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

by J. A. Kazimer

  I nodded. It was the motto of any great soldier. That and “How much for a blowjob?”

  “Well, Tyrfing is the reason for that. Whoever is stupid enough to possess it will eventually succumb to it. But it gets worse...”

  Her gaze stroked the razor sharp edges of the blade. Heat pooled low in my body, a sexual response to the naked hunger in her eyes. Sparks leapt from the metal to her fingertips. As if a powerful force compelled her, she reached for the weapon.

  I slapped her hand away, afraid of what would happen if she touched the steel, but like a magnet, my own mindless appendage curled around the hilt.

  Nothing happened. No explosion. No instant death. I lifted the sword from the counter, weighing it in my hand. Surprised by its light weight, I swung it in an arc feeling like a warrior, an uncoordinated one, but a warrior just the same.

  Sunlight reflected off the sharp blade, burning into Lilith’s vacant eyes. She blinked once, shook her head, and let out a soft cry. “Oh God, what have you done?”

  “It’s okay.” I shrugged, parrying with violent force. “It’s a piece of metal. A worthless legend. Nothing bad happened when I picked it up, and nothing bad will happen.”

  As I said those words, Dante returned from the backroom. “Hey there pretty boy...” His eyes widened seconds before the sword pierced his gut. His mouth formed an O, and he clutched at the mortal wound. “Figlio di una femmina,” he whispered before dropping face first onto the floor.

  Damn. I guess he was Italian. I ran to his side, but Lilith moved more cautiously, her eyes leery as she paused at the steel blade embedded in Dante.

  I cupped Dante’s head in my lap, and applied pressure to the wound, but it was too late. Blood flowed from him like the Amazon.

  “Tell my mother I love her.” His eyelids flickered, and his breathing became harsh before stopping altogether.

  “Damn it, Lilith, do something.”

  She shrugged, not really paying me any attention. I felt sick. Poor guy. That fucking sword was cursed.

  “Try mouth-to-mouth,” Dante whispered. The blood running down his shirt vanished before my eyes. I released him, and his head hit the floor with a thud. “Ouch.” He rubbed at the dented spot on his skull. “Humans have no sense of humor.”

  Glaring at him, I picked up the sword, and slammed it into the wound again. “How’s that for funny?”

  Lilith laughed, but Dante looked annoyed. I pulled the sword out, and wiped the blood on the leg of his pants. I planned to run him through again, but Lilith stopped me.

  “Play time is over. We should get out of here before something bad does happen.” Lilith took my arm, and smiled at Dante. “Put it on my account.”

  Twenty One

  I dragged the sword for half a block to Lilith’s Gremlin. A thick condensation marred the windows of the vehicle, and the seats squished when I sat. Lilith slid into the driver’s seat, and went through the pre-start checklist. Bang, bang, bang on the dashboard. Pump, pump, pump on the gas pedal, an eye roll, and finally ignition.

  The engine coughed to life, less forgiving of its watery adventure the night before than me. I glanced at Lilith profile as we puttered up the street.

  What had I gotten myself into I wondered for the tenth time in an hour.

  “What do you suggest we do now?” I rolled down the side window to air out the moldy stench rising from the backseat.

  “I know someone who can help us find J.C.”

  “Who?” And why the fuck didn’t she say so before?

  “Sibillie.”

  I shook my head. “The fortune teller at Coney Island?”

  She nodded, and hit the brakes hard to avoid a guy in a dress riding a unicycle. “Feel like taking a ride?”

  I shrugged. Why not?

  The angel stuck his head up from the hatchback. “I love Coney Island. They have cotton candy, and a woman with a beard.” He looked well rested, and excited at the prospect of a trip through Brooklyn.

  “Not today they don’t.” Lilith flipped on the windshield wipers brushing flakes of snow from the glass. Like a wintery wasteland, the snow fell heavier as we traveled south through Brooklyn.

  ~ * ~

  Gray sky met gray buildings, gray brick, and the gray skin of the gray-haired citizens as we entered Coney Island. The city looked like a washed out version of a noir movie.

  Lilith flicked her lighter, and smoke curled from the end of her clove cigarette. “God, this city is depressing in the winter.”

  I completely agreed. In the dead of summer, Coney Island resembled a riot in Detroit, but with fat guys in Speedos and funnel cakes rather than mobs of angry teens with torches. In the summer, lights and peals of laughter split the air, and pink cotton candy cones melted in the sun. In the winter though, the place looked like a death camp.

  Sunken-eyed people dammed to live here year-around watched as we drove past. A shiver ran up my spine. I turned around and smacked the angel, who sat behind me breathing on my neck.

  Lilith parked the Gremlin inches from the front gate of the Astroland Amusement Park. A thick chain separated us from the home of the World Famous Cyclone as the sign overhead promised.

  Frowning, Lilith kicked at the lock and mumbled to herself. The gate rattled, but the lock held. She smashed her foot into it again. “Ow. Shit.”

  Dancing around, she held the toe of her boot and moaned.

  I stepped back to avoid her flailing body, only to smack into the angel’s granite like chest. I pushed from him, and reached out to steady Lilith.

  Why did I let her talk me into these things? “What kind of succubus can’t open a damn lock?” I reached into my jean and pulled out a small knife.

  Thirty seconds later, I unwrapped the chain and we pushed our way inside.

  Lilith headed to the Dante’s Inferno ride, and the six-foot fortune telling arcade game in front of it. Sibillie, the gypsy queen of hearts. Plug a quarter in, and Sibillie offered vague predictions straight out of the 1920’s, a sad gimmick, but a prosperous one if Sibillie’s worn start button was any indicator.

  I followed Lilith, stopping every few steps to reel the wayward angel from the Ferris wheel, Cyclone, and the freak sideshow. It didn’t seem to matter to him that the rides weren’t operating and the freak show stood empty.

  “Damn it.” I grabbed for the sleeve of his robe one more time. “We don’t have time for this.”

  We finally caught up with the succubus. She stood next to the wooden fortuneteller searching her pockets for a quarter. I dug into my own, finding a breath mint, two copper pennies, and a condom. I glanced at the angel, and he shrugged. It figured.

  Lilith started to laugh. “Here we are, some of the most powerful forces in the universe,” she glanced at me, and added as an afterthought, “and Jace, without a quarter between us.”

  “Well, we could pray for divine intervention, or,” I pulled out my knife, “we could improvise.”

  “Thou shalt not steal.” The angel tucked his wings into his armpits and glared at me.

  “And you should mind your own business.” Lilith slugged him in the stomach. He clutched his mid-section, and whimpered before falling onto the snowy pavement.

  I rolled my eyes, and went to work on Madame Sibillie’s coin box.

  Sliding the knife into the crease below the metal box, I shook it back and forth. The blade slipped, taking a chunk from my thumb. “Fuck,” I screamed, sucking at the bloody wound.

  “Careful, Jace. We don’t want to damage Sibillie.” Lilith stood over my shoulder, ringing her hands like a maiden in a cheesy romance novel.

  Like the ones my second wife devoured, which now that I thought about it, had led to our divorce. Who wanted a wife with expectations?

  Wiping the blood on my jeans, once again I pressed the knife into the corner of the coin container and peeled away the wooden guard.

  Come to Papa.

  A zap lit the air around me, and my body flew backwards through the gray sky. I landed abou
t twenty feet away, my fingers pulsing with electricity. “I must have shorted her out.”

  “I don’t think so,” Lilith said, eyes intent on Sibillie’s plaster face. “As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure you turned her on.”

  Shaking the snow from my pants, I stumbled to my feet, and stepped closer for a better look. Sure enough, Sibillie wore a smile that all but screamed post-orgasmic bliss. Lights flashed in her plastic case, and eerie gypsy music from the era of finger waves and flapper dresses crackled from the booth.

  “I’ll be.” I grinned and winked at Lilith.

  She laughed, sending waves of desire rolling along my skin. “You’ll have to show me that trick sometime.”

  “It’s all in the wrist.”

  Sibillie waved her mechanical hands over a fake crystal ball. “Hey there, Flyboy. You goofy over Sibillie?”

  I glanced at Lilith, and she shrugged.

  “Yeah, Flyboy, I’m talking to you. What? Are you handcuffed to that jane?” Sibillie’s lips didn’t move, but her voice reverberated oddly around me. “The dame’s pretty, but not as keen as Sibillie.”

  “Right, you’re the bees-knees.” I’d watched a Bogart movie or two.

  “But I came here for your help to find a lost kid, not to... umm.”

  “Fuck like machines,” Lilith supplied, trying to contain a smile.

  “Yeah that.” I shot her an annoyed look and turned back to Sibillie.

  “Will you help me?”

  Sibillie sighed, but waved her mechanical arms over the ball once more. Lights flashed, swirling faster and faster. A few seconds later, a card popped from the wooden box. The whole thing seemed anticlimactic.

  Lilith pulled the card from the slot. “It’s for you.” She passed the card to me and grinned.

  I read it aloud: “You will get lucky tonight, Flyboy.” I glanced at Sibillie. She winked with her plastic eye. I swallowed my revulsion.

  “Thanks. That’s a real generous offer, but I need to find the lost kid. Help me to do so, and I will rock your… box.”

  Lights flashed again, and blue flashes swirled around the booth.

  Another card flew out. I reached for it this time. It read: What you seek is sought. What you feel is bought. What you love is all for naught. Have you looked in Hell’s Kitchen?

  My eyes flew to Lilith’s. “The Clinton,” I said, giving the newly generic name of what was once known as Hell’s Kitchen.

  “But where?”

  Sibillie sighed. “Ask them.”

  “Who?” I glanced over my shoulder, but saw no one. A whiff of sulfur warned me of danger, but the biggest clue was Sibillie exploding into tooth picked-sized splinters.

  Shoving me to the ground seconds before the blast, Lilith threw her body across me as fiery plaster parts scattered around us. But, other than Sibillie, the gypsy queen of Lincoln Logs, we sustained little damage.

  “What the hell happened?” I lurched to my feet, pounding on my ears to stop them from ringing.

  “What?” Lilith cupped her own ear, or on closer inspection, cupped what used to be her ear. The blast had blown it clean off. Greenish blood leaked from the wound.

  Helping her to her feet, I winced at the damage to the side of her face. A glow pulsed beneath the skin, growing brighter. I stroked my hand against it, and the wound healed instantly. I jumped back, surprised. Shit.

  Maybe I was an angel.

  “Don’t get too excited. I’m pretty much immortal.” Lilith swabbed the blood from her newly formed ear.

  “Pretty much?”

  She lifted her eyebrow. “Pretty much.”

  “Huh.” I filed the information away for future use. “What happened?”

  “Someone or thing blew the shit out of Sibillie.”

  “Yeah, thanks for that.” I glanced around at the burning embers. “Is it still here?”

  Lilith licked the tip of her finger, and stuck it into the air. “Nope, but it’s going to snow.” A few flakes dropped from the sky.

  A groan drew my attention. I reached down and plucked the angel from underneath a pile of flaming Sibillie. Singed hair and burnt feathers tickled my nostrils, but it was the look of his head that made my day. It was half-bald and pink as the kid’s ass with diaper rash.

  “Do not say a word.” He raised his eyes to heaven and disappeared.

  “Neat trick,” Lilith said, tucking a piece of my own singed hair behind my ear.

  Her closeness bothered me. The scent of her. The feel of her skin.

  But it was the thought of losing her that set me on edge. Damn, I actually liked her. When had that happened?

  “Be honest with me.” I grabbed her hand as she ran her fingers across my lips, and motioned between us. “Am I going to regret this?”

  “Probably.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Looping my arms around her waist, I dragged her close. Maybe Sibillie was right, and I would get lucky tonight.

  Twenty Two

  “This is an endorphin reaction to a nearly being killed.” Lilith stripped off her jacket and tossed it on the passenger seat of the Gremlin. “It means nothing.”

  I tugged at my sweatshirt. “Nothing. Just a little life affirming exercise.” Freeing my arms, I pulled Lilith’s body across mine in the tight confines of the car. However, there were advantages to a hatchback. The main one, she got to be on top.

  “I don’t even like you.” Lilith bit my naked shoulder, drawing blood.

  “Ditto.” My tongue entered her mouth, taking its time to explore the texture of her taste buds.

  Anything but submissive, her tongue warred with mine, teeth nibbled on my lips, and her hands roamed across my chest. Shiver skated over my skin; however, I was far from cold. I fisted my hand in her hair and lifted her head to meet my eyes.

  “We don’t have much time.” She raked her nails down my chest.

  Yellow eyes flaming orange as her breath turned shallow, lungs straining against her rib cage.

  “It doesn’t take me much time at all.” I traced my fingers along each rib. Somewhere in the back of my head, it registered that she was short one rib, but it hardly mattered now.

  From years of practice, I unhooked her black bra, freeing her breasts and flinging the contraption into the front seat. It hit the dashboard with a ping.

  “You do have skills.” Lilith straddled me, tugging my jeans to my knees. The boxers came off next, as did the skin-tight cargo pants clinging to her toned legs.

  I released a harsh breath. “I’m good with my hands.” And I began to prove my claim.

  She sucked in a breath, letting out a moan. “Condom. Now.”

  “Right. Jean. Pocket.”

  Her hand plunged into the aforementioned pocket, and pulled out a breath mint, two cents, and the Holy Grail, an unopened foil packet.

  “Thank God,” she grunted.

  “Let’s not bring Him into it.” I stroked her with the pad of my thumb.

  Her face tightened. Jackpot. I captured her mouth, and finished the job.

  Seconds later, she screamed and a bright white light exploded from the center of her chest. I closed my eyes against the glare, which lasted for thirty seconds before dimming to a yellowish glow. She collapsed on top of me, smashing my nose in the process.

  “We’re not finished yet,” I said as my teeth shredded the condom package.

  Lilith’s cell phone blared: Please allow me to introduce myself...’

  Sympathy for the Devil. Funny.

  “Shit.” Lilith climbed over me toward the front seat, and her jacket.

  She flipped open the phone. “What?”

  I kissed the back of her knee, running my tongue down the tendons.

  She kicked me in the jaw and crawled out of the driver’s side door. Naked. In the snow.

  My head dropped against the itchy carpet of the hatchback. Cold air swirled inside the open door, and parts of me began to regret the invention of cell phones and wintertime.

  Lilith stuc
k her head back inside and reached for her pants. “Get dressed.”

  The tone of her voice left me cold. “What happened?”

  She turned her back to me. “They found a child’s body. A crucified child.”

  Twenty Three

  We drove the forty minutes from Coney Island to The Clinton in silence, a painful, regret-filled quiet that widened the wedge between us.

  My stomach rolled as I pictured the kid’s last seconds of life. While I was getting my rocks off, he was stapled to a pile of wood. Some fucking protector I was. An ache grew under my breastbone. I rubbed at it, but it refused to ease.

  Rage swamped my grief. White-hot, self-destructive rage. My body vibrated with it. I would hunt down his killers, and they would discover the meaning of hell.

  “Stop it.” Lilith cranked the wheel of the Gremlin as Trfying to escape the automobile, Tyrfing, my newly purchased sword, shot from the hatchback, missed Lilith by millimeters, and embedded itself in the dashboard. The Gremlin let out a groan, and carbon dioxide poured from the wound and into the interior.

  Lilith turned to glare at me. “Damn it, Jace. Control your tempter before you kill one of us.”

  What the hell was she talking about? “I didn’t do that.”

  “Yes you did.” She hauled the Gremlin to the curb, pulled the sleeve of her jacket over her hand, and heaved Tyrfing from the dash. “This sword,” she rattled it at me, “slays the possessor’s enemies. It feeds off your anger. Basically, it stabs whoever ticks you off. Whether they die or not depends on how angry you are.”

  “That’s why it stabbed Dante.” I nodded. Not a bad weapon.

  “But didn’t kill him. You were annoyed, not homicidal. But you must be very careful.” She dropped the sword into the backseat. “Tyrfing doesn’t discriminate between passionate anger, and a killing rage.”

  “What else don’t I know?” I shook my head. God had entrusted the wrong man to protect his son.

  Lilith’s eyes softened. “I’m so sorry, Jace. You never asked for any of this.”

  “Save your pity,” I cracked my knuckles, “for the bastards who killed the kid.” A hum echoed from the backseat, as Tyrfing readied itself for battle.