Page 96 of A Chip on Her Shoulder

“I got dressed, put on some boots, and grabbed my bat, and now I need to teach some succubi you’re mine.”

“She woke up rather irritable and possessive,” Belial announced. “Once she has claimed her territory, she will be much easier to please. I would not deter her from laying her claim. That is how you end up unhappy and on your couch.”

“I noticed you’ve brought your bat with you. I would rather not have to plant new succubi seeds today, so please keep all demonstrations and claims non-lethal.”

“Fine. I won’t kill anyone unless they provoke me. If I hit a table with the bat, would the bat or the table win?”

“The bat,” Lucifer, Gabriel, and Michael chorused.

“I need a table I can sacrifice on the altar of territory claiming.”

“I needed a new head table anyway. You can help me pick the new one as penance for breaking the old one.” Lucifer scowled at Michael. “Just break the table I’m sitting at when you arrive. I will find this very entertaining. However, I do not find my brother’s handling of your person to be entertaining at all.”

The archangel laughed and refused to budge or let go of my arm.

“Just go back to the great hall, Lucifer. I’ll be along as soon as these louts show me how to get there.”

“Is there a reason you can’t teleport her?” Lucifer asked. “It’s a rather lengthy walk.”

“Yes,” Michael replied. “It involves her consuming too much energy before you’ve had time to properly teach her to feed. We would be pleased to help you with teaching her how to teleport, but you have work to do before she is ready. She’s also eager to try her wings for flying, although she may be a challenge to teach on that front.”

“Very well. I’ll be waiting in the great hall. Don’t tarry. I want to see their expressions when they see her beautiful wings. Feathered for my enjoyment. With spots.”

Lucifer vanished.

I rolled my eyes. “He possibly needs therapy for his spot obsession. No, he definitely needs therapy for his spot obsession. Can one of you teach me how to ban all these spots when he’s being naughty?”

Gabriel snickered and said, “As a matter of fact, yes.”

The little things in life helped. “Excellent.”

The great hall lived up to its name, and I stopped counting tables after ten, flattened my ears at the presence of at least a hundred succubi, and considered making good use of my bat at the sight of hundreds of devils and demons filling the space and annoying me with hissing chatter. On the far end of the room, its ceiling vaulted and painted much like his entry, waited Lucifer at a table barely big enough for two, which he’d claimed all for himself.

Hell. No.

I firmed my grip on the bat, joined the devilish congregation in hissing, and marched towards the Devil, ready to make it clear he’d be adding a table suitable for two to use comfortably or I’d be beating him to a near-death state with it. I regretted agreeing to keep my confrontations non-lethal.

The sight of so many succubi dressed to seduce pissed me off enough I considered beating them with my wings like a demented, spotted Canadian goose on a mission of murder.

Why wasn’t I allowed to kill them all?

To my utter disgust, the succubi backed out of my reach.

With a ringing laugh, Michael patted my arm before releasing me. “When you swing your bat, spread your wings out to their full length. It will help you balance and keep you from falling.”

I nodded, and without the archangel holding me back, I marched at a rather brisk pace, got a good hold on my bat with both hands, and went to town on the offensive table I wouldn’t fit at even if I wanted to. True to the archangel’s claim, spreading my wings did help me keep my balance. The bat cracked into the table with hand-numbing force, and the dark wood cracked under the force of my blow. Snarling curses I hadn’t completely destroyed it in one hit, I smacked it a second time, which cracked the table in half.

Lucifer raised a brow and eyed his former table. “That was three inches thick, my darling.”

Well, that explained why it had taken two hits to finish it off. I regarded my bat with newfound respect.

I couldn’t find even a scuff on it. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I am holding an audience, or I had been until you took offense to my table. What did my table do to you?”

“It’s not big enough for two.” I straightened, thumped my bat to my shoulder, and pointed at my wings. “You see these?”

“I do.”