“I tend to get a little gassy with heights,” he admitted sheepishly, chomping on his gum.
“True that,” Martha said, slapping her man’s butt with her cane. “My sexy Demon’s airborne toxic events are the theme of the next top twenty hit Jane and me are writin’. We got the title down and the guitar riff. Simon Cowell is gonna love it!”
“Yeppers!” Jane said with a grin. “We’re callin’ it,My Demon Loves A Chocolate Air Freshener.”
Thankfully, Astrid zapped the old coot. It saved me from having to do it myself.
“Okay,” she said, pressing her temples in frustration. “Let’s go at this another way. Does anyone have an idea of what they’d like to see in London?”
I knew exactly what and whom I wanted to see. My lovely niece had let it slip that the two Demons who’d disparaged my cock and started the heinous rumor lived in London. Lizard had mentioned Oxford Street. When the shady witch had suggested we go to London, England, I realized it was my chance to killtwo fucking Demons with one stone… so to speak. Of course, I would have to get Astrid to drop trou and show them my member before I decapitated them. That could present a few problems since she was opposed to having anything to do with my manhood, but I’d figure out the minor details as they came up. I’d pants her if I had to.
The first thing I needed were their names. And I had a fine idea of how to get them.
“Astrid,” I said with a raised brow. “I’m quite surprised at you.”
Her eyes narrowed. She thought I was fucking with her. I was.
“Spit it out, Uncle Fucker. Why are you surprised?”
“Shall we start with logistics?” I inquired.
“Since I have no idea what you’re talking about, then sure,” she replied warily.
“Did anyone happen to bring a wallet?” I asked.
Lizard shook his head. Martha and Jane also hadn’t thought about that. Astrid hadn’t either.
I smiled slyly. Astrid wasn’t one for stealing or breaking the law. Twas a pity—for her. We couldn’t get into any of the tourist traps she was so keen on seeing without paying. She was about to play right into my plan.Thattwas not a pity.
“Hold those thoughts and stay here,” I said as I walked to the end of the alley and waited patiently.
The sidewalks were filled with tourists and fancy business people striding quickly to lunch. Humans were always in a hurry. Such a shame. I had nothing against humans per se. Some I quite enjoyed. But there was no time for niceties, not that I was nice, since I was on a mission at the moment.
First, a woman with her giggling child in tow passed by. That was a hard no for me. Stealing from a mother was shitty. I might be an asshole, but I wasn’t a dick. Next, a father with twolittle ones dressed as superheroes walked past. Again, a no. I held children in a different category from adult humans. I found them precious like puppies. I quite liked the little creatures. Their lack of filter was amusing. Admitting this flaw publicly was off the table. I had a self-serving, carefree, dastardly asshole reputation to uphold. It wasn’t until I spotted a pompous pasty businessman who rudely yelled and pushed an old homeless woman to the ground that I pegged my target.
I might be in Astrid’s skin, but I was the Devil in disguise. Different face. Same playbook. Timing my walk, I exited the alley as he hurried by and knocked the uppity bastard on his ass. His shock and fury were delightful. Demon lore had it all wrong. My people didn’t practice or cause evil, we simply thrived on it. Technically, it was God’s fault that mankind could be awful specimens. He’d given them free will, and I was pretty sure my brother regretted that greatly. Too bad, so sad. Inhaling and basking in the evil of the human world was like drinking fine wine.
“Watch where you’re going, imbecile,” the man hissed in a posh British accent, trying to gather his belongings that had scattered when he’d dropped his briefcase.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, kneeling down and helping… not. The idiot carried his wallet in his briefcase. It was like stealing from a baby. I much preferred a more complicated heist, but this would have to do. Pulling a polite voice out of my ass was difficult but doable. His wallet was already in the roomy pocket of my Prada frock. “I didn’t see you, sir. My apologies.”
“Yes, well,” he huffed, getting to his feet. “Next time look where you’re going, woman. I’m an important man with important things to do.”
Gritting my teeth together and faking a smile sucked. However, one rude exchange deserved another. I clapped my hands and smiled for real. As he hustled away muttering aboutclumsy, stupid women, I enhanced him. Mr. Pompous now had a nice sized gap between his teeth, about thirty extra pounds on him, and a large hole in the ass of his Savile Row trousers. Good riddance to shitty rubbish.
Walking over to the woman he’d yelled at and pushed over, I held out my hand. I pulled her to her feet then checked her over for injuries. Her smile of thanks was genuine. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure Astrid and the crew couldn’t see me, I pulled out the wallet and examined the contents. Mr. Pompous was a wealthy man. There was over five-hundred-pounds in notes and every credit card available.
“Thank you for helping me up, kind sir,” the frail woman said with a toothy smile.
It stopped me for a beat. I wasn’t a sir. I was a ma’am. Was she senile? Probably.
“This is for you,” I said, handing her all the cash.
“Oh my,” she said, holding up gnarled hands. “I can’t take that, sir.”
“I insist,” I told her, pressing the money into her hands. “Get something to eat.”
She giggled and hugged me. It was incredibly awkward. I was proud of myself for not zapping the old gal.
