Page 88 of A Chip on Her Shoulder

I could see myself doing just that. “What are the idiots thinking?”

“The fucking assholes are annoyed over how affectionate I’m being with you, as my close proximity makes it difficult for them to administer the dose of toxin appropriately. They don’t want to kill you outright, and while they don’t care if they kill me outright, there’s too much of a chance of them lethally dosing you. I’m enjoying vexing them just from holding you close.”

“So, basically, we have to separate a little when we want to lure them out?”

“Yes.”

That would be easy enough. “I’m ready for my bat now, Lucifer. My personal freedoms have been infringed upon, and I wish to take my temper out on the source of my problems.”

“Please just pass out and go to sleep so I can indulge in wholesome violence without worrying about you being caught in the middle.”

Was he joking? Why would I miss out on the opportunity to beat the asshole responsible for transforming my brother into a chipmunk? “No. That said, that was a good use of your filthy words. I will think about rewarding you with a spot for using it appropriately.”

“What does it say about me that I’m falling prey to your system of behavioral adjustment?”

“I have what you want, and you have learned you can easily get what you want with minor behavioral adjustments. You win a spot, I win not being annoyed by your lack of manners.”

“I don’t have to always display these wretched manners, do I?”

“Of course not. I do not expect you to use decent manners with those fucking assholes stalking us. Do any of them get off easy?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are they all as bad as Gallo?”

The Devil frowned. “The one, perhaps, is not completely unsalvageable. He is in a situation similar to what your brother faced prior to his stint as an obnoxious rodent, although he finds you disturbingly attractive. I resent that. I’m the only one allowed to find you to be attractive.”

“You absolutely are not the only one allowed.”

“I am absolutely the only one allowed.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I like when people think I’m pretty rather than diseased.”

“You’re not diseased,” he growled.

“Tell that to the rest of society. The CDC is still not really clear on how I can shapeshift without having a nasty disease.”

“Lycanthropy is hardly a nasty disease. Obviously, I am going to have to work on this. I’ll have to let some of my randy incubi loose for a while, spread some love, debunk the prejudice against lycanthropes, and make life a little more pleasant for shapeshifters, so you, my future wife, can enjoy your visits to your mortal home. I will repeat myself so I’m clear: lycanthropy is hardly a nasty disease.”

“To most it is.”

“They’re wrong,” the Devil declared. “Idiocy is a far nastier disease, and it seems modern mortals are plagued with it.”

“I don’t see why you’re getting all offended over this. I just like when people think I’m pretty rather than diseased.”

“You’re not pretty. You’re beautiful. And all of those beautiful spots are mine.”

I needed to have a long talk with the Devil’s brothers about his tendencies, inquire about if he needed therapy, and what my role in the Devil’s therapy might be. “Can I have a baseball bat, please? I would very much like to beat these assholes with it. Please separate the one I’m not allowed to beat.”

“That will inevitably result in you being poisoned again, and I really would rather you not be poisoned again.”

“Protective tendencies are rewarded, overprotective tendencies are not rewarded. You are venturing into overprotective tendencies territory.”

“Protecting you from a nasty case of poisoning is hardly being overprotective.”