Lilith leaned in and whispered in his ear. Dante’s face whitened. He
shook his head, and Lilith nodded, gesturing wildly. I titled my head, hoping
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to catch a word or two of their conversation. I did, but they might as well
have been talking Swahili. Hell for all I knew it was Swahili. Clicks, grunts,
and groans spewed from Lilith’s mouth, but somehow sounded sexy.
Dante glanced around Lilith to glare at me. “I have just the thing,” he
said to her. He disappeared behind a stack of junk, hard to do for a fat man
but he managed. In his wake, a rumble reverberated through the room,
sending up clouds of dust mites.
I waved away the toxic air. “Lilith, what aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing that changes the outcome.” She gave me a sad smile, as if
fate sealed our destiny. “We must find J.C., and slay the dragon. If that
means one of us dies, so be it.”
So be it? I didn’t fucking think so. I had important things to
accomplish before my time ran out, not that I could name a damn one at the
moment. I rubbed my chin. “Care to give me a hint about which one of us
bites the bullet?”
“Would you believe me either way?”
She had a point. Before I could respond, Dante crawled from the
trash pile, a cloth wrapped sword clutched in his pudgy hands. He unwound
the cloth, careful not to touch the weapon. The hilt of the weapon gleamed
with gold, and its sheath shined like fire.
Lilith raised an eyebrow. “Tyrfing? You can’t be serious.”
Dante frowned. “It is the perfect weapon. One, even a mortal,” he
sneered at me, “cannot miss with. Besides, it is the only weapon that can kill
angels, devils and mortals alike.”
“Of that I have no doubt, but…”
“Pish. You don’t believe that old legend?” He waved a flabby fist.
“I’ve used it plenty of times and I’m still alive.”
She smiled. “Pick it up then.”
“Is that my phone?” Dante disappeared into the back of the shop to
answer his non-existent phone.
I moved to stand next to Lilith and the beautifully crafted sword. “I
take it there’s some bad mojo attached to this sword.”
“You could say that.” Her hand hovered above the forged steel.
“Have you ever heard the saying: ‘He who lives by the sword dies by the
sword?’”
I nodded. It was the motto of any great soldier. That and “How much
for a blowjob?”
“Well, Tyrfing is the reason for that. Whoever is stupid enough to
possess it will eventually succumb to it. But it gets worse...”
Her gaze stroked the razor sharp edges of the blade. Heat pooled low
in my body, a sexual response to the naked hunger in her eyes. Sparks leapt
from the metal to her fingertips. As if a powerful force compelled her, she
reached for the weapon.
I slapped her hand away, afraid of what would happen if she touched
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the steel, but like a magnet, my own mindless appendage curled around the
hilt.
Nothing happened. No explosion. No instant death. I lifted the sword
from the counter, weighing it in my hand. Surprised by its light weight, I
swung it in an arc feeling like a warrior, an uncoordinated one, but a warrior
just the same.
Sunlight reflected off the sharp blade, burning into Lilith’s vacant
eyes. She blinked once, shook her head, and let out a soft cry. “Oh God, what
have you done?”
“It’s okay.” I shrugged, parrying with violent force. “It’s a piece of
metal. A worthless legend. Nothing bad happened when I picked it up, and
nothing bad will happen.”
As I said those words, Dante returned from the backroom. “Hey there
pretty boy...” His eyes widened seconds before the sword pierced his gut. His
mouth formed an O, and he clutched at the mortal wound. “Figlio di una
femmina,” he whispered before dropping face first onto the floor.
Damn. I guess he was Italian. I ran to his side, but Lilith moved more
cautiously, her eyes leery as she paused at the steel blade embedded in Dante.
I cupped Dante’s head in my lap, and applied pressure to the wound, but it
was too late. Blood flowed from him like the Amazon.
“Tell my mother I love her.” His eyelids flickered, and his breathing
“Damn it, Lilith, do something.”
She shrugged, not really paying me any attention. I felt sick. Poor
guy. That fucking sword was cursed.
“Try mouth-to-mouth,” Dante whispered. The blood running down
his shirt vanished before my eyes. I released him, and his head hit the floor
with a thud. “Ouch.” He rubbed at the dented spot on his skull. “Humans
have no sense of humor.”
Glaring at him, I picked up the sword, and slammed it into the wound
again. “How’s that for funny?”
Lilith laughed, but Dante looked annoyed. I pulled the sword out, and
wiped the blood on the leg of his pants. I planned to run him through again,
but Lilith stopped me.
“Play time is over. We should get out of here before something bad
does happen.” Lilith took my arm, and smiled at Dante. “Put it on my
account.”
75
Twenty One
I dragged the sword for half a block to Lilith’s Gremlin. A thick
condensation marred the windows of the vehicle, and the seats squished
when I sat. Lilith slid into the driver’s seat, and went through the pre-start
checklist. Bang, bang, bang on the dashboard. Pump, pump, pump on the gas
pedal, an eye roll, and finally ignition.
The engine coughed to life, less forgiving of its watery adventure the
night before than me. I glanced at Lilith profile as we puttered up the street.
What had I gotten myself into I wondered for the tenth time in an hour.
“What do you suggest we do now?” I rolled down the side window to
air out the moldy stench rising from the backseat.
“I know someone who can help us find J.C.”
“Who?” And why the fuck didn’t she say so before?
“Sibillie.”
I shook my head. “The fortune teller at Coney Island?”
She nodded, and hit the brakes hard to avoid a guy in a dress riding a
unicycle. “Feel like taking a ride?”
I shrugged. Why not?
The angel stuck his head up from the hatchback. “I love Coney
Island. They have cotton candy, and a woman with a beard.” He looked well
rested, and excited at the prospect of a trip through Brooklyn.
“Not today they don’t.” Lilith flipped on the windshield wipers
brushing flakes of snow from the glass. Like a wintery wasteland, the snow
fell heavier as we traveled south through Brooklyn.
~ * ~
Gray sky met gray buildings, gray brick, and the gray skin of the
gray-haired citizens as we entered Coney Island. The city looked like a
washed out version of a noir movie.
Lilith flicked her lighter, and smoke curled from the end of her clove
cigarette. “God, this city is depressing in the winter.”
I completely agreed. In the dead of summer, Coney Island resembled
&nb
sp; a riot in Detroit, but with fat guys in Speedos and funnel cakes rather than
mobs of angry teens with torches. In the summer, lights and peals of laughter
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split the air, and pink cotton candy cones melted in the sun. In the winter
though, the place looked like a death camp.
Sunken-eyed people dammed to live here year-around watched as we
drove past. A shiver ran up my spine. I turned around and smacked the angel,
who sat behind me breathing on my neck.
Lilith parked the Gremlin inches from the front gate of the Astroland
Amusement Park. A thick chain separated us from the home of the World
Famous Cyclone as the sign overhead promised.
Frowning, Lilith kicked at the lock and mumbled to herself. The gate
rattled, but the lock held. She smashed her foot into it again. “Ow. Shit.”
Dancing around, she held the toe of her boot and moaned.
I stepped back to avoid her flailing body, only to smack into the
angel’s granite like chest. I pushed from him, and reached out to steady
Lilith.
Why did I let her talk me into these things? “What kind of succubus
can’t open a damn lock?” I reached into my jean and pulled out a small knife.
Thirty seconds later, I unwrapped the chain and we pushed our way inside.
Lilith headed to the Dante’s Inferno ride, and the six-foot fortune
telling arcade game in front of it. Sibillie, the gypsy queen of hearts. Plug a
quarter in, and Sibillie offered vague predictions straight out of the 1920’s, a
sad gimmick, but a prosperous one if Sibillie’s worn start button was any
indicator.
I followed Lilith, stopping every few steps to reel the wayward angel
from the Ferris wheel, Cyclone, and the freak sideshow. It didn’t seem to
matter to him that the rides weren’t operating and the freak show stood
empty.
“Damn it.” I grabbed for the sleeve of his robe one more time. “We
don’t have time for this.”
We finally caught up with the succubus. She stood next to the
wooden fortuneteller searching her pockets for a quarter. I dug into my own,
finding a breath mint, two copper pennies, and a condom. I glanced at the
angel, and he shrugged. It figured.
Lilith started to laugh. “Here we are, some of the most powerful
forces in the universe,” she glanced at me, and added as an afterthought, “and
Jace, without a quarter between us.”
“Well, we could pray for divine intervention, or,” I pulled out my
knife, “we could improvise.”
“Thou shalt not steal.” The angel tucked his wings into his armpits
and glared at me.
“And you should mind your own business.” Lilith slugged him in the
stomach. He clutched his mid-section, and whimpered before falling onto the
snowy pavement.
I rolled my eyes, and went to work on Madame Sibillie’s coin box.
Sliding the knife into the crease below the metal box, I shook it back and
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forth. The blade slipped, taking a chunk from my thumb. “Fuck,” I screamed,
sucking at the bloody wound.
“Careful, Jace. We don’t want to damage Sibillie.” Lilith stood over
my shoulder, ringing her hands like a maiden in a cheesy romance novel.
Like the ones my second wife devoured, which now that I thought about it,
had led to our divorce. Who wanted a wife with expectations?
Wiping the blood on my jeans, once again I pressed the knife into the
corner of the coin container and peeled away the wooden guard.
Come to Papa.
A zap lit the air around me, and my body flew backwards through the
gray sky. I landed about twenty feet away, my fingers pulsing with
electricity. “I must have shorted her out.”
“I don’t think so,” Lilith said, eyes intent on Sibillie’s plaster face.
“As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure you turned her on.”
Shaking the snow from my pants, I stumbled to my feet, and stepped
closer for a better look. Sure enough, Sibillie wore a smile that all but
screamed post-orgasmic bliss. Lights flashed in her plastic case, and eerie
gypsy music from the era of finger waves and flapper dresses crackled from
the booth.
“I’ll be.” I grinned and winked at Lilith.
She laughed, sending waves of desire rolling along my skin. “You’ll
have to show me that trick sometime.”
“It’s all in the wrist.”
Sibillie waved her mechanical hands over a fake crystal ball. “Hey
there, Flyboy. You goofy over Sibillie?”
I glanced at Lilith, and she shrugged.
“Yeah, Flyboy, I’m talking to you. What? Are you handcuffed to that
jane?” Sibillie’s lips didn’t move, but her voice reverberated oddly around
me. “The dame’s pretty, but not as keen as Sibillie.”
“Right, you’re the bees-knees.” I’d watched a Bogart movie or two.
“But I came here for your help to find a lost kid, not to... umm.”
“Fuck like machines,” Lilith supplied, trying to contain a smile.
“Yeah that.” I shot her an annoyed look and turned back to Sibillie.
“Will you help me?”
Sibillie sighed, but waved her mechanical arms over the ball once
more. Lights flashed, swirling faster and faster. A few seconds later, a card
popped from the wooden box. The whole thing seemed anticlimactic.
Lilith pulled the card from the slot. “It’s for you.” She passed the
card to me and grinned.
I read it aloud: “You will get lucky tonight, Flyboy.” I glanced at
Sibillie. She winked with her plastic eye. I swallowed my revulsion.
“Thanks. That’s a real generous offer, but I need to find the lost kid. Help me
to do so, and I will rock your… box.”
Lights flashed again, and blue flashes swirled around the booth.
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Another card flew out. I reached for it this time. It read: What you seek is
sought. What you feel is bought. What you love is all for naught. Have you
looked in Hell’s Kitchen?
My eyes flew to Lilith’s. “The Clinton,” I said, giving the newly
generic name of what was once known as Hell’s Kitchen.
“But where?”
Sibillie sighed. “Ask them.”
“Who?” I glanced over my shoulder, but saw no one. A whiff of
sulfur warned me of danger, but the biggest clue was Sibillie exploding into
tooth picked-sized splinters.
Shoving me to the ground seconds before the blast, Lilith threw her
body across me as fiery plaster parts scattered around us. But, other than
Sibillie, the gypsy queen of Lincoln Logs, we sustained little damage.
“What the hell happened?” I lurched to my feet, pounding on my ears
to stop them from ringing.
“What?” Lilith cupped her own ear, or on closer inspection, cupped
what used to be her ear. The blast had blown it clean off. Greenish blood
leaked from the wound.
Helping her to her feet, I winced at the damage to the side of her
face. A glow pulsed beneath the skin, growing brighter. I stroked my hand
against it, and the wound healed instantly. I jumped back, surprised. Shit.
Maybe I was an angel.
“Don’t get too excited. I’m pretty much immortal.�
� Lilith swabbed
the blood from her newly formed ear.
“Pretty much?”
She lifted her eyebrow. “Pretty much.”
“Huh.” I filed the information away for future use. “What
happened?”
“Someone or thing blew the shit out of Sibillie.”
“Yeah, thanks for that.” I glanced around at the burning embers. “Is it
still here?”
Lilith licked the tip of her finger, and stuck it into the air. “Nope, but
it’s going to snow.” A few flakes dropped from the sky.
A groan drew my attention. I reached down and plucked the angel
from underneath a pile of flaming Sibillie. Singed hair and burnt feathers
tickled my nostrils, but it was the look of his head that made my day. It was
half-bald and pink as the kid’s ass with diaper rash.
“Do not say a word.” He raised his eyes to heaven and disappeared.
“Neat trick,” Lilith said, tucking a piece of my own singed hair
behind my ear.
Her closeness bothered me. The scent of her. The feel of her skin.
But it was the thought of losing her that set me on edge. Damn, I actually
liked her. When had that happened?
“Be honest with me.” I grabbed her hand as she ran her fingers across
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my lips, and motioned between us. “Am I going to regret this?”
“Probably.”
“That’s what I thought.” Looping my arms around her waist, I
dragged her close. Maybe Sibillie was right, and I would get lucky tonight.
80
Twenty Two
“This is an endorphin reaction to a nearly being killed.” Lilith
stripped off her jacket and tossed it on the passenger seat of the Gremlin. “It
means nothing.”
I tugged at my sweatshirt. “Nothing. Just a little life affirming
exercise.” Freeing my arms, I pulled Lilith’s body across mine in the tight
confines of the car. However, there were advantages to a hatchback. The
main one, she got to be on top.
“I don’t even like you.” Lilith bit my naked shoulder, drawing blood.
“Ditto.” My tongue entered her mouth, taking its time to explore the
texture of her taste buds.
Anything but submissive, her tongue warred with mine, teeth nibbled
on my lips, and her hands roamed across my chest. Shiver skated over my