Page 5 of Another Underworld

Waiting for the other shoe to drop was unnerving. I knew Phyllis was an abomination, but I wasn’t really sure what she, or rather It, was capable of. The fact that It might not even look like Phyllis the next time we saw It was also an issue. And no one had answers—not my mom, not Pandora, not Abaddon, not Candy Vargo and definitely not me.

Everyone was getting antsy, and a few limbs had been lost but, thankfully, had quickly regrown. A bunch of agitated Demons crowded together for extended periods of time was tricky. Throw in a Succubi, an Angel, humans, fanged munchkins and the Keeper of Fate, and it was a shitshow waiting to erupt.

Actually, the violence had come from the munchkin camp—munchkin on munchkin. My friends from my dream state were not like the cuties from the movies. Nope. These guys and gals were tiny—about eighteen inches tall—with razor-sharp teeth. They wore brightly colored tracksuits and trucker hats. The kicker was their faces. The resemblance to Brad Pitt, Warren Beatty, Dolly Parton, Clark Gable and Jennifer Aniston was uncanny. There were about forty of them. The majority were Brads. The Dollys were a close second. And they were wreaking havoc.

Even Candy Vargo was appalled, and violence was her love language.

We’d all hunkered down in my neighborhood in Venice since it was safe. Weeks earlier, Abaddon had arranged for a magical ward to protect the entire street. That sat well with me. My brother lived next door, and my dad stayed there often. Their safety was paramount.

In a stroke of genius, my self-professed bodyguard, Fifi, a Succubus with a penchant for lobbing grenades, had bought all the other houses on my street. This had turned the neighborhood into a veritable supernatural sanctuary for all my allies.

Pandora bunked with Candy Vargo in the house across the street. That was a tragedy in the making. However, when the Keeper of Fate laid down the law, no one fought her on it. She was one of the deadliest beings alive—toothpicks and all. However, Pandora was technically on our team now, so I gently reminded Candy Vargo to go a little easy on her. Like me, she’d been put through the ringer, and we both deserved one night of peace. Hopefully, we’d get it, but I had learned fast never to count my chickens before they hatched.

Fifi had strategically placed the munchkins, along with Drogruzun, Brolrath, and Ezzanod, in three of the houses atthe end of the street. Since the tiny dudes and dudettes were seriously loud, that worked for everyone. Cher, my agent, who had her own place, had thrown wine cooler parties the last two evenings. It had become abundantly clear that the munchkins should not drink. Ever. The sheer amount of dismemberment had been stomach-churning. The fact that they stayed friends after ripping each other’s arms and legs off was mind-boggling.

Thankfully, Ophelia, my former enemy turned smack-talking BFF, was back. She and Fifi roomed together in an adorable Craftsman, even though Ophelia snored like a drunken trucker. It was an odd roomie combination, but they made it work and hadn’t decapitated each other yet. Win-win.

My other Demon neighbors, again, enemies turned trusted friends—Moon Sunny Swartz, Jonny Jones, Irma Stoutwagon, Stella Stevens, and Corny Crackers, along with Dagon and Shiva, had returned to the Darkness to suss out the mood. Dagon had been my mother’s second in command, and I trusted the man with my life. Shiva? I’d call her a somewhat friendly acquaintance. She’d banged Abaddon a few hundred years ago and still had a thing for him, which meant she wasn’t happy that I’d come into the picture. After a few very violent encounters, we were now copesetic. We’d never be besties, but she’d shown her loyalty and had also asked for my loser ex-husband’s digits. Shiva and Slashthe RashGordon would make a lovely pair.

Thankfully, not my problem.

For Demons, fealty was the supreme compliment. I no longer worried that Shiva would shank me when my back was turned. While the bar was low, it was a relief to know I wouldn’t be attacked. It was the little things that got me through the day now.

My mom and dad took up residence at Sean’s bungalow. That worried me immensely. All three were human. It was too dangerous for them to stick around. Especially now that I’dmade a foe of the Higher Power. I planned to talk to them soon about leaving and holing up somewhere safe and far from the action, but I knew the conversation would go down like a lead balloon. My family was made up of sweet, loving, and foolishly brave mortals.

In other words, there would be pushback on their part. Too bad, so sad. My mom had already died for me once. It wasn’t on my agenda to have her do it again or to have Man-mom and Sean join her.

Abaddon and Uncle Joe were with me at my place. Abaddon had his own house a few doors down, but the Demon hadn’t left my side since Pandora and I had come back from the higher plane. I was good with that. What was more of a challenge was my beloved and very deceased Uncle Joe. Due to being stressed out, the naked ghost was practicing yoga like his life—or lack thereof—depended on it. Since he was a nudist, the visuals were bad. If I never had to see his shriveled beans and wiener on full display, it would be too soon. Abaddon and I had spent the last two days finding the ceiling of my living room very interesting.

My old normal involved a lot of worrying about being psyched out by other actresses at auditions. My new normal was a constant magical shitshow of epic proportions in a role no one wanted. I didn’t even want it.

I had to laugh at the entire situation. If I didn’t, I’d end up crouched in the corner of my bedroom, pulling on my hair in a complete panic attack while babbling about alien cockroaches living in the drywall. And screw alien cockroaches. I had enough going on in my life without an infestation borne of my inability to keep my shit together. Having hallucinations wasn’t a good plan right now. I was one of the two Goddesses of the Darkness. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop and didn’t have the luxury of losing my mind.

Pandora and Candy Vargo had a wary truce. It was tenuous at best. Pandora had millions of years to atone for. However, the reason she was royally screwed was that she’d killed my mother—the former Goddess of the Darkness. Granted, she’d been aiming for me, but the end result hadn’t played out as she’d intended. It was a twist in the plot that no one had expected. A Goddess ending another Goddess was the ultimate sin. It was unforgivable and Pandora’s former followers had defected. Some had come over to my side, but not enough. It was anyone’s guess where the majority of her thousands of minions had gone after they renounced their fealty to her. The thought made my stomach cramp.

We were going to have to deal with the stray Demons, and soon. There was no telling how her ex-loyals would react to areformedPandora…

My mother’s death had caused her to lose her immortality, not her life. That was the only reason I hadn’t ended Pandora myself. By the law created by the Higher Power aka Phyllis aka the giant gaping asshole, there had to be two Goddesses of the Darkness. If I’d destroyed the woman who had destroyed my mother, I would have caused the end of the world as we all knew it. I didn’t want that on my resume. Speaking of resumes, I wasn’t sure if I even had the time to be an actress anymore. The fact that I had a goldmine of a show just waiting for me to star in it seemed surreal. It had only been a month since the opportunity had landed in my lap, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

“Oh my god,” Abaddon muttered, staring at my laptop. He shook his head and scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “She’s lost her mind.”

“Since that could be any number of people we know, including me, who are you talking about?” I asked, eating a bagel slathered in cream cheese. Before my Goddess status, I’d been watching my carbs, but since, as an Immortal, mymetabolism was through the roof, and the fact that I might die at any moment when Phyllis took her vengeance, I decided counting carbs was bullshit. I only wished I’d stopped counting a whole lot sooner.

“It’s Pandora,” he said, angling the laptop screen toward me.

I glanced over his shoulder, peeked at the screen and winced. She’d been sending me emails all times of the day and night since being cooped up with Candy Vargo. However, this one was special. It was rambling and seemed as if she’d partaken in a few cases of Cher’s peach wine coolers. It was a hot mess loaded with half-constructed sentences, misspelled words, thoughts slammed together and then deconstructed only to form nonsense. There were dropped words, extraneous words and punctuation that rivaled pointillism and would give George Seurat a run for his money. She’d also made liberal use of the space bar.

“Holy crap,” I said, squinting at the screen. “Does it make any sense?”

“Not a bit,” he replied, closing the computer.

I paced the room as I finished my bagel. I wanted another one, but I’d reward myself after I’d gotten some business done. Waiting wasn’t my forte. Waiting for the Higher Power to show Its hand was killing me. I used to be good at waiting. As an actress, it seemed like all I did was wait—wait for an audition, wait to hear about a job, wait to shoot a scene while the lighting people set up the shot, wait to get my paychecks. My life was hurry up and wait.

As an actress, I got it.

When a whole bunch of lives were on the line, I didn’t get it. Not at all.

Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply then exhaled slowly. “Abaddon?”

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