Undead and Done Read Free

filthy)
    dirty. He’d been unclean in life and soiled in death; dirty up top, dirty down below, but now she was here, and she would help him be free; they could both be free and clean, clean forever and—
    Oh.
    God.
    Ow.
    â€œThere!” she cried as he clutched himself and flopped to the floor.
    Fun fact: getting kneed in the balls hurts just as much in the afterlife as it does in life. And the vicious beating that followed was impressive.
This could be her job,
he thought when she broke his nose with a small fist.
Men and women hurt me all day every day, and she’s making them look like amateurs. What a marvel she is!
    â€œYou son of a bitch!” Stomp. Smash.
    He coughed out three teeth. “I love you.”
    â€œShut up!”
    â€œI really, really love you.” He’d curled up, protecting his tender bits, but that gave her a clear shot at the rest of him, and she took full advantage and wasn’t that something? He’d never had his elbow broken in Hell before now.
    â€œGet a grip, fucknut!”
    â€œWhoa, whoa,
whoa
.” And
she
was there, the new devil, the one who wore a red-and-white name tag that read,
Hello, My Name Is Satan 2.0
, because her friends thought it was funny. “Cathie, what the hell? Sir, are you—oh yuck,” she said as he knuckled blood out of his eyes and blinked up at her from the floor. “You are all kinds of gross and bleeding right now.”
    â€œThis—this—” She was sputtering and rubbing her hands on her pants as if frantic to get his blood off her fingers, then took a breath and forced calm. “This repellant fucknut is the guy who murdered me.”
    â€œHa! Repellant fucknut, that’s— Whoa.” The other devil’s blond brows arched. “You’re the Driveway Killer?” She bent to take another look, her shoulder-length hair swinging forward and obscuring her face and brightbright eyes for a second, and then she nodded. “You’re the Driveway Killer. I couldn’t tell right away, on account of how your nose is spouting blood and has been moved over an inch. Yikes, Cath, you really did a number on him.” This in a tone of mild admiration.
    â€œI’m not done, either.” This in a tone of whatever the opposite of mild admiration was.
    â€œYeah, you are, though.” The new devil extended a hand. He expected a slap, or a trick, but she just waited and he eventually took her hand and climbed to his feet. “What’s on your crazy fractured mind, Driveway Killer?”
    â€œBen.” That name, that terriblecorrect name the newspapersstuck him with; he’d hoped it hadn’t followed him down here. “Ben Sporco.”
    â€œYeah, I don’t care. Why’d you pick a fight with my friend?”
    â€œI didn’t pick a fight with her.” Shocked. The idea. Oh, he would never. “I needed her help.”
    Cathie made an inarticulate sound that sounded quite a lot like rage. “I’ll help you,” she managed through gritted teeth. “Right into a fractured skull and multiple amputations, I’ll help you. Someone get me a blowtorch.”
    But the new devil was looking at him thoughtfully. “Huh. You’ve heard about the changes. You’re looking to get paroled, I’ll bet.”
    Yesyes! He nodded so hard blood and mucus flew in strings from his nose. The new devil dodged, saving her sweater.
    â€œIt’s a brand-new program,” the new devil explained, which was nice of her, because the people in charge didn’t have to explain anything, anywhere, unless they wanted to—something else that was the same wherever you were trapped. “And we don’t even know if it’ll work. Baby steps, y’know?”
    He didn’t, but he nodded anyway. She reached into her pocket, pulled out her hand, scowled, reached into her pocket again, pulled out a large clean handkerchief, and handed it to