Page 22 of A Chip on Her Shoulder

Michael patted my shoulder and gave me a gentle push in the direction of the looming structure. “Indeed. He is annoyed. His voice gets growly and deep when he is annoyed. His guests have likely annoyed him.”

“But I haven’t even done anything to annoy him yet. I mean, I’m going to annoy him. I annoy just about everybody.”

“The damned souls,” the archangel clarified.

Oh. Right. Them. “You call them guests?”

“It is polite.”

“Would you say they deserve to be here?”

“Absolutely,” Gabriel confirmed.

“Call them fucking assholes,” I suggested. “Guests sound like they don’t deserve to be here.”

“You are a ruthless being.”

I marched down the cobbled driveway, which ended in a huge circle outside of the Devil’s front doors, which were fashioned of wrought iron and decorated in a rose and thorn motif. “I’m just getting started. I hope your brother is hot. He better be hot.”

The archangels followed me, and after a moment of hesitation, Michael asked, “Why must my brother be hot? Which sort of hot are we discussing here?”

“The kind of hot that tempts me into taking my clothes off. If I have to run this joint for a minimum of sixteen years, probably a lot longer than that, I’m going to need a lot of attention to put up with a bunch of fucking assholes. It’s probably hard work educating a bunch of fucking assholes about why they should clean up their act in their next life, assuming they get one.”

“He has all of the powers of an incubus,” Gabriel reminded me.

“That doesn’t mean he’s hot. It means he has extra tools at his disposal to make me not care if he’s as ugly as sin, but give me a break. I want him to be hot. I need some sort of perk outside of doing a lot of justice while also securing revenge.”

“You worry me,” the archangel muttered.

“I figure I became psychotic around the same time those assholes turned my brother into a chipmunk. Then to see that some assholes put a baby on a fucking cargo boat and abandoned her? Yeah. I’m a little psychotic right now. I want the fuckers responsible for that.” I marched up the steps to the door, grabbed hold of the knocker, which was shaped like a rose, and banged on the door. I smacked it three times before searching for a peep hole. I scowled at the lack of a peep hole. “How the hell does he check who is at his door?”

Michael pointed at the top of the door. “That rose is actually a camera. As I said, my brother enjoys his luxuries, and he always gets the latest and greatest. Technology amuses him. You will enjoy stable electricity, good television, air conditioning, and all the creature comforts you can think of. He has a fascination with bathrooms.”

“Aren’t you supposed to talk people out of wanting to conquer the Devil and his hells? That’s not talking me out of it. That’s encouraging me. Does his fascination with bathrooms include really big tubs?”

“Indeed.”

The door creaked open, and I stepped out of the way so I wouldn’t get smacked with it. “Isn’t it easier to defend if the doors swing into the place rather than outwards?”

Gabriel pointed to the door, which was several inches thick. “Do you think it could be opened without the Devil’s consent? He rules over every element of his many hells. Every gout of flame happens at his will.”

“I hope he’s able to program it like I can the VCR. That sounds like a pain in the ass, having to worry about all the fire and when it shoots up. There was a lot of fire out there. I’ll make sure I delegate that to someone else unless I’m in a mood to landscape.”

“I see you have decided you will be a ruthless ruler.”

“Absolutely. I have more important things to do unless the spouting fire is scalding the shit out of some fucking asshole in need of punishment.” I stepped into the entry, which reminded me of a grand cathedral on Earth. A painting on the vaulted ceiling drew my attention. “Oh damn, that’s nice.” I pointed at one of the scenes, which depicted unicorns during the Great Flood. “There are unicorns.”

“Yes. My brother does enjoy his luxuries. You will have to ask him about the nature of the paintings.”

“It’s beautiful.” I could lose hours staring up at the ceiling. I recognized some of the scenes, although one caught my attention, depicting a flaming, bronze-skinned incubus reaching out to touch the hand of the Christian god. “That’s like that chapel in Europe.”

“Do you mean the Sistine Chapel?”

“Yeah, that place. It’s a chapel in Europe. But in the original painting, it’s some random dude rather than a smoking hot incubus.” I checked the incubus’s chest, nodding my satisfaction at the presence of rather nice nipples to go with his striking face with a chiseled jaw and defined cheekbones. “I like that he’s not white. He’s a rather nice golden brown. He’s also hot.”

“Well, he is wearing fire.”

“Wrong kind of hot. I mean, check out his chest. That is male perfection. Women must line up for a chance to play with that chest.”