Holy Socks And Dirtier Demons

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Holy Socks And Dirtier Demons Page 16

by J. A. Kazimer


  bitch in the back and be done with it.

  I hesitated, and those few seconds changed the course of history. My

  history at least.

  Mary disappeared around the corner as I fired. The bullet went wide,

  striking a passing tourist in the thigh. A minor flesh wound at the most. Hell,

  he’d have a great story to tell the folks back in Kansas about the big, bad

  city.

  I lowered my gun and clutched at my shoulder. The pain wasn’t too

  bad, a well deserved intense burn. But a worse sting crawled along my

  nerves—shame—it mingled with disgust at my stupidity.

  I’d fallen for a devil in fucking pink high heels. Another idiot blinded

  by a pretty girl. That was what my tombstone should read, but the kid had

  saved me. It was time to return the favor.

  I stumbled along the brick wall, closer and closer to Hell’s Gate. If

  the kid was down there I would find him. A low moan rumbled from the end

  of the alley, maybe ten or fifteen feet behind the dumpster.

  Lilith.

  The hair on my neck rose, and sickness pooled in my intestines. I

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  was too late. Running toward the noise, I prayed with each step. But God had

  abandoned me.

  Lilith lay against the hard brick of the building with her eyes closed,

  and her arms wrapped protectively around her body. Greenish-black blood

  puddled under her. Tyrfing stood tall and proud embedded between her

  second and third rib. The sword seemed to smirk, its blade running black

  with the blood pouring from her. The woman dying of its violence had

  satisfied Tyrfing’s bloodlust.

  “Oh sweetheart.” I touched her cheek.

  Her eyelids flickered. “Jace? You made it. I knew you wouldn’t let

  Him down.”

  “Yeah, I’m here.” Like that fucking mattered. “Close your eyes.” I

  pulled off my bloody sweatshirt, sickened but what I was about to do.

  She gave me a small smile. “I give the orders.”

  I choked/laughed, and wrapped the cloth around the hilt of the sword.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I wrenched the blade with all my strength. It popped from her body

  like the sword and the stone. A burst of blood followed, its warm spray

  touched my skin, and my heart frozen with hate. Dropping the devil sword, I

  pressed my sweatshirt to her chest. The cloth quickly ran green with blood.

  A child-like cry erupted from inside her arms, and the squirming

  head of God’s only son poked itself from the protective shell of Lilith’s arms.

  His chubby cheeks, big ears, and single tuff of white-blond hair appeared so

  innocent and happy while Lilith lay dying.

  “Mine.” The kid reached his sticky hands out.

  Lilith grabbed my hand as I reached to take him. “Protect him,” she

  whispered, a thin line of blood slipping from her lips. “Promise me, Jace.

  Don’t let that murdering bitch have him.”

  “I swear on my life.”

  She nodded, releasing her hold on us. Her eyes fluttered closed, and

  she smiled.

  “No.” I tapped her cheeks. “You can’t die on me.”

  The angel appeared over my shoulder. “Death is not a punishment. It

  is a final reward.”

  “Shut the fuck up and do something. Save her.” I put the kid down on

  the ground, and pulled Lilith’s body into my arms. Her heart beat under my

  fingers, its rhythm fading like my belief in goodness ultimately defeating

  evil.

  “I cannot affect her timeline.” The angel shook his head.

  For a second Lilith’s eyes opened. “I…”

  “It’s okay.” I brushed a piece of dirt from her cheek. “Take easy

  breaths. The angel will fix you up.”

  Her hand reached up to touch my face. The soft caress of her fingers

  brought tears to my eyes. I would kill Mary. Hunt her down and destroy her.

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  “Jace. I… I….” She coughed, and blood trickled from her lips.

  “I’m here, baby. Everything’s going to be all right.”

  She shook her head and swallowed. “I… idiot! ” Her palm slapped

  my cheek, and she grinned. “Be careful, and don’t fuck this up.”

  With those final words, Lilith, the mother of all succubae, Adam’s

  first wife, and the woman I’d fallen for, died in my arms, killed by my

  mythical sword, her palm print burned into my skin.

  122

  Thirty Six

  “Bring her back,” I ordered the angel. The warmth of Lilith’s body

  started to fade. I was losing her. Forever. No way in hell was I about to let

  that happen. She would not get the last word.

  Rage killed the grief inside me, turning my mind from sadness to

  revenge. I wanted to run after Mary, to choke the life out of her.

  “I cannot bring her back.” The angel gazed into my crazed-eyes,

  plucked the baby Jesus from the concrete, and held him as one would a

  shield. A small, doll-like shield.

  “Do it now.” I stumbled to my feet, the pain around my heart

  intensifying.

  “The mean one is dead. Her time has come.”

  “No.” I smacked him in the shoulder, and the kid gave a squeal of

  delight.

  I pulled back my fist to beat the feathers out of the angel. I’d kill him

  if I had to. Lilith couldn’t die. He had to fix her. She’d saved his worthless

  ass, and mine. We owed her.

  The angel cried, “You wouldn’t hit a man wearing God’s only child.”

  “If you don’t bring her back, I’ll...” I dropped my arm, the fight

  leaving me as suddenly as it had appeared. I had nothing left. No threats. No

  prayers. Nothing that could make this right. I’d fucked up, and it had cost

  Lilith’s life. Her sacrifice to my stupidity.

  Sacrifice.

  The kid.

  I smiled and ripped the kid from the angel’s arms. Holding him

  tightly, I bent over Lilith’s corpse. “Bring her back. Like you do to the

  fossils, or the cockroaches.”

  The kid smiled at me, and stuck a finger against Lilith’s nose.

  “Mine’s.”

  I waited, watching close for a sign.

  Nothing.

  “Try again. Make her all better,” I said.

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  “Mine’s.” Again, he touched her nose, and again, not a damn thing

  happened.

  “The mean one’s soul has departed.” The angel tilted his head toward

  Hell’s Gate. “You cannot save her, Nemamiah.”

  “You’re right.” I shoved the kid at the angel, and picked up the big-

  ass gun tucked in Lilith’s boot. It felt warm in my hand, like the last of her

  life force was centered in its steel. “I can’t save her but I can sure as hell

  bring her back.”

  “Do not be stupid.” For once, the angel looked uncertain and even a

  little scared.

  “Cover his eyes.” I pointed to the kid.

  The angel did as I ordered, but appeared extremely unhappy about it.

  “God will be angry.”

  “Then we’re even.” I aimed the gun at my skull and pulled the

  trigger.

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  Thirty Seven

  I blinked a few times, my eyes adjusting to the reddish light

  surrounding me. Not that there was anything to see. A few digital numbers.

  136.
135. 134…

  The numbers whizzed by at warp speed, descending much like me. I

  was in an elevator heading to hell and my eternal punishment. Suicide, a

  mortal sin, had secured my ticket. Now I just had to locate Lilith, and wait

  until the moronic angel dragged me back to the land of the living.

  Okay, it wasn’t the best plan, or even a good plan, but I refused to let

  Lilith go without a fight. She’d sacrificed her life for the kid, and it was my

  destiny to return the favor. God and His grand plan be damned.

  I glanced around the elevator. If not for The Song That Never Ends

  sung by Celine Dion, in a high, Canadian whine, and the aroma of closed-in

  elevator farts, it had the same homey feeling as any other elevator in New

  York. On second thought, it was exactly like any other elevator in the city.

  After an eternity or maybe two minutes, the elevator lurched to stop.

  I jumped when the doors opened, knocked back by a flash of heat that shirred

  my skin.

  A giant demon stood waiting for the elevator, his flat head at odds

  with his huge, rounded stomach. He was also purple and smelled like spoiled

  garbage, so he probably didn’t get much action outside of hell.

  “Name?” He scratched a patch of white hair on top his baldhead.

  “Dick Cheney.”

  His lips twitched. “Do you have any idea how many times a day I

  hear that joke?” He yawned. “And it keeps getting funnier every time. Now,

  your name?”

  “I’m not on your list.” I shrugged. “I’m here to find Lilith.”

  He scanned the list in his sweaty finger. “Lilith?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded, shooting him a man-to-demon smile.

  “Never heard of her.”

  My grin tightened. “Huh, that’s weird. She’s Satan’s mistress. Black

  hair, forked tongue.” At his blank look, I added, “Kind of a bitch.”

  “Oh…” He shook his head. “Nope. Doesn’t ring any bells.”

  125

  I let out a screech, ripped the list from the demon’s hands, and

  scanned it myself. Fuck. No Lilith.

  “Hey, you can’t do that.” The demon tore the list from my hands and

  stabbed me in the gut with a pitchfork. Cliché, I know, but he really had one

  and the fucker was sharp too.

  “Ow.” I rubbed at my stomach. “Listen, tell me where Lilith is, and

  I’ll put in a word for you with the Big Guy.” I pointed upwards and wiggled

  my eyebrows.

  The demon laughed, spewing globs of demon juice. It landed on the

  ground, sizzled, and turned to steam. “Just give me your name.”

  I blew out a harsh breath. “Jace Miller.”

  The demon glanced at his list and growled. “Here you are. Jace

  Miller. Mortal sin. Oh, and it says here, numerous commandment violations.”

  He shook his head. “Did you really lie to God?” He scanned the list again.

  “And use the Baby Jesus to pick up hookers?”

  “Wait a minute.” I frowned. “I didn’t know she was a prostitute. I

  thought she was a nun.” Which didn’t make it any better.

  The demon shook his head, and motioned to a shorter demon with

  fire-red hair. “Take Mr. Miller to the ninth circle.”

  Ninth, huh? According to Hades, the ninth housed the dammed in

  frozen blocks of ice for an eternity while birds picked at their eyeballs. I

  glanced down at my naked chest, and jean clad legs. Damn, I should have

  dressed warmer.

  “Ummm, I’d like to talk to your supervisor.” I smiled, lots of teeth

  and purity. “Or better yet, Satan, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “No.” He grinned back at me, lots of rotten teeth and hellish breath.

  “Ninth circle. Now.” He held up his hand, as an earpiece buzzed in his ear.

  “I had a feeling hell was responsible for Bluetooth.” I waved to the

  annoying phone.

  “Yes sir,” the demon said into the phone. “Right away, sir.” The

  demon paused, running his bloodshot eyes over my blood-soaked jeans.

  “Satan wants to see you.”

  “And I want to see Lilith. So either you produce her in the next ten

  seconds, or I—”

  Blood filled my mouth as my teeth shattered under the demon’s

  sucker punch. The next punch dropped me to my knees. The ones after that I

  can’t remember, but they left me with four broken ribs, two busted legs, and

  a missing small intestine.

  “That all you got?” I spit out my spleen, but I blacked out before he

  answered.

  ~ * ~

  “Rise.”

  I opened my eyes and stared at the man in front of me. He looked

  like Mr. Sable, my high school math teacher in drag, glasses, a baldhead, and

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  a geeky smile mixed with platform go-go boots, and a red boa. I knew Mr.

  Sable was the Devil.

  The rest of the room was just as confusing. A heavy wood desk and

  computer sat in one corner, and a stripper pole with a snake-like demon

  curled around it took up the other. It was every businessman’s dream office,

  computer porn and a stripper.

  Mr. Sable/Satan tapped me on the cheek. “I said stand up.”

  My body complied, even as it took my brain a second to catch up. He

  put a hand on my forehead, and my body jerked. I glanced down at my once

  busted bones and ran my tongue over my unbroken teeth. Satan wasn’t what

  I’d expected, but at least I wasn’t bleeding from my spine anymore.

  “Where’s Lilith?” I spit after my jaw returned to its original place.

  Satan shook his baldhead. “What is it with you younger generation?

  Always demanding, in a hurry. Whatever happened to small talk? A little

  social intercourse?”

  For future reference, one word I never wanted to hear from a guy

  wearing high heels and a feathery scarf was intercourse.

  I cleared my throat. “Hi, Satan. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve been

  a fan of your work for years. The holocaust. 9-11. The Republican party.” I

  took a breath. “Now where the fuck is Lilith?”

  He laughed in a falsetto loud enough to shatter glass. “She’s not

  here.”

  “What do you mean?” I stepped closer to him. “I watched her die.”

  He was lying. Never trust the Devil, or girl scouts selling cookies, a motto to

  live by.

  “Yes, and your sacrifice was very noble.” He batted his overly long

  eyelashes at me. “Like West Side Story, but without the singing. Thank me,

  because Lilith sings worse then the Hellish Tabernacle Choir.”

  “If she’s not here, where is she?” I closed my eyes, counting to ten. I

  wanted to strangle him, but seeing as he’s the Prince of Darkness, I’d

  probably get my ass kicked.

  “That is not my question to answer.” He patted my shoulder, and I

  flinched, the heat of his hands frying my flesh. His affirmable grin widened.

  “But even more, that is not the right question to ask.”

  What the fuck was it with these beings, and their Zen phrasing? For

  once, I wanted a fucking straight answer. The Devil’s next words caught me

  off guard.

  “Lilith was like a daughter to me.”

  Daughter? Not his mistress. Damn, what else had I been wrong

  about? Mary, for sure, but was there more?

&
nbsp; The Devil shrugged at my look of surprise. “I had hoped Lilith would

  see the dark, and marry Samuel. But much to Samuel’s dismay, it wasn’t

  meant to be. Even now he holds out hope your death will return her to his

  evil ways.”

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  Dismay? Funny way to look at attempted murder. “Does Samuel

  have her?” That thought curdled my blood. My mind flashed to the scars on

  Lilith’s body, the pain in her yellow eyes, and her screams.

  Satan shook his head and glanced at the clock on his wall. “Our time

  is up.”

  “No, I have to find her. I’ll do whatever you want.” I stopped, staring

  into his dead eyes. “I’ll sell my soul.”

  He laughed. “What makes you think I don’t already own it?”

  128

  Thirty Eight

  Time was up.

  I groaned, struggling into a sitting position. My head felt scotch-

  taped together, like a jigsaw puzzle at a loony bin.

  “Jesus, don’t put that in your mouth.” The angel frowned at the kid

  and plucked a piece of my skull from his fingers.

  “Mine.” The kid cried, pinching the angel with his talon-like-kid

  nails. “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

  “No, it’s Nemamiah’s. If we don’t put it back, his brains, or rather,

  what’s left of them will ooze out,” the angel explained to the kid, who

  ignored him in favor of stuffing a spider into his drool-coated mouth.

  The angel popped the last piece of skull into my head, tapped it once,

  and declared me good as new. But I didn’t feel good, or new. As a matter of

  fact, I felt ancient, broken, and grief-stricken. Like the kid eating bugs beside

  me, a Judas had betrayed me.

  I may not be able to find Lilith, but I would find Mary. And when I

  did, she’d learn there were worst places than hell.

  I cracked my knuckles. My lust for vengeance overshadowed the fact

  a quarter of my brains were squished under me. Staggering to my feet, I

  glanced down at Lilith’s now cold body. Her skin had lost its glow, her

  yellow eyes dimmed to a muted brown. I picked her up, cupping her

  protectively in my arms.

  “What are you doing?” The angel gestured, his face tight and afraid.

  I ignored his question. “Hand me the kid, and grab that sword.” My

  eyes locked on Tyrfing. I added quickly, “But don’t pick it up with your

 

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