by Tiana Laveen
“Ohhhh shit! Shiiit!” he screamed out as he poured inside of her mouth, cumming now for the third time. He gritted his teeth at the sight of her taking him all in, swallowing his cum, making him lose his fucking mind. “Uh! Oh…Oh God, Xenia…”
Like a rag doll, he fell down on the bed, as happy as he could fucking be. His arm limp across his chest, he lazily closed his eyes, disappearing within himself for a second or two. He felt the warmth of her flesh soon enough when she crawled atop him and rested her head on his chest. He dug his fingers lazily through her tresses, gently pulled at the slightly fuzzy ends. He couldn’t wipe the damn smile off his face. I’m in love. So in love.
“Do you know how fuckin’ obsessed I am with you?” he said huskily, his grin still broad, his eyes shut.
“I’m glad.” He could hear the smile in her words.
“If you really knew how bad I have it for you, you’d probably be scared.” He laughed lightly, feeling on cloud nine. He was healing, his body repairing, fixing all that was broken within his spirit. And he grew stronger and stronger as each second passed.
“Well,” she said, running her finger up and down his chest. “Does it concern you?”
“Not in the least.” He cleared his throat and slowly opened his eyes to stare down into the beautiful angel’s eyes. “I just have never felt this way about anyone before, and it still amazes me after all this time.” Tipping his head towards her, he kissed the top of her crown.
“Saint, I’m scared…” She stiffened against him.
“About Zoo? Don’t be, baby. You won’t—”
“No, not about Zoo. He can go straight to hell! He got what was coming to him.”
The woman’s eyes grew darker, sinister. A little of her innocence had died that night, and it tore him up. But in its place stood a stronger woman, one less afraid to see what the damn deal was, so he supposed it was a catch-22. Her candor took him aback, though at the same time, it soothed him, made him feel at ease.
“I’m talking about your situation with Koki, Saint. Something about it doesn’t sit right with me. He is far too calm. I know more than you think I do…”
“Do you?” He raised a brow in genuine puzzlement as he caressed her arm. What should he make of her admission?
“Yes…like our son skipping school.”
He saw the smirk on her face and smiled back in return.
“…And about that boy, Angel, being his protector.”
“How in the world did you find out about that?”
“I’m his mother!” She looked coldly into Saint’s eyes. “You may be psychic, but I have mother’s intuition. I know when that boy has to take a piss before he does!” she teased. “You weren’t keeping any secrets. I knew as soon as I called you what the hell had happened, I just needed reassurance that you knew where the fuck he was is all… Aaaannnd, I knew you’d cover for him.” She pointed an accusing finger at him.
Saint burst out laughing, realizing he’d underestimated the little woman. “Damn. I plead guilty.” He ran his hand down the side of his face. “I’m busted. I guess…”
“Guess you tell yourself you’re protecting me, too, by keeping me in the dark, and I appreciate that. It’s what a King does for his Queen, but I’m no weakling, Saint. I know what’s going on. I’ve been knowing what’s going on. Just because I don’t like some of it, or don’t want to discuss it, doesn’t mean I’m unaware… Oh, I know…trust me.”
And as those words came out, he knew she spoke the truth. Here he was thinking he kept Xenia a safe distance from the disturbing nuisances in their lives, that her feminine ways and frailties simply couldn’t handle it, and he couldn’t have been farther from the truth. All the while she was only one step behind, the whole damn way… And this was reason #8651 why she was his soulmate, the love his life, and the Goddess he could never let get away…
*
Chapter Thirty-Six
Cruz sat stone-faced when he heard his front door being kicked in. He sat in the middle of the damn pentagram his father had drawn so many years ago, and simply waited. He’d known when he uttered the Demon Child contrivance, when he told Saint the deal, that they’d come for him and they’d come hard. Like an avalanche of acidic sludge, they came forth, called out to him, toppling over the few things he owned. Doors slammed, rattling the whole fucking house. Then he heard someone say in a muffled voice, “This was his father’s place. Show some respect.”
“I ain’t respectin’ shit!” someone else called out. “That snitch is going to be sorry he opened his fuckin’ mouth! ’Cause of him, Zoo is dead, forever.”
Cruz grinned, falling into inner peace, and lowered his head, pulling the hood a bit to cover his hair. He’d accepted his fate. In those few hours, he felt his soul for the first time since he’d drawn his first breath and there was nothing like it on the planet. He’d fallen in love with himself, and it didn’t matter that they’d cut his life force, try and make him regret the day he was born. He had something they’d never experience now, a direct telephone line to the Creator. He could feel it deep inside, and it grew and grew like yeast in heat, about to pop at the seams. He tilted his head back to look up at the ceiling—towards the sky and the heavens—and raised his hands, ready to be taken away. He’d done his good deed, his job was complete. He’d helped a powerful Angel Child right a wrong, restore a piece of the unbalanced trek, make it right.
Yes, the satanist’s love child, hidden from the world, had done the unthinkable. All those meetings at the church when he’d been just a tiny boy, all those sacrifices witnessed, all the horrid orgies he was forced to watch, the surreal ceremonies, the summoning of demons, the bloodshed—he’d soaked every bit of those experiences inside him. Yet, rather than letting them poison him, he used the knowledge in his arsenal to help others; only now, he’d crossed the wrong Demon Child, Koki.
The basement door creaked open, and he heard a familiar voice, one he hadn’t heard in years.
“Get the light…”
Ataru…
Fear budded in the pit of his gut. Ataru had a way of drawing things out, making them a bit more painful than necessary. Koki was more about taking care of business, swift and clean. Ataru’s thinking wasn’t as clear; this surely could not be good…
He stiffened up a bit, but pushed himself forward. He wasn’t certain why Saint had wanted him to wait in the basement for him. After all, the pentagram was still there, though the man had performed a cleansing. How could a pentagram protect him? If anything, it would draw the bastards to him. He began to second guess Saint’s reasoning then, considered the option of fleeing into the recesses of the covered crawl spaces, but…then, he realized—it was fine, no need to scurry away…
It was what it was. And it didn’t matter. He was going home. He smiled a bit wider when the thought occurred to him he’d get to see his mother again, too… Oh how he missed her.
“Cruz!” someone called out.
He could only see he gleam of their teeth as they smiled, obviously thrilled to see him shrouded in the dark. A whisper of light crept through one window, but soon the place was lit with flames in the form of ten burning eyes. Five angry demon children stood there, throwing curses his way.
“Be quiet!” Ataru called out. “Yes.” He grinned. “Here he is.” He struck a flame from his fingertip, illuminating the place.
Cruz looked up at the ceiling once more with a smile on his face, then closed his eyes. Presenting his neck to them, as a sign he was more than ready to go, he stepped up to their challenge. He heard their steps approaching as they maneuvered closer to him, ready to snatch him up like a bag of abandoned money until Ataru screamed out and the footsteps stopped.
“Wait! Do you smell that?” The men in his entourage began to sniff the air. Cruz slowly re-opened his eyes after hearing all the commotion come to a crawl.
“Angel Child blood…” one of them murmured. “Cruz must be bleeding…”
“No,” Ataru said with certai
nty. “It’s not Cruz… It’s strong.”
He moved about, keeping the flame in front of him, sniffing the air harshly like a bloodhound. Cruz observed through slits for eyes now, figuring out just what the hell the King Angel Child had done. It took all of him to not explode in laughter. And then, he saw it. One of the men rushed into the circle, and screamed in agony when half of his body seemed to go into a state of paralysis. Another grabbed the fellow and dragged him from the pentagram.
“No one else step on or inside of the pentagram!” Ataru screamed. “Someone’s been here, helping him!”
“Let’s just shoot his ass in the head then, since we can’t get to his neck!” another yelled.
“We can’t. Cruz has to be handled with special care, in a meticulous way. We have to do the opposite with him as we’d do with the others due to his genetic disposition.”
“But you said we should to do him the same that was done to Zoo!” one of them protested, showing his thirst to see Cruz suffer, to shed his blood for hours on end.
“Yes, we have to slice his neck, and if we kill him any other way, he’ll gain his soul and have everlasting life… What a mockery that would be for Zoo’s memory! After all that man has done for us!” Ataru said, looking over his shoulder at the men. “However, someone has made it impossible for us to cross over the pentagram by providing a multi-tier Angel Child sacrifice. Who has been here?!” Ataru demanded from Cruz, pointing his finger down at the ground. “This is a very important night for my brother, for our people. This is your last opportunity to spare your own life!”
Cruz stared back at him, remaining quiet and motionless.
“Eventually, you will have to leave this circle, Cruz.” Ataru sneered. “…And then, we will get you.” Ataru began to move around the place, careful to stay away from the pentagram. “Now, I will spare your life if you tell me who did this and what he is up to! Say his name, damn it! We know who is responsible and I want you to confess it!”
“Saint!” Cruz laughed loudly. “You know his name, Ataru! And even if I knew what he was doing right at this moment, I would rather you tear me from limb to limb then disclose anything to you. And do you know what I like best about this? You know that I’m telling you the truth.” Cruz reveled in the moment. He felt powerful like he’d never before been.
“How about I do you one better?” Ataru grinned, then snapped his fingers, pointing to the basement steps, commanding everyone to retreat. “How about we just let nature take its course, huh? If you die, you die, but we didn’t set you deliberately on fire…just the house. Now make your move.”
Ataru smirked as he followed behind the men, leaving Cruz with a burning lump of fear caught in his throat. The bastard had thought fast on his feet, found a way around the situation.
The man was right. To burn his house down would be their one way around the laws—a cheap, easy way to ensure they drove him out of the circle into their murderous arms. Ataru also knew Cruz was afraid of very little, but this surely caused him anxiety that crawled within him like a spider egg bubbling to hatch.
Cruz deliberated on getting the hell out of there, removing himself from the damn pentagram just as they wished, and trying to make a run for it. But if they got a hold of him, he’d be tortured for hours, perhaps days, on end. There was nowhere to go. He was a wanted man. If he made it up the steps and out the door, he’d be running through thigh high flames, and if that didn’t end his life, the smoke inhalation surely would. So he faced his fear when he saw gleaming orange and red light rising around the perimeter of the house in the night, sparking like firewood embers. Through his psychic vision, he could see what the fiends were doing. The men worked fast, doing their dirty work, pouring gasoline all around. The flames danced and grinned, as if delighted to engulf him whole. And then, as if they’d never been on the property, the demons were gone.
For an instant, he thought he’d be able to keep his soul and his life, too. For a moment, he realized Saint had shed blood for him, not only to give a bit of himself so he could help him find his soul, but because he knew the bastards would be coming for him, sooner rather than later. Saint didn’t give a damn about that pentagram…that was simply an excuse to lure him down into the basement where he believed he’d be kept safe. But now it all seemed in vain.
Smoke filled the small house quickly and windows burst and shattered, as if Molotov cocktails had been thrown in to exasperate the already hopeless situation. He began to hear crinkling noises, of hot flames cooking the damn linoleum kitchen floor crisp like bacon right above his head.
He drowned in the realization that this was truly the end, but he smiled nevertheless, in full acceptance of his fate. Sitting Indian style, legs crossed, he embraced his soul as surely as though he’d caught it in the palms of his hands. Upon beholding it, he fell deeper in love with himself. For the first time since the day he’d been born into the miserable world, he finally felt alive…
*
Saint, Lawrence and Jagger sat in his massive living room. The curtains blew to and fro, but there was no air source minus the green smoke that churned and choked on its own body as it escaped the side of his crooked grin. The rain continued to pour down as if the sky opened up and cried its fucking heart out. The deluge was violent, with sharpened swords and serrated knives, as if it, too, was in on the action. It beat against the windows like a drum and danced to an occasional lightning strike here and there that lit up the dark quarters a time or two with mystic wonder.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to come?” Jagger asked as he checked his guns, ensuring all three were fully loaded…and this was just the portion of his arsenal in view.
“I’m certain. You’ll have your hands full with the others anyway. Oh, Jagger, before you leave, I want you to take care of a quick errand for me. I’ll discuss it with you in a sec.”
“Of course…”
“Anyway, as soon as they know Koki and I are together, they will begin to attack the other Angel Children in the city. It is how it goes.”
Lawrence nodded in agreement.
“Now, Armondo and his guys can fight, but they are incapable of doing this strategically without your assistance. They’re unorganized, but with you two in charge, it should go much smoother.”
In response, Lawrence pulled out a hand-drawn map from his tan, lightweight inner jacket pocket. He unscrolled it, and motioned Jagger and Saint to take a glance. Even though he’d penned it himself, it looked damn near professional. He pointed to various boroughs around the city, explaining his ideas and plans. “I’m on it, Saint. I’ve already contacted everyone. They know what is going and they are heading their posts.”
“Good, thank you, Lawrence.” Saint sighed and leaned back. He’d been listening to the news. The weather in New York had made national news. The airlines dropping off in J.F.K. and LaGuardia were closed down and out of commission for an indefinite time. Golf ball sized hail had also been spotted. Traffic became a bigger fucking mess and the city was revolting against being shut off and isolated like bolt-locked shutters keeping intruders from a house.
He grabbed his cell phone off the coffee table in front of him and propped his feet up. He let it ring a few times before he responded. Finally, an all-too-familiar deep voice echoed on the other end.
“I thought you’d forgotten about me, man!” Officer Roman Elysio laughed. Bits of static made him at times hard to hear.
“No, not at all.”
“I moved here, you called me to make sure the family and I were settled in, and that was it. Saint, your follow-up procedure sucks,” the cop teased.
“I knew you were doing well.” Saint grinned as he rumpled his jeans in a nervous maneuver. “Word got back to me that you are already up for promotion. I knew you’d fit in well, Roman.”
“Well, thank you. I must say I do feel more appreciated here.”
“Good. Now, I need a favor…”
The man went quiet for a moment. “Sure, what is it?”
“I need you to block off the Brooklyn Bridge from all incoming traffic as of the next fifteen minutes for the remainder of the evening.”
“What?! What is this all about? You know what? It doesn’t even matter. Saint, that is impossible! That’s not even my jurisdiction!”
“Look, Roman.” Saint closed his eyes wearily and ran his fingers across the lids. He felt his lashes, feathery and light, when his fingertips brushed against them. “You better figure some shit out, okay? If you don’t, there will be innocent lives lost! People will be popping off that damn thing like ping pong balls into the East River! Is that what you want?”
“Oh my God… How tha fuck… Goddamn it!” the man cursed. “Okay, okay…let me think, try to figure something out…”
“And after you get it blocked, make sure no one, and I mean no one, enters!”
“Except me, and on second thought, I do want to know what the hell is going on. Something told me not to meet you at that bar! I knew I was going to get roped in some bullshit!” the man joked, causing Saint to offer a half-smile. “I’m lyin’. I was excited as hell.”
Saint even had to laugh a bit at that, too.
“Well, it’s best I not tell you and no, not even you. It’s too dangerous. I don’t want anyone else involved in this. Once you close it, it’s closed… No way back in, no way back out. Send me a text when it’s done.”
“Will do.”
Saint disconnected the call and slid the phone back on the table. Silence reigned for a long while.
“I can feel her…” he murmured, rubbing his eyes with closed fists. “My woman is in our bedroom right this second, with our children sleeping all around her.” He pointed up at the staircase, without looking. “They are half of each of us, an extension of our beings, a receipt, if you will, of our love for one another. My son,” he said over a huge lump in his throat, his voice shaking as the magnitude of the situation began to settle in his soul. “My eldest boy said to me, ‘Daddy, something bad is going to happen tonight, ain’t it?’” Saint burst out laughing, a cheerless sound, as the insanity mixed in with his sorrow. “I hadn’t told my son any of this, none of it…but he knows, damn it! He knows. He stood there cryin’. Hassani is not a crier, but since we’ve moved here, it seems that is all he does… He breaks my fuckin’ heart.” Saint swiped his own tears away.