Page 84 of Grave Humor

“Bargain made!” I marched to the devil to stand behind him, setting the head of the weed whacker on the ground. “Hey, Lucy?”

“Yes, Anwen?”

“We should have a picnic once a week so I can make Michael and Gabriel help me mow my lawn.”

“As such entertainment cannot be purchased, consider it done. Darlene will enjoy that. Even an hour among friends is a balm on her soul.”

Gabriel sat beside his brother on the blanket. “I think you will find your beloved’s soul will have little need of any balms in the future.”

“But she likes it.”

“You can still do it. You’re the Lord of Lies. Lie as you are inclined to do.”

The devil glared at his brother.

“He comes,” Michael announced. “Do let it play out, Eoghan. Remain a neutral witness. Do not make a mess of a good thing being stubborn and male.”

Eoghan scowled. “I do not like this.”

“You were not supposed to like it. Let her fly. And should she fall, then it is the appropriate time to tear the annoying human male rival apart and help him on his way to visit my brother’s many hells.”

The devil cleared the picnic blanket and eased his sleeping wife off his lap. “I love when my brothers are reduced to encouraging me to bring murder and mayhem to the mortal coil. This is even better than Christmas.”

“I feel like you’re now using your wife as bait so you can murder someone.” Then again, did it matter if the devil used his wife as bait? As long as she slept through the murder, she wouldn’t care—and I didn’t want to find out how the snow leopard reacted to being woken from a trauma-induced nap.

“Yes, I am. I do enjoy a good murder. I’m just using you as an excuse to be able to participate in a legitimatized murder. Which is entirely your fault, as you’re not stopping me. You could if you wanted. As for my wife, she tends to rampage, and if I’m not fast enough with my murder, she’ll steal my kill and shred the body by the time she’s done with him.”

“I see you two are well matched in general brutality.”

“My wife sincerely enjoys winning. I enjoy winning. It’s a constant battle. Eoghan, you would be wise to let the woman win from time to time. It makes her less eager to try to kill you.”

“Perhaps if you would set aside your egotistical ways for five minutes, she may not wish to kill you,” my antique replied.

“While this is true, we would have a great deal less fun, and I enjoy fun. My wife? She makes much of my life fun. One day, you’ll understand. I think you already do. She will test your patience. She will make you like it, too.”

“You’re a menace,” Eoghan announced.

That the devil was, but rather than point out he announced the obvious, I smiled, shook my head, and waited for the former director to arrive so I could focus on what the rest of my eternal life would bring.

Nineteen

Few souls have a hard alignment with the forces of good, evil, order, or chaos.

The incident in the cemetery had broken something in Hammel, and the once proud man walked as though he’d taken up the weight of the world on his shoulders and found the burden impossible to bear. Something in his eyes, however, put me on edge.

“You see his approach to death,” Michael whispered in my ear despite his place seated on the far side of the picnic blanket. “That something is the boundary between life and death, which is reflecting against the deepest parts of his soul. He has sealed his fate coming here.”

“Put your head back on its shoulders where it belongs,” I complained. “That’s just awful.”

The archangel laughed. “It is just some magic, Anwen. My head is where it belongs. I am simply opting to project my voice into your ear at a whisper rather than agitate the fool behind me.”

The fool caught sight of me, and the man’s expression darkened.

A smart woman would have run. I hid behind the devil and grabbed hold of the weed whacker’s starter in case I needed to take a few swings.

Eoghan tensed, but he remained seated, a honey rock rind held in his hand. Given enough motivation, I believed he might find a way to weaponize it. I could think of a few ways I could put a honey rock rind to good use. First, I’d use the end to gouge Hammel’s eyes out before attempting to insert it up his nose to scramble his brains. Assuming the rind couldn’t penetrate into the skull properly, I would have to try to asphyxiate the bastard with it.

From there, the various possible insertions of honey rock rind took a dark and twisted turn.