Page 43 of Plaidypus
Nice. I’d been led to believe everything in Australia would try to kill me, but I’d found a slice of heaven I could bask in and enjoy the view while questioning the high number of men wearing speedos, which had earned the charming albeit confusing moniker of budgie smugglers.
The note on the Devil’s Guide to Australia indicated that once upon a time, some enterprising animal smugglers wrapped birds into phallic-shaped packages for export. Australians, being Australians, had adopted the terminology. A disgruntled note mentioned flip-flops were thongs, and Lucifer absolutely did not approve of their tendency to wear sexy lingerie on their feet.
In his not-so-humble opinion, sexy lingerie belonged on other parts of the body, destined for destruction of imminent removal. I ignored the five pages of notes on the various types of proper thongs and other lingerie, until I reached the section of his guide dedicated to men I should dispatch with great prejudice.
Hudson Turner, the asshole behind the bargain to send me to Australia to become his unwilling mate, had several scars across his nose. Three of the five scars were courtesy of Australian women who’d declined his invitation to join him in bed. The irate husbands of married women had added the other two scars. The Devil’s note implied Mr. Turner hated strong, independent women, and his goal in life included breaking the spirit of any woman unfortunate enough to garner his interest.
Lucifer suggested I begin and end my work with him using the gun he’d helpfully stowed in my new purse. While I typically did my hunting with a rifle, I’d gotten in plenty of practice with a handgun as well, practicing for the enjoyment of improving my skills. I checked my new leather bag, and while large, I could sling it over my shoulder—or convert it into a backpack thanks to the inclusion of an extra strap. Overall, the cream leather stood a good chance of surviving through my adventure across a sweltering content.
The map Lucifer provided indicated I would need to travel north and east to meet up with Mr. Turner. The lycanthrope’s associates, six single men with a history of violence, were on the Devil’s list. Then, to make it clear he meant every word of his orders to deal with the problem, he included a list of crimes the bastards were guilty of, along with a statement from some Australian officials, one of whom was with the CDC, stating they understood the seven men had a date with death with a final destination of a dungeon deep within Lucifer’s many hells.
A handwritten note stated my conscience would appreciate if I dispatch them in an expedient manner.
After reading over the accusations of attempted rape, rape, various counts of sexual harassment, several counts of murder, and more general violent crimes than I cared to dwell upon, my conscience wanted to drag it out—or drag them behind Icy with frequent stops so she could stomp on their screaming bodies.
Huh. Maybe Ididmake an excellent candidate to be one of Lucifer’s minions.
So much for being a nice, polite Canadian.
My phone rang, and I checked the display to discover the Devil had come calling. Laughing over his phone number, I accepted the call. “Thank you for the incubi and that cream, Lucy. I would have transformed into a bipedal lobster within ten minutes without their help.”
“You’re welcome. How are you liking the start of your vacation so far?”
“I’ve learned I need beach time at least every year or two. I now understand why the snowbirds fly south. I just realized this is my phone, and anyone who notices I’m gone can just call me. Doesn’t that break your plans?”
“I’m cheating. Their calls go straight to my voicemail with an amusing message stating the owner of the phone was bargained away into sexual servitude by some dastardly Australians in need of correction. As the first person to call your phone was the master of the Chicago brood, things are progressing nicely. I took the liberty of visiting with your mother, who is in on the truth and has sworn not to inform young Matthieu. It is his turn to do his best to take care of you, his delicate big sister.”
“Delicate? Me?” I blurted.
Lucifer laughed. “We had a good laugh over it. I took a picture of you taking a nap with my wife. She got cold and I was busy, so she crawled into bed with you. Once she crawled into bed with you, so did all of our pets. I’m having it framed. Diana, my secretary, spotted the pile and gave me an early Christmas present. I had to tell my darling you’re not available for adoption, but I secured an excellent agreement with your parents. We are going to share nicely. Mostly because I faced off against a spunky little pony determined to guard his turf, and I promised I’d help guard his turf if I could share custody. Your father’s quite smart. He didn’t even think about it before agreeing. If I, the Devil, can’t protect his little girl, can anyone? I ultimately lied to my wife, as you are actually available for adoption. She’ll forgive me eventually.”
I breathed a relieved sigh that my parents wouldn’t be worried while I played the Devil’s rather violent game in Australia. “Thank you for talking with them. I do appreciate it.”
“I wanted to call you, as I am about to bring your Icy over. She has been saddled and bridled and given some basic training on how to be a good mount. She is capable of understanding most English now, although she’s not capable of speaking English. Well, yet. I expect that’ll come with time. I’ll have to practice telepathy with her. She’ll increase her general vocabulary and intellect as you work with her. I’m hoping to ease her into the transition, as she’s already had a lot to cope with becoming a rather strong icy moose. There are some things you will need to know.”
“You mean beyond the fact my moosecan understand English?”
“You can handle me and my father in the same room together, but a moose learning English is too much for you?”
I breathed. I breathed until the urge to fling my phone in the ocean passed. “Yes.”
“You’re a marvel.”
“Normally, I’d say you’re the Devil, but because youarethe Devil, this doesn’t work. Eh.” I took another few deep breaths. “Okay. So Icy can learn English and she is a significantly more sentient moose than she was when she was eating dirt in my front lawn.”
“Yes, that is correct. Caring for her will be easy. She can eat whatever she wants, although for the sake of your sanity, I recommend against feeding her moose meat. It will bother you a lot more than it’ll bother her to say the least. She’ll accept meat in general, however—and even like it. This is a significant change from her mortal diet, as she generally stuck with vegetation. Her new demonic side includes some pointy teeth suitable for an omnivorous diet. While in Australia, she’ll eat whatever crosses her path, including some of the more venomous and dangerous denizens. In general terms, the moose will win in your current location. Against cars, against people, against kangaroos, and whatever else you happen to meet while on your adventure. A word of advice, if I may?”
“Sure, go for it.”
“When you come across golf-ball sized melons along the roadside, they are not for eating. You wouldn’t like them. They’re quite toxic. Icy will love them, as she views toxins as tasty treats now. If you need some good forage for her, just let her go to town on the road melons. I’ve included a pair of gloves for you, so you can pick the melons and use them as ammunition. If you find the larger melons, which are detailed in the guide I gave you, collect them but cook them before you eat them. Alternatively, both types of melons can be readily weaponized against nefarious individuals. You will find most Australians to be excellent humans, but you will inevitably come across a few deserving of a melon to the face.”
I pulled the phone from my ear to check the display, which confirmed I spoke to Lucifer. I returned the device to where it belonged before saying, “Pardon me, but did you just suggest I should pick some melons on the side of the road and use them as ammunition?”
“Icy will come with saddle bags suitable for such an endeavor. Load them up, and when you need to end the existence of someone who annoys you, you can choose between flinging a toxic melon in their face before shooting them or just shooting them. Either works. The melon is more satisfying, however. It’ll make a delightful thunk and disable your target while you dispatch them. As you are a more gentle soul, at least for the moment, I would remind you that the pieces of filth I detailed in your guide no longer classify as human, and they definitely deserve to have a toxic melon thrown in their face at the speed of moose.”
“The speed of moose?” Despite myself, I laughed. “And whatisthe speed of moose, anyway?”
“You’ll find out soon enough. I recommend you wear the protective gear I’ve helpfully put into her saddle bags. Once she gets going, she really gets going. I’m quite proud of her, really. I’ll give you five minutes to come to terms with the situation and search the internet for how fast a regular moose runs. All you need to know is that Icy is faster.”
