Page 22 of Another Underworld

Abaddon gave Pandora a withering glare and then checked his weapons. “Yes. We’ll go south. I don’t want to go near your castle, which is north of here, until we have an army.”

“We will stay together,” I commanded. “Pandora, do not screw with me. You’re still on probation, and you don’t want to piss Candy Vargo off. You hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” she said with an eye roll.

Cher stepped forward. “And speaking of my crazy buddy, Candy slipped me a note to share with everyone before we went off and got killed—her words, not mine. I have no intention of dying. I have a hit TV show to produce and forty munchkins who look disturbingly like celebrities to sign. I’m gonna be rich!” she said gleefully, pulling a piece of paper out of her Prada bag. “Here we go… we’re to avoid debating with fuckwits. Just kill them. We are not to save every fucker we come upon. Most fuckers don’t deserve it.” Cher paused and sighed. “Just so you’re all aware, I’m reading this verbatim. My vernacular is not this crass.”

I laughed and gave her a thumbs-up. “Keep going, please.”

“Will do,” she said, going back to the list. “Do not overthink the fuck out of everything—talking to you, Cecily. Do not avoidthe bullshit you need to confront. It will get you killed. Life is not fucking fair. Know that and behave accordingly. Do not search for any motherfucker to complete you. Ever. You are not fucking incomplete. Do not seek the approval of shit stains who give zero fucks about you. I may or may not be referring to Pandora with that last statement. Actually, I was, so, bite me. And while we’re discussing Pandora, she should work hard not to be a narcissistic fucking psychopath.”

Pandora was pissed. “Is that how she ended it?” she shouted. “Calling me a narcissistic psychopath?”

Cher shook her head. “Nope, there’s a little more? You wanna hear it?”

“Probably not,” Pandora huffed.

“Read it,” I insisted. “We need to move. I’m worried about Irma, Moon, Stella, Jonny and Corny.”

Cher continued. “I believe in you motherfuckers—even Pandora. She’s gonna need to step out of her comfort zone and stop being a cow bitch, but she can do it. Cecily, I give you full permission to electrocute the living hell out of Pandora if she pulls any crap. And Pandora, if you retaliate, I will shave your head bald and do a little juju so that your face ends up where your ass is, your ass will be your face, and your tits will be on your knees.”

Pandora was horrified. “Can she actually do that?”

“Don’t know,” I replied. “But I sure as hell wouldn’t want to find out.”

“Are we ready?” Abaddon asked.

“We are,” I said as I felt a tingle in my stomach. “But we’re not headed south.”

Abaddon stared at me and waited.

“We’re headed west,” I said, remembering Candy Vargo’s personal warning not to overthink the fuck out of everything.

“West it is, Bitch Goddess Cecily,” he said with a smile and a bow.

The road would be long and the storm ahead would be deadly. But after the storm the sun would rise. I knew it in my heart. And the rainbow? It would be for us.

CHAPTER SEVEN

West had been correct.I found the camp with little problem. It was atrociously dismal and held at least a thousand of my people. The state of the Demons was deplorable. We were hidden up a hill about half a football field away behind shrub-covered boulders. We had an excellent view, but were concealed from the guards below.

“I’m a malicious bitch, but that’s disgusting,” Pandora hissed as we watched a group of ten female Demons being harshly lashed.

Their backs were bleeding profusely and the sound of the whip connecting to the bare skin was far worse than Candy Vargo gutting Shiva and Dagon. The Keeper of Fate had been saving my friends. The guards in the camp would be delighted to see the Demons dead.

“How many guards do you see?” Pandora asked, all business. Her voice was tight with fury.

“At least twenty,” Abaddon replied as he scanned the scene. “Soon to be twenty dead guards.”

“Oh yes,” Fifi snarled softly. “Dead, dead, dead.”

The fences were high and electric. They sizzled and popped in warning when anyone got too close. Rolls of jagged barbedwire edged the tops. An enormous statue of what appeared to be a masked, naked, male God dominated the center of the camp. I almost laughed at the absurd muscles and the massive size of the junk on the sculpture. Somebody was compensating for something…

“That cock can’t be accurate,” Cher muttered. “If it is, that wank is so big, it’s got investors.”

“I’d have to add that the salami is so large, it possesses its own area code,” Fifi announced.

I choked back a laugh. It wasn’t the time for dick jokes… or maybe it was.

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