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

by J. A. Kazimer

  Liar’s tears. “And you’re the father.”

  Fifty Five

  My mouth opened. Closed. And opened again. What could I say?

  “Are you fucking insane?” I took two quick steps away from Mary.

  Pregnant? How was that even possible?

  “Didn’t your mom explain the birds and bees to you?” Lilith said, bitter laughter in her tone. “You see, little jacey comes out to play in the rain without a raincoat and…”

  I held up a hand. “Now is not the time for jokes.”

  “Yeah, I’m having a hard time keeping a sense of humor about this too.” Lilith took a deep breath. “But she’s telling the truth. She is pregnant, which is why Tyrfing won’t harm her. It cannot kill a fetus you’re not angry with.”

  “But we only… there was only that one time,” I stuttered my way though, eyes pleading. “I was drugged! ”

  “Were not.” Mary brushed a spec of invisible lint off her pink dress.

  “You came willingly enough.”

  “That was before I knew—”

  “Enough.” Lilith smacked me in the back of the head. “None of this matters. Jace, let’s tie Mary up, grab Baby Jesus, and get the fuck out of here.”

  Sounded good to me. I’d deal with Mary and our supposed love-child later. Much later. Nine months later. Don’t get me wrong, I love kids, especially when they turned spoiled milk into wine, but having one of my own, no thanks. Why fuck up another generation?

  Lilith pulled a rope from inside her coat pocket, and handed it to me.

  “You tie her up.”

  I nodded. Was Lilith testing me? Seeing if I carried feelings for Mary? Naw, that wasn’t Lilith’s style. She was more likely to smack me until I came clean. I glanced down at Mary, taking her hands in mine, and winding the rope around her body.

  Instead of protesting, she watched me. “After she’s dead,” Mary pointed to Lilith, “come back and I’ll make you forget all about her.”

  “Don’t hold your breath,” I said, glancing at Lilith. However, fear swept through me. The kind of gut churning fear that comes with knowledge.

  I knew the heartbreak of losing Lilith, of watching her die. I couldn’t take that sort of pain a second time. The sacrifice was too great.

  Once Mary was secured, Lilith turned to me. “Okay, here’s the plan. I bust through the door, grab Jesus, and you meet me outside.”

  I grinned. “And what am I doing outside?”

  “Hailing a cab.”

  I shook my head. “Uh-uh.”

  She tucked her hands across her chest. “It’s a very important task, dangerous even.”

  “No.” I reached for her hand and pulled her body against mine. “This is my mission. I won’t let you die for me again.”

  My lips brushed hers, and with some regret, I pulled the needle filled with Thorazine left over from my psychotic days from my pocket, popped the cap, and jabbed it into her jugular vein. Her eyes went wide, then glassy, and finally shut, her body slumping into my arms.

  I kissed her unmarred forehead. “Foolish or not, I do love you. Remember that when you wake up.”

  “How sweet,” Mary sneered, tugging at the ropes holding her.

  “Don’t go anywhere.” Grabbing Tyrfing, I pointed the sword at Mary. “And you better pray I make it back before she wakes up.” With that parting shot, I opened the second door, and stepped into my destiny.

  Why did destiny smell like fish?

  Fifty Six

  Goosebumps popped along my arms, crawling down my fingertips at the sickening smell of rotting marine life. Tyrfing shook in my hand, but I steadied it and stepped through the opened doorway.

  At first glance, the room appeared ordinary, safe even. No dragons or daggers. It was decorated in Buddhist finery of gold and black. Not a dead fish in sight. But something stunk, a rottenness of the soul maybe. Or the smell might have emanated from the three hundred pound guy standing next to a ten foot statue of a fat, jolly Buddha.

  “Hi, Sid.” I nodded my head in acknowledgement. “Can’t say I’m surprised to see you here.” And I wasn’t. After the third attempt on my life, I’d figured whoever was responsible had more in mind than a simple kidnapping. They wanted me dead, and while I’d like to think that list of people was relatively short, one name kept coming up. Siddhartha Gautama, the first Buddha, or Sid as he was known to lesser mortals. He hated me more than most. Plus, Sid had sent me to the Botanic Gardens in the first place.

  He’d set me up, and I’d walked around oblivious, like a moron, until I’d finally put two and two together, and came up with eight.

  Sid pulled the kid from behind his back like a retarded magician.

  “Throw your weapon into the hallway, and shut the door.”

  “You okay, kid?” I asked, glancing down at the sword in my hand, and weighing the sanity of bum-rushing Sid. On one hand, this mess would finally be finished, but the kid might end up hurt. With genuine regret, I did as he’d ordered, tossing Tyrfing into the hallway like a caber, and returning my attention to the small child in Sid’s fat arms.

  The kid looked all right. No obvious signs of trauma. The same could not be said for Bodhi cat. His fat white head stuck out from the kid’s sagging diaper, eyes wide and horrified. The kid gave me a drooly smile. “Mine.”

  “Yep, it’s your one true hero. I’ve come to return you to your rightful place, but first,” my eyes burned into Sid’s, “I’m going to beat the shit out of the bad man.”

  Sid laughed, sending spit flying. A drop or two landed on the kid’s head causing him to frown. “Hero?” Sid chuckled, clutching his jiggling sides. “A man whose path is lone, and filled with sand. Only he can be called hero.”

  “Jesus.” I rolled my eyes, and shifted my weight to one foot. “Drop the Zen-shit already.”

  His face reddened, eyes burning with hate. “I will enjoy killing you.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I steadied myself. “Get on with it then. I’m sick of your blabbering.”

  For a second he looked ready to explode. That would be the diversion I needed to save the kid, even if it meant spending an eternity in hell.

  But instead of attacking me, he laughed again. “You as a solitary man seek rage, but it is not to be.”

  “Yeah, I get it.” I shrugged. “I’m rubber and you’re glue. See, they teach this shit in kindergarten. Now tell me what the fuck you want.”

  My eyes scanned the room, looking for anything I might use as a weapon. So far, I’d mentally murdered Sid with a curtain rod, a mousetrap, and a half-chewed piece of gum stuck to the bottom of my boot.

  “Do you know beauty can be found in all things?” Sid stroked the kid’s halo of spiked blond hair, waiting for my answer.

  I’d play along. Why the fuck not? “Don’t take it personal, but beauty can’t be found in all things.” I waved at his bald, round head, thick middle and stubby legs. Sure, the guy had a hell of a happy smile, but beauty, not even close.

  Ignoring my comment, he continued, “When Mary came to me the first time, I saw what you desired. The shell of perfection, but as my dastardly—” he smirked “—plan to rule the Heavens began, the shell lost appeal. I did not expect that.”

  I laughed. “What can I say? I’m deep.” None of this was news to me.

  Mary and Sid teamed up to kidnap the Messiah. So why the assignation attempts on me? And why kidnap the kid a second time?

  The obvious answer was insanity. Full-fledged megalomania with a healthy dose of delusion on the side. Sid wanted to be the next God.

  Somehow, I doubted the current Lord and Savior would step down without a fight.

  Damn, that was it. Sid planned to use the kid as leverage. A fucked-up leverage if you asked me. God had sacrificed the kid once already, what made Sid think God would care this time? And why drag me here? He planned to use me somehow, but I was too stupid to see it.

  I snapped back to the present when Sid said, “You, a man without a moral island, surpri
sed me. You sacrificed yourself for both woman and child; yet, you refuse to see the true light of an enlightened path. You are a fool, like your heart’s desire.” He raised his hand to the ceiling, and the toga he wore rode up north of decent. “His greatest fear has happened. Knowledge has replaced Him, and my time has come.”

  “Bullshit.”

  The kid frowned at me.

  “Sorry.” I shot him a small smile. “Bull dung.” The kid nodded, apparently satisfied. I added, “We’re not here to argue religion. His or yours. It’s all the same. Now tell me what I’m doing here, or else I’m gone.” It was a huge bluff. No way in hell I’d leave the kid with him, but I prayed he didn’t know that.

  “You’re bluffing.”

  Score one for Sid.

  “But time is limited, and your very presence curdles my spirit.” Sid set the kid and diaper-rashed cat on the floor. “The path I choose converges with yours. Only one will be the victor. My time has come, so yours shall pass.” Sid pulled out a serrated knife. “In others words, I kill you and the brat, and Heaven is mine. Because He cannot rule without His heir. For without the Second, there can be no promises of salvation for the faithful. Hence, no salvation for Him.”

  “What about Mary? Where does she fit in your plan?”

  Sid laughed. “She doesn’t. Like you, Mary is meaningless. A bit of fluff for me to use and control at a whim. She believes she can rule heaven, that I would dare let her and her bastard rule. Oh no, as soon as you are dead, and Heaven is mine, I will destroy her and her child.”

  “And the kid? What’s he mean to you?”

  “The question is, what does he mean to you?” Sid grinned, as he shoved the kid with his foot.

  I nodded once, acknowledging the fact I would die to save the kid.

  Now I just had to wait for Sid to make a move. My plan was simple, stupidly so. When Sid attacked, I’d wait until the last possible second, and sweep kick his fat ass. The bigger they were, the harder they fall was more than a figure of speech. It just might save my ass.

  Once Sid went down, I planned to snatch the kid from the floor, tossing him and the beast-cat-from-hell out the door, grabbing Tyrfing, and hacking Sid to pieces. Then I’d hack those pieces into smaller pieces until he was bite-size. Barely big enough to feed Bodhi and the pigeons in Central Park. Would pigeons eat fish-flavored Buddha?

  Fifty Seven

  “How about a last cigarette?” I asked after a few silent seconds. Sid was waiting, but for what? I glanced around the room, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. If by ordinary, I meant the Messiah, a pooh-covered cat, and a fat guy in a bed sheet.

  Sid looked confused by my request. “You don’t smoke.”

  “Yeah, but he does.” I pointed behind him. Sid’s eyes followed my finger. A trick that until today I would’ve sworn only worked in cheesy mystery novels or in the White House.

  “Wha—” was all Sid got out before I was on top of him, slamming my fist into his marshmallow abdomen.

  “Run,” I yelled to the kid, which in hindsight was a stupid thing to say to a kid who could barely walk. But the kid did the best he could. Lifting Bodhi into his arms, he teetered at a half-walk/crawl/run toward the door.

  Before the kid made it to the door, Sid landed a series of agile kicks to my lower body. My rage exploded, my survival instinct taking control.

  Destroy or be destroyed.

  Thud.

  The rattled of the door gained my attention. Tyrfing. The sword had felt my bloodlust. I smiled. Sid was fucked for sure now. I punched him in the head, busting my one unbroken knuckle on his stone-like cheek.

  “Open the door then duck,” I told the kid. “Hurry.” The sword clattered against the doorframe again sending bits of wood flying through the room.

  It was fillet of Sid time.

  The kid and his cat struggled to reach the doorknob. In the meantime, Sid had recognized his peril and struggled to strangle me. His fat fingers roped around my neck, digging, clawing, and tearing at my skin. Spots appeared before my eyes, growing larger as my oxygen level grew smaller.

  As a last resort, I pulled a Larry, Curly, and Moe trick, poking Sid in the eye while squeaking out a ‘whoop, whoop, whoop’.

  Luck for me, Sid had long ago forsaken comedy for PBS. My finger jabbed itself between eye and socket, and I dug in. The stunned eyeball flew from its former resting place, veins detaching as it spiraled across the sky, and landed with a splat. It bounced once, rolled, and stopped two inches from the kid’s feet, eyeball up.

  The kid glanced at me, and then to the bloodied eyeball. “Mine?” I would’ve reassured him had Sid not continued to compress my windpipe, all the while whining about his lack of eyeball.

  For a Buddhist, he sure as hell could hold his own in a fight though.

  What happened to Ahisma? Or letting go of all worldly wants and desires?

  Fuck, I’d settle for him to let go of my throat.

  Bang. The sword crashed against the door again.

  Grayness swirled around my brain. My lungs burned weakening from every non-breath.

  The doorframe splintered from the force of Tyrfing’s assault. The tip of the blade poked through the crack.

  With my last bit of breath, I prayed, “God, now is not the time to fuck with me. Open the damn door.”

  For the first time, He actually did as I asked. The door squeaked open, drawing seven startled eyes. Suddenly Sid released me and staggered to his feet. He ran for a double-bladed ninja sword attached to the opposite wall. Damn, why hadn’t I seen that sooner?

  “You stay right here, you son-of-a-bitch,” I choked out, tugging on the hem of Sid’s sheet. My oxygen deprived muscles exhausted their last shreds of energy, and in a muscular revolution uncurled and let Sid literally slip through my fingers.

  I doubled over, sucking in air, my head between my legs like a passenger on JetBlue airplane. Metal clanged as Sid tried to pull his sword from the wall. I scanned the hallway for my own sword, but something else caught my eye. Or lack of something, I should say. Mary was gone. The ropes that bound her laid useless on the floor.

  Fuck. Idiot.

  I straightened at the whistling sound of Tyrfing slicing through the air. The sword, as it had in the past, struck straight and true, embedding itself in the target of my rage. Lucky for me, I wasn’t in a killing rage, merely annoyed with myself at Mary’s escape.

  The blade impaled itself in my lower back, puncturing a vital organ or two. I dropped to my knees and let out a shriek of pain. Silver spots dotted my vision, but I shook them away. Do not pass out, I ordered. My stomach rolled threatening to spill its contents onto ground.

  On the other side of the room, Sid stopped yanking on the ninja sword plastered to the wall. He took a few tentative steps toward me. “A man who lives by the sword….”

  That was it. No more stupid sayings or Zen bullshit. With blood-soaked hands, I twisted around and grabbed the hilt of Tyrfing pulling with all my might.

  Laughter, deep and rich, echoed inside my pain-fogged brain. Sid was fucking laughing at me. My rage intensified. Come on, I thought as I tugged at Tyrfing. Give me a freaking break.

  By this time, tears streamed down both my and Sid’s face. Mine were tears of frustrated anger. The story of my life. Sid’s, on the other hand, were of malicious humor. A humor deeply ingrained in the psyche of America, but unheard of in Buddhist circles.

  He laughed and laughed, hands clutching his fat sides. He laughed so hard that he dropped to the ground and began rolling from side-to-side.

  Suffice it to say, I pulled on Tyrfing that much harder. Killing Sid had moved from unavoidable to my one and only goal. Rage kept me alive and focused. The pain softened, turning to a cold burn. With one final tug, Tyrfing popped free of my right kidney, and clattered to the floor. A sound drowned out by Sid’s giggles and rapid floor rolling.

  Using the sword for support, I struggled to my feet, blood showering my boots. Once upright, I raised Tyrfing with my la
st shred of strength.

  Crash.

  Sid disappeared before my eyes.

  Fifty Eight

  Twerp.

  I blinked, trying to make sense of what was in front of me. Blood loss had clearly affected my higher mental functions. If I wasn’t hallucinating, a ten-foot high statue of Buddha had just crushed Sid.

  Twerp.

  I took a step closer to the mountain of smashed Buddha, and a much flatter version of my archenemy. Laughter hadn’t been the best medicine for good, old Sid. He’d laughed so hard he’d knocked the iconic statue of Buddha onto his fat head. A bit of irony there, but I was too exhausted to figure it out.

  Twerp.

  I recognized the sound of my cell phone, pulled it out, and checked the caller ID. Shit. “Hey, Mom. I can’t talk right now,” I answered seconds before crashing face first to the floor, unconscious.

  ~ * ~

  “Jerk.” Lilith slapped my cheek.

  I cracked an eyelid, quickly closing it again. The glare of hospital light, stench of disinfectant, and blinding pain in my back told me all I needed to know.

  I was alive.

  Sid wasn’t.

  Score one for Jace.

  “Hey.” Lilith shook my shoulder. “Don’t you dare go back to sleep on me.”

  “Water,” I croaked through dry, cracked lips. My limbs felt weak, unused, muscles atrophied. How long was I out? The smooth plastic of a straw touched my lips, and all thoughts of time slipped away. Greedily, I sucked up the cold water until the slurp of an empty cup echoed in the hospital room.

  Opening my eyes the second time proved a little easier. Lilith sat in a high-backed chair next to my hospital bed, the whirl of machines and air compressors surrounding her. Her hair was longer. Her face fuller. She looked more beautiful than ever.

  I swallowed. “I asked for Jack Daniels and water.”

  She laughed, relief flooding the exhaustion in her eyes. “I’ll get it right the next time.” She paused, brushing my hair from my forehead. “You had me worried.”