Holy Socks And Dirtier Demons (28 page)

But my penis had other plans though. My fingers threaded around her

waist, pulling her closer until our naughty parts folded into one.

I stroked the small of her arched back, exploring the ridges of her

spine. Her breath, hot and fast against my neck, smelled of temptation. When

her tongue darted out between her lips, my will was lost.

Awash in the need to feel her naked skin, and to watch as her control

slipped away to reveal the woman beneath the deity, I swallowed a groan

before losing myself in the taste of her skin.

“I have to find Jesus, alone,” Lilith whispered, her mouth pressed

against the hollow of my throat.

“Later.” I kissed her hard, taking my time.

We had plenty of time left. Of that, I was sure. I knew where the kid

was, thanks to a small tattoo, and unless I was an idiot—a possibility I’d

rather not think about—the kid would be safe until I arrived.

~ * ~

I smiled down at a sleeping Lilith, our limbs tangled together from a

frenzy of animalistic sexual positions, and bodily fluids.

Protector of innocents she might be, but after what we’d done, no one

would mistake her for wholesome. The claw marks covering the back of my

calves bore witness to that.

Untangling my arms from Lilith, I kissed her forehead. “Don’t wait

up,” I whispered as I eased from her white-sheeted bed and wiggled into a

pair of jeans. My finger grazed the scar on the back of her neck.

Looking back on the last week or so, my rage faded, replaced by self-

disgust. I’d been stupider than the angel had. Lilith hadn’t tried to kill me.

She’d been protecting me. In her own fucked-up way, she’d saved my life.

The pit of hell was a great example.

To keep me from catching the mini-van, and dying in a hail of

gunfire, she’d employed Satan and a hell-pit. Fucked-up, right? All the same,

warmth filled my heart.

Well, no more safety net, today I’d face my enemy and bring the

Messiah home. After that, who knew? Maybe I’d turn water into wine, or

part the Red Sea.

170

Fifty Three

I grabbed a cab outside Lilith’s apartment, surprising since I dragged

Tyrfing in my wake. But the taxi driver barely glanced my way. I guessed

what they say was true; New York cabbies had seen it all, and if they hadn’t

seen it, they’d sure as hell had cleaned it off the floor of their cab.

On the street in front of the Heavenly Grace Buddhist Temple, I paid

the cabbie, slung Tyrfing over my shoulder, and marched into my final

reward. My destination was clear, at least it was to my mind. People on the

street might’ve wonder why I carried a sword into a Buddhist temple, but it

wasn’t their place to question.

The front door was locked, so I rang the bell and awaited my fate.

“I'm sailing away…la…la…la…,” I began to sing, my mind focused on what

was to come.

“Shut up,” CPA Buddhist Number One declared, throwing open the

temple’s door. “I hate that fucking song. Where exactly were they sailing

away to anyways? Does anybody know?” His eyes focused on me, and the

sword in my hands. “Oh, it’s you. What do you want? More masticated flesh

of an innocent cow?”

“Where are they?” I pointed Tyrfing in his direction, its tip inches

from his robe-covered heart.

“Who…?” The CPA shook his bald head.

Tyrfing slid through my hands, and straight through CPA’s black-

heart. Blood welled from the wound, spurting at intervals like the flapping of

butterfly wings. He coughed once and dropped to the floor, dead.

In another life, I might have felt bad. But today, fuck it, he’d gotten

in my way. I stepped over his flabby body, pulled Tyrfing from his gut, and

entered my very own pit of hell.

The temple looked the same as it had a few days before. Simple,

clean, and no new Jesus smell. My eyes scanned the hallway, quickly

gathering intel, and a way to escape.

A closed door led to what I assumed was another room, but really for

all I knew, it was a Buddhist bathroom. Did Buddhist bathe? The ones at the

airport never smelled too clean. More like marijuana and brownie mix.

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Damn, I wished I had more time. Time to think of a better plan. Time

to say goodbye. Carefully, I crept along the hallway, glancing around corners

and peeking through doorways. The place appeared empty, not a dude in a

robe anywhere.

For a let-go-of-material-things religion, their temple had all the glitz

one could imagine. I was a little surprised the floor wasn’t plated in gold.

Lining the hallway were Monets, Picassos, and a knocked-off Warhol

or two. My fingers, blackened with dust, brushed the paintings frames as I

admired the balls it took to hang such a collection, here, out in the open, in

one of the most dangerous cities in America.

That brought up an interesting question. Either these Buddhist had a

hell of an insurance premium, or something otherworldly protected their lair.

A low moan from the upstairs sent a shiver up my spine.

I climbed the steps, a whisper of dread creeping along the soles of

my feet. The temple all but vibrated with danger. Doom, death, and, I sniffed

the foul air. Sulfur.

“The kid better make a hell of a Messiah,” I said, reaching the top

stair. Two doors stood in front of me. A choice. A path. Choose poorly or

wisely, I was fucked either way.

I closed my eyes, and reached for the door handle on the right. Why

the right one, one might ask? Was it a premonition? Some secret feeling?

Nope. Which was good because the door swung open easily in my

hand. The room was empty. I mean completely empty. Not a stick of

furniture. Not a cockroach in sight. Nothing.

Now I knew for sure the temple was protected by something evil.

What New York building didn’t have roaches?

I backed out of the room, almost tripping over Tyrfing. The air

around me turned frosty, but the stench of sage and slut overpowered the

coldness.

“Hello, Jace.” Mary appeared behind me, a nine-millimeter clutched

in her hand. My nine-millimeter to be precise. Bitch.

My eyes roamed over her. Pink coral painted toes. Strappy pink

heeled shoes. Tanned, long legs. Pinkish, high-rounded breasts peeking

through the thin material of a pink fuck-me dress. Lying maroon stained lips.

And to top it off, a pink cotton candy colored barrette taming her bleach-

bimbo-blonde hair. I didn’t know if I should stab, or marry her.

Stabbing won out.

Praying she hadn’t invested in bullets, I charged with a war cry, my

rage funneled through Tyrfing and into the air.

Mary fired the empty weapon. Click. Click. Click.

I smiled a grim grin of pleasure.

Her eyes widened. “No, please, no.”

The blade, inches from her stomach, halted, freezing like a hooker in

Alaska. I tried to push it forward, to destroy Mary in order to protect the kid,

172

but Tyrfing refused to budge.

Fucking sword.

It was her turn to smile.

I waved my other hand in front of the sword. Nothing. No wires or

string. What the hell was holding the sword back? I wanted her dead, and

therefore, following the sword’s past logic, she should die. But no, there was

always a trick. Some fucked up mysterious way to keep me from succeeding.

“Why?” I glanced to the heavens.

“The sword can’t kill what you do not hate.” Lilith appeared next to

Mary, her yellow eyes flashing. She looked ready to kill. Unfortunately, her

murderous expression centered firmly on me.

“But I do hate Mary.” I grabbed Lilith’s hand, dropping Tyrfing to

the floor and nicking my big toe. Blood filled my boot, but it barely

registered. “I swear it. I feel nothing but contempt and hate for her.”

“He’s lying. He loves me,” Mary said, sliding closer to me, her long

nails stroking my shoulder. “He came here for me, so we could run away

together.”

“Shut up.” I shoved Mary away. “It’s not true. I love—”

Lilith held up her hand. “I know, and you’re a fool. But that doesn’t

change the fact,” she pointed to the smug Mary, “this whore won’t die.”

173

Fifty Four

“Whore? Who are you calling a whore?” Mary foolishly stepped in

front of Lilith.

“If the vagina fits,” Lilith answered, a small smile curling on her lips.

Mary growled, and Lilith’s smile deepened. She was provoking Mary on

purpose. Was Lilith jealous? I grinned at the thought.

“Funny.” I winked at Lilith. “But you wanna fill me in? Why won’t

Tyrfing take her life?”

Lilith sighed; apparently disappointed Mary hadn’t jumped at her

baiting. “It will kill her.”

“Now you’re just fucking with me.” Running an angry hand over my

face, I added, “Will Tyrfing kill her or not?”

“You know I’m standing right here, don’t you?” Mary shifted her

weight to one leg, and jutted out a tapping foot in a practiced supermodel

pose. “I can hear you.”

Ignoring her, I waited for Lilith to answer. And if I got another of

those, it will kill her but not kill her answers, we’d find out if Tyrfing had

any qualms about running Lilith through, again.

“I thought I answered that already.” Lilith blew out an annoyed

breath. “Can’t you pay attention for more than a millisecond? Talk about

A.D.D…”

“God dammit, Lilith. Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Lilith rolled her eyes. “Yes, Tyrfing will kill her.”

“Fine. Good.” I hefted the sword again, pointing the tip around

Mary’s cold, black heart. “Okay then. Here I go.” My hand stayed steady,

true, on the hilt of the sword as I prepared to end Mary’s existence.

Mary blinked up at me, tears forming at the corner of her lashes.

Just do it,
my mind ordered like the cheesy Nike commercial. She

had to die. It was the only way to protect the kid and Lilith. Closing my eyes,

I pressed the sword into Mary’s firm body.

She didn’t let out a sound. No wailing or death-rattled scream. No

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blood curdled, high-pitched whine. Nothing.

Sickness rolled up my esophagus. I’d killed before, but not like this.

Never like this. “Forgive me,” I whispered as Tyrfing’s blade slumped

toward the ground.

“Forgive you for what?” an alive and well Mary asked from a few

feet in front of me.

I cracked an eyelid open. “Shit.” Tossing the worthless sword to the

floor, I stalked over to Lilith. “I thought you said it would kill her.”

She shrugged. “I did.”

“And?”

“It will.” Lilith picked the sword from the ground, its blade reflecting

off the yellow of her eyes. This time Mary looked scared. Her face had lost

its pink perfected color, and her eyes grew wide.

“No, please, no.” Mary backed up a step, running into the wooden

banister. “Jace, you cannot let her kill me.”

Was she serious? I’d just tried to kill her twice, and now she asked

me to save her? “And why the fuck not?”

Mary’s eyes darted between Lilith, Tyrfing, and me. “Because I’m

pregnant.” Suddenly Mary burst into a round of glimmer tears. Perfect tears.

Liar’s tears. “And you’re the father.”

175

Fifty Five

My mouth opened. Closed. And opened again. What could I say?

“Are you fucking insane?” I took two quick steps away from Mary.

Pregnant? How was that even possible?

“Didn’t your mom explain the birds and bees to you?” Lilith said,

bitter laughter in her tone. “You see, little jacey comes out to play in the rain

without a raincoat and…”

I held up a hand. “Now is not the time for jokes.”

“Yeah, I’m having a hard time keeping a sense of humor about this

too.” Lilith took a deep breath. “But she’s telling the truth. She is pregnant,

which is why Tyrfing won’t harm her. It cannot kill a fetus you’re not angry

with.”

“But we only… there was only that one time,” I stuttered my way

though, eyes pleading. “
I was drugged!
”

“Were not.” Mary brushed a spec of invisible lint off her pink dress.

“You came willingly enough.”

“That was before I knew—”

“Enough.” Lilith smacked me in the back of the head. “None of this

matters. Jace, let’s tie Mary up, grab Baby Jesus, and get the fuck out of

here.”

Sounded good to me. I’d deal with Mary and our supposed love-child

later. Much later. Nine months later. Don’t get me wrong, I love kids,

especially when they turned spoiled milk into wine, but having one of my

own, no thanks. Why fuck up another generation?

Lilith pulled a rope from inside her coat pocket, and handed it to me.