I have a favor to ask and then we’re out of here.”
He nodded, motioning for me to continue with a polished fingertip.
“When your wife left, you used a PI to track her down. I want to hire
him.”
A few years back, Persephone had shacked up with a younger and
much shorter man. Well, not a man exactly. A cherub. Cupid to be precise.
Hades hired a detective, and within a few days, Ms. Lord of the Underworld
was safely back at home. Since then, Hades had kept her locked in the back
office. But what relationship didn’t have problems?
I figured that if the PI could track Persephone to a doublewide trailer
on Mt. Olympus, he’d be able to find the kid. Oh God, I hoped he could.
With each passing minute, I was one-step closer to the grand finale and the
end of the world. A whisper of voices, dark, crazed voices, flickered in my
brain.
No pressure.
Hades scratched his head, snakeheads rattled with anger. “Let me
make a few calls.”
11
Three
I sipped my beer and tried to eavesdrop on Hades’s telephone
conversation. It wasn’t working. Next to me, Zeus and Hera, the ultimate odd
couple, argued at top volume. Their shouts drowned out whatever Hades was
saying.
“I can’t leave you for a minute,” Hera said. “I turn my back and
you’re off flirting with some bit of Goddess fluff.”
Sparks crackled around Zeus. “She means nothing to me.”
Stupid thing to say, I thought. A shattering of glass and flying beer
bottle proved my words true. I’d said the same thing to one of my exes once,
and she hit me with a chair.
Ah, true love.
Hades tapped me on the shoulder. “Do you own a suit?”
“No.” I looked down at my moth-eaten Levis. Did I look like the type
of guy who owned a suit?
He shook his head and went back to his phone call. “No... yes... not
bad...” His face grew grim as he listened for a few more seconds. “Yeah,
okay.” Hades cupped the receiver and motioned to me. “What do you know
about accounting?”
What was going on? I shrugged. “Not much. Two plus two equals
four, but after that my knowledge goes downhill.”
He rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the phone. “The
Core? Are you insane?” He lowered his voice, and I lost the rest of his words
when the angel started singing again.
“Okay, here’s the deal.” Hades hung up the phone and leaned over
the bar, his hellish breath fogging my eyeballs. “Go to the Core tonight at
ten.”
The Core, a dance club downtown owned by a semi-famous bad-boy,
catered to the city’s elite. “The Core. Got it.” I nodded as if I had it under
control but what I was really thinking was, how the fuck am I going to get
inside?
“Take a seat at the third table from the bar on the north side.” Hades
glared at the angel. “Go alone and wear a suit.”
12
“Suit. Got it.” A suit? Shit.
Hades smirked, showing sparkling canines. “You might wanna
shower too. You smell pretty ripe.”
Nice. The God of the Underworld said I stunk, as if being around
him was a picnic. I sniffed at my sweatshirt. Yeah, I could use a shower. A
haircut too, I thought, glancing at myself in the rose-colored mirror behind
the bar.
“I know a great hairdresser,” the angel said, reading my mind. “Oh,
and I have the perfect style in mind.”
I closed my eyes. This was going to be a long day.
~ * ~
Hours later, I realized how right I’d been after spending the afternoon
scouring the neighborhoods for the kid. I questioned addicts, dealers,
hookers, and pimps. No one had seen anything.
The angel wasn’t helping either. He was busy flipping through a
Men’s Health magazine. Research, he told me, when I smacked him in the
back of the head and asked. I shook my head. The end of the world neared,
By nine, I just wanted to find the kid and take a long nap. Instead, I
found myself dressing in a borrowed Armani suit. I tugged at the collar and
stared into the mirror with disgust. The sleeves of the suit jacket were about
an inch short and stained with a greasy, wax-like substance.
The angel stood next to me rubbing at the spot with a look of
repulsion. “There are a thousand places to rent a suit in this city and you have
to go to Bob’s Bargain Barn.”
“He gave me a good deal.”
The angel closed his eyes, probably praying for patience. “A deal?
This suit is off a dead man. He rented you a funeral suit. God knows what
this stain is.” The angel’s hand flew to his mouth.
I laughed, yanking at the collar. “Bob swore it was strawberry jam.”
“And you trusted him?”
I shrugged, not caring one way or the other. “As long as it gets me
inside the Core, I don’t care what’s on the sleeve.”
13
Four
Shifting from one foot to the other, I waited in a never-ending line
outside the club. The doorman, an ape looking guy with a ridged brow lines
and a flat forehead, inspected desperate patrons. With a raised eyebrow and a
sharp word, he turned away fashionably dressed rich people. I glanced at my
scuffed boots and too short slacks. I had no chance in hell of getting in.
Plan B.
I caressed my nine-millimeter, concealed in a shoulder holster
underneath my jacket, and waited my turn. If he wouldn’t let me in, I’d shoot
either him or myself.
“Hilton. Paris,” a cheap looking blonde two people ahead of me told
the doorman. Ape-man checked a clipboard in his hand and nodded. “Top of
the list, Ms. Hilton. Enjoy your stay.” He unhooked the velvet rope and
gestured for her to go inside. She entered, disappearing in a burst of fake
flames and smoke.
I turned to the angel, who had taken my advice for the first time and
stayed invisible. “Put me on that list.”
“No.” The angel huffed, still angry we’d left before the O.C. ended.
“Do it or else I’ll stop stealing cable from the neighbors.”
The doorman allowed the couple in front of me inside. I stepped up
to the plate. “Jace Miller.”
The ape searched his list and shook his head. A single coarse hair on
his clean-shaven chin jiggled, mocking me. “Sorry, if you ain’t on the list,
you ain’t gettin in.”
I glared at the angel. “How about…” I lowered my voice.
“Nemamiah.”
The bouncer froze. “Did you say Nemamiah?”
I nodded.
“Sorry, nope.”
My muscles coiled, ready to spring. “Don’t fuck with me.”
“Yeah, what are you gonna do about it?” Ape-man flexed his overly
developed physique. He outweighed me by forty pounds, and had four inches
on my own six-feet, but I wasn’t worried. I needed to get inside that club and
14
nobody would stop me.
Grabbing his forearm, I pressed my thumb into the soft flesh of his
elbow.
He flinched, his body tensing. It wasn’t lethal force, but from past
experience, I knew it hurt like hell. “I’ve had a really bad day. So either let
me inside, or I’m going to kick the shit out of you. Your choice.”
Maybe it was the slant of my jaw, or the numbness radiating up his
arm, but either way, his attitude changed. He swallowed, Adam’s apple
bobbing. “Miller?” He ran his finger down his clipboard, his eyes wide with
surprise. “Here it is. N. Miller.”
My eyes followed his finger, and damn if N. Miller wasn’t written in
an angelic chicken scratch. “Thanks.”
As quickly as I grabbed Ape-man’s arm, I released him, sending him
flying back two steps into the faded brick exterior of the building. I grinned,
and pushed past the velvet rope and faux flame to enter the club. My nostrils
wrinkled at the sudden stench of sweat, sulfur, and skin. The angel followed
behind me, keeping to the shadows, which was odd since no one could see
him anyway.
As my eyes adjusted to the darkened room, I glanced around, taking
careful note of the exits. It paid to be prepared. Under a flash of red lights
timed to the thump of overhead speakers, pale, thin bodies of coked up
models and their rich, cokehead boyfriends swayed.
The club itself was nice enough with lots of chrome and exposed
brick. A few tables offered a semblance of privacy, as did the VIP alcove. A
bar ran along the back wall. Outrageously expensive bottles of liquor lined
the back bar while bartenders dressed in black poured watered-down
varieties of cheaper fare.
A dreadlocked DJ spun ear piercing drum and bass beats. Maybe I
was just too old, but each song sounded the same. Thump, thump, beat, beat,
thump, thump. Yawn.
Leather skirted girls maneuvered through the crowd carrying trays of
multi-colored drinks. Whatever happened to plain old whiskey, vodka, or
gin?
From the bar, I counted off three tables. A reserved sign sat on top
the last one. I walked toward it, searching the club for Bogart or Kojak. What
did a supernatural detective look like?
My gaze locked on the owner of the club who lounged in the VIP
section, sipping Crystal. I doubted the bartender watered down his drink. Mr.
Big wore a red velvet sweat suit, and enough gold to give Fort Knox a
complex, but he was nothing more than a pretty-bad-boy with bleached white
hair, bleached white teeth, and enough laundered money to open his own
chain of dry cleaners. Poor little rich boy.
Bodyguards and young groupies hung on Mr. Big’s every word like
the Sermon on the Mount. The bodyguards mimicked the club look in an
array of similarly colored suits, chains, and guns. They reminded me of a
15
pathetic boy band without the non-threatening sexuality. Not-So-N-Synched.
I sat at my table and waved my hand to get the waitress’ attention.
She ignored me. Must be my suit.
“I do not like this place.” The angel stood over me, breathing his
horrific angel breath down my neck.
“Yeah, I’m not a fan either.” I brushed away a glob of angelic spit. “I
probably can’t afford one drink. But this might be as close to rich and famous
as I’ll ever get.”
“Rich yes, infamous….” The angel shrugged.
“What does that mean?” That sounded like a threat. Did the angel
know something?
The sudden scent of sulfur and tobacco filled my nostrils and a flash
of heat rose up my spine as a raven-haired woman wrapped her tattooed arms
around my neck. Her lips, soft and tasting like sin, pressed against mine. The
smoke from the cigarette in her hand curled around us, trapping me in her
embrace.
For a few seconds I did nothing. Then my brain kicked in. A
beautiful woman sucked on my tongue. Do something, my mind ordered. My
body caught up quick enough, and my arms pulled her closer. The warmth of
her breasts pressed through the cotton of Bob’s rental shirt. She was slick
with sweat, as if she had been dancing, but she smelled of baby powder and
brimstone.
She pulled away as quickly as she had arrived. For some reason, I felt
oddly bereft, like I’d lost something important. Her eyes met mine, glowing
yellow in the dark club. A trick of the light?
“Jack and Coke,” I said to break the tension.
“I’m not a waitress.”
“Damn. I thought the service was too good to be true.” I shrugged,
giving her a slow once over. “So who are you?”
She held out her hand. “Lilith.”
I took it. Warm and soft, it fit into mine as if it belonged there.
“Jace.”
“So Jace, what did you lose?” She sat, shoving the reserved sign
across the table and onto the floor.
I frowned. “You’re the PI who helped Hades?”
“I’m not a PI.” With a finger wave, she flagged down a passing
waitress and ordered us drinks. After the waitress left, I touched Lilith’s hand
to gain her attention. “So what are you?”
“I’m more like a lost and found.” She paused, trailing a hand across
the tabletop. “I help the lost find their way.”
“And you’re good at it?” A shiver of awareness flickered through
me, but I ignored the warning, and focused on the sex-goddess in front of me.
“The best.” She licked her red lips, slick with saliva and Vaseline.
“So again Jace, what have you lost? And more importantly, what will you
16
give me to help you find it?”
I examined her cat-like eyes, seeing a steel reserve under her
feminine wiles. Messing with this girl would be a mistake, one that I might
willingly make. She wasn’t beautiful like Mary, or even sweet. But there was
something in the way she said my name.
“A baby,” the angel said. “He’s lost a baby.”
She smiled, her eyes never leaving my face. “I see.” The angel’s
sudden appearance didn’t faze her. It was as if she had known he was there,
and was merely waiting for him to speak. Which made me wonder if she was
human or something from the other side.
“Human, I think,” the angel’s voice echoed inside my head. “I can
smell the blood flowing in her veins. It smells like rust, but not unpleasant.”
Damn angel. I hated when he read my thoughts.
“Your child is missing?” She reached for my hand, compassion
softening her features, and for a minute, she was far more beautiful than any
women I’d ever seen, so beautiful that the breath caught in my chest. Then it
was gone.
“Sort of,” I answered. A flash of silver around her ring finger caught
my eye. Was she married? Did it matter? “I’m taking care of him… for a
while.”
“You adopted him? That is so great. I love when couples open their
hearts to a child in need.” She smiled at the angel and then me.
“What?” I pulled my hand from hers. “I’m not… we’re not.” I
motioned to the insulted angel. “Oh, forget it. I need to find the kid.”
“And I need you to answer a couple of questions.” She took a long
drink from the pink concoction the waitress sa
t in front of her seconds ago.
I nodded, praying the topic of God’s only son wouldn’t come up.
“What’s the child’s name?”
“Jes... Hubert Chr… Miller,” I lied, making up an alias. “He goes by
J.C.”
Her lip curled. “How old is he?”
Shit, I had no idea. Did the Messiah age in human years?
“Fourteen months. He was born on Christmas day.” The angel shook
his head at me as if anyone with half a brain should know the answer.
“I always wanted a Christmas birthday. Double presents.” Lilith
glanced around the club, watching the dance floor. “Tell me about his
biological parents.”
Ah, she was good, using subtle, seductive interrogation, like an
afternoon stroll with a hooker through Central Park. How to answer…
Again the angel jumped in, “His mother and step-father died in an
accident.” Which was the truth. They had died in a myrrh explosion at a
small stable in Bethlehem. Who knew myrrh was explosive? Apparently, not
the angel who’d placed it a bit too close to a candle. Mary and Joseph
incinerated before his heavenly eyes, as did two of the three wise men. The
17
third one suffered smoke inhalation and burns on his hands from beating out
the flames licking at Baby Jesus’ bed of straw.
“What about his biological father?” Lilith raised an eyebrow.
“He’s very busy. Has a big important job.” I threw back my Jack and
Coke, which tasted more like water and Coke. “I promised to look after the
little guy until he can make suitable arrangements.”
“What made him choose you?”
Ouch, but she had a damn good point. For all intents and purposes, I
was a complete and utter failure, even crazy if one considered the legal
definition. “I have no idea.” It was the most honest thing I’d said in years.
One of the owner’s bodyguards walked past our table, and Lilith took
my hand. Her fingertips trembled as her eyes scanned my face. “How did you
lose J.C.?”
“I didn’t lose him exactly,” I began. “Last night, someone kidnapped
him from my apartment while I was… occupied.”
“You didn’t hear anything?”
I shook my head. Whoever had taken the babe had been quiet, too
quiet to be human. No sign of a break-in either. But I couldn’t tell that to