Holy Socks And Dirtier Demons

by J. A. Kazimer

  thought.

  “Did you find the blonde one?” The angel frowned at my blank

  expression.

  “No.” I smiled, picturing Samuel, the pathetic deity. “But I don’t

  think Samuel will be a problem anymore.” At least I hoped not, but a sudden

  feeling of impending disaster came over me. “Come on, let’s get the heck out

  of here.”

  The angel nodded, scooped up the babypack, and followed me up the

  street.

  A block north of the Core, a woman ran toward our ragtag group.

  She wore a dark green leaf-like dress. It shivered and swayed like a palm tree

  in a hurricane, finally settling around her toned calves when she stopped in

  front of me.

  “You bastard,” she screeched.

  Her words didn’t shock me nearly as much as her right hook. After

  planting her tiny fist into my jaw, she pulled back for another punch. Pain

  exploded inside my brain, but displaced by shock and the kid’s howls from

  inside the babypack, it disappeared quickly.

  “Quiet.” I tapped the kidsack and turned to the abusive woman.

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  “What the heck was that for?” I ducked her next punch and stepped to the

  side to put some distance between us.

  “You murdered my husband.” She emphasized her point with a left

  sucker-punch. I caught her hands, twisted her around, and pushed her to the

  ground. Sprawled on the pavement, she stared up at me, her face a mask of

  female rage. It was a look I’d seen from two out of three of my ex-wives.

  I released her arms and scratched my head. “Who’s your husband?”

  The angel frowned at me. I shrugged. What could I say? I wasn’t an

  angel. Okay, according to heaven, I was, but that didn’t erase my past.

  The angry woman rose to her feet. She was pretty with golden hair

  and plump lips that glistened even in the weak sunlight. I started to lose

  myself in her green-apple-colored eyes.

  “Adam.”

  “What?” I stared blankly at her. She rolled her eyes. “My husband.

  Adam.” She stabbed her fingertip into my chest. “Burned to cinders inside

  your apartment. Does that ring any bells?” With each word, her voice grew

  louder until she reminded me of a screeching hen.

  I knocked her pointy finger away. “I had nothing to do with Adam’s

  death.” Even if I wasn’t too choked up by it. Lilith’s ex-husband was a

  douche bag, and the world was better off without him.

  “Liar.” At the edges of her eyelids, tears glistened, growing larger

  until the droplets spilled down her cheeks.

  Poor Eve. Years spent making up for original sin had taken a toll.

  Her tears didn’t fall prettily anymore, or maybe I was immune to Tammy

  Faye waterworks.

  “Listen, I’m sorry for your loss.” I wasn’t really, but after losing

  Lilith, I understood her pain. “But I didn’t—”

  “You might not have set the fire, but you’re responsible. You and

  that slut Lilith.” Her eyes burning with anger. “After your visit, Adam

  changed. Suddenly he wanted to confess everything.”

  “Like what?” Confession was good for the soul, or so they told the

  suckers who flocked to the confessional every week.

  Eve wrung her hands. The action reminded me of a child, but I

  wasn’t about to repeat Adam’s mistake. I had never liked the taste of apples.

  “He went to your apartment to tell you—”

  Tires squealed and I spun as the muzzle of an AK-47 poked its head

  from the tinted window of a white minivan for a second time. Glass exploded

  behind me, sending shards of sharp projectiles at the back of my head.

  Bullets whizzed past.

  I dove for the angel, not to save his worthless hide, but to protect the

  kid. In that instant, I knew the truth. I would give my life, my soul, and even

  my collection of tasteful erotica to keep him safe. Not because he was God’s

  only son, but because I cared about him, a relatively new feeling for me.

  My body slammed into feathery angel wings, softening the impact of

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  concrete and broken glass as we hit the ground and rolled behind a beat up

  Buick. Shielding the kid and the angel with my body, I drew my nine-

  millimeter to return fire.

  Click.

  Fuck.

  What kind of protector ran out of ammunition?

  On the bright side, the God’s Ball had worn off, and a litany of fresh

  curses spewed from my lips.

  The kid squirmed underneath me. “Mine.”

  “Hang tight.” I pressed him tighter against my body. “It will be over

  soon.” One way or another.

  The cowards in the minivan fired another volley of rounds. The loud

  pings sounded like a demonic popcorn maker without the sweet, buttery

  aroma. Instead, the air smelled of gunpowder, fear, and the metallic scent of

  blood.

  Blood? Shit.

  I checked the kid for bullet holes. Nothing. At least I wasn’t a

  completely worthless guardian. The angel looked all right too. No seeping

  wounds or nasty dirt stains.

  Sirens echoed in the distance, growing louder as the sound waves

  stacked one atop another. I poked my head around the car. The drive-by

  shooter in the minivan pulled the gun’s muzzle from the window, and I

  caught a glimpse of a black tattooed band that circled his wrist. The minivan

  sped down the street, nearly running over a mailbox in its bid to escape.

  I’d seen that tattoo before, but where? A fleeting memory flashed

  through my head, but it failed to take root.

  A gurgling to my left drew my attention. Eve. Damn, I’d forgotten

  about her. I crawled on my belly toward her prone body. Half of her once

  beautiful face was missing, blood already pooled around her head, growing a

  darker shade of crimson as it mingled with the asphalt.

  “Eve?” I gently shook her. “Can you hear me?”

  “Mahahaa…,” she moaned through mutilated lips.

  Pulling off my sweatshirt, I pressed it to what was left of Eve’s head.

  Blood soaked through it, staining my hands. My eyes found her one

  remaining one, and silently I watched as she died.

  It looked as if Adam and Eve would be playing together in the

  Garden of Evil soon enough. Satan had better watch his back, and I’d better

  watch mine.

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  Forty Five

  The trek to Lilith’s apartment took over an hour, thanks to the New

  York Department of Public Safety. They’d towed Lilith’s Gremlin while I’d

  been inside the Core fighting to save the world, so we had to hike the twenty-

  some blocks home. Under normal circumstances that wouldn’t be a problem,

  but I was lugging a screeching kid and dragging a complaining angel, not to

  mention picking shards of glass out of my every orifice.

  A block from Lilith’s, the kid was in full screaming-hungry-fit mode.

  The angel suggested breast feeding, but the blonde we passed on the street

  politely refused. Okay, maybe polite wasn’t the right word. She slapped the

  angel so hard he flew back three steps.

  I rocked the kid back and forth. “As soon as we get upstairs I’ll stuff

  you full of cat chow. Just shut up for two seconds.”
/>   The kid’s lip trembled, sucking in and out like a blowfish. “Mine.”

  He sniffed. “Mine, mine, mine.”

  “I know, kid. It’s rough being the Messiah.” I tucked him back into

  the kidsack and climbed the six flights of stairs to Lilith’s apartment. My

  lungs nearly gave out on the last step.

  Standing outside apartment 676 was a tiny, doll-faced, drunken

  cherub. “Hey you.” Cupid jumped around, waving his fat arms. Folds of skin

  flapped like the pink feathers of a drag queen’s boa.

  Damn. I ignored him and unlocked Lilith’s apartment. I did not want

  to hear whatever Cupid had to say. I’d had enough. Between the kid’s

  screeching, the angel’s whining, and the smell of Eve’s death surrounding

  me, I’d reached my limit.

  For the first time in my life, I considered a long soak in a bathtub

  filled with bubbles. Fuck. Hanging out with the metrosexual angel was

  turning me into a pussy.

  Cupid’s chubby feet pounded the ground behind me. I shut the door

  just in time and grinned at the satisfying sound of his head smacking into the

  door.

  Inside the apartment, Lilith’s scent surrounded me. My chest

  constricted, and tears sprang into my exhausted eyes. I blinked them away.

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  Must be a residual effect of the God’s Ball.

  “Mine.” The kid shoved a fist into my cheek, trying to comfort me, I

  guessed. I unstrapped him from my chest, and set him on the floor to torture

  Bodhi cat.

  Better the cat than me.

  A loud thump shook the front door. “Let me in, you demon-fucking,

  daddy’s boy, son of a whore,” Cupid yelled.

  “I do not like him,” the angel said, stroking his feathers. “He smells

  like cabbage.” Actually, I was pretty sure the cabbage smell was coming

  from the kid, but why push the issue?

  The pounding on the door grew louder until I couldn’t stand it. I

  threw the door open, catching Cupid around the neck. My fingers dug into

  the baby soft flesh surrounding his throat, as I squeezed polluted air from his

  lungs. “What the fuck do you want?”

  “Ahahhhakkkka—”

  “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Instead of loosening my grip, I squeezed

  tighter.

  A gooey hand plastered itself to my leg. “Mine.”

  I glanced down at the kid, who stared up at me, eyes filled with

  disappointment. Apparently, smiting living things at will was fine, but

  heaven forbid I strangle one little deity.

  “Fine.” I dropped Cupid. He landed on the welcome mat with a thud

  and promptly let out a cabbagey belch. The angel shot me an ‘I told you so’

  look.

  I squatted next to Cupid. “You have ten seconds.”

  He frowned and pulled at his diaper. “I could use a drink.”

  “No.”

  “Self-sacrificing, my ass.” He brushed past me into Lilith’s

  apartment. “Okay, here’s the deal. You fucked up, and now you have to clean

  your mess up.”

  I followed him inside, watching as he opened the refrigerator and

  slammed down four beers. The last four beers. My ire rose along with his

  blood alcohol level.

  He burped, spewing noxious gas throughout the room. Bodhi sniffed

  the air, and fell over dead. His short legs stuck straight into the air, a fact that

  caused the kid to burst into another round of shrieking tears.

  “Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.” The kid ran in circles around the dead cat

  like a fucked up version of ring-around-the-rosy, stopping every few seconds

  to touch the cat’s nose in hopes of resurrecting the demonic beast. Let’s just

  say, I wasn’t too disappointed when the cat stayed dead.

  Reaching down, I lifted the kid into my arms and awkwardly patting

  his back. His screams decreased, and a few seconds later he fell asleep on my

  shoulder.

  The angel took the kid from me and disappeared into the other room,

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  leaving me with a half-drunk Cupid.

  He started to speak, but I raised my hand for silence. “If you wake

  that kid, I will rip your tiny heart-shaped nuts off. Do you understand me?” I

  took a menacing step toward him. “Now, how did I fuck up this time?” Since

  the kid entered my life, all I had done was mess up.

  I could see the kid’s future clearly. At nineteen, he’d lock himself in

  a clock tower with a high-powered rifle and pick off blonde-haired coeds

  while he bitched about the high cost of ammunition and cat treats. And what

  the fuck would I tell God? Hey, sorry about the Second Coming, but have

  you thought about a third go-around? Maybe try a boy in a plastic bubble?

  “You’re pathetic,” Cupid said, bringing me out of my fantasy.

  “At least I’m taller than an elf.” I grinned, flashing predatory teeth

  and gums. “If Mount Olympus gets too full, you could always apply to work

  at the mall during Christmas.”

  Cupid’s face turned red, and before I knew it, the little son-of-a-

  Venus jumped me. His fist smashed into my nuts, sending my boys into my

  throat. Fire raced from my damaged goods to my spleen. My will to live

  ceased to exist, as did my ability to control my body. In my defense, I

  managed avoid landing face first in my own vomit and even crawled an inch

  or two before the darkness came.

  ~ * ~

  “Hey pretty-boy. Wake up.”

  Smack. A tiny palm slammed into my cheek.

  “Hit me again, and I will twist you into a bow and send your ass to

  the North Pole.” I opened my eyes and blinked away the salty tears crusting

  my eyelids shut. The pain south of my equator had lessened. Now I only

  wanted to die, rather than expecting it any minute now. I reached down to

  check my package. “Thanks to you I might never have kids.”

  Cupid laughed. “As if the world could get so lucky.” He climbed to

  his feet and headed for the refrigerator. The sound of a whipped cream

  aerosol can echoed from inside the icebox.

  “Okay, enough is enough. Tell me why you’re here, or get out.” I

  struggled up from the floor and grimaced at the Technicolor pile of vomit

  staining Lilith’s white carpet, and my shirt.

  “Whaaada youuu know aboouut the Second Commming?” Bits of

  white foam flew from behind the open refrigerator door as Cupid spoke.

  Scratching the stubble and puke covering my chin, I answered, “As

  far as I know, he’s asleep in the other room.”

  “I meant the prophesy, not Jesus.” The whipped cream-covered deity

  closed the refrigerator door and waddled back to the living room. He climbed

  up the edge of the white couch, leaving sticky fingerprints.

  “From what I remember, Revelations paints a pretty grim picture.” I

  shrugged. “Matthew also mentions the Alpha and the Omega, but I don’t

  remember much about it.” Since I’d fallen asleep before reading the rest. All

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  those Thou Shalts and moral values worked better than a sleeping pill and

  shot of whiskey.

  Cupid grunted. “Revelations. What a joke.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He sighed, scratched his diaper rash. “Do you have any idea what

  John wrote the original te
xt with? Shit. His own shit, mind you. The guy was

  a loon. Never trust a psychotic to write the last chapter of any story, let alone

  the supposed word of God.”

  “So there’s no Second Coming?”

  “The Messiah has been born, no doubt about that.” He gave a small

  laugh. “But the thing is, Heaven will be ruled by another. It is he who shall

  inherit the Kingdom of Heaven, and a pair of oxen, or was it a sheep? The

  Second is merely a wake-up-call to the rest of the flock. Yet another sacrifice

  to impress upon the masses the Lord’s love. You see, ruling heaven is much

  like that TV show...”

  “What show?”

  His cherub chubby hand went to his cherub cubby hip. “Heaven is a

  popularity contest. Right now, your Almighty has the largest flock, and He

  means to keep it that way. So He gives the people what they want, a Second

  Coming.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Cupid rolled his eyes. “The Second Coming will never rule Heaven.

  Only a child born of His loins can rule, ending the reign of the current king.

  But the Second must die first.”

  The kid had to die? Not on my watch!

  Oh shit. Suddenly, the kid’s kidnapping made sense. Mary must have

  known the truth behind the prophesy, and decided to generate God’s

  grandkid like some kind of fucked up high school science project. One part

  Jesus, one part deceitful bitch. The perfect combination to rule the Universe.

  And now, she had to find a way to kill the kid. But I’d be dammed if I’d let

  that happen.

  Cupid’s chuckle brought me back to the present. “Of course, ruling

  Heaven can’t be all its cracked up to be. Look at poor Zeus. The guy can’t

  take a dump without all of Olympus betting on the color. But there’s a long

  list of deities waiting for your Lord’s fall from grace.”

  I pictured Zeus, flowing robes parted, taking a shit. Not a pleasant

  image. I shook my head to clear it. “How do you know all this?” I considered

  Cupid closely. Why was he telling me this? What did the little bugger have to

  gain?

  He snorted, blowing thick snot bubbles from his heart-shaped nose.

  “I know plenty.” He leaned in close to me, so close that I could smell the

  Desitin covering his ass. “For instance, I know all about you.”