Page 59 of Whiskers on Kittens

“Perhaps you should curtain off that area so the rest of us can pass without being scarred for life. Then we can do our fair share of the work.”

“Or we can stand here and let Lady Death take the worst of her nerves out on anyone foolish enough to get in her way.” Turning to his wife and making a show of widening his eyes, he announced, “I do not want to get hit with the weed whacker.”

I giggled and patted Darlene’s hand. “To be fair to him, I don’t want to get hit with it, either. That thing sounds awful.”

“If it looks anywhere near as bad as it sounds, we should let her loose in the dungeons for a while. We’d have pristine souls within an hour,” the succubus replied, and she shrugged.

Something crashed inside, and Lucifer turned, stared, and whistled. “Darlene, make her stop flirting with me.”

“She’s not flirting with you,” Darlene replied, unlinked her arm with mine, and crept up to her husband, peeking around him. The fur on her tail stood on end. “How did she do that with a weed whacker?”

“I don’t know, but that definitely counts as flirting.”

“The only man she flirts with is Eoghan, and I don’t think he’d be able to handle seeing his woman covered in blood, giggling, and reducing the fucking assholes to mulch before sending them our way. But I can understand how you would think she’s flirting with you. I think I’m going to have to take her to a spa in a few days. She’s going to need that long to get her victims out of her hair.”

“Maybe we should have told her not to wear her targets.”

Darlene shrugged. “How many has she taken out so far? She didn’t even leave the heads intact.”

“Ten. She’s about to go mow down their billiard’s room, where there are ten more. It seems they installed some form of magical soundproofing between the various rooms to keep their conversations private. The next batch has no idea Death has come calling.”

“Maybe we should warn them. That might give her some sport.”

I stared up at Easton, unable to stop my eyes from widening. “We’ve made mistakes.”

“Yes, we have,” he agreed. “Which mistakes are you referencing? There are many of them.”

“When I think of murdering people, I think of doing things like shoot them or bash their head into a wall until they no longer bother me. I don’t think we are sufficiently armed to join this party.”

“Would you like a weed whacker, too?” Azrael asked.

I considered the archangel’s offer, shivering at the thought of having to pick victims out of my hair for numerous days. “Can I have a hedge trimmer instead? One that automatically makes my plants look all nice and healthy without costing my landscapers their sanity?” I held my hands out in the general size and shape of the little clippers I saw the men and women use when tending to my property. “They make a satisfying snick-snick noise when you use them.”

“If you would like help with your landscaping, I would inquire with Michael or Gabriel. They do enjoy that sort of thing. But I see you do not wish to be completely covered with blood, which is a sensible thing.” Azrael stretched his wings, held out his hand, and a golden light radiated from his skin, bright enough I turned my head to spare my eyes.

When I peeked, he held a small gardening trowel, the kind I liked to use when planting seeds or transplanting new seedlings with the help of my gardeners. It had a leopard spotted handle, and like Anwen’s weed whacker, the small shovel blade danced with blue fire.

“Here. This is more what you might appreciate. Consider it a gift for having to witness, even by sound, one of the more disconcerting facets of death.”

“I really thought she was the gentler and more sensible one of you lot,” Lucifer stated, shaking his head. “Clearly, I did not pay sufficient attention to her general tendencies. Of course, I was more concerned about her partnering with her antique at the time, but this is fascinating. She’s not holding back at all.”

The archangel chuckled, a rather dark sound lacking the chimes I usually associated with angelic amusement. “She is mercy, she is justice, and she is vengeance, all at the Universe’s request. I am sure she will settle down eventually. She is a little anxious about leaving her node, forgetting there is more than sufficient power to keep her antique happy and healthy. Come, little one. Accept your present, and I will show you one of its nicer powers. Do brace yourself, for she has left quite the mess.”

I did as the archangel bade, stepped forward, and accepted the trowel by the handle. Thanks to their commentary, I was prepared for the carnage. I grimaced, considered the archangel’s words, and realized Anwen had done what I could not.

She had killed swiftly and with mercy.

I would have drawn it out for a last hit or two.

Something about the realization brought with it a strange sense of peace.

Lucifer smiled, and he patted my shoulder. “You understand now. Well done, Azrael.”

“Normally, I would shudder at even the thought of having to agree with you, my brother, but I saw what you wished for her and felt it wise.” The archangel turned to Easton. “And it is your turn to learn the value of self and acceptance. I also have a gift for you.”

“Please tell me it isn’t a tool of mass murder,” the hybrid replied, and he took his time stepping forward, attempting to hide behind the Devil while peering at the carnage. “Wow. It’s even worse than I imagined.”

The archangel produced a mop, the flat kind meant to have microfiber cloths attached to them. “As the sheer thought of leaving your fur on the floor will drive you close to madness, you are best armed with this. It will clean anything—including the mess Anwen made. You will have to put in some effort, but the cloth will never need to be cleaned as myself or one of my brothers will renew its holy fire.” Azrael gestured to a spot of blood on the floor nearby. “Try it with that.”