Page 2 of Another Underworld (Good To The Last Demon #6)

CHAPTER TWO

Two days later…

There had been no sign of the Higher Power.

None.

Time marched forward as if everything was normal. LA was its usual sunny self. The flowers bloomed, and the salty scent of the ocean mixed with the sweet smell of star jasmine perfumed the air. However, nothing was normal. Granted, normal was now a relative word in my vocabulary, but we were not living it in any semblance of the word.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop was unnerving. I knew Phyllis was an abomination, but I wasn’t really sure what she, or rather It, was capable of. The fact that It might not even look like Phyllis the next time we saw It was also an issue. And no one had answers—not my mom, not Pandora, not Abaddon, not Candy Vargo and definitely not me.

Everyone was getting antsy, and a few limbs had been lost but, thankfully, had quickly regrown. A bunch of agitated Demons crowded together for extended periods of time was tricky. Throw in a Succubi, an Angel, humans, fanged munchkins and the Keeper of Fate, and it was a shitshow waiting to erupt.

Actually, the violence had come from the munchkin camp—munchkin on munchkin. My friends from my dream state were not like the cuties from the movies. Nope. These guys and gals were tiny—about eighteen inches tall—with razor-sharp teeth. They wore brightly colored tracksuits and trucker hats. The kicker was their faces. The resemblance to Brad Pitt, Warren Beatty, Dolly Parton, Clark Gable and Jennifer Aniston was uncanny. There were about forty of them. The majority were Brads. The Dollys were a close second. And they were wreaking havoc.

Even Candy Vargo was appalled, and violence was her love language.

We’d all hunkered down in my neighborhood in Venice since it was safe. Weeks earlier, Abaddon had arranged for a magical ward to protect the entire street. That sat well with me. My brother lived next door, and my dad stayed there often. Their safety was paramount.

In a stroke of genius, my self-professed bodyguard, Fifi, a Succubus with a penchant for lobbing grenades, had bought all the other houses on my street. This had turned the neighborhood into a veritable supernatural sanctuary for all my allies.

Pandora bunked with Candy Vargo in the house across the street. That was a tragedy in the making. However, when the Keeper of Fate laid down the law, no one fought her on it. She was one of the deadliest beings alive—toothpicks and all. However, Pandora was technically on our team now, so I gently reminded Candy Vargo to go a little easy on her. Like me, she’d been put through the ringer, and we both deserved one night of peace. Hopefully, we’d get it, but I had learned fast never to count my chickens before they hatched.

Fifi had strategically placed the munchkins, along with Drogruzun, Brolrath, and Ezzanod, in three of the houses at the end of the street. Since the tiny dudes and dudettes were seriously loud, that worked for everyone. Cher, my agent, who had her own place, had thrown wine cooler parties the last two evenings. It had become abundantly clear that the munchkins should not drink. Ever. The sheer amount of dismemberment had been stomach-churning. The fact that they stayed friends after ripping each other’s arms and legs off was mind-boggling.

Thankfully, Ophelia, my former enemy turned smack-talking BFF, was back. She and Fifi roomed together in an adorable Craftsman, even though Ophelia snored like a drunken trucker. It was an odd roomie combination, but they made it work and hadn’t decapitated each other yet. Win-win.

My other Demon neighbors, again, enemies turned trusted friends—Moon Sunny Swartz, Jonny Jones, Irma Stoutwagon, Stella Stevens, and Corny Crackers, along with Dagon and Shiva, had returned to the Darkness to suss out the mood. Dagon had been my mother’s second in command, and I trusted the man with my life. Shiva? I’d call her a somewhat friendly acquaintance. She’d banged Abaddon a few hundred years ago and still had a thing for him, which meant she wasn’t happy that I’d come into the picture. After a few very violent encounters, we were now copesetic. We’d never be besties, but she’d shown her loyalty and had also asked for my loser ex-husband’s digits. Shiva and Slash the Rash Gordon would make a lovely pair.

Thankfully, not my problem.

For Demons, fealty was the supreme compliment. I no longer worried that Shiva would shank me when my back was turned. While the bar was low, it was a relief to know I wouldn’t be attacked. It was the little things that got me through the day now.

My mom and dad took up residence at Sean’s bungalow. That worried me immensely. All three were human. It was too dangerous for them to stick around. Especially now that I’d made a foe of the Higher Power. I planned to talk to them soon about leaving and holing up somewhere safe and far from the action, but I knew the conversation would go down like a lead balloon. My family was made up of sweet, loving, and foolishly brave mortals.

In other words, there would be pushback on their part. Too bad, so sad. My mom had already died for me once. It wasn’t on my agenda to have her do it again or to have Man-mom and Sean join her.

Abaddon and Uncle Joe were with me at my place. Abaddon had his own house a few doors down, but the Demon hadn’t left my side since Pandora and I had come back from the higher plane. I was good with that. What was more of a challenge was my beloved and very deceased Uncle Joe. Due to being stressed out, the naked ghost was practicing yoga like his life—or lack thereof—depended on it. Since he was a nudist, the visuals were bad. If I never had to see his shriveled beans and wiener on full display, it would be too soon. Abaddon and I had spent the last two days finding the ceiling of my living room very interesting.

My old normal involved a lot of worrying about being psyched out by other actresses at auditions. My new normal was a constant magical shitshow of epic proportions in a role no one wanted. I didn’t even want it.

I had to laugh at the entire situation. If I didn’t, I’d end up crouched in the corner of my bedroom, pulling on my hair in a complete panic attack while babbling about alien cockroaches living in the drywall. And screw alien cockroaches. I had enough going on in my life without an infestation borne of my inability to keep my shit together. Having hallucinations wasn’t a good plan right now. I was one of the two Goddesses of the Darkness. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop and didn’t have the luxury of losing my mind.

Pandora and Candy Vargo had a wary truce. It was tenuous at best. Pandora had millions of years to atone for. However, the reason she was royally screwed was that she’d killed my mother—the former Goddess of the Darkness. Granted, she’d been aiming for me, but the end result hadn’t played out as she’d intended. It was a twist in the plot that no one had expected. A Goddess ending another Goddess was the ultimate sin. It was unforgivable and Pandora’s former followers had defected. Some had come over to my side, but not enough. It was anyone’s guess where the majority of her thousands of minions had gone after they renounced their fealty to her. The thought made my stomach cramp.

We were going to have to deal with the stray Demons, and soon. There was no telling how her ex-loyals would react to a reformed Pandora…

My mother’s death had caused her to lose her immortality, not her life. That was the only reason I hadn’t ended Pandora myself. By the law created by the Higher Power aka Phyllis aka the giant gaping asshole, there had to be two Goddesses of the Darkness. If I’d destroyed the woman who had destroyed my mother, I would have caused the end of the world as we all knew it. I didn’t want that on my resume. Speaking of resumes, I wasn’t sure if I even had the time to be an actress anymore. The fact that I had a goldmine of a show just waiting for me to star in it seemed surreal. It had only been a month since the opportunity had landed in my lap, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

“Oh my god,” Abaddon muttered, staring at my laptop. He shook his head and scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “She’s lost her mind.”

“Since that could be any number of people we know, including me, who are you talking about?” I asked, eating a bagel slathered in cream cheese. Before my Goddess status, I’d been watching my carbs, but since, as an Immortal, my metabolism was through the roof, and the fact that I might die at any moment when Phyllis took her vengeance, I decided counting carbs was bullshit. I only wished I’d stopped counting a whole lot sooner.

“It’s Pandora,” he said, angling the laptop screen toward me.

I glanced over his shoulder, peeked at the screen and winced. She’d been sending me emails all times of the day and night since being cooped up with Candy Vargo. However, this one was special. It was rambling and seemed as if she’d partaken in a few cases of Cher’s peach wine coolers. It was a hot mess loaded with half-constructed sentences, misspelled words, thoughts slammed together and then deconstructed only to form nonsense. There were dropped words, extraneous words and punctuation that rivaled pointillism and would give George Seurat a run for his money. She’d also made liberal use of the space bar.

“Holy crap,” I said, squinting at the screen. “Does it make any sense?”

“Not a bit,” he replied, closing the computer.

I paced the room as I finished my bagel. I wanted another one, but I’d reward myself after I’d gotten some business done. Waiting wasn’t my forte. Waiting for the Higher Power to show Its hand was killing me. I used to be good at waiting. As an actress, it seemed like all I did was wait—wait for an audition, wait to hear about a job, wait to shoot a scene while the lighting people set up the shot, wait to get my paychecks. My life was hurry up and wait.

As an actress, I got it.

When a whole bunch of lives were on the line, I didn’t get it. Not at all.

Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply then exhaled slowly. “Abaddon?”

“Cecily,” he replied.

“What will happen if I can’t do this?” My voice was a whisper, but the intent behind the words was large and in charge.

He stared at me for a long moment. The man’s beauty was absurd. His black hair was slightly too long and all kinds of sexy. It was the kind of style that actors in Hollyweird spent big bucks on. Abaddon just woke up in the morning looking like that. His lips were insanely kissable and his body was a work of art. The fact that his insides eclipsed his exterior was just nuts. Knowing he loved me made me pinch myself occasionally. But I was secure in the fact that he did. I felt it at a bone-deep level. Never before had I felt the way I felt about him.

“Define this ,” he suggested.

Waving my hands in the air like I was swatting at bugs, I shook my head in frustration. “This,” I repeated. “All of this. I’m woefully underqualified to be the Goddess of the Darkness. Up until very recently, I was an over-the-hill former childhood actress about to make her comeback with a hit TV show. Now… now I can’t keep my thoughts straight. I have a powerful Immortal freak after me who scares the pants off of everyone. Pandora isn’t living inside me anymore, but she’s persona non grata in the Darkness. Not sure how I’m going to fix that one. She’s a demonic trash fire begging to happen. The munchkins are batshit, and while I mostly like them, if I see one more detached bloody limb laying around, I’m gonna yeet them into next year. That would be mean. I’m not mean, but right now, I’m not sure who I am. I think… I’m scared.”

“Cecily,” Abaddon said, grabbing my hand and pulling me into his lap. “I beg to differ about you being qualified. It’s your birthright.”

I began to refute his statement, but he held up a hand before I could get a word out. “You’ve already proven yourself— multiple times. You were made to be the Bitch Goddess Cecily. Period. I believe in you with every fiber of who I am.”

I rolled my eyes. “You also want to get in my pants,” I pointed out.

“That too,” he replied with a grin that practically melted my panties.

“You’re brave, darling child. I do believe that you’re perfect for the role you’ve been cast in,” Uncle Joe said, appearing in front of me with his bare balls floating dangerously close to my face. “The bravest person I’ve ever met!”

Smacking his balls away would accomplish nothing except making him feel bad. I’d rather yeet myself into next year rather than hurt my uncle’s feelings. He defined the words sweet and kind. Plus, he was a ghost, my hand would go right through his nuts.

“Not so sure about that, Uncle Joe,” I told him as he floated down to eye level. I was delighted that we were now face to face instead of my face to his testicles.

He smiled and winked. His skin was gray and papery and his eyes were sunken in his head, but he was beautiful to me. “Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway.”

“John Wayne,” I replied, naming the author of the quote. The quote game was a big one in my little family. Man-mom, Sean and I had played it for years.

“Correct!” he said with a giggle. “Courage is the complement of fear. A man who is fearless cannot be courageous. He is also a fool.” He then added, “That goes for women too.”

I had to think about who said that one. However, Abaddon beat me to the punch.

“Robert A. Heinlein,” he supplied.

“Wonderful!” Uncle Joe told him. “You fit in very nicely here, young man.”

Abaddon smiled. He was not young, but no one contradicted Uncle Joe. When I’d first met the Demon, he scowled constantly. Now? Not so much.

“I’ve got one,” he said.

“By all means, please share,” Uncle Joe said, rubbing his hands together with glee.

It didn’t take much to bring my uncle joy. That was a freaking lesson in itself.

“Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen,” Abaddon challenged us.

“Easy peasy,” I told him. “Winston Churchill.”

“Yep,” Abaddon said with a thumbs up. “You got one, Bitch Goddess Cecily?”

I raised a brow. Not at my name. I loved my title. However, I knew what he was doing. They’d given me some positive reinforcement and now it was my turn. “I do. Courage is not the absence of fear but rather the assessment that something else is more important than fear.”

“Best one yet!” Uncle Joe squealed. “And it can be attributed to Franklin D. Roosevelt.”

“While I appreciate the support, I’m still wonky about everything,” I admitted.

Uncle Joe patted my head. His hand went through my noggin, but the gesture was sweet. “And as Robert A. Heinlein said, you’d be a fool not to be fearful. However, as the lovely Candy Vargo says, you’re a badass, my lovely niece.”

Lovely wasn’t a word I’d use to describe Candy Vargo, but Uncle Joe had made his point. The stakes were too high to shove my head into the sand like an ostrich. Acting like the danger wasn’t real was a guaranteed way to fail and get a bunch of good people killed in the process. That wasn’t acceptable. I had many bad qualities, but avoiding confrontations wasn’t one of them. I’d never been a cut-and-run kind of gal, and I wouldn’t start now—not with the balance of the mortal and immortal realms at stake.

“Waiting sucks,” I muttered, resting my head on Abaddon’s broad shoulder.

“The waiting is the hardest part,” he replied.

“Tom Petty much?” I asked with a grin.

“Who?” Abaddon asked.

“Never mind.” My man was a gazillion years old. Pop culture and modern song lyrics weren’t in his wheelhouse. A change of subject was in order. Pity parties would send me down into a spiral that was not helpful. “Has anyone heard from Dagon?”

Abaddon shook his head. “Not yet. But no news is good news as far as the Darkness is concerned.”

“About that,” I said, sliding off his lap and grabbing the full-sugared Coke on the coffee table. “How much time do I have to spend there—in a literal sense?”

“As much or as little as you want or see the need to,” he replied. “Why?”

I crinkled my nose and laughed. It was a weak laugh, but my question was incredibly selfish considering the job I’d acquired. Granted it was a job I hadn’t auditioned for or truly wanted but it was mine due to the wonders of nepotism. “Umm… I was wondering if I could still do the TV show—Ass the Underworld Turns.”

It was Abaddon’s turn to wrinkle his nose. “Depends.”

“On?” I pressed.

“On how long it takes the Higher Power to show Its ass. It’s one thing to deal with It in the Immortal world. It’s another entirely to expose the human world to the danger It could bring with It.”

I ran my hands through my wild dark hair and sighed dramatically. “There are three places I’d wish It would stay—in Its own lane, nowhere near me and out of my damned business. Is that too much to ask?”

“No,” Abaddon conceded. “But wishes and reality don’t often intersect.”

Twisting my hair in my fingers, I started to think that having a panic attack and hallucinating alien cockroaches in the drywall wasn’t sounding half bad.

“I have an idea,” Uncle Joe announced, doing a downward dog on my coffee table. It was bizarre, but better than him doing jumping jacks and having to see his bouncing junk. “Exercise takes the edge off almost everything.”

“Not really feeling that,” I told him, glad I’d grabbed my Coke off the table before his wrinkly gray crotch straddled it. It would have been undrinkable. Yes, he was a ghost but balls were still balls.

“I’m not talking about yoga, per se,” he announced with a naughty twinkle in his eyes. “I was thinking more about doing squat thrusts in the cucumber patch.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I asked, thinking he’d lost his mind.

The ghost giggled. “Oh, my dear child! Let me rephrase a bit. Let’s try… harpooning the salty longshoreman.”

I squinted at him. “Are you drunk?”

“Impossible. I’m dead,” he assured me right before he let it rip. “To be clearer, I meant I think it would be beneficial if you two kids did the horizontal bop or a little knocking boots or better yet, do the wild thing!”

I was stunned speechless. Abaddon was staring at the ceiling again. Granted, he had a wide grin on his lips…

“Oh you know,” Uncle Joe continued, “two-person pushups, batter dipping the corn dog, bedroom rodeo, bow chick a wow wow!”

Sadly, he punctuated his last euphemism with a visual shake of his hips and tallywhacker.

“Shall I go on?” he asked.

The heat started at my chest and moved quickly to my face. I was certain I looked like a human tomato. “I really wish you wouldn’t.”

“Then my work here is done!” he exclaimed, doing a quick ode to John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever . “I’ll just pay a visit to the charming Candy Vargo and Pandora. Both of those gals could use a good yoga session. Toodaloo!”

“Uncle Joe, wait,” I said before he disappeared.

“Yes, my darling?”

“Tell Candy Vargo that I want everyone gathered for a meeting in…” I glanced over at Abaddon.

He raised a brow then spoke with conviction. “Three hours. Preferably four.”

I came very close to screaming with excitement. Somehow, I was able to refrain.

Uncle Joe grinned from ear to ear. It was macabre, but it got the point across. “Will do! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, kids!”

And on that note, my dead uncle flew through the wall of my house.

I spared a quick glance in the mirror to make sure my face wasn’t scarlet and let out a small laugh. I was only pink. I could work with that. “Umm… you know,” I started.

Abaddon, not missing a beat, took me into his arms, the heat in his eyes scorching me form the inside out. His voice was low and throaty. “I think Uncle Joe might have been on to something.”

The heat of his body matched my own as I pressed my hips against him, my arms sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulders. I wanted to climb him like Mount Everest and plant my flag. Or in this case, he could do the planting. The thought made me grin as I met his darkly seductive gaze. “Yep. I totally agree.”

He kissed me, soft at first, but the sexual tension between us was like a match to gasoline. My knees my buckled as we combusted, and Abaddon picked me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, our lips desperate for more.

“Too many clothes,” he uttered.

“Too many...” I ripped his shirt off at the same time that he ripped mine, and when our skin made contact, all I could think was... “More,” I said against his lips. “So much more.”

A growly groan of lust tore from him as he carried me to the bedroom and threw me onto the bed. His eyes were black, almost inky, as he stripped his jeans off. “Mine,” he stated.

“Yours,” I confirmed as he crawled up the bed and stripped my pants off. My breath caught in my throat when he took me in his arms. “And you’re mine,” I breathed into his ear. “All mine.”

“Yes.” He kissed my lips and my neck before popping my bra off and tossing it back over his head. “Always.”