Holy Socks And Dirtier Demons

by J. A. Kazimer

  Bed. Bad idea. “I can’t… we can’t… um…”

  “Relax. I’m not going to rip your clothes off.” She smiled, her eyes

  filling with tenderness and love. “I’m worried about you.”

  God, I was an asshole. I didn’t deserve such kindness, but even as I

  basked in the glow of Mary’s love, a picture of Lilith formed inside my

  mind.

  “Here we are, baby.” Mary pushed open her door. “Why don’t you

  go lay down and I’ll be there in a second.”

  I gave her a small smile, and like a dutiful child headed to her

  bedroom, her pink bedroom, the same cotton candy color of every one of my

  ex-wives. Fuck, Lilith had been right. Mary was a carbon copy of my past

  three mistakes.

  My fingers traced the edge of Mary’s pale cherry dresser. What had

  drawn me to her in the first place? Sure, she was beautiful, but passionless

  like the Mona Lisa, or a Hustler.

  Damn it. Lilith had ruined me. Before I’d met her, I knew what I

  wanted in life. Actually, I hadn’t wanted anything, and maybe that was the

  problem. Mary was the easy choice. Simple. Unconditional. Boring. Shit.

  Her bed seemed inviting though, decorated with an embroidered

  pink-haired unicorn pillow. I looked closer. Were those teeth? The fucking

  thing had fangs. I picked it up and tossed it on top the dresser with a shiver.

  Mary definitely had an edgy side.

  Tyrfing scraped against her bedpost as I unbuckled and slid it under

  the bed. Tomorrow I’d find the kid. I knew it with an almost frightening

  divine certainty.

  The good guys would win, and the evil succubus bitch could go fuck

  herself. The sword under the bed started to buzz, so I shook off my residual

  anger and lay down on Mary’s fluffy soft bed.

  An exotic blend of incense reached my nostrils. It smelled like

  Jasmine and Clary sage. I sniffed again. Jasmine, sage, and purity? Sulfur?

  My head started to pound, and blood pooled in my groin.

  “Mary?” I cleared my throat.

  “Right here, my love.” She stood in the doorway, glowing in the

  early morning sunlight. Her naked skin shone like an angel, its intensity

  burning my tired eyes. Her legs trembled as she floated toward me.

  “Listen, I like you and we’ve had—” I started. My mind flashed to

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  Lilith’s face, and the scars on her back. I pictured her playful smile, and the

  teeth marks torn into my skin.

  Mary’s fingertips brushed my lips, stopping my protest. “Forget her.

  Forget everything but this moment. Us. Here and now.”

  Forget her.

  I blinked a couple of times. Mary. Sweet Mary. Our lips touched in a

  gentle, undemanding kiss. Longing built within me, the sweet and

  sentimental kind. My exhaustion gave way to the soft feel of her fingers on

  my skin.

  I kissed her neck, running my thumb across her breast. Her flesh

  tasted like honey, but smelled like sage. Here, in her arms, urgency faded and

  time stopped. Mary lifted my sweatshirt from my body and kissed my

  bruised skin, tracing her nails across my sore muscles.

  She smiled. Soft, sweet Mary.

  In no rush, she removed my boots grimacing at the green smears on

  their soles. Was that gum? I pressed my fists against my eyes. A fleeting

  vision crossed my fevered brain, but I couldn’t catch hold of it.

  My jeans hit the floor, again without urgency. I floated in a dream-

  like state, playing with the ends of Mary’s long blonde hair and imagining

  our life together.

  Violet-eyed Mary.

  She straddled me, riding me as pleasure curled around us. My dog

  tags around her neck jangled with a steady beat. I caught a glimpse of my

  expression in the metal and barely recognized myself. My pupils had

  expanded until my irises disappeared, turning my eyeballs black. Beads of

  sweat rolled off my face, puddling on Mary’s pink sheets.

  My breathing spiked, coming faster and faster. After ten or so

  minutes, my will gave in to my body’s desire to climax. I came inside her,

  losing my sense of time and place.

  Again, a memory of something tickled at the back of my brain, but

  no matter how hard I tried it stayed elusive.

  Mary collapsed on top of me. Her skin was barely damp, and her hair

  had stayed in perfect order. Against my neck, she whispered, “You are mine.

  Tonight and forever.”

  No. Bile rose in my throat, as did the heavy and sudden need for

  sleep. I fought to keep my eyes open, but with each breath, I slipped deeper

  into a dream world.

  “Hush baby, don’t fight it.” Mary kissed my lips.

  I closed my eyes, seeing a face I didn’t recognize, a beautiful, black-

  haired woman with a wicked smile, and cat yellow eyes.

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  Thirty Three

  Sometime during my impression of Rip Van Winkle, Mary kissed

  my forehead and left the bed. I felt her go, heard her rustling around the

  bedroom, and then nothing. Peace. Quiet. Deep, even breathing.

  The dreams came. Violent, bloody nightmares. The kid crawled on

  the floor, weaving his way closer to my body. My dead body with brains

  splattered over the concrete.

  The angel glared down at me. “Time is everything.”

  The kid picked up a piece of my skull, blood, and drool dripping

  from his chubby fingers. “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

  God entered next, his hippie beard riddled with organic corn chips,

  and Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia. “God should have His own flavor,” he

  complained before gazing down at my corpse. “First, second squared.

  They’re all the same.” He kicked my dead arm. “Never trust a man willing to

  die for the devil.”

  Next the whispered voice of a woman cried, “Help me.”

  A hollow, feminine laugh followed the voice. It grew louder, and

  louder, until the bits of my gray matter and brain pan scattered across the

  ground. A stark white cat gobbled them up with an evil grin.

  I awoke shivering, naked and alone. Where was I? Pink everywhere.

  Mary. Fuck. I picked up the nearest pillow and beat myself in the head.

  What had I done? And how the hell was I going to explain to her?

  Well thanks for the fuck, but I’m infatuated with a demonic succubus who

  wants me dead. Even I didn’t understand it.

  I rubbed my face. As long as Lilith didn’t find out everything would

  be fine. If she did find out, Mary could always join the witness protection

  program. Maybe get a new identity, and some plastic surgery. Hell, I’d join

  her. I glanced around the pink room. Maybe not.

  Sitting up, I whimpered in pain. My body ached with a deep

  unending burn. I glanced down at my chest, and the numerous bite and

  scratch marks left by Lilith. What had Mary said? Mine, now and forever?

  Odd that Lilith, not Mary, had left her mark.

  I needed to call Lilith. No matter what had happened between us, the

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  kid came first. We both knew and accepted that. I searched the floor for my

  jeans, and the cell phone Lilith had handed me the night before.

  Curled in a ball at the end of the bed, my jeans lay with its pockets

  flipped inside out. Two
cents and a breath mint sat on the floor next to them.

  No cell phone, though. Damn. Had I lost it?

  I dropped to my knees to search for the wayward device. My hand

  reached under the bed, pulling out a dust bunny the size of a bowling ball.

  Mary wasn’t a great housekeeper. Yet another check mark for Lilith.

  Wait a minute. Only a dust bunny, I thought. I reached under the bed

  again, panic racing along my nerves. No. No. No. I tossed the mattress from

  the bed, knocking the barren frame out of my way.

  Tyrfing was gone, a dusty outline the only evidence of its existence.

  Had Mary taken it? Or had something snuck in here while I slept? Was it

  Lilith?

  Lilith. My stomach rolled, doubling me over. I sprinted to the

  bathroom and hurled into Mary’s pink-coated sink.

  A horrific smell seeped through the room. Like fish. Dead stinky

  fish. I fell back a step. The stench came from the shower. I held my nose and

  crept toward the pasty pink shower curtain.

  Grabbing the edge, I counted to three and ripped it open. Thousands

  of dead fish lay piled in the tub, with greasy gray skin and an oily sheen, not

  to mention their blank black eyes. I shoved the curtain back in place and ran

  to the sink. Dead fish? Was Mary into some sort of cult?

  After my stomach settled, I threw on my jeans and borrowed Mary’s

  house phone. I dialed Lilith’s number. It rang once then went to voicemail.

  Damn. My guts tightened even more, and my level of anxiety reached

  biblical proportions. Something was terribly wrong.

  Hanging up, I shook my head. Where was she and where the fuck

  was my sword and cell phone?

  I scribbled a quick note to Mary, saying, 'It’s been fun but it’s time

  we moved on'. I added an ‘it’s not you, but me line’, and signed it, your

  friend, Jace. It was official. I was an asshole.

  “Help me,” a voice inside my head whispered. Chills shot up my

  back, and my anxiety changed to outright panic. I knew that voice. Oh God, I

  knew that voice.

  I grabbed my nine-millimeter, checked the four rounds left in the

  clip, and ran for the door.

  116

  Thirty Four

  I took the stairs two at a time, and hit the street running. I ran and

  ran, my legs and lungs burning. But where was I going? I had no idea, but in

  my soul, I knew I was too late. The voice was fading.

  Turning the corner of D, I slammed into a passing taxi and dropped

  to my knees. Please God, I stared into the hamster heavy clouds and prayed.

  “You must hurry, Nemamiah.” The angel appeared next to me, his

  angel face looking a little green. “Time is running out.”

  “But where am I going?” I scanned his expression for an answer.

  Any answer. Hell, I’d settle for a direction. Something. Anything.

  The angel shrugged, twirled without moving his feet, and pointed up

  the street. “North, I think.”

  “That’s south.”

  “I am not good with directions.” He picked at his robe, pulling at a

  long white string. “God did not install GPS on His earlier angel versions.”

  I clenched my fists. “Do you know where they are?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where?” I stood and grabbed his feathery shoulders, shaking him

  hard. Teeth rattling hard. “Tell me, damn it.”

  The angel smiled sadly. “I cannot tell you.”

  “What if we play twenty questions?”

  He clapped his hands together. “Yes, yes. A game. I love to play

  games. I prefer Mage. That Aphrodite knows her stuff. She beat my

  character, Celestial Choruster—”

  “Are they in the city?”

  He scratched his chin. “The answer to question one is yes. They are

  in what you call the Bugged Apple. Nineteen questions to go.”

  Bugged Apple. I shook my head. Why did I bother? I doubted he

  could tie his own shoes. “Are they within five miles of here?”

  His fingers flicked out as he counted. One. Two. Three. Four. His

  pinky finger rose but only to the first knuckle. Four point two. “Yes.

  Seventeen questions left.”

  Four point two miles left only one direction. North. I started to run.

  117

  In New York, a four-mile cab ride could take forty-five minutes. On my

  worst day, and this one was top at the list, I could run that in less than

  twenty-five.

  “Wait.” The angel pumped his skinny legs behind me. “The game is

  not over. Time is not up. You have ten questions to go.”

  Time…

  No way. It couldn’t be that easy. I ran the remaining four miles, my

  sweatshirt dripping with sweat, and my heart slamming in my ribcage.

  At the mouth of Hell’s Gate, or West 40th street as New Yorkers

  called it, I paused to glance up at the Panasonic Astro Vision television

  screen, and the stiff, robotic reporter from Fox News plastered across it.

  The screen swallowed half a block of prime Times Square real estate,

  and could be seen from space. But Astronauts, like most Americans, chose to

  watch reruns of The Simpsons over Fox News. Who could blame them?

  An image of cat-yellow eyes flashed across the screen, followed by a

  child’s laugh. Lilith and the kid were close, lost somewhere in the labyrinth

  of corporations, and television studios.

  I sucked in a deep breath and looked up at the glowing white and red,

  Virgin sign. Behind the bright lights, an evil without name lurked.

  The voice inside my head cried again, “Too late.”

  Not this time. I swallowed hard and ran straight for hell.

  ~ * ~

  According to my good versus evil manual, every city had an

  entryway to hell. New York was no different. In the alley behind the Virgin

  building, a heavy blue dumpster sat, half of its rollers broken leaving it

  listing to one side. Beneath the dumpster, a blackened grate covered the

  doorway to hell. An entryway to the dammed, an alcove into the underworld.

  I reached the alley, creeping carefully through the shadows. Day

  shifted to night. An evil darkness filled the corridor. A dark so complete, I

  couldn’t see my feet squishing through God knew what on the concrete

  below.

  My hand trailed along the hard brick, counting off each step. The

  angel followed behind me, actually floated behind me, his shoes too precious

  to wade through petrified rat shit and rotting lettuce.

  “I do not like the dark,” he whined. “Nemamiah, I said I do not like

  this darkness.”

  I held up my hand. “Shut up.” A scratching sound, like metal

  scrapping against metal, echoed ahead. Shit. Was something escaping from

  or to hell?

  Peering into the blackness, maybe ten feet ahead, a twinkle of metal

  caught my eye. Fear spiraled through my body and my heart rate went into

  overdrive.

  The angel sniffed. “Is that sulfur I smell?”

  Damn.

  118

  I ducked seconds before the deafening sound of gunfire pierced the

  night air. The slug slammed into the wall next to me, sending debris flying. I

  spit out a glop of broken brick, and pulled my nine-millimeter.

  The darkness gave me one advantage, the bastard trying to kill me

  co
uldn’t see any better than me, unless the assassin was a demon. I glanced

  at the gate of hell and swallowed.

  What were the odds? Another shot rang through the alleyway. A

  geyser of blood burst from my left arm, as did a quarter-sized chunk of flesh.

  Fuck. I dropped my gun and grabbed my lead-riddled arm. Muscle

  and bone bits stuck to my sweatshirt. My head swam, and my stomach

  recoiled.

  “Ummm, Angel. A little help here.” Another bullet whizzed past my

  head. “Angel?” My eyes scanned the darkness for his shiny blond hair.

  Nothing. Some guardian angel he was.

  “I missed you, lover.”

  I quickly looked up, nearly biting off my tongue at the sight in front

  of me. Mary, backlit by a sudden white light, stood less than ten-feet away

  with a chrome-plated pistol clutched in her hand. What, Smith & Wesson’s

  didn’t come in pink?

  “Yeah, you did,” I said with a bitter laugh. “But I’m guessing the

  fourth time will be the charm.”

  “I hope so.” She cocked the weapon, her finger tightening on the

  trigger.

  Seconds from death, probably a much-deserved death for being

  stupid, my only thoughts were of Lilith. I’d fucked up, and it was about to

  cost us both. I stared unblinking into Mary’s cold eyes and prepared to meet

  my maker.

  Mary blew me a kiss, and pulled the trigger.

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  Thirty Five

  A fine dusting of granulated sugar exploded from the gun, peppering

  me with diabetic buckshot. Better than a bullet, I supposed, but it still stung

  like a son-of-a-bitch.

  “What the fuck?” Mary twisted the barrel to face her and glared

  down the sugary mess crammed into it.

  My laughter bounced off the brick walls of the alley. Having been on

  the receiving end once too often in the past eight months, I immediately

  recognized the kid’s handiwork. For whatever reason, he had an aversion to

  guns and the occasional crown of thorns.

  Mary’s cold gaze turned on me, and I smiled. Time to end this game.

  I picked my nine-millimeter off the ground, chambered a round, and steadied

  my aim.

  Before I got a shot off, Mary ran, her long legs tearing up the

  pavement. Every muscle in my body screamed to fire, to shoot the traitorous