Page 6 of A Leaner Meaner Midlife

“You okay?” Doppelganger-Heather asked.

I stared at her, trying to keep the rage and fear out of my eyes. “What’s the safe word?”

She looked confused.

I didn’t back down. My upper lip curled into a snarl. “Tell me the safe word. Now.”

Candy Vargo growled deep in her throat. Gabe hissed as his wings burst from his back, and his eyes went blindingly gold.

Heather laughed and wrapped her arms around Tory. Her grip was vise-like as Tory tried to move away.

“Tell me the safe word,” I ground out.

In less time than it took to inhale, Heather was gone, and Micky Muggles was in her place. He was naked, and he held a razor-sharp sword to Tory’s neck. “Don’t make a move, or your little buddy is dust,” he threatened.

“What do you want?” I snapped.

The blade was too close to Tory’s neck to attack, and she was too weak to fight him off. The sound of fury and agony that came from Gabe chilled me to the bone.

“Immortality,” Micky Muggles said. “Isn’t that what everyone wants?”

“You ain’t got nowhere to store the magic,” Candy Vargo hissed. “We removed your tail. You’re done, fucker.” Sparks popped off of her. “It’s only a matter of time.” She looked like a deadly crate of fireworks about to explode in every direction and light this place up.

“And that’s where you’re wrong, bitch,” Micky Muggles shot back with an oily laugh. He grabbed his dick with his free hand and stroked it. “The tail is in the front.”

Lura Belle stepped forward with Dimple and Jolly Sue at her side. “You take your hands off Tory, you paunchy, ruttish wagtail,” she shouted.

“Or what?” he demanded with a raised brow.

“Or you’ll regret it with every fiber of your slimy being,” I ground out, looking for an opening to blast him without harming Tory.

Gram and Mr. Jackson had attached themselves to Tory to give her comfort. Micky Muggles pressed the sword into Tory’s neck. The blade cut into her flesh, and it appeared sharp enough that it wouldn’t take much if he wanted to decapitate her.

The shitshow unfolding in front of me was the worst I’d ever experienced. With all the power and magic I had, I was helpless. How did a psychotic redneck Nephilim with a mullet keep besting us?

“Here’s the deal,” Micky said with a wink and a wank. “You figure out how to get Parveit, Lord the Red, true Immortality. I’m gettin’ right sick of drinkin’ blood all the time.”

“And?” I pressed.

“And I won’t drain this powerful little Immortal dry,” he bargained with a chuckle. The scum leaned over and licked some of the blood gushing from Tory’s neck. “Yum. Tasty.” He smacked his lips together grossly. “You got one week.”

He was a stupid egomaniac. My brain worked overtime to use the knowledge to my advantage. “A week should be enough time,” I told him, sounding as casual as I could considering the circumstances. “Where can we find you when we have the spell?”

I was beyond sure that a spell for Immortality didn’t exist. However, I was banking on his lack of brain cells and his greed.

“Read the book,” he shouted. “It’s in the fucking book.”

In a blast of dull brown dust, the vile self-proclaimed dragon disappeared with Tory.

Gabe’s anguished bellow of fury brought everyone from upstairs racing to the living room. Candy Vargo grabbed Tim, removed him from the kitchen and detonated it. We were lucky the entire house didn’t collapse.

“What’s going on?” Gideon demanded, holding a crying Alana Catherine in his arms.

“Micky Muggles took Tory,” Gabe roared.

“How?” Zander demanded. “He shouldn’t have had that much power left.”

The Keeper of Fate, still glowing dangerously, answered the question. “The dragon’s tail wasn’t his ass. It’s his dick.”

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