Always read the fine print. Especially when you’re making a deal with the devil.
Because demons are sneaky bastards.
That’s how they got me. Well, and the rest of my hometown. A few hours of what I asked for and then we were all dragged to Hell. Luckily, those jokes about lawyers and Hell are pretty accurate. After a lengthy court case downstairs, I’ve been released on Hell’s very first work-release program with a time limit and a quota. All I have to do is hunt down and kill the things that go bump in the night like; rawheads, poltergeists, bunyips, dab tsogs, and harvest gods. If I kill enough to meet my quota, the souls of the other townsfolk are set free. If I don’t, we all stay downstairs...permanently. So, no pressure or anything.
On top of that suck salad, a tribe of cannibals want to put me on the menu, a pair of murderous Pucas are taking people joy-riding, and a teenage hitchhiker with a hot-handed problem is riding shotgun.
So, when I heard about a big daddy demon that was hellbent on taking me back downstairs ahead of schedule, I knew it was time for another challenge: Figure out how to ice a demon. If I succeed, all the souls in my deal, including mine, go free. If I fail...well, at least I’ll go down swinging.
But, I’ve got Peeps, whiskey, and a sawed-off. What more does a gal need to do the job?
