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    Holy Socks And Dirtier Demons

    Page 7
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      “I wish I knew.”

      ~ * ~

      Back inside my apartment, a barely audible twerp echoed from the

      mobile phone in my pocket. I glanced at Mary, checked the caller ID, and

      flipped it open with a mixture of dread and inevitability. If I didn’t answer

      they would only call back, and keep calling back until I finally answered or

      shot myself.

      “Hey, Mom,” I said into the phone. “I’m kind of busy right now.”

      Like that mattered. My mother was a talker, and that trait exploded when her

      49

      first-born son answered the phone.

      “I’ll just be a minute, Jace, baby. I miss you. We all miss you. When

      are you going to come home? Last week I ran into.”

      I tuned out, picturing the house I’d grown up in with its pink

      flamingos and white picket fence on a couple of acres of farmland in the

      middle of Nowhereville, St. Francis, Wisconsin, population 8,800, and

      growing smaller as years passed.

      “And your father said to the reverend.”

      Stepfather, I nearly corrected but swallowed the bitterness that

      haunted most of my childhood. Don’t get me wrong, Joe was the perfect

      father. He loved me like his own kid. He took me to baseball games, and

      taught me to target shoot. But he wasn’t biologically mine. I’d grown up

      longing for a nameless, faceless ‘real’ father.

      My brothers took after Joe, each blond and big. I, on the other hand,

      resembled anyone from the mailman to my high school principal. My mom

      swore my biological father was a Peace Corps volunteer passing through our

      small town, but I had my doubts.

      My mom had met Joe while giving birth to me at the hunting &

      fishing department at Wal-Mart. An electrician by trade, Joe worked part-

      time as a salesman at the store and had just come on shift when my mom’s

      screams rocketed from the aisle.

      The rest, my parents claim, is history, but I knew better. I owed Joe

      more than I would ever be able to repay. He had given me his name and his

      love without condition, and I had failed him time and again.

      “So your brothers brought their families down for Sunday dinner. I

      told them about your new job and they are thrilled. Just think, my son, a

      Homeland Security agent.”

      I smiled into the phone. Close enough. “Mom, I really have to go.” I

      added, watching Mary bend to pick up a broken glass, “I’ll call you on

      Saturday.” But we both knew I wouldn’t.

      “I love you, Jace. Be safe.”

      “I love you too, Mom.” I hung up the phone and glanced at Mary.

      “You don’t have to clean up.”

      She straightened, brushing off her jeans. “Why would someone do

      this to you?” She waved her hands around the trashed apartment. “First little

      J.C., and now this. I’m scared for you.”

      “Don’t be.” I reached for her hand. “I have to go, but I want to make

      sure you’re all right.”

      “Oh, Jace, I’m scared. Please stay.” Her eyes lit with passion, and

      need. I wanted her. Wanted her like never before, but I had to track down the

      kid, and the treacherous bitch, Lilith before someone, namely Mary, ended

      up dead. I stared into her beautiful face, and said, “I can’t.” I pulled away and

      headed for her apartment. “Lock yourself in your apartment and don’t open

      the door to anyone unless it’s me, and even then keep the chain on.” At her

      50

      apartment door, I kissed her quickly.

      “Be careful,” she whispered as she disappeared inside her apartment.

      I nodded, listening for the telltale click of her deadbolt locking.

      Satisfied she was as safe as she could be, I headed for the stairs. My stomach

      rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten in two days. I’d kill for a Big Mac, but

      I had more important matters to attend to.

      Halfway down the hall, the stench of dead fish so vile the wallpaper

      peeled from the walls, struck me, knocking me back a step. Sid was making

      sushi again. I rolled my eyes and detoured to his apartment.

      “Sid, open up.” I banged on his door, rattling the tiny gold numbers

      affix to the wood by a screw.

      After a few seconds, Sid did as I demanded but didn’t look happy

      about it, his too small shirt covered in blood and guts. “Who speaks the

      sound of an echo? Who paints the image in a mirror? Where are the

      spectacles in a dream? Who knocks on my door? And what does he want?”

      “Listen Sid, someone broke into my apartment. I was hoping you

      saw who it was.” I waved a hand in front of my nose to dispel the fishy odor.

      He scratched his nuts and replied, “Past mind can't be seized. Present

      mind can't be grasped. Future mind can't be sensed. With which mind will

      you drink the tea?”

      “What?” I scratched my head. “I don’t want any tea. Did you see

      anybody or not?”

      “You will find what you seek.” He nodded to himself. “Go and find

      what you desire.”

      “Go where?” Did he know where the kid was? “For once, man, say

      what the fuck you mean.”

      He frowned, rubbed his fat tummy, and repeated, “Go, and find what

      you desire.”

      I glanced at his hand on his stomach and the t-shirt stretched tightly

      across it. Heavenly Grace Buddhist Temple. Got it. “Thanks, Sid. I owe you

      one.”

      “I leave, circle, stick, stone. The game of life, of chance, of faith.”

      “Yeah, same to you.”

      Sid shook his head and slammed the door in my face. So much for

      the kindness of neighbors, but I had a lead. Things looked up, that was until

      my cell phone rang again.

      “Mama take this badge off of me…” I pressed the silence button

      sending God to voicemail.

      51

      Fifteen

      The Heavenly Grace Temple sat a few blocks from Chinatown on the

      Lower East Side. It didn’t look like a temple, but my frame of reference for

      what a temple actually looked like, came mostly from cheesy 1970’s police

      detective shows.

      A brick veneer covered the building, and a small, unobtrusive sign

      hung over the door. I rang the bell and waited. Minutes passed. Maybe it was

      prayer time, or head shaving day. I rang the bell again.

      A short, serene looking man in a robe answered. His expression of

      calm faltered slightly at my presence. Unwarranted, I believed. After all, I

      had showered before heading over and the nine-millimeter was concealed

      beneath my sweatshirt.

      “May I help you?” The man’s accent sounded upper crust WASP.

      Great, a Buddhist CPA.

      “Sid sent me.” I gently pushed open the front door and stepped

      inside. “He said you had something of mine here.” I sniffed the air. No new

      Jesus smell. Damn.

      “We have been waiting for you.” He gestured for me to follow.

      “Sorry for my rudeness, but we cannot be too careful.”

      My stomach growled, as the scent of fried animal flesh tickled my

      nostrils. Weren’t Buddhists vegan? Something wasn’t right. “Why don’t you

      tell me exactly what you expected?”

      “Are you not on the noble path?”

      Why did everybody answer a question with a question? Wha
    t the

      fuck happened to the straight answer? “I think there’s some sort of mistake.

      I’m looking for a kid, not to convert.”

      “You are not a Buddhist?” He stopped, face paling under my gaze.

      “No. Don’t get me wrong, I love what you guys do. The airport

      drumming and sing-alongs are loads of fun, but I can’t quite pull off wearing

      a dress.” I pointed down at my jean clad legs. “Chicken legs.”

      The Buddhist’s lips thinned. “We are not Hare Krishnas. We do not

      wear dresses, nor do we hold sing-alongs.”

      “Oh, sorry.” Shit. I probably should’ve read the religions manual the

      52

      angel provided, but it was over a million pages, and I’d never even finished

      Stephen King’s, The Stand.

      Another guy, who wore a robe that barely covered a row of tattooed

      Sanskrit lettering around his arm, handed my CPA Buddhist a plain white

      paper bag. A grease stain appeared on the bottom.

      My robe-wearer opened the bag, sneered, and quickly closed it. “This

      is what you desire?” He shook his head. “Now go before more unenlightened

      ones get the sudden urge for flesh.” He pushed the bag into my hand and

      pushed me out the door.

      What was that about? I peeked into the bag, and laughed. A Big Mac

      stared from the paper depths, mocking me. My one true desire happened to

      be a hamburger, and damn, if Sid hadn’t come through.

      I wolfed the sandwich down, thought about desiring a drink, but

      decided against it. Getting my ass kicked by a bunch of Buddhists wasn’t a

      productive way to spend my day.

      But I did need a drink, and I knew just where to find it.

      ~ * ~

      “Hades, what the hell is she?” I sipped a beer, watching as Hades

      scrub a tar-crusted glass. I’d come to the Underworld looking for answers,

      but so far had only found a Heineken.

      “What is who?” Hades scratched his head. A snake ratted in anger.

      Again with the questions. “Lilith. The PI you called. Who is she, and

      why did you send her to help me?”

      His mouth dropped. “Lilith? No shit? I didn’t send her. I wouldn’t

      put her on my worst enemy, let alone someone I called friend.”

      “Thanks, I think. So she wasn’t the PI who located Persephone?” I

      was a fucking moron. I never questioned her presence, nor the fact she didn’t

      look like any detective I’d ever seen.

      “Hell no.” Hades smiled; venom dripping from his follicles. “Is that

      who you were with the other night? I wondered what she looked like in

      human form.”

      “Yeah. You wanna fill me in? Who is she?” I pounded my beer on

      the bar, rousing Dionysus. He burped out a hello and fell asleep again.

      “She is the mother of all succubae. The first wife of Adam, said to

      have tempted Eve into feeding him the apple. She is also Satan’s mistresses

      and as evil as they come. E-V-I-L.”

      Stupid Angel, and his ‘she smells human’ assurance. He was an idiot,

      and Lilith, the bitch, was the origin of dastardly deeds. “Great.” I shook my

      head, slumping lower on the barstool.

      “Legend has it, she has the head of a lion and a scorpion vagina. Not

      a woman to mess with. But, brother, she is smoking HOT. I’d get me a piece

      of that.”

      “Hades! If I ever hear—” Persephone shouted from the locked back

      office.

      53

      “Sorry, pumpkin.” Hades glanced around sheepishly. “Jace, you have

      to be very careful. If she finds J.C. before you do, all the prayer in the world

      ain’t gonna save us.”

      “I’ll find him.” But where? A half-assed idea formed in my brain.

      Devine intervention maybe, but chances were it was plain stupidity.

      54

      Sixteen

      I spent the rest of the day hunting for the kid, tracking new reports of

      suspicious happenings, and supposed miracles throughout the city. An

      exorcism of an infant in the Bronx turned out to be gas, and a priest faked a

      bleeding statue of the Virgin Mary in Queens. At least I wasn’t hard up

      enough to e-Bay grilled cheese sandwich faces of Jesus. Yet.

      I trolled the streets in a stolen BMW taken from a televangelist who

      claimed God meant for him to own two houses in Aspen, and a mistress in

      Manhattan. I flipped through radio stations, looking for the latest news brief.

      One particular snippet caught my attention.

      A reporter said, “Advocates for the homeless wonder about the

      overall effects.”

      A secondary voice of a homeless guy screeched, “Who’s going to

      give me money now? No one feels sorry for a two-legged panhandler. I used

      to pull in fifty bucks a day with one leg, now look at me. Miracle my ass.”

      I flipped the wheel and sped toward 151st Street, the epicenter of

      homeless in the city. By sheer chance, I glanced in my rearview mirror. A

      pale blue Gremlin followed. The driver, a black-haired succubus, flipped me

      off.

      I smiled and slammed on my brakes. With a loud crash, the Gremlin

      smashed into the bumper of the Beemer, crumpling it like an accordion. To

      my dismay, the Gremlin swung into the left lane and kept pace.

      Lilith raised her arm and fired a round from her big-ass gun. I

      pressed on the brakes again, and the bullet ripped into the BMW’s engine

      block instead of my head as intended.

      Flames shot from the car. The engine seized, and I rolled to a dead

      stop. I waved away clouds of smoke in time to see Lilith’s Gremlin speed

      down the street. Fuck.

      I banged my fist on the steering wheel. When my temper tantrum

      subsided, I reached for my cell phone and dialed Hades’s number. “Plan B,”

      I said when he answered.

      ~ * ~

      The back alley of the Core smelled like I remembered; a combination

      55

      of grease, garbage, and brimstone. I checked my nine-millimeter for the third

      time, waiting for Hades’s signal, a signal that should’ve come ten minutes

      ago.

      I glanced at the Gremlin parked at the entrance of the alley, and

      smiled with anticipation. That bitch would pay. Red light from Hades’s laser

      pointer bounced off my retina. Showtime.

      Slipping an electric lock pick from my pocket, I went to work on the

      back door. The whirl of the pick rang from the deserted alley and into the

      street. But no one paid me any attention.

      The lock snapped, and I pushed the door open. Blackness filled the

      backroom. The room I’d died in. A shiver passed through my body. Fear was

      good. My drill Instructor had beaten that into me repeatedly. Fear kept you

      alive.

      I slipped through the double doors, and into the semi-packed club.

      Hades and fifty other gods sat around the room in fully god-like glory.

      Apollo caught my eyes and winked. Having the sun god watching my back

      felt good, almost like I was invincible. I missed the angel, however. He’d

      been an annoying tool sure, but my annoying tool. One more sin Lilith would

      pay for.

      A hiss sounded on my right. I twisted toward it, gun at ready. “She’s

      not here.” A snake-tongued demon-girl withered to the heavy music beat.

      “Who?” I played dumb.


      “Ki-sikil-lil-la-ke, of course.”

      Okay, this time I wasn’t playing. “Who?”

      The beast-girl sighed. “Lilith, you fool. She is not here. Samuel

      replaced her with another.”

      I stared into her eye. Yep, one eye, dead center of her pale forehead.

      “Do you know where she went?”

      The demon-girl laughed. “Where do you think?”

      Blood pounded inside my head. “Forget it. Demons don’t know shit

      anyway. Satan doesn’t trust your kind.” I started to walk away.

      “I know more than you think.” Her tail swished, kicking up a cloud

      of dust and smoke. “I know where the prize you seek is kept.”

      I stopped and turned to her. “We’re not talking about a hamburger,

      right?

      Her brow furrowed. “Why would you seek a hamburger?”

      “Long story.” I flexed my fingers on the nine-millimeter. “Tell me.”

      “No, you tell me. What is the going rate for betrayal?”

      “What are you talking about?”

      The demon shifted into the beautiful body of the murderous Lilith.

      She smiled, and slapped the gun in my hand away at the same time I pulled

      the trigger. The shot went wide, but her fist didn’t. It caught me right above

      the eye, and sent my nine-millimeter and me spiraling to the floor.

      Hades jumped to my aid, but Lilith froze him in place with a glare.

      56

      “This is his fight,” she said, pointing a talon-like finger at me. Hades blinked

      in acknowledgement.

      I slowly got to my feet, wiped the blood from my eye, and smiled.

      “Is that all you got?”

      She laughed. “What do you think?”

      The next punch rattled my ribs, cracking a few. At least this time, I

      stayed on my feet and even landed a blow of my own. Too bad, it glanced off

      her right shoulder, not doing any real damage.

      “You shouldn’t have come here.” She wrapped her arms around me,

      squeezing the breath from my lungs.

      “You shouldn’t have betrayed me.” I broke the chokehold with an

      elbow to her mid-section, and stepped back a few steps.

      “Believe what you will, but you will die a believer.” She vanished in

      a plume of steam, only to reappear thirty feet away, her arms pressed into the

      flesh of Samuel.

      I clutched my ribs and laughed. “If it isn’t the pretty-boy. Guess I

     


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