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    Holy Socks And Dirtier Demons

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      skin; however, I was far from cold. I fisted my hand in her hair and lifted her

      head to meet my eyes.

      “We don’t have much time.” She raked her nails down my chest.

      Yellow eyes flaming orange as her breath turned shallow, lungs straining

      against her rib cage.

      “It doesn’t take me much time at all.” I traced my fingers along each

      rib. Somewhere in the back of my head, it registered that she was short one

      rib, but it hardly mattered now.

      From years of practice, I unhooked her black bra, freeing her breasts

      and flinging the contraption into the front seat. It hit the dashboard with a

      ping.

      “You do have skills.” Lilith straddled me, tugging my jeans to my

      knees. The boxers came off next, as did the skin-tight cargo pants clinging to

      her toned legs.

      I released a harsh breath. “I’m good with my hands.” And I began to

      prove my claim.

      She sucked in a breath, letting out a moan. “Condom. Now.”

      “Right. Jean. Pocket.”

      Her hand plunged into the aforementioned pocket, and pulled out a

      breath mint, two cents, and the Holy Grail, an unopened foil packet.

      81

      “Thank God,” she grunted.

      “Let’s not bring Him into it.” I stroked her with the pad of my thumb.

      Her face tightened. Jackpot. I captured her mouth, and finished the job.

      Seconds later, she screamed and a bright white light exploded from

      the center of her chest. I closed my eyes against the glare, which lasted for

      thirty seconds before dimming to a yellowish glow. She collapsed on top of

      me, smashing my nose in the process.

      “We’re not finished yet,” I said as my teeth shredded the condom

      package.

      Lilith’s cell phone blared: Please allow me to introduce myself...’

      Sympathy for the Devil. Funny.

      “Shit.” Lilith climbed over me toward the front seat, and her jacket.

      She flipped open the phone. “What?”

      I kissed the back of her knee, running my tongue down the tendons.

      She kicked me in the jaw and crawled out of the driver’s side door. Naked. In

      the snow.

      My head dropped against the itchy carpet of the hatchback. Cold air

      swirled inside the open door, and parts of me began to regret the invention of

      cell phones and wintertime.

      Lilith stuck her head back inside and reached for her pants. “Get

      dressed.”

      The tone of her voice left me cold. “What happened?”

      She turned her back to me. “They found a child’s body. A crucified

      child.”

      82

      Twenty Three

      We drove the forty minutes from Coney Island to The Clinton in

      silence, a painful, regret-filled quiet that widened the wedge between us.

      My stomach rolled as I pictured the kid’s last seconds of life. While I

      was getting my rocks off, he was stapled to a pile of wood. Some fucking

      protector I was. An ache grew under my breastbone. I rubbed at it, but it

      refused to ease.

      Rage swamped my grief. White-hot, self-destructive rage. My body

      vibrated with it. I would hunt down his killers, and they would discover the

      meaning of hell.

      “Stop it.” Lilith cranked the wheel of the Gremlin as Trfying to

      escape the automobile, Tyrfing, my newly purchased sword, shot from the

      hatchback, missed Lilith by millimeters, and embedded itself in the

      dashboard. The Gremlin let out a groan, and carbon dioxide poured from the

      wound and into the interior.

      Lilith turned to glare at me. “Damn it, Jace. Control your tempter

      before you kill one of us.”

      What the hell was she talking about? “I didn’t do that.”

      “Yes you did.” She hauled the Gremlin to the curb, pulled the sleeve

      of her jacket over her hand, and heaved Tyrfing from the dash. “This sword,”

      she rattled it at me, “slays the possessor’s enemies. It feeds off your anger.

      Basically, it stabs whoever ticks you off. Whether they die or not depends on

      how angry you are.”

      “That’s why it stabbed Dante.” I nodded. Not a bad weapon.

      “But didn’t kill him. You were annoyed, not homicidal. But you must

      be very careful.” She dropped the sword into the backseat. “Tyrfing doesn’t

      discriminate between passionate anger, and a killing rage.”

      “What else don’t I know?” I shook my head. God had entrusted the

      wrong man to protect his son.

      Lilith’s eyes softened. “I’m so sorry, Jace. You never asked for any

      of this.”

      “Save your pity,” I cracked my knuckles, “for the bastards who killed

      the kid.” A hum echoed from the backseat, as Tyrfing readied itself for

      83

      battle.

      “Jace, please.” She touched my arm. Fear radiated from her. The

      scent of it heightened the predator instinct inside me.

      Kill. Destroy. “Don’t get in my way.” Her eyes widened and wetness

      swelled at the edges. I took a deep breath, softening my warning. “I don’t

      want you to get hurt.”

      ~ * ~

      Lights flashed, blue and red, off pools of melting snow. Cops

      directed traffic past the small church on the corner of W. 49th Street. St.

      Malachy’s church. The saint of prophesies. The church for actors. Douglas

      Fairbanks married Joan Crawford within its stone walls. Had the sainted

      Malachy predicted that?

      Lilith stopped the Gremlin a block from the yellow crime scene tape.

      She touched my hand with icy fingers. “You don’t have to come with me.”

      Yeah, I did. I shot her a sad smile, opened my car door, and stepped

      into the frigid night.

      The church hid between skyscrapers and landmarks. Its steeple

      welcomed the faithful, but not this night. I patted my nine-millimeter and

      stepped under the crime scene tape. A brown-skinned cop held up a hand to

      stop me, but I shoved him aside.

      “Hey, buddy.” The cop charged me, his hand hovering over the gun

      tucked safely in its holster. With a glance, Lilith froze him in place much as

      she’d done to Hades the night before. She whispered to him, “Now is not the

      time.”

      The cop gurgled with what I assumed to be agreement, and Lilith and

      I disappeared inside. Entering the church, I half expected her to burst into

      flames, but not even a hair on her head appeared out of place.

      “It’s not like in the books,” she said, reading my thoughts.

      I nodded, but a white sheet draped over the wooden cross at the alter

      drew my attention. I raised my eyes to heaven and cursed. I cursed God, who

      sacrificed his son twice. I cursed the bastards who killed an innocent child.

      And I cursed myself. The kid had trusted me and I let him down. What kind

      of man failed a child? I was no better than the man who’d fathered me and

      walked away.

      I pictured the kid’s chubby cheeks, and his random ‘miracles’ like

      making his pooh dance in the toilet during potty training, or raising fleas

      from the dead after I bug bombed the apartment. I’d miss him.

      A plainclothes detective stepped in front of me, snapping me from

      my memories. She wore an ugly blue suit with wide shoulder pads and a

      butch h
    aircut. Her demeanor screamed cop, but her clothes yelled for a dry

      cleaner. Her eyes drifted past me, to Lilith, and back to me. “You can’t be in

      here,” she said.

      “He’s his guardian.” Lilith gestured to the wooden cross.

      The detective raised an eyebrow. “Really? Is that what they call it?”

      84

      Lilith frowned at the woman, but I ignored her. Instead, I walked

      toward the cross. My stomach knotted. I wanted to puke, to rid myself of the

      grief and guilt. Bile crawled up my throat, an acidy burn that stayed with me

      even as I swallowed it down.

      Gripping the edge of the sheet, I closed my eyes and took a deep

      breath. The fabric felt rough, prickly against my fingertips. It was an

      unworthy blanket for the kid underneath.

      Lifting the edge, I peered at the body of God’s only son, and started

      to laugh. I couldn’t help it. Mirth bubbled from deep inside me, exploding

      from my lungs with gales of laughter.

      Catching my breath, I peeked under the sheet just to make sure. Yep,

      a two-foot, transvestite Chinese hooker dressed in black leather and holding a

      riding crop stared back at me. His dead eyes twinkled like twin black holes.

      As suddenly as my laughter started, it died at the sight of the black

      book in his hand. My Bible. The one I’d left on the street the night before. I

      glanced around the church. Was this a warning? Or a setup?

      “Are you all right, Jace?” Lilith stroked my shoulder as if I’d lost my

      mind. Was she offering me comfort or looking for a place to stick a knife?

      Was my paranoia showing?

      No, I wasn’t okay but now was not the time to discuss it. Relief

      warred with my growing paranoia. Wherever I went, an unknown force

      followed, always one step ahead of me. I shook my head, and motioned to

      the Bible in the dead guy’s hand. Lilith’s eyes widened and she let out a

      small gasp.

      The detective shot us a questioning look. Shit, it was time to go. I

      reached for Lilith’s hand and headed toward the front doors. For once, she

      didn’t argue but meekly followed my lead.

      “Wait.” The detective held up a hand to stop us. “I need to see some

      identification.”

      “Now would be a good time to use that freezing thing,” I whispered

      to Lilith out of the corner of my mouth.

      She winced. “I can’t. Hallowed ground.”

      Shit. Shit. Shit. I turned to smile at the detective. “I lost my wallet.”

      She rubbed her chin. “You look a little like a suspect we’re looking

      for. Jace Miller? He’s traveling with a black haired woman with tattoos.”

      “Really?” A wrinkle arched in my forehead. “Can’t say I’ve seen

      them.”

      She pulled out a pair of thick steel bracelets. “Mr. Miller, you’re

      under arrest for murder.”

      “What?” I backed up a step. “Of who?”

      The detective smirked. “The man founded incinerated inside your

      apartment, and your girlfriend’s,” she waved to Lilith, “ex-husband, the

      reverend Adam Just.”

      85

      Twenty Four

      Lilith’s eyes flashed to mine. “Did you really kill Adam?” She

      stepped between the detective and me, and gave me a hard shove.

      “Hell, no.” I pushed her back, and she, arms flailing, fell into the

      detective. The impact knocked the shorter woman to the floor. Her eyes

      rolled around like dice in her head before settling on snake eyes.

      “I’m so sorry.” Lilith reached to help the woman up, but instead of

      assisting her managed to take the detective’s handcuffs, and shackle her to

      the nearest pew.

      “Time to go.” Grinning, I grabbed Lilith’s hand and we ran for the

      front doors. Lilith frowned, but didn’t slow her steps. “And just when things

      started to get fun.”

      We flew down the church steps, pushing through the crime scene

      tape and across the street before anyone tried to stop us.

      The buzz of a taser sparked to life behind us. “Stop or I will be

      forced to apply non-lethal force in the form of a taser. A taser is a handheld

      electrical device that propels twin prongs into the skin of the person of

      interest. These prongs act as conductors to a specified amount, the amount is

      adjusted in accordance with the state and local regulations, of electricity or

      volts, if you will. Following application, you, as the person of interest will be

      rendered…”

      I glanced back, eyeing the same cop I had assaulted earlier. He

      readied his taser while reading off a list of warnings and side effects. “A taser

      can cause burns, epilepsy, and even death. It should not be used on persons

      who are pregnant or may become pregnant.” He flipped the card over.

      “Occasionally an erection lasting four or more hours can occur.” He paused

      before reading further. Lilith and I stopped running, and stood waiting for the

      poor guy to finish.

      “The use of the taser does not imply guilt. By acknowledging the

      taser warning, you agree to forgo all legal right to sue the NYPD, or any of

      its subsidiaries, for any and all harm perpetrated by your tasing. Do you

      understand these warnings as I have just read them?” The cop looked

      expectantly at me.

      86

      I shrugged. “I do?”

      He nodded and aimed the taser. I wasn’t stupid, so I took off again,

      running at full steam to the Gremlin parked a hundred feet ahead. Fifty feet.

      Ten.

      The buzz of electricity sent chills up my spine, but I didn’t feel

      anything. No zap of pain. No frequent burning or irritation. Nothing.

      Ahead of me, Lilith stopped, and my momentum carried me over the

      top of her. “Look,” she said, pointing to the cop. My eyes followed her finger

      to the cop, who stood in the middle of the street covered in burnt angel

      feathers. The angel, his face black with rage, hovered a few feet off the

      ground berating the poor officer.

      “I should smite you.” The angel wagged a wing at the horrified

      policeman.

      “Ummm… Angel?” I cleared my throat. “No smiting. Pick up

      your—” I pointed to the feathers on the ground “—stuffing and let’s get the

      hell out of here.”

      He glared at me, but did as I ordered; scooping up bits of burnt angel,

      licking it, and sticking it back on. The cop bent over to help, and together,

      they glued most of his feathers in place.

      “Sorry about that,” the cop muttered. “They warned us in the

      academy never to use a taser on a bird.”

      ~ * ~

      I stretched out on Lilith’s white sheeted bed and stared at her white

      painted ceiling. Her entire apartment lacked color with its white walls, white

      furniture, and white cat, a white cat currently chewing on a napping angel’s

      wing.

      “Bodhi, no.” Lilith waved the cat away. “If you get an angel ball

      mommy will be mad.”

      The cat hissed, swatted at Lilith’s hand, and scampered off. To do

      what, I wasn’t sure, but I planned to sleep with one eye open just in case. The

      cat all but purred pure evil.

      “What’s with the white?” I turned on my side to watch Lilith. She

      was making up a spot
    on the couch for me to sleep, but I had other ideas.

      Tossing a pillow on the cushion, she said, “I like white.”

      “Okay, but why?” I chuckled. “Aren’t you supposed to decorate in

      sacrificial blood and black leather?”

      “You’re one to talk.” She fluffed the pillow, and added a blanket. A

      white blanket. “The best decorating ever done to your place was a three

      alarm fire.”

      “Started by you, by the way.”

      She shot me a dirty look. “Was not.”

      “Was too, but I’m not going to argue the point. I do, however, have

      to ask.” I sucked in a breath. “What the fuck was Adam doing in my bed?”

      “You’re irresistible?” She sauntered toward me, running her hand

      87

      across her colorless comforter. “He couldn’t control himself?”

      “That’s a given.” I reached for her hand, but she pulled away. “But

      why was he there? Did he know something about the kid?”

      Lilith sat on the edge of the bed. Not close enough to touch, but the

      scent of her tickled my lust. She gave me a measured look. “I don’t know.

      And your Bible, how did it wind up in a dead hooker’s hand?”

      I raised an eyebrow. “Not how you think.”

      “Maybe we’re going at this all wrong.”

      Frowning, I said, “How so?”

      “Instead of searching for J.C., why don’t we make him come to us?”

      “And how do you suppose we do that?” I crawled across the bed, my

      hands and knees sinking into the softness.

      “He does like to raise things from the dead...”

      “No.”

      “Come on, Jace. It will be fun.”

      “Fun? ” I grabbed her shoulder and knocked her back onto the bed.

      “Killing me does not sound like fun.”

      With a laugh, she said, “It does to me.”

      88

      Twenty Five

      “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” a priest said as the first clumps of

      Earth crashed against the coffin. My body lay inside, choking on wood chips

      and dirt. A chorus of amens and wailing followed. The wailing came from

      my mom, and the amens from Lilith. Sweet Mary and the angel rounded out

      the attendees at my mock funeral.

      The angel, too busy comparing himself to the statue of an angel on

      the grave next door, failed to respond to my death glares from the cloud

     


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