Chapter 143 Hell.

Chapter 143: 143 Hell.

I felt my entire face immediately flush violently hot in the freezing air.

"That... no!"

"Aha! You deny it, but I know you too well, Miles!" Rhea cackled gleefully over the comms. "But you better put those pants on fast, oh evil overlord! Because I should let you know, we got a real high-end, corporate warlord-looking car coming up the drive."

I turned my head toward the chalet as if I could look straight through the building and down to the front gate. "Corporate warlord?"

"Oh yeah. Real matte-black, heavily armored. It’s coming up near the gate. Thought you might want to know."

Strange. Who the hell would be coming up to see me all the way out here?

Aside from Lacey, and Rhea already knew what her truck looked like. Could it be Arman Glint? I sort of doubted that. Arman wasn’t the kind of man who came to visit you. You went to him, usually in the trunk of a sedan.

Either way, unexpected guests in the mob usually meant gunfire or an ambush—generally just trouble.

"I’ll be right there," I said.

"Sir?" Glacia asked, sensing the shift in my posture.

"Someone’s coming up the gate," I said. "I’ve got to deal with this."

"Of course, sir," Glacia said smoothly. "I hope they are suitably terrified by your statue as well, meager though it is."

’Meager’ wasn’t exactly the word I’d use for a twenty-foot-tall, tyrannical ice monument of myself, but whatever. "Well, they’ll certainly know they’re in the right place," I said, starting off back through the chalet. "Now, let’s see who our guest is."

"Of course, sir," Glacia said, falling into step beside me at a brisk, aristocratic pace.

"Just say the word, Miles, and I can totally blast them off the driveway," Rhea chirped, the snap of her fingers crackling through the receiver. "I rigged up this great twin-linked Gatling cannon in the tits of one of those stone mermaid statues flanking the gate, and I’ve been absolutely dying to test them out."

I chuckled. Now that would be something to see, and I honestly loved a good ’heavy-artillery-hidden-in-the-classy-statuary’ trick.

I knew there was a reason I let Rhea handle the chalet’s defenses. "Hold fire for now," I told her. "It’s probably not someone we should be disintegrating on a whim."

"Spoilsport," Rhea huffed.

Still, there was no reason not to be cautious. I willed my armor to deploy from my plates underneath my shirt and stretched out my hand as the sledgehammer flew directly into it.

I threw open the heavy double doors, stepping out onto the landing just in time to see the iron gates slide open.

The car that rolled up the gravel drive was a hyper-modern, matte-black armored fortress on wheels.

It looked like a stealth bomber that had mated with a Maybach. Sleek, angular, and devoid of license plates, it ground to a halt right in front of the fountain.

With a soft pneumatic hiss, the driver’s side door popped open. A bald man in a severe black turtleneck and wire-rimmed glasses—looking exactly like a bargain-bin Steve Jobs—scurried out.

It was Roger Benz.

Oh, no.

Roger rushed around to the back door, pulling it open with a deep, groveling bow and a stool.

I stared in mounting dread as a tiny, four-foot-nothing woman wrapped in a severe, geometric black dress stepped out onto the gravel.

Madame Edna.

And directly behind her, squeezing out of the heavily armored backseat with considerable difficulty, was a towering, six-foot-three demon.

Lilith stretched her long, crimson legs, her spaded tail swishing wildly behind her.

Her famously curvy figure pouring out of a tight pinstriped pencil skirt and a white blouse that was actively fighting a losing battle against her cleavage. She was dragging three massive Louis Vuitton suitcases behind her.

I was floored. What the hell were they doing here? Edna was the most sought-after, terrifying designer in the superhuman community. She didn’t make house calls.

Edna didn’t even look at me. She stopped, crossing her arms as she glared up at the massive ice sculpture of me towering over the fountain.

"Impractical!" Edna barked, her sharp European accent cutting through the mountain air like a crack of a whip. "Look at the aerodynamic drag on that cape! In a heavy crosswind, a cape of that volume would snap his neck like a dry twig! Have you learned nothing from my lectures, Miles? Nothing?!"

Glacia bristled instantly beside me, the ambient temperature dropping five degrees as her artistic integrity was questioned by a woman the size of a fire hydrant.

"E-Edna?" I gasped, completely ignoring the critique of my statue. "What... what are you doing here?"

Lilith spotted me, her glowing yellow eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree.

"Milesy!" she squealed.

She dropped the designer luggage and closed the distance in a terrifying blur of crimson skin and pinstripes.

She threw her arms around me, violently yanking me forward and burying my entire face directly into the suffocating depths of her demonic cleavage.

"Hello... Lilith," I wheezed, my voice entirely muffled by her chest, my lungs burning as I was overwhelmed by the intense scent of expensive vanilla perfume and faint brimstone.

"Lilith! Release him!" Edna snapped, marching over and viciously swatting the demoness on the hip with a rolled-up fashion magazine. "You are wrinkling his shirt! And I do not have time for your bubbly theatrics!"

Lilith pouted, reluctantly releasing her death grip so I could stumble back and suck in a desperate lungful of oxygen.

"Why are you here, Edna?" I asked, checking to make sure none of my ribs were permanently dented.

"I am taking a sabbatical, Miles," Edna declared, adjusting her massive glasses. "The corporate capes have finally pushed my blood pressure to unacceptable levels. I require a vacation. A spiritual reset. I have booked an extended retreat in the High Heavens to meditate with the Seraphim. The architecture there is flawless, and the angels understand the value of a clean, minimalist silhouette... however boring."

I blinked. "You’re vacationing in... Heaven?"

"Yes. And this over-inflated succubus cannot come with me," Edna said, jabbing a thumb at Lilith.

"The holiness literally blisters my skin, Milesy!" Lilith whined, her spaded tail drooping sadly as she gestured to herself. "Edna says if I even step near the Pearly Gates, my blood will boil and my skin will melt like cheap polyester. It is so unfair."

Kinda surprised Edna could go either but whatever.

"Which is precisely why I am dumping her here," Edna stated flatly, leaving absolutely zero room for negotiation.

"Wait. What?" I choked.

"Consider her an extended intern," Edna said, turning sharply on her heel and marching back toward the matte-black car. "She is a competent enough seamstress when she is not utterly distracted by plunging necklines. Feed her, keep her out of my studio, and do not let her sign any contracts in blood. Roger! The door!"

"Right away, Edna!" Roger yelped, holding the car door open.

"Wait, Edna, you can’t just leave a demon in my home!" I protested, taking a step forward.

"I just did! Ciao, Miles!" Edna barked, sliding into the backseat.

The heavy armored door slammed shut, and the Maybach peeled out of the driveway, kicking up a spray of gravel before disappearing back out the front gates.

I stood completely frozen in the driveway, staring at the empty space where the car had just been.

"Well," Lilith sighed, wiping a fake tear from her eye. "I’m really going to miss her. But honestly? This is exactly the opportunity I’ve been waiting for!"

I slowly turned to look at her. "Opportunity for what?"

"To step out of her shadow, obviously!" Lilith squealed, her sadness instantly vanishing as she bounced on her heels, grabbing my arm and pressing her massive chest against my bicep. "We are going to have so much fun, Milesy! We can do makeovers, and I can design outfits with all the spikes and cleavage Edna never lets me use! Oh, it’s going to be the best villain sleepover ever!"

I stared blankly at the towering, bubbly demon currently vibrating with excitement on my lawn, then looked over at Glacia, who was staring at Lilith with an expression of pure, unadulterated icy murder.

I pushed the heels of my hands into my eyes, feeling a massive migraine coming on.

Fucking hell.