Holy Socks And Dirtier Demons

by J. A. Kazimer

  above. Yeah, cloud. One more thing the angel had lied about.

  God patted my shoulder. “Is your cloud not to your liking?”

  “No, it’s great.” I smiled at the Benevolent One, and wondered again

  how he managed to be God and look like a hippie. He wore Birkenstocks, for

  fuck sakes. “Thanks for letting me stay here,” I added after a long pause.

  “No problem.” He smiled through that lie. The fight between God

  and Satan over my soul had taken days. I hovered somewhere between life

  and death while some heavenly accounting nerd listed my every sin. God

  claimed they were minor vices, a boy merely sowing his wild oats. Satan, on

  the other hand, argued breaking almost every commandment constituted

  damnation, or at least, a day spent watching reruns of last season of

  American Idol.

  Oddly, the decision came back to the woman who’d killed me in the

  first place. Lilith had pulled Satan aside, and after a brief consultation, I was

  fitted for a pair of lopsided wings and my own cloud, white of course. So

  there I sat, waiting for the kid to free me from Heaven, so I could send his

  kidnappers to hell.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Mary hugged my mom, squeezing a few

  more tears from the older woman’s eyes. “Jace was a great man.”

  My mom gave her a watery smile. “Did you know him well?”

  “Yes.” Mary sniffed into a lace handkerchief. “I planned on having

  his babies.”

  Babies? Wait a minute.

  Lilith planted a protective arm on my mother’s shoulder, knocking

  Mary back a step. “Jace had faults,” she said, drawing my mom’s attention.

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  “He liked to drink, slept with the occasional hooker, and used the Lord’s

  name in vain, a lot.”

  My mom looked horrified.

  Mary rushed to my defense. “But he also protected those he

  considered defenseless, and he helped old people across the street.”

  “If they gave him a dollar.” Lilith shrugged and glanced down at her

  black painted nails.

  That bitch. When I got off this fucking cloud, I was going to ring her

  neck. A sudden realization struck me. What if I never got off this cloud?

  What if the kid didn’t show? Had Lilith talked me into this to get me out of

  the way?

  Below a girl-on-girl catfight erupted. Clothing flew in various

  directions. Jenna Jameson replaced my mom, and things got interesting.

  ~ * ~

  Smack. “Pig.” Lilith lay on her big white bed next to me, her hand

  stinging from the smack to my cheek.

  I cracked my eyes open. “Hey, it’s my fantasy. I can have whoever I

  want naked in it.”

  “Okay, it’s a bad idea.” She rubbed her chin. “We don’t even know if

  J.C. has the power to raise the dead yet, and even if he does, why the hell

  would he want you back on Earth.”

  “There is that, and I doubt I’d be waiting around in heaven.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I have my doubts about that too.” Her palm

  struck my cheek again with a thwack. “And why am I always a bitch in your

  fantasies and Mary’s so fucking sweet?”

  “I call it like I see it.”

  Lilith rammed her foot into my side and kicked me from her bed.

  “Well, see it from the couch then.”

  I stumbled to my feet with a grin. “Come on, I was teasing. Mary has

  her flaws.”

  “Oh yeah. Name one?” Lilith tucked her arms across her chest. “I’m

  waiting.”

  “She’s not a natural blonde.” Whether she was or not, I had no idea,

  or did I care? But Lilith seemed to consider my words.

  “What else?” She licked her lips.

  “Well, she’s a morning person, and she sings in the shower.” Both

  traits, that while endearing at first, after ten years of marriage became

  motive.

  “Oh, I hate that.” She smiled. “Adam used to wake up at five every

  morning. Said something stupid about a bird, and a worm. So one morning

  when he woke me to make him breakfast, I fried up a pound of worms and

  told him it was sausage.” She rubbed at a scar above her left eye. “He was

  not amused.”

  I was glad he was dead; otherwise, I’d have to kill him. No wonder

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  Lilith had left him for Satan. How much worse could hell be?

  “I didn’t leave Adam for Satan.”

  God, I hated when she read my mind. “How’d you end up,” I

  motioned to her, “like this?”

  Instead of taking offense, like most of the woman of my

  acquaintance, she said, “How did you?”

  “What do you mean?” I frowned. “The angel came to my door with

  the kid in his arms and I let him in.”

  “But why?”

  Good question. “I don’t know.” That was a lie. I’d let the kid in

  because I’d had no choice. It was him or the voices, and as annoying as the

  kid was, the voices were worse. Deadly, in fact. Nevertheless, the voices

  were something I didn’t plan on sharing with anyone, let alone the queen of

  all succubae.

  “Liar.” She pulled the sheet over her, and flicked off her bedroom

  light leaving me to stumble to the couch in the dark. “’Night, Nemamiah,”

  she said. “Try and keep me out of your dreams.”

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  Twenty Six

  The rest of the night, I spent tossing on the too small couch dreaming

  about Lilith. The morning brought both good and bad news. I woke to the

  delicious aroma of frying eggs, and sausage—not worms—cooking in

  Lilith’s all-white kitchen.

  Staggering from the couch, I pulled on a pair of jeans and followed

  the scent of food. The angel, missing a chunk of cat-chewed wing, stood at

  the stove, a pan of perfectly scrambled eggs and seared sausage in front of

  him.

  “As she left, the mean one said not to wake you.” The angel glanced

  from the pan. “I did not want to get hit, so I did as she ordered.”

  I glanced around the apartment. The cat stared at me from the kitchen

  table, coughed once, and spit a ball of angel at me. It landed on the floor at

  my feet. Kicking it under the table, I sat down. “Where did she go?”

  “To visit the blonde one.”

  “What?” I stood quickly. “And you let her?”

  “I am your keeper, not hers.” He stuck his chin in the air. “Now, do

  you want your eggs with cheese?”

  Shit. I searched the kitchen for enough cash for a taxi. It was hard

  being a kept man. The angel asked again if I wanted cheese, this time with a

  huff in his voice.

  Tossing open the stove drawer, I yelled, “Forget the eggs, we have to

  stop Lilith.”

  “But why? One is no match for the other.”

  “That’s my point.” I hit pay dirt in the cookie drawer—ten one

  hundred dollar bills. I peeled off one, wrote an IOU, and raced out of the

  apartment.

  On the cab ride to Mary’s I pictured various scenarios, each ended

  with Lilith beating Mary into a mushy pink mess. What I didn’t imagine was

  the scene that greeted me.

  Mary sat on a stool in a pair of pink panties and matching bra. Lilith

  was nowhere to be seen. The apartment appeared intac
t, as did Mary. Had the

  angel lied? Or, more likely, had Lilith deceived the angel?

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  “Jace.” Mary ran to me, stopping a foot away, as if unsure. “I’m so

  glad to see you.”

  I considered Mary’s sweet face. Tiny lines creased her smile, and

  wrinkles crinkled at the corner of her eyes. Her hair, once a glowing yellow,

  appeared almost dull.

  If I hadn’t known better, I’d thought she was one of those soccer

  moms that filled Central Park on Saturday’s to watch their overly developed

  offspring kick at a ball. Dead-eyed and high on prescription pills, they smiled

  without emotion.

  Mary took my face in her hands, and I suddenly remembered all the

  reasons I’d fallen under her spell in the first place. With Mary, I could be

  another man, one of wealth and taste. She made me want to be a better man.

  Maybe not marriage and twenty kids better, but better than average.

  “Look what I found after the fire.” She gestured to my gray skullcap

  in her hands. “I washed it for you.”

  “Thanks.” I put it on, and smiled down at her. God, she looked hot.

  Her tiny flaws flew out of my head, and I relaxed against her.

  “You’re welcome. I tried to save more, but…” She shrugged, failing

  to add that I didn’t own shit worth saving.

  I kissed her, caressing unclothed skin with my calloused palms.

  “How did I get lucky enough to move next-door to you?”

  “You must have been good in a past life.” Her violet eyes sparkled.

  “Do you want to...” She nodded toward her bedroom.

  More than anything, I thought, taking her hand. The twerp of a cell

  phone stopped me just outside her bedroom door.

  “I think it’s you.” Frowning, Mary gestured at my ringing jeans.

  Shit. I pulled out Lilith’s cell phone. She must’ve put it in my pocket

  while I slept. I checked the caller ID and flipped the phone open. “Yeah?”

  “I wondered if her pet would answer,” Samuel hissed through the

  phone. “She keeps you on a short leash.”

  “If you’re done flirting with me, what do you want?” I tried to keep

  my voice calm, but it was hard to do with my heart racing a mile a minute. I

  admit it; the Son of Satan scared the shit out of me. So did the Son of God for

  that matter.

  “What is she worth to you?” he asked.

  “Who?” But I already knew.

  “The demon whore who lies bleeding at my feet,” he growled. “What

  will you sacrifice to save her?”

  I swallowed hard, dread turning my skin to ice. I had nothing to

  offer, barter, or steal, even my life wasn’t my own to sell. The kid took

  propriety.

  Last night, Lilith had made me promise that. Now that promise made

  sense. The blond one the angel referred to was Samuel, not Mary. Lilith had

  ventured into hell.

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  “What do you want?” I clutched the phone tighter.

  “I want what the whore refuses me.”

  “And what’s that?”

  Satan’s son laughed. “You, twirling on a spit.”

  “As great as that sounds, I’m going to pass,” I stalled, trying to

  formulate a plan. Nothing came to me. Shit.

  “The joke is on Lilith then. She protects a man unworthy of her

  love,” Samuel said before hanging up.

  Pain-filled cries ricocheted inside my head. Lilith’s cries. I dropped

  to my knees, and clawed at my ears to stop the devastating sounds, but they

  wouldn’t cease. Blood dripped from my fingers. Images of Lilith flashed

  behind my eyelids. Burned, bloodied, beaten, her cat-yellow eyes faded as

  the cries took control of my mind.

  After a few minutes, the screams turned to mews and my sanity

  returned, as did murderous rage.

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  Twenty Seven

  As soon as Lilith’s terror faded from my head, I grabbed her cell

  phone and dialed Hades. “I need your help,” I said when he answered.

  “I cannot help you this time, my friend.” He coughed. “Let her

  sacrifice stand, and do what needs to be done to find the child.”

  “I can’t. She went to hell to protect me. To keep Samuel away from

  me, so I can find the kid.” I held the phone closer, my voice cracking. “You

  didn’t hear her cries, Hades. No one should suffer like that.”

  “Better her than you. Remember that.” Hades hung up. In a rage, I

  threw the phone at Mary’s wall. It bounced off, knocking a can of oil based

  paint onto the floor, and over my boots. Blood red paint seeped through the

  soles.

  “Mary, I’m sorry.” I stared at her terrified face feeling more and

  more like an asshole.

  She sniffed once, but straightened and the haunted look left her eyes.

  “It’s okay. Let me grab a towel.” She ran to her kitchen and came back with

  a black towel. I stuck my hand out, but she waved me away. On her knees,

  she dabbed at the paint staining my boots and the floor. From under her

  lashes, Mary glanced at me.

  The stroke of Mary’s hand against my boots helped heal the sickness

  Lilith’s pain had caused inside my brain. My fear of madness eased and

  when she finished, I helped her to her feet. “I will be back, and we will finish

  this,” I gestured between us. “I promise.” I sealed my vow with a kiss.

  “I’ll hold you to that.” She touched my cheek. “But next time, it’s

  just you and me. You will forget all about her.”

  “Fair enough.” Kissing Mary one last time, I headed for the door and

  the hellish world beyond it.

  ~ * ~

  Outside Mary’s door, I wondered how the hell I could save Lilith.

  There were only two ways into Hell, and dying wasn’t high on my ”to do”

  list. That left me with option number two: locate Hell’s Gate and bribe my

  way in.

  I headed down the hall keeping far from the Hobbit’s door in case he

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  held a grudge. Sid stood at the top of the stairwell, an ice cream cone melting

  in his hand. Drips of white and brown dairy product puddled on the floor at

  his feet.

  “Hey, Sid.” I waved and tried to slip past.

  “We shape ice cream into a cone, but it is the emptiness inside for

  which we truly long.” A pallid droplet splashed onto the concrete and Sid

  smiled.

  “Umm, yeah. Nice chatting with you.”

  When I was halfway down the steps, Sid called, “Carry the water,

  bathe in the water, and seek the water. The babe is in the water.”

  I stopped. Saving Lilith would have to wait. “What babe? Are you

  talking about the kid?”

  “The answer you seek is neither mine to give nor yours to desire.”

  “Fuck this.” I charged back up the stairs, knocked the cone from

  Sid’s hand, and slammed his fat ass against the wall. “If you know where the

  kid is you better fucking tell me. Now.” I clenched my fist, ready to beat the

  doughboy out of him.

  He glared down at the broken ice cream cone. “A flower in Brooklyn

  blooms with water, roses grow with fertilizer, and enlightenment turns to

  dust if not tended in a community garden.”

  My fist caught him in the stomach, oozing into his pudgy flesh, and


  pin balling off an organ or two. He let out a harsh wheeze before collapsing

  in a puddle much like his busted ice cream cone.

  Oh shit. Community garden. Water. Brooklyn. The kid was at the

  Botanical Gardens in Brooklyn. Yanking Sid to his feet, I apologized with a

  wave and ran down the steps.

  “You suck,” Sid yelled down the empty stairwell. “I hope you get

  your ass kicked.”

  Hmmm. That didn’t sound Zen-like at all.

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  Twenty Eight

  The Brooklyn Botanic Garden wasn’t really all about community as

  its name implied, since it cost eight bucks to get in and smelled like the dead.

  I had an idea where they held the kid. The Steinhardt Conservatory: Trail of

  Evolution. Why? Because that’s where I would keep the Son of God.

  Before taking the Q train to the Prospect Park Station, I stopped at

  Lilith’s apartment to pick up Tyrfing, and the angel. I found Tyrfing

  embedded in a picture of Alex Trebek, which was odd enough. I shook my

  head and wrestled the blade, wondering why Lilith had a picture of Trebek in

  the first place.

  The angel watched me with bored eyes. “I do not like that show. It is

  too hard, and no one is in peril, so what is with that name?” He shook his

  feathers. “Plus, they never mention me. It’s always Michael this, Gabriel

  that. I am sick of—”

  “Shut the fuck up and help me,” I yelled, twisting the sword. It

  moved a millimeter at the most.

  The angel hrumped but did as I asked. He waved his winged arm and

  the sword came free. Not prepared, I jerked the hilt at the same time, which

  sent me toppling over Lilith’s white couch and face first onto her fat white

  cat. Bodhi hissed and jabbed a claw into my right eye.

  “Ow!” I jumped up, and ran in a circle around the living room

  holding my punctured eye socket. “Evil cat incarnate. I’m going to have you

  stuffed.”

  “What did I do?” The angel looked offended.

  “Not you. That fucking devil cat.” I pointed at one of the two cats

  clouding my vision. Shit. I rubbed my eye until only one hairball remained

  and gestured to the door. “Let’s go. I know where the kid is being held.”

  The angel raised his wings in question. “Why do you want to take the