Holy Socks and Dirtier Demons (v1.1) (clean fmt)

by J. A. Kazimer

  “What time is it?” I blinked at the glaring sunlight as Mary helped me from the crypt.

  “Noon.”

  Shit.

  “Thursday.”

  What the fuck? I’d been trapped for two days? When I found Lilith I was going to—

  “Does this have to do with little J.C.?” Mary trembled, her body absorbing my rage.

  I swallowed the bile of hate, and lifted her face to meet my eyes.

  “Yes, and it’s very dangerous. I want you to stay away from me and your apartment until I get things settled.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t, Jace. I have nowhere else to go, and even less money to get there.”

  She was so innocent, standing there with big violet eyes. My protective instincts surfaced, and my thoughts shifted from search and destroy to serve and protect. I would give my life to keep her and the kid safe.

  ~ * ~

  Mary and I stopped on Flatbush Avenue for supplies. Little Haiti, as Flatbush was better known, served the needs of thousands of Voodoo practitioners throughout the five boroughs. Pick any storefront, and behind the fried plantains and bottles of rum were spells for all occasions.

  I traded a golden cross I had worn since my baptism for two protection spells and a couple of talismans, one of which was in the shape of a blood-sucking succubus that reminded me of Lilith.

  Pulling off my dog tags, I strung the talisman onto the heavy metal chain, and looped it around Mary’s neck. The clasp caught a strand of her white-blond hair. I gently removed the strand, taking a moment to thread it through my fingers. Its soft, silky texture played havoc with my libido.

  Pulling away, Mary lifted the tags and smiled. A possessiveness I hadn’t felt since wife number one entered my heart. I kissed her, running my fingers along her skin.

  “I’ll keep you safe,” I promised, tasting her sweetness with hungry lips. “As long as I’m alive, nothing will hurt you.”

  She stroked my cheek. “Thank you.”

  The blare of a taxi horn interrupted our tender moment. Reluctantly, we climbed inside and returned to the real world. A world where only fools made promises and dark-haired succubae ruled.

  ~ * ~

  An hour later, Mary waited on the street while I crept into my apartment. No sign of the angel or Lilith, but there was a huge pool of black-red blood, and a trail of feathers on the floor. My heart sped up. No, not the angel. Guilt at bringing death in the form of Lilith to our doorstep rocked my otherwise iffy mental state.

  I picked my way through the rest of my apartment. Someone had searched it, knocking over my milk-crate dresser and cardboard-box bookcase. The kid’s crib lay smashed on the floor. His ragged teddy bear, the only toy he owned, lay decapitated in the corner. I focused on the bear parts, channeling my rage.

  From the kitchen counter my cell phone rang. I swallowed hard, listening to God’s ringtone, Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door. Fuck. Could this day get any worse? A small explosion on the street below answered that question.

  Fourteen

  I ran for the window. Four stories below, Lilith stumbled to her feet, the big-ass gun smoking in her hands. The barrel swung toward Mary once more.

  “No!” I yelled through the closed window. Lilith glanced up, her face burning with rage, eyes glowing like diamonds. Why the fuck was she mad?

  I was the one who had been drugged and locked underground for two days, not her.

  She turned to Mary, and the boom of the big-ass gun rocked the street, setting off car alarms and fits of dogs barking. Lilith flew backward ten feet landing hard on the ground. But Mary remained standing. How? Had Lilith missed? It didn’t seem possible.

  I ran from my apartment and down to the street, pulling my nine-millimeter before exiting the building. I frowned, watching as Lilith’s pale blue Gremlin disappeared around 11th street.

  Mary ran to me, her face pale, limbs trembling. I folded her into my body, running my hands over her unmarked skin. No bullet holes. No blood.

  I lifted my dog-tagged talisman from around her neck and smiled. I’ll be damned. It worked.

  “What happened?” I tilted her chin to face me.

  “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “One minute I was standing there, waiting for you, and the next your girlfriend started shooting.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” I mumbled.

  “Then who is she, and why did she try to kill me?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  ~ * ~

  Back inside my apartment, a barely audible twerp echoed from the mobile phone in my pocket. I glanced at Mary, checked the caller ID, and flipped it open with a mixture of dread and inevitability. If I didn’t answer they would only call back, and keep calling back until I finally answered or shot myself.

  “Hey, Mom,” I said into the phone. “I’m kind of busy right now.”

  Like that mattered. My mother was a talker, and that trait exploded when her first-born son answered the phone.

  “I’ll just be a minute, Jace, baby. I miss you. We all miss you. When are you going to come home? Last week I ran into.”

  I tuned out, picturing the house I’d grown up in with its pink flamingos and white picket fence on a couple of acres of farmland in the middle of Nowhereville, St. Francis, Wisconsin, population 8,800, and growing smaller as years passed.

  “And your father said to the reverend.”

  Stepfather, I nearly corrected but swallowed the bitterness that haunted most of my childhood. Don’t get me wrong, Joe was the perfect father. He loved me like his own kid. He took me to baseball games, and taught me to target shoot. But he wasn’t biologically mine. I’d grown up longing for a nameless, faceless ‘real’ father.

  My brothers took after Joe, each blond and big. I, on the other hand, resembled anyone from the mailman to my high school principal. My mom swore my biological father was a Peace Corps volunteer passing through our small town, but I had my doubts.

  My mom had met Joe while giving birth to me at the hunting & fishing department at Wal-Mart. An electrician by trade, Joe worked part-time as a salesman at the store and had just come on shift when my mom’s screams rocketed from the aisle.

  The rest, my parents claim, is history, but I knew better. I owed Joe more than I would ever be able to repay. He had given me his name and his love without condition, and I had failed him time and again.

  “So your brothers brought their families down for Sunday dinner. I told them about your new job and they are thrilled. Just think, my son, a Homeland Security agent.”

  I smiled into the phone. Close enough. “Mom, I really have to go.” I added, watching Mary bend to pick up a broken glass, “I’ll call you on Saturday.” But we both knew I wouldn’t.

  “I love you, Jace. Be safe.”

  “I love you too, Mom.” I hung up the phone and glanced at Mary.

  “You don’t have to clean up.”

  She straightened, brushing off her jeans. “Why would someone do this to you?” She waved her hands around the trashed apartment. “First little J.C., and now this. I’m scared for you.”

  “Don’t be.” I reached for her hand. “I have to go, but I want to make sure you’re all right.”

  “Oh, Jace, I’m scared. Please stay.” Her eyes lit with passion, and need. I wanted her. Wanted her like never before, but I had to track down the kid, and the treacherous bitch, Lilith before someone, namely Mary, ended up dead. I stared into her beautiful face, and said, “I can’t.” I pulled away and headed for her apartment. “Lock yourself in your apartment and don’t open the door to anyone unless it’s me, and even then keep the chain on.” At her apartment door, I kissed her quickly.

  “Be careful,” she whispered as she disappeared inside her apartment.

  I nodded, listening for the telltale click of her deadbolt locking.

  Satisfied she was as safe as she could be, I headed for the stairs. My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten in two days. I’d kill for a Big Mac, but I had m
ore important matters to attend to.

  Halfway down the hall, the stench of dead fish so vile the wallpaper peeled from the walls, struck me, knocking me back a step. Sid was making sushi again. I rolled my eyes and detoured to his apartment.

  “Sid, open up.” I banged on his door, rattling the tiny gold numbers affix to the wood by a screw.

  After a few seconds, Sid did as I demanded but didn’t look happy about it, his too small shirt covered in blood and guts. “Who speaks the sound of an echo? Who paints the image in a mirror? Where are the spectacles in a dream? Who knocks on my door? And what does he want?”

  “Listen Sid, someone broke into my apartment. I was hoping you saw who it was.” I waved a hand in front of my nose to dispel the fishy odor.

  He scratched his nuts and replied, “Past mind can't be seized. Present mind can't be grasped. Future mind can't be sensed. With which mind will you drink the tea?”

  “What?” I scratched my head. “I don’t want any tea. Did you see anybody or not?”

  “You will find what you seek.” He nodded to himself. “Go and find what you desire.”

  “Go where?” Did he know where the kid was? “For once, man, say what the fuck you mean.”

  He frowned, rubbed his fat tummy, and repeated, “Go, and find what you desire.”

  I glanced at his hand on his stomach and the t-shirt stretched tightly across it. Heavenly Grace Buddhist Temple. Got it. “Thanks, Sid. I owe you one.”

  “I leave, circle, stick, stone. The game of life, of chance, of faith.”

  “Yeah, same to you.”

  Sid shook his head and slammed the door in my face. So much for the kindness of neighbors, but I had a lead. Things looked up, that was until my cell phone rang again.

  “Mama take this badge off of me…” I pressed the silence button sending God to voicemail.

  Fifteen

  The Heavenly Grace Temple sat a few blocks from Chinatown on the Lower East Side. It didn’t look like a temple, but my frame of reference for what a temple actually looked like, came mostly from cheesy 1970’s police detective shows.

  A brick veneer covered the building, and a small, unobtrusive sign hung over the door. I rang the bell and waited. Minutes passed. Maybe it was prayer time, or head shaving day. I rang the bell again.

  A short, serene looking man in a robe answered. His expression of calm faltered slightly at my presence. Unwarranted, I believed. After all, I had showered before heading over and the nine-millimeter was concealed beneath my sweatshirt.

  “May I help you?” The man’s accent sounded upper crust WASP.

  Great, a Buddhist CPA.

  “Sid sent me.” I gently pushed open the front door and stepped inside. “He said you had something of mine here.” I sniffed the air. No new Jesus smell. Damn.

  “We have been waiting for you.” He gestured for me to follow.

  “Sorry for my rudeness, but we cannot be too careful.”

  My stomach growled, as the scent of fried animal flesh tickled my nostrils. Weren’t Buddhists vegan? Something wasn’t right. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what you expected?”

  “Are you not on the noble path?”

  Why did everybody answer a question with a question? What the fuck happened to the straight answer? “I think there’s some sort of mistake. I’m looking for a kid, not to convert.”

  “You are not a Buddhist?” He stopped, face paling under my gaze.

  “No. Don’t get me wrong, I love what you guys do. The airport drumming and sing-alongs are loads of fun, but I can’t quite pull off wearing a dress.” I pointed down at my jean clad legs. “Chicken legs.”

  The Buddhist’s lips thinned. “We are not Hare Krishnas. We do not wear dresses, nor do we hold sing-alongs.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Shit. I probably should’ve read the religions manual the angel provided, but it was over a million pages, and I’d never even finished Stephen King’s, The Stand.

  Another guy, who wore a robe that barely covered a row of tattooed Sanskrit lettering around his arm, handed my CPA Buddhist a plain white paper bag. A grease stain appeared on the bottom.

  My robe-wearer opened the bag, sneered, and quickly closed it. “This is what you desire?” He shook his head. “Now go before more unenlightened ones get the sudden urge for flesh.” He pushed the bag into my hand and pushed me out the door.

  What was that about? I peeked into the bag, and laughed. A Big Mac stared from the paper depths, mocking me. My one true desire happened to be a hamburger, and damn, if Sid hadn’t come through.

  I wolfed the sandwich down, thought about desiring a drink, but decided against it. Getting my ass kicked by a bunch of Buddhists wasn’t a productive way to spend my day.

  But I did need a drink, and I knew just where to find it.

  ~ * ~

  “Hades, what the hell is she?” I sipped a beer, watching as Hades scrub a tar-crusted glass. I’d come to the Underworld looking for answers, but so far had only found a Heineken.

  “What is who?” Hades scratched his head. A snake ratted in anger.

  Again with the questions. “Lilith. The PI you called. Who is she, and why did you send her to help me?”

  His mouth dropped. “Lilith? No shit? I didn’t send her. I wouldn’t put her on my worst enemy, let alone someone I called friend.”

  “Thanks, I think. So she wasn’t the PI who located Persephone?” I was a fucking moron. I never questioned her presence, nor the fact she didn’t look like any detective I’d ever seen.

  “Hell no.” Hades smiled; venom dripping from his follicles. “Is that who you were with the other night? I wondered what she looked like in human form.”

  “Yeah. You wanna fill me in? Who is she?” I pounded my beer on the bar, rousing Dionysus. He burped out a hello and fell asleep again.

  “She is the mother of all succubae. The first wife of Adam, said to have tempted Eve into feeding him the apple. She is also Satan’s mistresses and as evil as they come. E-V-I-L.”

  Stupid Angel, and his ‘she smells human’ assurance. He was an idiot, and Lilith, the bitch, was the origin of dastardly deeds. “Great.” I shook my head, slumping lower on the barstool.

  “Legend has it, she has the head of a lion and a scorpion vagina. Not a woman to mess with. But, brother, she is smoking HOT. I’d get me a piece of that.”

  “Hades! If I ever hear—” Persephone shouted from the locked back office.

  “Sorry, pumpkin.” Hades glanced around sheepishly. “Jace, you have to be very careful. If she finds J.C. before you do, all the prayer in the world ain’t gonna save us.”

  “I’ll find him.” But where? A half-assed idea formed in my brain.

  Devine intervention maybe, but chances were it was plain stupidity.

  Sixteen

  I spent the rest of the day hunting for the kid, tracking new reports of suspicious happenings, and supposed miracles throughout the city. An exorcism of an infant in the Bronx turned out to be gas, and a priest faked a bleeding statue of the Virgin Mary in Queens. At least I wasn’t hard up enough to e-Bay grilled cheese sandwich faces of Jesus. Yet.

  I trolled the streets in a stolen BMW taken from a televangelist who claimed God meant for him to own two houses in Aspen, and a mistress in Manhattan. I flipped through radio stations, looking for the latest news brief.

  One particular snippet caught my attention.

  A reporter said, “Advocates for the homeless wonder about the overall effects.”

  A secondary voice of a homeless guy screeched, “Who’s going to give me money now? No one feels sorry for a two-legged panhandler. I used to pull in fifty bucks a day with one leg, now look at me. Miracle my ass.”

  I flipped the wheel and sped toward 151st Street, the epicenter of homeless in the city. By sheer chance, I glanced in my rearview mirror. A pale blue Gremlin followed. The driver, a black-haired succubus, flipped me off.

  I smiled and slammed on my brakes. With a loud crash, the Gremlin sm
ashed into the bumper of the Beemer, crumpling it like an accordion. To my dismay, the Gremlin swung into the left lane and kept pace.

  Lilith raised her arm and fired a round from her big-ass gun. I pressed on the brakes again, and the bullet ripped into the BMW’s engine block instead of my head as intended.

  Flames shot from the car. The engine seized, and I rolled to a dead stop. I waved away clouds of smoke in time to see Lilith’s Gremlin speed down the street. Fuck.

  I banged my fist on the steering wheel. When my temper tantrum subsided, I reached for my cell phone and dialed Hades’s number. “Plan B,” I said when he answered.

  ~ * ~

  The back alley of the Core smelled like I remembered; a combination of grease, garbage, and brimstone. I checked my nine-millimeter for the third time, waiting for Hades’s signal, a signal that should’ve come ten minutes ago.

  I glanced at the Gremlin parked at the entrance of the alley, and smiled with anticipation. That bitch would pay. Red light from Hades’s laser pointer bounced off my retina. Showtime.

  Slipping an electric lock pick from my pocket, I went to work on the back door. The whirl of the pick rang from the deserted alley and into the street. But no one paid me any attention.

  The lock snapped, and I pushed the door open. Blackness filled the backroom. The room I’d died in. A shiver passed through my body. Fear was good. My drill Instructor had beaten that into me repeatedly. Fear kept you alive.

  I slipped through the double doors, and into the semi-packed club.

  Hades and fifty other gods sat around the room in fully god-like glory.

  Apollo caught my eyes and winked. Having the sun god watching my back felt good, almost like I was invincible. I missed the angel, however. He’d been an annoying tool sure, but my annoying tool. One more sin Lilith would pay for.

  A hiss sounded on my right. I twisted toward it, gun at ready. “She’s not here.” A snake-tongued demon-girl withered to the heavy music beat.