Page 41 of A Leaner Meaner Midlife

I laughed. The sound was slightly unhinged but I couldn’t help myself. The piece of shit who tried repeatedly to murder everyone I loved and had been murdering for a thousand years to extend his life now thought we were all good. The word idiot didn’t even come close to describing him. He was a delusional psychopath.

Expending little effort, Gabe pushed the self-proclaimed King back down into his favorite form of punishment. The Dragon’s tail was on the block. Purgatory made sure the murdering ass didn’t move.

Gabe reached up and fastened the latch on the razor-sharp blade. The click was the most satisfying sound I’d ever heard. Swiping at the tears pouring hot down my face, I realized I wasn’t standing alone. Gideon was beside me, and all around us were people we loved. Tim, Candy Vargo, Dirk, Fred, Wally and Carl had joined us to watch the slaying of the dragon.

It was a visceral and heartbreaking punch to the gut to think about who was missing.

“Would you like the honors, Purgatory?” Gabe inquired, pointing to the pully that would drop the blade.

“I would, Archangel Gabriel,” she replied as Micky began to scream and swear. He was ignored. “But I could use a hand.”

Gabe crossed to Tory, looked deep into her eyes then took her hand in his. Together, they reached for the pully and yanked on it. The shriek of horror from the Dragon as his tail was sliced from his body made me feel nothing—no empathy, no pity, no concern… nothing.

The means to ending Micky Muggles was anticlimactic… and gross in an academic way. Gabe had stayed true to his word. None of us killed Micky Muggles, but his death came anyway. Watching it felt as if I was trapped in a B-horror flick with outstanding special effects.

Without his tail, the magic was gone. Not a trace of it was left in his pathetic and evil body. His hair turned white immediately and began to shed. He was bald within thirty seconds. His skin puckered and popped as deep grooves and lines appeared. The man’s frame shrunk and his bones cracked with the brittleness of old age. Brown spots peppered his dried-out and papery husk of skin as he moaned in agony.

No one said a word. We silently watched the man who had terrorized so us and so many others fall apart. He was moving quickly from borrowed time to real age.

His ears and nose grew as his eye sockets sunk in as if they’d been punched violently. Fingernails and toenails grew thick and yellow. Micky Muggles wailed as he watched his body become unrecognizable. While it appeared to be agonizing, I was unmoved. Tory was correct. The horrid man had been living for centuries on borrowed time at the expense of others. He was now paying the price… and it was high.

His teeth dropped out of his head and his skin began to blow away like tissue paper. It was interesting that there was very little blood. However, the process was happening so quickly, I might have missed it. Micky Muggles was close to skeletal now. His gray and decaying organs turned to mush and gushed out, leaving gooey puddles on the ground. What was left of his brain exited the party through his vacant eye sockets. His bones began to shatter. The minute they hit the ground they turned to dust.

The Dragon had been slayed in the most fitting way. The fire he thought he’d possessed had burned him in the end. All that was left was a pile of dust.

Candy Vargo stepped forward and waved her hand the way Gideon had done earlier with the Demons we’d slayed. The wind picked up Micky Muggles’s remnants and blew them away forever. The mood was somber—not because Micky Muggles met his long-overdue demise, but because we’d lost three of the most wonderfully nutty and courageous women who had even been created.

I wasn’t sure how much time they would’ve had left in this world. Lura Belle, Jolly Sue and Dimple were Nephilim and well into their hundredth year. But even if they’d only had a few years left, they would have been years worth living. Micky Muggles had snuffed out their candles before their time.

Tory made her way off the platform with Gabe’s help. The silver-haired Angel of Purgatory walked over and embraced me. It was the first time she’d willingly shown affection, and I accepted it gladly.

The hug was too much for the rest of our crew to handle. So, they joined us. It was one big Immortal group hug, and it was needed. The rumble beneath our feet ended our cuddle party. The Tower of London was disappearing, ancient stone by ancient stone. In its place, the Kentucky Castle was taking back its rightful home.

“Friends,” Tim announced. “I think it’s time to go. I’d suggest sooner rather than later. Transporting seems to be in order.”

“Absolutely darling,” Dirk agreed. “But what about Jennifer? We can’t leave her here. She might end up wasted at her sorority house again. She might end up in jail. Or worse, Goddess forbid, married again after a bender!”

“Not to worry,” Tim said with a chuckle. “I shall drive back to the Airbnb and collect her. I’ll transport Jennifer, the mail truck, the minivan and myself back to Georgia.”

“What about our steeds?” Wally asked.

“Umm… you’re on your own with that,” Tim told him.

“Fair enough,” Wally said, extending his hands as Tim hustled back to the minivan. “Shall we?”

“Yes, we fuckin’ shall,” Candy Vargo said. “And in the words of the piece of shit whose dick we just lopped off…” She turned and faced the spot where Micky Muggles had disintegrated. “See ya. Wouldn’t wanna be ya.”

It was time to go home.

In a blast of shimmering magic, we left the castle.

CHAPTER TEN

After two days where pretty much all I did was hold my baby and weep for the Nephilim we’d lost, I knew I’d have to rejoin the world of the living. Gideon had been by my side every moment, allowing me to grieve at my own pace. I didn’t think I could love him more than I already did, but he was like a beautiful gift that just kept on giving.

Thankfully, everyone and everything at home was good. Tim had successfully transported Jennifer and the vehicles. We’d made it back in one piece with the horses in tow. Gram and Mr. Jackson had managed to lead the three hundred ghosts back to my home. Her history as the Death Counselor made her the perfect escort. Even so, with the thirty deceased guests already living here, we had a full house.

My siblings offered to host a hundred and fifty at my old farmhouse until I could make the time to help all of them crossover. From what I understood during my brief chat with the ghost Gragraunch, they’d been trapped in the Tower of London for a long time—some had been there for centuries. I still couldn’t fathom how the ancient fortress had been relocated to Lexington, Kentucky. My mind knew that magic wasn’t always logical, but it was still difficult to wrap my head around. Crazily enough, the ghosts were thrilled to be in our sleepy little Georgia town, and seemed well-adjusted for what they’d been through. Plus, they adored my baby. That made them welcome in my book. The warmth they held for Alana Catherine was reciprocated by my child. She giggled like a loon when our dead friends popped up to ooo and ahh over her.

---