4
“Are you ready?”Vik eased his tail through the specially designed slit in his ‘around the house’ jeans. Ah, so much better than having to hide the family tool while aboveground.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Dillon eyed Vik up and down. “We’re going to see your mother. Don’t you think you should put on ashirt?”
“Why? I have it on good authority that most human males never wear a shirt—ever!” Vik should know; he’d performed the researchhimself.
One side of Dillon’s mouth twitched. “And where exactly did you hear this little nugget ofmisinformation?”
On the other hand, a stylist might know better. And Dillon wore shirts. Lots of them. He changed them, like, every ten minutes or so, even if the little mesh number he currently sported left nothing to theimagination.
“We get cable here,” Vik informed his out-of-town guest. “We keep up with human habits by watching their lives on TV. We just keep it hidden fromMom.”
“Whose lives, inparticular?”
“Toby and Kevin and theirfriends.”
“And who exactly are Toby andKevin?”
“You might not know them since you live in Vegas. They’re on the coast somewhere. Some cove orsomething.”
Dillon rolled his eyes so hard Vik swore they sounded like tumblingdice.
“You learned everything you know about humanity by watching Dante’s Cove? That explains somuch.”
“Hey, Dante was right about the inferno, wasn’the?”
Dillon’s sigh could have wavered the flames in Mom’s throne room. “No shirt, no shoes, no service. Remember that.” An arched brow hinted at what kind of service Dillon referredto.
Vik donned a pressed button-down in two seconds flat. “Better?” Dillon was pushy, opinionated, and prone to bouts of furniture rearranging. And yet, there was something about him. Something familiar that Vik couldn’t quite put his finger on. Once they gained Vik his freedom, Dillon was free to return home. Somehow picturing the apartment without him made Vik’s hornssag.
“Much better. Now remember, I don’t care if she is your mother, let me do the talking. I have a way with people.” Dillon paused to smooth down Vik’scollar.
Oh well. It was fun while it lasted. Mom would rip a human to shreds and send him home in a box. Maybe they could hide out on the ninth level. She would never think to lookthere.
With no clue what he’d soon face, Dillon marched down the corridor to his doom. Flames licked along the walls in some places, providing illumination. The force to be reckoned with named Dillon paid them no mind. How could he be human and unimpressed? To Vik, the flickering shadows and ominous thrumming of a distant gong brought to mind a movie he’d seen on cable, with valiant heroes entering just such a place, and a malevolent demon lying inwait.
Wait a minute! Who’d ripped off his life for a movie? At last they arrived at the great arched door that separated the relatively quiet corridor from where fateawaited.
“Are you positive about this?” Because Vik sure wasn’t. “It’s not too late to back out.” They could always go back to Dillon’s apartment, hide out upstairs a while with Ralph and the otherescapees.
“You know what they say. ‘A friend says, I’m sorry your life sucks’, but a good friend says, ‘Bitch, please! We’re gonna fix this shit riiiiight now!’” Dillon gave Vik a toothygrin.
Actually, Vik hadn’t knownthat.
Dillon flung open the doors uninvited and strolled into Vik’s mother’s inner sanctum like he owned theplace.
“What is the meaning of this?” She-who-will-kick-your-ass-into-the-next-centuryroared.
Her voluminous silk robes flared out behind her as though borne on her own personal wind. The assorted gathered demons and minions drew back infear.
Neat trick. Vik had tried it once during a two-for-one taco fest. Rule to the wise: avoid refried beans—and the resulting gas—when flames permeated your entire dwelling. His apartment walls still bore scorch marks on thestone.
Head tilted at a challenging angle, Dillon marched right up to the BFD’s throne. “You call this an underworld? What century are you livingin?”
“Now see here!” The BFD drew back her hand, drawing power for a fireball. Damn, looked like Vik wouldn’t be getting lucky tonight, not with his newly acquired lover reduced to a pile of ash. Oh shit. His feet started moving, faster than ever before. Before he knew what came over him, Vik found himself between the throne and Dillon, standing up to his mother for the first time in… well…ever.
“Hi, Your Royalness Mom. I’d like you to meet Dillon. Dillon, my mother, the Big Fucking Deal of the Sixth Level, Terror ofthe…”
