Page 33 of A Leaner Meaner Midlife

“What he said,” Micky Muggles screeched, looking more unhinged by the second. “What’s your name, Demon?”

“I go by Killer.”

The man with the mullet pointed at the man with the horns. “Killer’s gonna be my second in command. If you follow me, we’re gonna own the world. Them humans will be fair game. We will take what we deserve and kill anyone who don’t want us to have it. Every Immortal who don’t obey me will rue the day they was born. Because I am the DRAGON KING.”

Micky Muggles danced like he was wasted on the platform. As he spastically gyrated, he removed his clothing. It was revolting.

His people followed suit.

Candy and I did not. The Keeper of Fate yanked me behind a small stone wellhouse. We got low and watched the weirdest display of I-don’t-even-know-what go down.

“Welp,” Candy said, rolling her eyes. “If they’re all nekkid, they won’t have no weapons on ‘em. Makes ‘em easier to dust.”

Leave it to Candy Vargo to find a bright side. “I guess there’s that.”

The new leader of the naked freaks grabbed his penis and swung it like a lasso—albeit a tiny one. “The Dragon King’s power is in the tail. All hail the tail.”

Over a hundred naked Immortals and Nephilim bowed to the Dragon King’s pathetic package. If I wasn’t living this moment, I wouldn’t have believed it.

And then something seriously bad happened. A beaten and battered Tory was dragged to the platform by her hair. Gabe and Gideon had not found her in the tower. She wasn’t safe. She was about to lose her head.

The nude army of degenerates screamed their approval. My beautiful and powerful friend had almost been drained dry of her blood. She was normally pale, but she looked ashen and broken. She was held by two of Micky’s new henchmen, and her slim neck was placed on the base of the guillotine.

“Son of a motherfucker,” Candy Vargo hissed as she waved her hand and removed our disguises.

“Ghosts,” I shouted. I didn’t care who heard me. The time to hide was over. “Come to me.”

It was time to stop the madness.

CHAPTER EIGHT

We weren’t far from the action—about a quarter of a football field away. The Dragon King and his people were so focused on the decapitation about to go down, that no one noticed the gathering of ghosts who had heeded my call. Gram had greatly underestimated the number of dead in the Tower of London. Just as Candy Vargo had underestimated the number of Demons, Angels and Nephilim inside the walls. At least three hundred dead hovered around me. They were in all sorts of states of decomposition. While I’d seen specters in bad shape, I’d never witnessed anything like this.

Gragraunch and Gram were the de facto leaders of the transparent army.

I didn’t waste any time. “Tory can touch the dead like I can. You’re corporal to her,” I told them. Ghosts normally went right through people. As the Death Counselor, I could touch them—not always but most of the time. Tory could touch them as well. I had no idea why, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Instead, I hoped I could use it to my advantage… and Tory’s. “The latch on the guillotine isn’t secure. On masse, I believe you can push her out of the guillotine and move her to safety.”

“You bet your bippy we can,” Gram grunted. “We ain’t gonna let that piece of junk with the heart of a thumpin’ gizzard do our gal no more harm. Tory’s head is far too pretty to be lopped off by a loser. Dead people, we’re gonna make some noise! And when I say noise, I mean yip like your life depends on it.”

“Weeeeeeeeeee areeeah deaaaadah,” Gragraunch reminded her.

“My bad!” Gram slapped herself in the head. “These days, I don’t know whether to check my bee-hind or scratch my watch! Hoot and holler like your afterlife depends on it,” she amended.

Gram got a garbled and unintelligible response, but from the enthusiastic nodding and loss of a few precariously attached heads, it appeared they understood.

“Go, go GO!” I commanded as Candy Vargo handed me a toothpick.

“We’re goin’ for the dead fucker walkin’,” she said. “We’re gonna get pushback from the nekkid bastards in the peanut gallery, but once the tail—or rather pecker—has been removed, we’ll take care of the rest of ‘em.”

“Sounds like a plan. Kind of a bad one.”

“You got somethin’ better?” she demanded, glowing like a firework on the Fourth of July. She was terrifying, and I was seriously happy she was on my team.

“I do. I go for the mullet asshole, and you cover me. Hopefully, Gideon and Gabe will show up and we’ll get our juicy justice boner. However, even without them, we’re gonna cut that tail off that donkey.”

“Badass,” Candy said with a grin. “Let’s go slay the dragon.”

“Let’s.”

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