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I stole a quick glance at Ophelia as Sushi hightailed it back to Jonny. Ophelia’s mouth was wide open in shock. I was just surprised that she hadn’t jumped into the fray and doled out a few left hooks.
Moon was living her best life. The whole cast and crew were speechless—even Candy Vargo—who was never at a loss for words—just stared in appalled shock. Honestly, it was kind of traumatizing.
“I am Pandora,” Moon shouted. “I find furniture arousing. Couches are the best, but armchairs and bathroom caddies will do in a pinch. I am Pandora. I eat babies for breakfast.”
“Wait. What?” I choked out. That was definitely not in the script.
“Not me,” Moon said for clarification. “Pandora.”
“Oh my God. Is that true?” I asked, getting close to pulling an Irma and tossing my cookies.
“Nope,” Moon said. “I just thought it would be insulting.”
“Like you fuckin’ a couch as Pandora isn’t insulting enough?” Candy Vargo asked.
Corny chimed in. “While I think all forms of expression are beautiful, like nudity and banging inanimate objects, eating babies is a little much.”
“Well, Pops,” Fifi said, trying her damnedest to stay in character. “I think it’s time for me to go back to the war.”
“The store,” I corrected her.
“Shite. My bad. The store,” she shouted as she smacked her head in frustration and sprinted out the front door.
Cher hit the laugh track, the sigh track and the screaming track. I hadn’t realized there was a screaming track. We could have used that a few times earlier.
Moon was, unfortunately, close to completion. It had gotten really ugly.
And that’s when it got uglier.
We’d succeeded.
The real Pandora had arrived.
It was time to deal with the box… or die trying.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
An icy windtore through the room, upending the set pieces and all of the furniture. Pandora hadn’t come alone. She had twenty flaming assholes with her, and she was irate. Her normally gorgeous alabaster skin was a mottled red. Her gown was wrinkled and torn, and her eyes were manic. She’d clearly been in hiding and it hadn’t treated her well.
“How dare you,” she roared. “You will pay. Oh,” she added with a laugh that verged on hysteria. “Don’t worry about your backup security. I killed them.”
Abaddon’s growl of fury made my blood run cold. The strikes against Pandora were too many to count.
The Demon hadn’t changed much. Her crazy was showing, and she was delusional. The Shitty Whore was still stunning with an evil iciness to her. She was viciously insane and lacked a conscience, but there was no discounting how smart she was. Her sadistic cunning had gotten her through millions of years.
“You’ve got it all wrong, Pandora,” I said flatly as I raised my hands in the air and produced two fire swords. “Your unhinged mind has it backwards. You’re going to pay.”
Her flaming assholes snarled and bared their teeth. The searing heat coming from their hulking bodies stank like sulfur and made my stomach roil. The green fire with icy blue sparks covered their bodies popping and crackling ominously.
Pandora and her people were on one side of the large soundstage. Me and my people were on the other. My posse were no slouches. We were outnumbered, but we were a deadly crew. Abaddon had gone all badass and was glowing dangerously. His eyes blazed red, and his purple fire sword appeared in his hand. His presence made the flaming assholes nervous. They kept their eyes glued to the Destroyer. Too bad, so sad for them… there were several of us almost as deadly as Abaddon.
Fifi morphed into a hulking, six-foot monster with razor-sharp fangs. With a grenade in each hand, she looked like a nightmare come to life.
Cher had ripped off her shirt and downy white wings burst from her back. She wielded a glowing golden stick. It looked like a massive dildo. Ophelia had her purple fire sword and was no longer sporting a beret. The Demon was as deadly as advertised.
“Stella,” I commanded. “Transport Uncle Joe and Bean. NOW. Get them out of here.”
Without a word, she obeyed. They disappeared in a mist of her shimmering black dust.
