You might want to shut your cakehole,” I politely told Myrtle. “Or I’ll shut it for you.”
“As if,” she snapped.
Carl thought we should all take a break. I’d like to think it was because he was worried about what I would do to Myrtle, but even I couldn’t live in that dream world. Carl helped me stretch out, which was something I'd never ask him to do again. I was certain my arms had been dislocated and my legs would need amputation. I moaned and tried to kick Carl in the head.
“You are such a wussy,” Myrtle laughed.
That was about all I could take. I took my leg back from Carl, shoved him out of my way and gave Myrtle the evil eye. I’d been knocked around and beaten up for over two hours. I could take getting whaled on, but getting laughed at? Not so much.
“Get your skinny asscrack over here,” I yelled. I mentally ran through all the moves Carl had taught me. I was a quick study and I was strong, but more than that. . .I was pissed. I was sick of getting busted on. I was ready to do some busting of my own.
A rush of energy and heat blasted through me as I sized up Myrtle. She looked smug and unconcerned. Not smart.
“Bring it,” I shouted.
She did. She gleefully put me into a chokehold.
“You suck, you freakin’ assclown,” I grunted.
“Holy Hell! Assclown? You can't do better than assclown?” she barked. “You are the wussiest Demon ever born. There’s no way you’re Lucifer’s daughter!” She forcefully threw me to the mat. As she was about to body slam me, I quickly rolled to my left, hopped up and gave her a roundhouse kick to the head. She staggered back and grinned like an idiot.