Fashionably Dead in Diapers (7 page)

"Me sorry," Abe said.

"Me sorry toooooooo," Beyonce added morosely.

"We no take him to strip clubs anymore," Ross said as Rachel nodded solemnly at his side. Ethan tensed and I shot him a look. I didn't want him to kill anyone in front of our son. We had enough problems without that added to them.

"The six-headed Demon?" I inquired.

"Sorry," Satan said sheepishly. "Those don't even exist. It was a harmless bedtime story. I'm thoroughly impressed that he can do that though."

"Well, I'm not. I'm tired of almost dying on a daily basis."

"Noted," Satan said.

"Fire breathing kittens?" I asked.

"Me," Mother Nature admitted.

"Dogs with dagger paws?"

"Um, me," Satan said. "They were the heroes in the story."

"Of course they were," I snapped. "Flaming midgets?"

"As in gay or on fire?" Mother Nature asked logically as she tossed her shiny red curls over her shoulder.

"On fire."

"Oh." She giggled. "That was me."

"Great," I snapped. "Just so you know, it's highly unpleasant to be in the tub and dive bombed by burning little people."

"I can see how that wouldn't appeal," she agreed.

"So here's the deal. We all,
including me
, have to behave around Sammy. He's impressionable and innocent. I want him to stay that way as long as he can.
Capisce
?"

"You do realize he's a True Immortal," my adorable little Grandpa said.

"I figured as much," I mumbled as Ethan tensed beside me.

All True Immortals were almost impossible to kill and nine existed. God was Good. Satan was Evil. Grandpa was Wisdom. Mother Nature was Emotion. The Angel of Death, Hayden, was Death, and the Angel of Light, Elijah, was Life. Dixie was Balance and Lucy was Temptation. I rounded out the motley crew as Compassion. What in the Hell could Samuel possibly be? Everything seemed to be covered already.

“So Asshead," Pam, my Guardian Angel, said. "Are you finally ready to hear what gift your son has been given?"

"Nope, but I'm sure you're going to tell me anyway." I grabbed Ethan's hand and touched Samuel with my other. How bad could this really be?

"Samuel is Utopia," Mother Nature said reverently.

"He's an imaginary island?" I asked, wondering why in the Hell my son was a land mass and what that could mean.

"Of course not," Mother Nature trilled. "He's a visionary. He's ideal."

"He's all of us," Grandpa said. "Samuel embodies the powers and gifts of all the True Immortals. He is the strongest of us all."

Son of a bitch. They had to be joking. My son was good, evil, wisdom, emotion, life, death, balance, temptation and compassion? Therapy wasn't going to be able to touch that clusterfuck of a combination. Maybe a lobotomy…but no one was going to touch my baby with a knife and live to tell.

"Sammy is Upoopia!" my baby shouted and clapped his hands, instantly bringing all the furniture in the room to life. Couches and chairs upended their occupants and began to dance around the room recklessly.

"Outstanding," Satan yelled as he tangoed with a chaise. "My great nephew is tremendous."

How the Devil didn't look like an idiot was beyond me. He actually made dancing with a sofa look hot. Mother Nature was doing something akin to humping with an ottoman and the rest of the crew were partnering up with pillows, end tables and knickknacks.

"Enough," Ethan bellowed. The furniture froze as did all of the nut bags that were dancing with it. "Samuel, put the furniture back to sleep."

"Okay, Daddy," he said and wiggled his chunky fingers. The tables, chairs and the rest floated gracefully back to their homes and the room quieted.

"Clearly we have a few minor problems here," I said cheerfully through clenched teeth. "I think the best thing to do would be to limit visitation for a while…like thirty years or so, until Sammy has more of a grip on what will fly in normal society."

"Mommy, Sammy make everything fly," he told me sweetly.

"I know, baby, but sometimes that's not the best idea," I said and kissed his cheek.

"That's a mistake," The Kev said quietly.

"No, it's not," I argued. "It would be a shitshow and a half if he went to school and flew his little classmates all over the room and made the books and computers eat the teachers."

"That's not what I meant," The Kev countered with a kind smile. "Sammy will never go to a normal school or even mingle with humans for a very long time."

It was difficult to take someone who looked like David Hasselhoff seriously, but his words were hitting home in a harsh and realistic way. I wanted to cry, but bloody tears would fuck up my outfit. Plus, I needed to be strong for my child.

"What do you mean?" Ethan asked. His voice was dangerous and low.

I grabbed his hand and squeezed. Thank God I wasn't in this alone. I could kill an army of Rogue Demons, but tell me my son will never get to do Field Day or get asked to a Sadie Hawkins dance and I will weep a river.

"It would be a grave miscalculation to block Samuel from those that share his powers. The only way he will survive is to learn to harness what he has been given. Astrid, you cannot teach your son to contain and use Evil any more than Satan could teach your child to embrace Compassion. He needs to spend time with all of us. He will be dangerous and untamable unless we work together."

The words rang in my head. Dangerous? Untamable? WTF? My gut clenched and fear for my son consumed me. I shook my head to clear it and began to pace—movement helped me think. I felt magic leak from my pores and scatter through the room, bouncing around like ping pong balls. My family and friends ducked and steered clear while I marched around the room and tried to calm down. If The Kev was correct, which he usually was, I needed to keep Sammy in contact with his family. If I chose not to, my guess was that Samuel could become something so powerful he would have to be destroyed. God help anyone who would try to destroy my child. Well…it was a no brainer. However, I could still lay down a few parameters.

"Okay, fine," I said tightly. "Ethan, would you cover Sammy's ears?" He did. "We will raise him as a village. However, I am his mother and Ethan is his father. We have the final word on everything." The crowd nodded agreeably. "No more ten-headed fucking Demons."

"It was six," Satan volunteered.

"Thank you for the clarification," I snapped and rolled my eyes.

"No problem," he said and winked. My Uncle Satan was a piece of work…

"No boobies, or strip clubs, no fire breathing dagger wielding anything. No prejudice or hate will be condoned. I am going to invest in duct tape for my mouth. If I catch anyone cussing around him I will take your voice box for a week. If you persist I will remove your tongue. Oh, and no twerking or pole dancing."

Mother Nature sighed dramatically. "That's just not fair." She pouted and stamped her tiny foot, causing a minor earthquake to rumble through the massive ballroom.

"You can teach him to bake instead," I offered. Shocked gasps and covert gagging noises filled the room.

My grandmother contemplated my proposition and then laughed with delight. It sounded like wind chimes and I bit back a grin.

"That is a wonderful idea! We will start with cookies," she trilled with excitement.

Satan choked and Dixie slapped her hand over her mouth to disguise her laughter. Mother Nature was the worst cook in the universe—bar none. Of course that didn't stop her. She adored cooking…almost as much as she enjoyed pole dancing. According to those I knew that could eat, her food was horrendous. Hyenas turned up their noses at her concoctions and they'd eat
anything
. However, since Sammy didn't actually eat, I figured cooking with his great grandma was fairly harmless.

"As far as school goes…" I said cautiously.

I didn't know what to do about that. I had wanted him to have a normal childhood, but that was clearly not in the big picture. I needed some time to come up with a plan B.

"I've thought about that already," Ethan said. "Heathcliff will do his fight training until Samuel is ready for The Kev and my sister Racquel can do his schooling."

"Racquel?" I asked, surprised. She was hotter than Hell. I coveted her wardrobe with a vengeance, but was she smart?

"Off the charts MENSA," the King said with pride. "She's also great with kids."

This could work. I trusted Heathcliff, my Vampyre cousin, with my life and I really liked Racquel a lot, but…"Wait. I thought Heathcliff ripped off Racquel's arms or legs or something a long time ago."

"Yes, that's true." Ethan grinned with delight at the memory. God, we were a violent race. "But they are by far the most qualified and trustworthy for the job. They will deal with their past or I will deal with them."

"Works for me," I said, wondering if Sammy's tutors would survive each other, not to mention my son…"So any questions?"

The Baby Demons raised their hands excitedly.

"That don't have to do with boobies or touching butts…"

Their hands went down.

"Great. I'll make out a schedule and email it to everyone. I'd prefer you guys come to us until we know Sammy has more of a grip on his, um…skills."

"Can I take the animals home to Nirvana?" Mother Nature asked as she peeked through the cages at the lions and monkeys.

"Yes," Ethan and I shouted at the same time.

"That would be wonderful," I added gratefully.

"Then we're off," Satan said grandly as he gave me, Sammy and his daughter Dixie quick hugs. "I'd also like to thank whomever left the Trolls and Gnomes in Purgatory for me. They completely destroyed half of that stinky place before the piped in music caused them to explode. God had an absolute fit. It was lovely."

I glanced over at The Kev who shrugged and grinned.

Holy Hell on a flaming stick. My life was anything but boring.

Chapter 6

Playtime with your child is educational and beneficial. A parent should set aside time to play with their child daily. However, keep in mind that fun and games can quickly turn to tantrums and tears.

"No. The answer is no," I said firmly. I slapped a full house down on the table and grinned. "You owe me a hundred bucks."

"Son of a bitch," Martha groused as she threw her cards at me. "I think you cheat." She pulled some twenties out of her cleavage and I almost threw up in my mouth.

"Is that the only cash you have?" I asked, disgusted.

"Yep," she grunted, knowing full well I wouldn't touch her sweaty boob money. "Jane has some in her underpants too."

"Oh. My. Hell," I griped. "You're disgusting."

"How about we play for supervised visitation rights?" Jane bargained.

I had forbidden them from seeing Sammy after the babysitting debacle. They were so depressed and pitiful about it, I stupidly invited them to game night to cheer their asses up. Clearly, it wasn't working, but that was just too bad. I glanced around the room and giggled. The Kev and Gemma were playing Twister that looked like foreplay and Pam and the King were in an intense and profane game of Scrabble. Venus and several Vamps were playing a very serious and deadly game of Monopoly and Ethan was engrossed in the directions of Candy Land in preparation for playing with Samuel when he woke up. Motherhumper, that was hot. Any man who would study Candy Land for his child like it was the Holy Grail deserved a thirty minute blow job.

"You ladies, and I use that term loosely, fucked up. Most of Purgatory is gone due to your explicit descriptions of Gnomes and Trolls and my toilets are backed up with Zombie dust. I have considered flushing your heads, but the thought of your hair anywhere in my bathroom is nightmare inducing. So the answer is still no."

"What if we said we were going to give your name and address to the Jehovah's Witnesses and tell them that it's your dream to join because you think birthdays and Christmas suck ass?" Martha said slyly, thinking she had me.

"Is that all you got?" I snorted. "How about if I tell the local paper that you ladies are hermaphrodites who believe in gay marriage, gun control and higher taxes on corporations?"

"Low blow, Titty McBoobyhatch," Jane grumbled.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," Jane said with admiration. "Will you keep us away from him forever?"

She fiddled with her hair and I noticed it moved dangerously to the left, leaving a rather large bald spot on the right. Holy Hell, she was bald and the nest on her head was a wig. Normally I would have jumped on that shit like white on rice, but she looked so pathetic at the moment I didn't have the heart.

I looked at the two heinous old bags dressed in hot pink workout gear trimmed in green faux fur and I caved. Why did I feel sorry for them? They were horrid, but I knew they truly loved Sammy and he'd been asking about them constantly. Maybe I would take their voice boxes during their visits…