Page 34 of A Leaner Meaner Midlife

It was shockingly beautiful to watch three hundred ghosts fly together with a single purpose. They flew like they’d been pent up for centuries and had just discovered light. The whoosh of that many transparent bodies soaring through the air sounded like a howling wind that foretold death and destruction. Individually, they looked like people. Together, they reminded me of a snow squall—a flurry of righteous purpose blasting from the clouds above. Their flight was for justice—the juicy kind.

Micky Muggles army of douchebags didn’t know what to make of it. The Nephilim took off running like the Darkness was on their heels. That cut his followers in half. We were now facing about a hundred and fifty, give or take, Immortals. The Demons transformed from human-looking beings into eight-foot-tall stinking hulks of sulfur with blue and green flames dancing over their skin. The Angels—who were far fewer in numbers than the Demons—morphed as well. Their wings burst from their backs as they huddled together in confusion.

While most of the dead kept Micky’s throng occupied, a small group of the ghosts swooped to the stage without notice. My eyes widened when they grabbed Tory by the feet and yanked her out of the guillotine and between her distracted Demon guards.

I gave a shout of victory as I watched a dozen more specters form a wall between the Demons and Tory. It wouldn’t stop the Immortals, but it made them pause for the few seconds Tory’s rescuers needed to float her away to safety. It was a glorious sight.

The Dragon King didn’t seem concerned that his bargaining chip was getting away.

“I know you’re here, Angel of Mercy,” he screamed, jerking his head left and right in a tizzy. “Show yourself, Daisy. We have some business to finish, bitch.”

“Sounds like our cue,” Candy Vargo said with a grin. “Transport or walk?”

“Walk,” I replied.

Only two steps in, I felt Gideon’s presence by my side.

“What’s a beautiful girl like you doing in a shithole like this?” he inquired as if we weren’t walking into a bunch of clothing-impaired and insane Immortals who wanted us dead.

I shrugged and smiled. “I dunno,” I shot back. “Thought I’d get a little castration out of my system today.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“And just so you know, the Dragon Derp has given orders to his army to kill you, Candy, Gabe and me.”

“Interesting,” Gideon said. “And is there a reason they’re naked?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” I glanced around but didn’t see my brother. “Where’s Gabe?”

“We came back as the ghosts were extracting Tory from the guillotine. He’s with her.”

“Perfect.” The news made my heart happy. Tory was vulnerable right now and Gabe was the exact right person to protect her. I was glad his focus was on the woman he loved instead of revenge.

Candy waved her hand. The Grim Reaper was no longer short, sporting a gut and working a receding hairline. Nope. He was back to his usual self—stunningly hot.

“There she is,” Micky squawked, pointing at me. “It’s the Angel of Mercy. You got my immortality with you?”

“Actually, no. That’s not happening.” My words were matter-of-fact. My tone could have frozen water.

We’d walked right into the center of the area where the enemy had gathered. My impossibly powerful trio formed a back-to-back triangle in the middle of the chaos. The herd of half-wits, loyal to an imbecile, backed away from us. Of course, my dangerously sparking hands, Gideon’s red fire-spitting eyes and the undeniable fact that Candy Vargo looked like she might detonate at any moment probably helped.

“I thought you’d say that,” Micky replied smugly while playing with his flaccid penis. I didn’t know whether to laugh or puke. I did neither. I kept my gaze on his ugly face. “But ya know, there’s more than one way to skin a chicken.”

“You pluck a chicken,” I said.

“What?” he shouted, confused.

“A chicken has feathers,” I said with an eye roll. “You don’t skin it. You pluck it.”

“There’s a tree stump in Alabama smarter than him,” Gram yelled from the mass of ghosts floating above the fray.

The laughter from the naked yet still very dangerous horde infuriated the self-proclaimed King. In a fit of rage, Micky Muggles threw a massive fireball, incinerating a third of his army. Two things came from that. One, they seemed to be turning against their leader. Two, they also seemed to be turning against each other. Both scenarios worked for me. The insanity level rose. Shouts of rage and infighting started. I wasn’t sure who they hated more Micky Muggles, each other, or us.

“Kill the Grim Reaper and the Keeper of Fate,” Micky roared above the noise and confusion. “Keep the Angel of Mercy ALIVE. I’m gonna kill her dead so hard she ain’t gonna know what hit her. In about ten minutes, I’m gonna be the Angel of Mercy.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” his second in command, Killer, snarled.

Micky Muggles laughed like a maniac. Drool dripped down his chin, and snot flew from his nose. “Didn’t y’all know? Whoever kills the Angel of Mercy becomes the next Angel of Mercy. AND IT’S GONNA BE ME.”

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