Page 58 of Whiskers on Kittens

Azrael laughed, snapped his fingers, and a weed whacker appeared in his hand. Had he possessed a head, I bet a grin would’ve been plastered upon his visage. Blue fire crackled around the wire and engulfed the protective shield. “For you, I have imbued it with strength, so if using it properly does not reap the harvest you desire, you can bludgeon them to death.”

With a terrifyingly delighted smile, she accepted the weed whacker. “Thank you, Azrael. Will you be joining me?”

“Of course. Eoghan, I can handle escorting her if you would like to be elsewhere for this. These souls will scream—and we will be working to make them scream with even more vigor than usual. Perhaps you should take War and join the group scouring the city for the lost kittens? Yours will be a comforting presence for them and convince their souls they will not walk through the valley quite yet. And that is a garden you can tend without it hurting your soul, whereas it would leave a mark on hers.”

While the man scowled, he nodded. “There would not be nearly enough weed whackers upon the face of this Earth for the violence she would dish out upon witnessing little ones in such distress. Very well. I will handle that matter and meet you back at the Devil’s manor when I am finished. War?”

The red horse whinnied, pranced in place, and bumped Eoghan with his nose before pivoting and presenting his back. With a single, graceful hop, he swung into the saddle, eased his feet into the stirrups, and gave the horse a nudge with his heels.

The pair vanished in a crimson glow.

“Are you going to be stealing my kills today, Lucifer?” Anwen asked.

“I’m sure you will have ample opportunity to make use of your weed whacker today. I’m sure Azrael can assist with ensuring you get your fair share of the work.”

I took a moment to count those gathered on the sidewalk and the streets. “It was originally three to one odds in their favor, Lucifer. It’s now five to one in ours. We’re going to be fighting over the bodies. Maybe we should let her go first. That way she’s basically guaranteed to send someone to your many hells before everyone becomes overexcited.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Lucifer dipped into a bow and made a sweeping gesture in the direction of the warehouse. “After you, Lady Death.”

“Just don’t tell Lord Death that he’s a lord or has a title. He’s bad enough as it is when he gets going,” Anwen quipped before hauling her weed whacker in the direction of the main warehouse entrance. “How much of the exterior is an illusion?”

On the outside, the place couldn’t have appeared to be more than a functional warehouse if it tried, complete with a few broken old windows someone had boarded over.

Lucifer chuckled, straightened, and snapped his fingers. “The practitioners should be dead by now anyway. The illusions just hadn’t worn off yet.”

The warehouse melted away, leaving behind a sterile concrete-fronted square of a building with steel framed windows. Dusty blinds prevented me from looking in.

The entrance remained mostly as it was, although instead of a large transport entrance, it was a steel-fronted lobby with huge, automated doors made of glass. Anwen approached, and the doors opened. She shrugged, got a solid hold on her weed whacker, and pulled the cord to start the engine.

It roared to life, and blue flame engulfed the weed whacker, crawled up the shaft, and engulfed her hands. “Anybody home?”

She strolled inside at the kind of pace I expected from a confident serial killer in a horror movie. That she used a sing-song voice to inquire where her first victim might be chilled me. A moment later, she revved the weed whacker and chirped, “Time to meet your maker, assholes!”

Under normal circumstances, a weed whacker could do some significant damage to someone. The sounds that came from deeper within the lobby, out of view behind a white wall, blended a wet tearing sound with the crackle of flame and a hint of electricity. Someone attempted to scream, although he didn’t make more of a loud inhale and the start of a high-pitched noise before Anwen silenced him.

Azrael crossed the threshold and leaned around the barrier blocking our view. A moment later, he returned. “I feel our plan, such as it was, did not account for Lady Death’s willingness to use her weed whacker. Perhaps I should not have inquired with our siblings to imbue it with power, Lucifer.”

The Devil snickered. “Nothing more than these assholes deserve. What is she doing?”

“Have you, perhaps, observed that film where there is a ship that has a line come loose, thus cutting an unfortunate human into pieces through his head?”

Ew. “Ghost Ship is vile.” I turned wide eyes to Easton. “We should watch it after the holidays, and we’ll do it with low lighting to make it even worse. And we’ll do it when there is no one else in the house. I will scream.”

The hybrid bowed his head, heaved a sigh, and said, “I will agree to this only if you ignore when I scream.”

“We can cling to each other in the throes of terror. Then we can console each other with ice cream afterwards.” Knowing me, I wouldn’t be able to sleep for a night or two after. “Does it make me less of a woman to admit I’m afraid of going in there now?”

Something crunched, and I winced at the sound.

Lucifer joined his brother inside, and he chuckled. “I am grateful we sent Eoghan off now. This would disturb him.”

“She has grown fully into her portfolio. She is the promise of life as much as she is the promise of death—and the Universe rages over what these humans have done. Anwen is more than equal to the burden, not that it is a burden to her soul at all,” the archangel replied.

To my amazement, Azrael clapped Lucifer’s shoulder in a rather friendly fashion, and the Devil basked in the show of affection.

Darlene came to my side and linked her arm with mine. “We’ll just let them deal with the initial mess—or perhaps make use of your handsome hybrid to bypass that. Lucy?”

The Devil turned. “Yes?”