Page 79 of A Chip on Her Shoulder

Excellent. I’d trained the Devil to use a new word. “Better. You may have a new spot once we’re home from dinner and finished with creating mayhem and gathering at least one new fish for my tanks. You’ll have to wait until my fish is settled in his or her new home, however. I’ll also need some fish that enjoy being together, because single fish look sad.”

“They’re supposed to look sad. It’s a punishment!”

“The catfish are cute together.”

“I have no objections taking you to stores to pick new mortal fish for your enjoyment.”

“My next fish I will be picking out in person, and they will be fucking assholes who get a taste of their own fucking medicine. Am I clear? And if I’m not, allow me to clarify the situation: I’ll bite your fucking hands off if you try to touch a damned spot until I personally see to those fucking assholes!”

The door into the sitting room opened, and a taller, tanner version of my brother stepped into the room, and I turned my ears back and hissed. “And you’re a fucking asshole, too! I should put you in a tank for a year and claw that pretty face just so you learn your lesson.”

The Devil got up, strode to my side, and wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting me off my feet. “Somebody needs dinner, and then she needs a nap. Once she’s had her nap, then she can be coddled in disgustingly sweet fashions. But somebody needs a nap.”

I struggled and kicked my feet in protest of losing my ability to go claw at my brother’s face. “You made him prettier!”

My brother raised a brow. “Should I come back later?”

“That’s quite all right, Jonas. She’s just tired. Unlike my succubi, she resisted taking a nap, so she’s tired, cranky, and hungry. You were correct about her enjoyment of fish, so thank you for that tip. I’ll require you for our trip out, as she seems determined to handle her business. Your first task will be to play as a chipmunk in her home, and as soon as she is only tired and cranky, you’ll direct us to the first of our targets. We’ll see Belial on our way out.”

“What about them?” Jonas asked, gesturing to the succubi littering the floor.

“They’ll be fine. Once the incubi stop strutting around, they’ll drag them off somewhere. They should be happy with me right now, but no. They’re all whining.” The Devil shrugged. “Well, the ones coherent enough to whine. And even those seem to have resumed napping. Really, what are they even trying to do?”

“Why are you asking me?” Jonas asked.

“That’s a damned good question. I really don’t know. You’re so wet behind the ears you disgust me, and if I didn’t need you as security for Darlene and to maintain appearances, I’d just leave you here to stay out of trouble.”

Jonas shrugged. “I can’t say I didn’t earn that.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” I demanded.

“Darlene,” he complained.

“That’s better. Do that some more. My brother whines and causes me trouble. He does not accept responsibility for his stupidity. You need to act normally, or I might not be able to cope with too much change at one time.”

My brother stared at me as though I’d lost my mind.

I crossed my arms over my chest, grunting at the pressure of the Devil keeping me off my feet so I wouldn’t kick my brother with my weaponized shoes. “Seriously? You think I’m nuts for wanting you to behave normally? I should stab you with my shoes! Come here and take your stabbing like a man or whatever the fuck you are now.”

“Well,” the Devil began, and then he set me down, although he kept a firm hold on my waist. After a long moment of silence and a sigh, he continued, “I believe he is startled because you’re openly more aggressive than he is used to. I’m just turned on because it’s sexy watching you want to kill someone. I don’t want to take you to dinner now. I want to seduce you.”

“I need dinner,” I growled. “After I’m done eating dinner, I need to kill my brother. Wait. I can’t kill him. Damn it.”

“I find your irritation very attractive.”

“Jonas, tell him what I do when I’m hungry.”

“If she doesn’t bite, she cries,” my brother reported. “And nothing is scarier than my sister crying because she’s hungry and is too angry she’s hungry to handle her hunger problem, and once she’s that hungry, she becomes emotionally unstable and inclined to kill people. I recommend offering her something to eat and stay quiet until she’s eaten enough she is no longer unstable.”

“Is that true, Darlene?” the Devil whispered in my ear. “I have trouble believing you cry over anything.”

“It’s ugly crying, I splotch, and if I’m wearing fur, it falls out from stress and I end up patchy. Nothing upsets me more than patchy fur. I lose spots when I’m patchy. Entire spots, just gone right along with my fur. I resemble a mangey mutt when I’m patchy due to stress shedding.”

“Unacceptable. I will not stand the loss of even a single spot.”

“My fur grows back.”

“Still not acceptable.”