Holy Socks And Dirtier Demons (21 page)

“Name?” He scratched a patch of white hair on top his baldhead.

“Dick Cheney.”

His lips twitched. “Do you have any idea how many times a day I

hear that joke?” He yawned. “And it keeps getting funnier every time. Now,

your name?”

“I’m not on your list.” I shrugged. “I’m here to find Lilith.”

He scanned the list in his sweaty finger. “Lilith?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, shooting him a man-to-demon smile.

“Never heard of her.”

My grin tightened. “Huh, that’s weird. She’s Satan’s mistress. Black

hair, forked tongue.” At his blank look, I added, “Kind of a bitch.”

“Oh…” He shook his head. “Nope. Doesn’t ring any bells.”

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I let out a screech, ripped the list from the demon’s hands, and

scanned it myself. Fuck. No Lilith.

“Hey, you can’t do that.” The demon tore the list from my hands and

stabbed me in the gut with a pitchfork. Cliché, I know, but he really had one

and the fucker was sharp too.

“Ow.” I rubbed at my stomach. “Listen, tell me where Lilith is, and

I’ll put in a word for you with the Big Guy.” I pointed upwards and wiggled

my eyebrows.

The demon laughed, spewing globs of demon juice. It landed on the

ground, sizzled, and turned to steam. “Just give me your name.”

I blew out a harsh breath. “Jace Miller.”

The demon glanced at his list and growled. “Here you are. Jace

Miller. Mortal sin. Oh, and it says here, numerous commandment violations.”

He shook his head. “Did you really lie to God?” He scanned the list again.

“And use the Baby Jesus to pick up hookers?”

“Wait a minute.” I frowned. “I didn’t know she was a prostitute. I

thought she was a nun.” Which didn’t make it any better.

The demon shook his head, and motioned to a shorter demon with

fire-red hair. “Take Mr. Miller to the ninth circle.”

Ninth, huh? According to Hades, the ninth housed the dammed in

frozen blocks of ice for an eternity while birds picked at their eyeballs. I

glanced down at my naked chest, and jean clad legs. Damn, I should have

dressed warmer.

“Ummm, I’d like to talk to your supervisor.” I smiled, lots of teeth

and purity. “Or better yet, Satan, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No.” He grinned back at me, lots of rotten teeth and hellish breath.

“Ninth circle. Now.” He held up his hand, as an earpiece buzzed in his ear.

“I had a feeling hell was responsible for Bluetooth.” I waved to the

annoying phone.

“Yes sir,” the demon said into the phone. “Right away, sir.” The

demon paused, running his bloodshot eyes over my blood-soaked jeans.

“Satan wants to see you.”

“And I want to see Lilith. So either you produce her in the next ten

seconds, or I—”

Blood filled my mouth as my teeth shattered under the demon’s

sucker punch. The next punch dropped me to my knees. The ones after that I

can’t remember, but they left me with four broken ribs, two busted legs, and

a missing small intestine.

“That all you got?” I spit out my spleen, but I blacked out before he

answered.

~ * ~

“Rise.”

I opened my eyes and stared at the man in front of me. He looked

like Mr. Sable, my high school math teacher in drag, glasses, a baldhead, and

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a geeky smile mixed with platform go-go boots, and a red boa. I knew Mr.

Sable was the Devil.

The rest of the room was just as confusing. A heavy wood desk and

computer sat in one corner, and a stripper pole with a snake-like demon

curled around it took up the other. It was every businessman’s dream office,

computer porn and a stripper.

Mr. Sable/Satan tapped me on the cheek. “I said stand up.”

My body complied, even as it took my brain a second to catch up. He

put a hand on my forehead, and my body jerked. I glanced down at my once

busted bones and ran my tongue over my unbroken teeth. Satan wasn’t what

I’d expected, but at least I wasn’t bleeding from my spine anymore.

“Where’s Lilith?” I spit after my jaw returned to its original place.

Satan shook his baldhead. “What is it with you younger generation?

Always demanding, in a hurry. Whatever happened to small talk? A little

social intercourse?”

For future reference, one word I never wanted to hear from a guy

wearing high heels and a feathery scarf was intercourse.

I cleared my throat. “Hi, Satan. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve been

a fan of your work for years. The holocaust. 9-11. The Republican party.” I

took a breath. “Now where the fuck is Lilith?”

He laughed in a falsetto loud enough to shatter glass. “She’s not

here.”

“What do you mean?” I stepped closer to him. “I watched her die.”

He was lying. Never trust the Devil, or girl scouts selling cookies, a motto to

live by.

“Yes, and your sacrifice was very noble.” He batted his overly long

eyelashes at me. “Like West Side Story, but without the singing. Thank me,

because Lilith sings worse then the Hellish Tabernacle Choir.”

“If she’s not here, where is she?” I closed my eyes, counting to ten. I

wanted to strangle him, but seeing as he’s the Prince of Darkness, I’d

probably get my ass kicked.

“That is not my question to answer.” He patted my shoulder, and I

flinched, the heat of his hands frying my flesh. His affirmable grin widened.

“But even more, that is not the right question to ask.”

What the fuck was it with these beings, and their Zen phrasing? For

once, I wanted a fucking straight answer. The Devil’s next words caught me

off guard.

“Lilith was like a daughter to me.”

Daughter? Not his mistress. Damn, what else had I been wrong

about? Mary, for sure, but was there more?

The Devil shrugged at my look of surprise. “I had hoped Lilith would

see the dark, and marry Samuel. But much to Samuel’s dismay, it wasn’t

meant to be. Even now he holds out hope your death will return her to his

evil ways.”

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Dismay? Funny way to look at attempted murder. “Does Samuel

have her?” That thought curdled my blood. My mind flashed to the scars on

Lilith’s body, the pain in her yellow eyes, and her screams.

Satan shook his head and glanced at the clock on his wall. “Our time

is up.”

“No, I have to find her. I’ll do whatever you want.” I stopped, staring

into his dead eyes. “I’ll sell my soul.”

He laughed. “What makes you think I don’t already own it?”

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Thirty Eight

Time was up.

I groaned, struggling into a sitting position. My head felt scotch-

taped together, like a jigsaw puzzle at a loony bin.

“Jesus, don’t put that in your mouth.” The angel frowned at the kid

and plucked a piece of my skull from his fingers.

“Mine.” The kid cried, pinching the angel with his talon-like-kid

nails. “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

“No, it’s Nemamiah’s. If we don’t put it back, his brains, or rather,

what’s left of them will ooze out,” the angel explained to the kid, who

ignored him in favor of stuffing a spider into his drool-coated mouth.

The angel popped the last piece of skull into my head, tapped it once,

and declared me good as new. But I didn’t feel good, or new. As a matter of

fact, I felt ancient, broken, and grief-stricken. Like the kid eating bugs beside

me, a Judas had betrayed me.

I may not be able to find Lilith, but I would find Mary. And when I

did, she’d learn there were worst places than hell.

I cracked my knuckles. My lust for vengeance overshadowed the fact

a quarter of my brains were squished under me. Staggering to my feet, I

glanced down at Lilith’s now cold body. Her skin had lost its glow, her

yellow eyes dimmed to a muted brown. I picked her up, cupping her

protectively in my arms.

“What are you doing?” The angel gestured, his face tight and afraid.

I ignored his question. “Hand me the kid, and grab that sword.” My

eyes locked on Tyrfing. I added quickly, “But don’t pick it up with your

wings.” I wasn’t sure if Tyrfing would affect the angel, but I wasn’t going to

take the chance.

“You should leave the mean one.” The angel gripped the sword with

my sweatshirt after passing me the Baby Jesus. “Her place is here.”

“No.” I lifted Lilith over my shoulder in a makeshift fireman’s carry,

and tucked the kid underneath my other arm. Using my body to shield him, I

trudged from the gates of hell, and into Times Square.

Screams from passing tourist reverberated through my aching head,

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but I paid them little attention, focused instead on locating Lilith’s Gremlin

and getting the fuck out of there.

“Where is it?” I motioned to the angel.

“Two blocks south.” He smiled, as if he’d solved all of my problems.

I shook my head and headed north. Sure enough three blocks later,

the Gremlin sat parked against a curb. A sign warned of the dangers of

parking in that specific spot in the NYPD’s stiff, intimidating language.

Lilith, God love her, had left a fuck you note to parking police on the

windshield, and the keys in the ignition.

Shoving the kid into the backseat, I buckled Lilith in the front and

jumped into the driver’s seat. The angel huffed, but climbed into the back

without further comment. Once we were all settled, I cranked the ignition,

pounded on the dash, and pumped the gas.

The Gremlin coughed once, sputtered, and died.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I pounded on the dashboard, a tear of frustration and rage rolled

down my cheek. A manly tear. Lilith’s voice whispered in my head, “Suck it

up, you big baby. Do you see J.C. crying?”

I grinned, probably delusional, but comforted all the same. I twisted

the keys again, and laughed when the engine roared to life. Things were

looking up. I slammed the Gremlin into drive, and without a destination in

mind, sped up the avenue.

~ * ~

In the dead of the night, I drove an angel, a dead girl, and God’s son,

his diaper filled with shit, to Queens.

My mind raced, connecting the dots of today’s events. Mary had

stolen the kid, kept him locked away, but to what end? She wasn’t working

alone. I was sure of it. So who dared to fuck with God, and the Devil?

Samuel.

His named popped into my head, and my knuckles whitened on the

steering wheel. I glanced into the darkness, and then into the backseat where

the angel sat. “Wait here,” I said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

The angel nodded, his eyes leery as I picked up Lilith’s body and

carried her through the gates of the Calvary Cemetery.

The gravestones looked the same as they had days ago. I weaved my

way through the headstones and angelic statues, memories surging like the

scent of death surrounding me. Ahead the marble stone of Steve Brodie’s

mausoleum glinted under a single, bright star.

I smiled, a lifetime had past since Lilith locked me inside, actually,

two lifetimes. Leaning her body against the cold stone, I pushed the door

open. Inside the crypt smelled of stale air and black candles. Homey.

Wrapping Lilith in my arms for the last time, I held her close and

inhaled the scent of her. Exotic tobacco and sin. I kissed her forehead and set

her down on the icy ground.

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“I will make this right,” I promised over the lump in my throat. My

lips brushed hers, and for a second, I imagined a spark of life in her frozen

corpse. But unlike Sleeping Beauty, Lilith stayed dead.

I swallowed hard and glanced to Heaven. “I’m not fucking Job. Get

it? Bring her back.”

Silence filled the chamber. Dead, thick silence.

“Stubborn prick.” I flipped God off, and bent over Lilith once more.

“Don’t give up on me.” I grabbed her bluish hand, kissed it, and staggered to

my feet. My eyes burned with tears, but I refused to let them fall. Tears were

for the dead, and I’d be damned if I’d give Lilith up that easy.

At the entrance of the crypt, I lit another candle and said goodbye

before I closed the door for the last time.

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Thirty Nine

“Here.” Hades handed me another beer followed by a shot of milk-

turned-whiskey.

I slumped on a bar stool at the Underworld, drowning myself in

liquor. Cheap liquor. The angel and the kid sat at the opposite end of the bar

watching a stupid cartoon about the tribulations of a yellow square. The kid

looked bored, the angel mesmerized.

“I just don’t get it.” I shook my head, warding off duel images of

Hades, and swallowed the shot. “Why didn’t Mary try and kill me sooner? It

wasn’t like she didn’t have the chance.”