by Michael Todd
Ravi giggled. That was one of the biggest hits by Estelita Mendonça last winter.
He stared at his reflection in disbelief. I also believe it was one of the biggest hits for the man lost in the woods two years ago.
The demon ignored him. You can kick ass, stay dry, be fashionable, and keep warm all at the same time. What did you call it? Practical.
Damian shook his head. Okay, enough of this shit show for one day. I gave you a chance, but this is utterly ridiculous.
She groaned. Okay. Okay. One more. I promise you will like it. And that’s not wishful thinking. If you hate it, we leave, and you’ll never hear another word from me.
Damian clipped the rug skirt to the hanger and folded his arms. Fine. One more. But only if it doesn’t have any inflatable parts, anything resembling animal hair, a sheen, and isn’t woven with locks of a newborn’s hair.
Agreed. It’s in the suit bag on the left.
He grunted, and the dressing room curtain billowed as he changed one last time. Damian buttoned the pants and rolled his shoulders back. You’d think they’d give you more than three square feet to change in.
Ravi laughed. Take a look.
The priest rolled his eyes and faced the mirror, instantly losing his annoyed face. He tilted his head and pulled down on the tailored jacket. The suit was pale gray with a slight sheen, but it had a James Bond flair. The white button-up tucked into the front, and the pants were perfectly pressed. Well, hot damn, look at this! Classic, well-fitting, and suave.
The demon chirped excitedly, I told you. It’s Armani.
He nodded his head, impressed. I could even wear my suspenders and bowtie with it.
Ravi agreed. Yep, and it would bring those two items into this century. I would suggest a better trench, but baby steps, I suppose.
Damian lifted an eyebrow. Yes, baby steps. I like my trench coats, and they all have the special hidden storage I need. They should make a line of clothes for our profession.
I’m afraid the turnover of people in your profession might be too high for a profit.
True. Well, Ravi, I have to admit, I love this suit. It’s the best thing I’ve tried on in years.
She clicked her tongue. I have a feeling it’s one of the very few things you’ve tried on in years.
Damian ignored her comment. I will be honest. I didn’t think there was a chance in hell I would find anything I liked today. I seriously came only because I keep my promises and had made one to you to go shopping. I thought it would be an exhausting bust. Well done, at least on this one. I wish you had started with it, though.
Ravi laughed. Well, I’ll take this as a win. At least it’s a start, and now I know your style—classic and chic. Not really what I imagined a man of God wearing, but hey, everyone likes to look good.
He stripped and dressed in the clothes he’d arrived in. Very true. I bet even Gabriel would fancy a suit like this.
She scoffed but didn’t reply. Damian hung the suit neatly on the hanger and zipped the bag, then slung it over his arm and made sure he had everything. Do I leave these here?
Yep. Take what you’re buying up to the front. I have to say, I liked that coat you tried on first.
Damian shivered. Are you serious? That coat had a tail. A tail! Men of God don’t wear tails, and I don’t mean the fancy tuxedo kind. There was fur involved.
Ravi chuckled as he pulled the curtain back. On the hanger was a bright-white winter fur coat. Wisps of purples, pinks, and blues along the seams were tied at the back into a long unicorn tail. The sparkles were enough to make him retch. He couldn’t even imagine what Katie would say if she knew he’d vaguely considered the thing, if only to please his demon.
Damian stopped abruptly at a rack of bowties. They are selling these again? You told me they were out of style.
Ravi was serious. No. I told you yours were out of style. In fact, bowties seem to be all the rage now, but you have to know when to let go of plaid. And the one with the ducks on it is seriously creepy.
The priest frowned. I like the ducks. But my favorite is the one with the crosses. That was a huge hit at my sermons in Vegas.
Ravi was silent for a moment. Oh, so you busted it out at the church sermons? That sounds riveting, really. I’m shocked you don’t have a following. Whatever did they do without you there?
He shrugged. I guess the place was a little less fashionable after I left.
She giggled as he approached the counter to pay for the suit. The cashier was super-nice, especially when he paid the three-thousand-dollar price in cash. She made sure his suit hung perfectly and zipped the bag up, thanking him for the hundredth time. Damian left the store feeling overwhelmed by the snobbery. He breathed deeply, and cold air filled his lungs.
His gaze settled on a small eatery down the block. Let’s get a bite and coffee, shall we?
I’m hungry. Why not?
Damian ordered a sandwich and an iced coffee and sat at one of the small café tables outside. He loved that time of year, and the cool breeze refreshed him more than the coffee did. With his legs crossed comfortably, he people-watched and enjoyed his lunch while Ravi commented randomly on some of the clothes. Everyone was dressed in the same styles he had laughed at in the store.
He sipped his coffee as a man walked by in the fur skirt. I feel like I have traveled through time to a city with a bunch of weird space-people. Do they actually wear this shit to fucking jobs? Like, what do they do for a living? Do they perform surgery in the seven-layer shredded blouse they purchased for fifteen hundred dollars?
Ravi yawned. Will you kick ass in your three-grand suit?
Damian nodded and swallowed the last of his sandwich. I will, but I won’t look stupid doing it. And I won’t accidentally put my eye out with my shoulder pad.
The demon laughed delightedly, and Damian smiled as he sipped his coffee. I want to ask you something off-topic.
What? she asked. And no, there is not a special breed of animal they kill for that skirt. It’s faux fur. Real fur is totally out.
Damian smirked. No, I wanted to ask if you could tell me anything about the book with Pandora’s—or Lilith’s—signature in it.
She was silent for a moment. I really don’t know if I should discuss Lilith. Her life is her business. I don’t need to be caught up in something like that.
The priest could sense she was afraid of Katie’s demon. Remember, Pandora is my friend. She would never do anything to you. Besides, I promise I won’t say a thing to her about whatever you tell me. I don’t really want to tell her I’ve got this book, anyway. I wouldn’t even know what questions to ask her. She tends to be stubborn about answering questions about her past—not that I know anyone else like that.
Ravi ignored his jibe. She opened up when she determined it was safe and reasonable. All right. Well, do you know the biblical story of Lilith?
The Jewish version? Not too well, no.
She cleared her throat. They believe that she was the first woman on Earth, and was created as a companion for Adam. At first it all seemed well and good, but as time went by, she resented Adam’s control and wanted to be more expressive sexually, emotionally, and in every way, really. She lashed out at him and ran when she saw that she had gone too far. It is said that God sent the angels to track her down, but she had already changed and became one of the first demons on Earth. From there, stories circulated that she took the souls of children and ate babies, but nothing was ever proven.
Damian smirked. It seems like a possibility to me.
Ravi chuckled and continued. There was no word of Lilith for a long time after that, then we heard whispers that she was wandering, finding her place in and out of humans. Sometimes, she would wander for decades and then fall back into hell and spend time there. About five hundred or so years ago, it emerged that she had been taken as a bride by Lucifer. At first, no one thought much of it, but Lucifer was obsessed and dubbed her the Queen of hell. She was the almighty standing at the side of the a
lmighty, at least down below. She ruled with force; it was almost as if something happened to push all her anger out.
Damian listened, finding the account curious. It seemed to fit Pandora, but there was way more depth to her story than he had ever imagined. Ravi spoke with certainty, especially about the later years. She ruled with Lucifer for a long time, but rumor has it one day she was gone. She left him and returned to Earth. I heard her brother tricked her, trying to make her human so he could kill her. He was always jealous of her.
He laughed. He wanted to be Lucifer’s bride?
Ravi giggled. Can you imagine?
Well, his plan backfired on him.
So it did. I was shocked when T’Chezz’s head was severed from his neck. It was a big deal for many demons, and probably angels, too. There were many times through history when we heard nothing about Lilith, and no one really knows where she was during those times. Some say with God, others say roaming the Earth. Wherever it was, she stayed low-key.
Damian scoffed. Low-key sounds like an oxymoron for someone like Pandora. Did you ever meet her?
Ravi fell silent, and Damian waited. After a few moments, she spoke quietly. Yes, but it was only for a brief moment and far too long ago for me to really remember. My accounts are mostly from what we hear in hell. I had an admin job, so I got the skinny. Anyway, so yeah, that’s the whole story.
He was surprised at how quickly she stopped the conversation but could tell she wouldn’t divulge more. The questions racked up in his head, and he wondered if they would ever be answered.
Chapter Five
This one has a stronger burnt taste, indicating a higher caffeine content. I discern hints of char, a bit of chocolate, and a smoky finish. I would say this is the K7, grown in Africa. It’s a selection of French Mission Bourbon selected at Legelet Estate in Muhoroni, Kenya. I like it, though not on a daily basis. Astaroth was explaining the taste of the coffee Max had just sipped.
The two had signed up for a tasting a few blocks from the house, where coffees from all over the world were available. Astaroth was good at it, and Max could basically tell it was coffee. The priest moved to the next cup and sipped. How about that one?
The demon hummed to himself. This is a tricky one. It’s definitely an arabica. Hmm. It has a rich, full-bodied flavor. It’s well balanced in acidity, and there are multidimensional hints here. I would say…Sulawesi Toraja Kalossi from Sulawesi, Indonesia.
Max flipped the card. You’re absolutely right. Dang, how do you do that?
It’s all about relaxing the taste buds and going with it. Okay, you try. Put on the blindfold and start in the middle.
Max lifted the blindfold and hesitated. Are you sure? I’m terrible at this.
Astaroth chuckled. I’m sure you will be green, but nothing too bad.
The priest shrugged pulled the mask on. He ran his fingers over the cup in front of him, picked it up, and sniffed the brew. Carefully, he took a sip, running his tongue through the hot liquid. Astaroth waited for him to swallow. All right, rookie, what do you think?
Max cleared his throat and tried to concentrate. Well, I taste some deep…char. And a hint of…basil? Oh, and I can taste the acid bubbling in it. I say it’s a fire brew from Hawaii.
Astaroth sighed. Are you completely braindead? You just described some sort of pasta sauce. That is the Interspecific hybrid, Timor from India. How could you screw up that badly? And what is with the basil?
He removed the blindfold and shrugged. I told you I was terrible at this. And we’ve been here for five hours. I seriously feel like my heart might burst out of my chest and fall to the floor. It wouldn’t even stop beating. It would grab a cup of coffee and run off.
The demon groaned. Fine, let’s go. I don’t need you to have a complete caffeine stroke-out here in the store. You would embarrass the hell out of me.
Max smiled at the guy behind the counter as he collected his coat and hat, nodded at the staff, and left. He stuck one hand in his pocket and gripped the large bag of coffee they had purchased tightly with the other to ease the feeling that his whole body was shaking. As he walked, he swayed to the side, looking like a drunk leaving a bar. He steadied himself on a bench for a moment, trying to calm the heart that now felt like it was in his throat.
Astaroth scoffed. Lightweight. You can’t even handle a five-hour coffee- tasting. I have always said, if you can’t handle your caffeine, you shouldn’t drink and drive. That is how high-speed accidents happen.
Max put his hand out to hail a cab. No need to worry about that, but you might want to focus on keeping me from puking in the back of this cab. Good Lord, I feel like I had one too many shots with Damian.
The demon laughed loudly. Wait until the hangover hits you. When the crash comes, you’ll drop wherever you stand. You might as well know, you could become an addict.
He rolled his eyes as the cabbie pulled out toward the row house. Great. I’ll walk around chewing coffee beans, looking for my next brew.
That’s the good stuff.
Damian smiled kindly at the woman behind the counter of the store he had just entered. After lunch, he decided to indulge Ravi a little more since she had been so helpful with the information on Pandora. He knew she hadn’t told the whole truth, but that would hopefully come in time. If shopping didn’t help her open up, nothing would at that point.
He walked down the aisle of shoes until he found the men’s section, which displayed dress shoes of all types and designs. The selection included alligator, leather, patent leather, and everything else imaginable. Shiny boots were spotlighted along the back wall. He stopped at a pair of calf-high lace-ups similar to those he wore. His boots were old, and he admitted that it might be time to invest in a new pair. He looked at the price tag and coughed discretely.
Ravi laughed. They will last you a lifetime, though. I can promise you that. Not everything more expensive is better, but this designer is worth the money. Those would look decent with your suit, too. I can’t imagine you wearing dress shoes to kick ass anyway.
Damian shrugged. James Bond did.
She chuckled. Yeah, but 007 had a stunt double who didn’t wear dress shoes.
Good point. I can see myself slipping on a pile of ashes and sailing over the side of a building. I’d look good, but I’d be dead.
At least they wouldn’t have to change you for burial.
The priest nodded. True. That’s convenient, I suppose.
The demon squealed and Damian dropped the boot, looking around. What? Where is it?
She repeated the girlish shriek. Do you see those leather heels on the showroom wall over there? Those are the same ones that Meghan, the Countess of Sussex, wore on one of her first outings with the prince before they were married. Oh, my gosh, they are so beautiful.
Damian pursed his lips and bent to retrieve the boot. I thought I had to slay a demon, and you’re freaking out over heels?
Ravi exhaled, awed. There are so many beautiful shoes here. I would be in heaven if I could wear them.
He tapped his foot. I don’t think my feet would fit in those. It might be a little unsightly, anyway, given the hair on the top of my feet.
She giggled. I don’t know. I think those red pumps would be fantastic with your bowtie.
The priest chuckled and rolled his eyes, thinking of Timothy’s response. Ravi would love to be in his body. They would never shut up about fashion. Damian retreated and left the store without buying anything. They were at the end of the main shopping street, but he continued his stroll, enjoying the early evening air. He turned right at the end of the block, not sure where he was going.
A little farther down, he paused and studied a small sign pointing down an alley. “Huh. I wonder…”
He turned right and walked carefully down the clean walkway, finally reaching an iron gate. Cautiously, he pushed it open and looked around before stepping inside. A long stretch of bright green grass ahead was surrounded by trees, and a bench stood in the center. H
e had found one of the hidden Memorial Gardens that London was known for. Damian smiled. He hurried over, sat on the bench, and crossed his feet in front of him, enjoying the rest. As he soaked in the warmth of the sun, his phone rang.
The priest smiled as the Secretary’s name appeared on the screen. He pressed Accept and put the phone to his ear. “Well, well, the stalker has returned. I knew you would miss me. Though I have to admit, it took you longer to call than I expected. You’ve perfected the whole make-him-think-you’re-not-interested vibe. Good for you! I have a feeling you’ve had plenty of practice.”
The Secretary’s voice remained monotone. “Did you know that those Memorial Gardens have been there for over fifty years? The bench was added about twenty years ago, but it is very well-maintained. I especially like it during that time of year when the leaves on the trees turn from green to gold-yellows and burnt-oranges. If it weren’t for you being there, it would be the perfect scenery.”
Damian eyed the gold-yellow and burnt-orange leaves. He pursed his lips and shook his head as he sighed dramatically. “You are aware that stalking is illegal, right? Not that I could get a restraining order. You tend to stay well hidden. Or, like I said before, you are the drone, creeping up on me from afar. I knew that one day, technology would take over and try to kill us, but I didn’t realize its personality would be so…English Nanny.”
The Secretary smirked. “Well, when we first decided to take over the human race, we thought it would be a challenge. Then we realized how infantile you are, and we had to switch gears. It’s easier to babysit than eliminate. We can have you do our bidding.”
He shook his head. “So, the nanny cams are actually nannies.”
“Yes, but we had to dumb them down so that people wouldn’t want to play with them.”
Damian laughed, finding the conversation amusing. It was the most the woman had ever said to him. She realized that too, and was quick to shut it down. “Moving on, I have a new assignment for you.”