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

by J. A. Kazimer

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

  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.

  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, 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 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 text 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.”

  Goosebumps spread up my arms. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Did he know about the voices?

  His expression grew colder as his eyes raked over me. “Are you playing stupid, or are you really an idiot?”

  How to answer? “Idiot, I guess.”

  Cupid’s face broke into a wide grin. “So you really don’t know, do you?” He laughed. “As much as it would make my day to ruin yours, I’ll leave it to the Big Guy to fill you in. Good luck, dumbass. You’re going to need it.” And with those dire words, Cupid disappeared in a puff of smoke and cabbage fumes.

  I waved a hand in front of my face. The stench dissipated, but his words echoed in my brain. What was he hiding? And more importantly, what the hell was I missing? Only one way to find out. I picked up the phone, and dialed the Almighty.

  Click.

  “The number you have dialed has been disconnected. Please check the number and dial again,” a voice prompted. A voice that sounded an awful lot like God.

  Fuck.

  Forty Six

  I closed my eyes, letting the music of the night surround me. A police siren screamed in the distance. The screams of two bums fighting over a nearly empty bottle of booze in the alley rose through the open window.

  The sound of glass shattering on the pavement echoed from below.

  The bums began to wail, loud, piercing shrieks of loss.

  In the apartment next door, a woman prayed with all her might. “Oh, God. Please. Faster. Faster. Fuck meeee! ”

  I shook my head. If God knew anything, it was how to fuck someone.

  For eight months, I’d worked my ass off to protect the kid and save the world. But the second shit went bad, God had turned his back. And why not?

  The Second Coming meant nothing. It was a ploy, a gimmick to keep Him in power. I was a dupe, and Lilith had died for nothing.

  My fist slammed into the pillow. The seam split, and a cloud of feathers spilled from the cotton sheath. The pillow’s meaningless demise calmed me, even as the grief I’d kept at bay throughout the day surfaced.

  Funny that Lilith had come to mean so much to me, yet I never really knew her, or trusted her.

  My hands traced the contours of the bed, remembering the hard planes and soft curves of her body. Lust mixed with gut churning sorrow. For a moment, overwhelmed by loss and insecurity, my sanity slipped away.

  My feelings for Lilith hadn’t been a mistake like the cotton-candy-clones I’d married. My love was deep. Pure. Real.

  Wasn’t it?

  I shook my head. Not like it mattered now. Loving a dead woman led nowhere, or to jail. Thankfully, I wasn’t desperate enough to fuck a corpse just yet.

  “Mine?” The kid stood in the doorway, moonlight illuminating his sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks.

  “Go back to bed.” My voice sounded harsh, thick with pent-up emotion and exhaustion.

  The kid took a step closer to the bed. It was then that I noticed Bodhi clutched in his arms like a teddy bear. What was it like to be the kid? To be nothing more than a sacrifice? A savior adored by millions, but so alone, he clutched a dead cat for comfort.

  “Fine.” I rolled my eyes and pulled back the covers. “Come here.”

  Not needing additional encouragement, he raced across the room and dove beneath the blanket.

  “Now go to sleep.” I settled in next to him.

  A few minutes later, he fell asleep, the dead cat wrapped protectively in his chubby arms. I did my best to ignore the smell of decaying feline and after an hour, fell into a fitful sleep.

  The voices started as I drifted off. Loud, hateful voices. She never loved you, they whispered. I raised my hands to block their words, but had no fucking luck.

  Her blood is on your hands. The voices grew angrier. Just like those you swore to protect. Your brothers-in-arms who died so you could live...

  “No,” I mumbled in my sleep, fighting the rising flood of memories.

  The
broken body of David Klinger, a nineteen-year-old private on his first tour in Iraq. His face perfectly preserved, farm boy innocent, but his eyes were fixed and dilated. Dead eyes.

  “Mine.” As suddenly as the voices appeared, they vanished. I opened my eyes and stared into the sad face of the Messiah. His finger stroked my forehead.

  The image of David’s eyes faded from my mind. “Thanks,” I said, groggily. A deep sense of contentment filled me. I sighed and snuggled against the pillow. Everything was going to be fine. Just fine…

  ~ * ~

  Awoke by a loud yowling, I shot from the bed, and slammed my head into the headboard, almost knocking myself out. Still the pain in my brain wasn’t as bad as the intense burning clawing up my leg.

  I glanced down and screamed like a high school cheerleader on prom night. A newly resurrected Bodhi cat’s thick claws were embedded in my calf, and I swear the little bloodsucker was smiling.

  I tried to shake him off, but he refused to budge. Instead, his claws dug deeper, ripping chucks of flesh from my naked leg. Storming into the kitchen, I pointed to the cat and my bleeding limb. “Next time no resurrection.” I tugged at the growling cat. “He stays dead, you got me?”

  The kid looked up, his mouth stuffed with X-shaped kitty kibbles.

  “Mine?” The kid’s eyes dropped to the cat, and he began to chant happily, “Mine, mine, mine, mine.”

  The cat retracted his claws and leapt into the kid’s open arms. Great, the two of them had bonded. Now, I’d never get rid of that cat.

  Watching the kid and the cat, it hit me. I knew what I was destined to do, consequences and God be damned.

  Today was Jacement day.

  Forty Seven

  My eyes scanned the rows and rows of rusted metal, and broken automobile glass. Headlights, mufflers, and steering wheels littered the ground below my feet. I sidestepped the rear-end of a Plymouth, narrowly missing a protruding axel, and followed a giant across the automobile graveyard.

  My mission was simple. Find Lilith’s Gremlin, and get the fuck out of town. I planned to ditch the angel in the middle of nowhere—Ohio, most likely—and disappear with the Son of God. The kid deserved a chance, a normal life. The world didn’t need a reminder of God’s love, not at the cost of the kid. He’d given enough.