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.
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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.
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,
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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.
“You tie her up.”
I nodded. Was Lilith testing me? Seeing if I carried feelings for
Mary? Naw, that wasn’t Lilith’s style. She was more likely to smack me until
I came clean. I glanced down at Mary, taking her hands in mine, and winding
the rope around her body.
Instead of protesting, she watched me. “After she’s dead,” Mary
pointed to Lilith, “come back and I’ll make you forget all about her.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” I said, glancing at Lilith. However, fear
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swept through me. The kind of gut churning fear that comes with knowledge.
I knew the heartbreak of losing Lilith, of watching her die. I couldn’t take
that sort of pain a second time. The sacrifice was too great.
Once Mary was secured, Lilith turned to me. “Okay, here’s the plan.
I bust through the door, grab Jesus, and you meet me outside.”
I grinned. “And what am I doing outside?”
“Hailing a cab.”
I shook my head. “Uh-uh.”
She tucked her hands across her chest. “It’s a very important task,
dangerous even.”
“No.” I reached for her hand and pulled her body against mine. “This
is my mission. I won’t let you die for me again.”
My lips brushed hers, and with some regret, I pulled the needle filled
with Thorazine left over from my psychotic days from my pocket, popped
the cap, and jabbed it into her jugular vein. Her eyes went wide, then glassy,
and finally shut, her body slumping into my arms.
I kissed her unmarred forehead. “Foolish or not, I do love you.
Remember that when you wake up.”
“How sweet,” Mary sneered, tugging at the ropes holding her.
“Don’t go anywhere.” Grabbing Tyrfing, I pointed the sword at
Mary. “And you better pray I make it back before she wakes up.” With that
parting shot, I opened the second door, and stepped into my destiny.
Why did destiny smell like fish?
177
Fifty Six
Goosebumps popped along my arms, crawling down my fingertips at
the sickening smell of rotting marine life. Tyrfing shook in my hand, but I
steadied it and stepped through the opened doorway.
At first glance, the room appeared ordinary, safe even. No dragons or
daggers. It was decorated in Buddhist finery of gold and black. Not a dead
fish in sight. But something stunk, a rottenness of the soul maybe. Or the
smell might have emanated from the three hundred pound guy standing next
to a ten foot statue of a fat, jolly Buddha.
“Hi, Sid.” I nodded my head in acknowledgement. “Can’t say I’m
surprised to see you here.” And I wasn’t. After the third attempt on my life,
I’d figured whoever was responsible had more in mind than a simple
kidnapping. They wanted me dead, and while I’d like to think that list of
people was relatively short, one name kept coming up. Siddhartha Gautama,
the first Buddha, or Sid as he was known to lesser mortals. He hated me more
than most. Plus, Sid had sent me to the Botanic Gardens in the first place.
He’d set me up, and I’d walked around oblivious, like a moron, until I’d
finally put two and two together, and came up with eight.
Sid pulled the kid from behind his back like a retarded magician.
“Throw your weapon into the hallway, and shut the door.”
“You okay, kid?” I asked, glancing down at the sword in my hand,
and weighing the sanity of bum-rushing Sid. On one hand, this mess would
finally be finished, but the kid might end up hurt. With genuine regret, I did
as he’d ordered, tossing Tyrfing into the hallway like a caber, and returning
my attention to the small child in Sid’s fat arms.
The kid looked all right. No obvious signs of trauma. The same could
not be said for Bodhi cat. His fat white head stuck out from the kid’s sagging