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.
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 couldn’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.
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 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 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.
“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.
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.
“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.
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.”
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 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 Pri
nce 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?
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.”
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?”
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.
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