Fabulous friend of the podcast Abby Shumka returns to discuss horse boobs, curly fries and Poto and Cabengo!
Meet Captain Shanty! The Scarlot harlot. After being diched by her imp Dad and Succubus mom in the middle of a deserted island she’s picked up by a couple of pirates and raised by them :]
She also probably had a relationship with a sea goddess at some point
“Go crawl back to Hell.”
Author’s note: Another excerpt from my urban fantasy novel coming out later this year. All you really need to know is, Alex is a should’ve-been-dead-girl, junkie witch (Watcher) and bartender who’s going straight to Hell. Sathariel’s the demon soul reaper who’s been sent to take her there.
Only problem is, this Bad Witch refuses to die until she resolves some unfinished business involving Heaven, Hell and a generational curse.
In this scene Sathariel confronts the soul reaper who’s come to earth to clean up his mess and take Alex to Hell once and for all.
“Hanael can’t make it today. She sends her regrets.”
Sathariel flinched, flipping the blade shut before it bit into his flesh. He whirled to face the cold voice ringing out behind him.
She was standing in the shadows, leaning against the empty sepulcher. The moon glinted off her scythe, and he knew.
“Azazel,” he breathed hoarsely. “What did you do to her?”
Azazel laughed.
“Relax,” she mumbled. “Hanael’s fine. Just a bit tied up at the moment. Once she wiggles out from under that mountain she’ll be right as rain.”
She sauntered out from the moonlight-splintered darkness under the tree. Clods of dirt fresh from the grave crumbled off her human form as she paced towards him.
“But you-“ she murmured. “Well. You’re in deep shit. So’s your little walking-dead-witch.”
“Back off, Zazy,” he hissed. “She’s on my list. Her soul’s mine.”
Chuckling Azazel dug in the pocket of her long robes and drew out a crumpled scrap of parchment.
“Not anymore,” she crowed. She waved the paper in his face.
Sathariel flinched. Even at a distance he could see the name scrawled at the top of The List. Alexandria Aurinia.
His vision swam red, and his mouth ran dry. He lurched into her path, blocking her from the cemetery gates.
“Go crawl back to Hell,” he snarled. “You’re not gonna touch her.”
His body crackled as he flicked the soul knife open again, black blade flashing. Azazel laughed, a sharp cackle that rattled his rib cage.
“Seriously? You’re going to fight me with that butter knife?”
“You’re not leaving this graveyard,” he muttered, gripping the knife’s curved hilt.
Snorting she shook her head.
“I always knew you were a sucker,” she said softly. “But this is sad. Even for you.”
Humming she wielded the scythe before her. It hissed as it arced through the air.
“I’d rather not hurt you,” Azazel huffed. “But I will rip you apart if you don’t get out of my way.”
“Get fucked,” he hissed.
“Sath,” she sighed, “you’re a moron.”
“Alright! I got a joke too; what wears a dark suit, is completely evil and is about to suck out all your souls?”
-Hunson Abadeer, “Adventure Time”