by Tiana Laveen
“So, we just sit here and feel him die?! Cruz said it himself, he’s in bad shape! What do we tell Xenia and his kids, huh? That we just sat around with a damn peace pipe when he took his last breath?” Jagger jumped to his feet and shoved his freshly loaded guns into his jacket, which had been lying before him on the table. “I don’t care how long it takes. I’m driving up there.”
“Jagger.” Cruz touched the man’s arm as he looked up at him. “It won’t help. To Saint, this feels like a lifetime of torture, but in actuality, he’s only been in physical contact with the demon for under thirty minutes. It’s a miracle he is still alive, so honestly, something he is doing is working.”
“But we’ll work better together!”
“Jagger, at this point, once you get there, Saint will have already been possessed by Asmodeus, and then the demon would be so strong, with their powers combined, that he’d knock you out the box easily. He’d then grab and drain your energy, too, and we’d have—for lack of a better word—a mega beast on our hands. Asmodeus is like a demonic vampire, a licentious, sexual misfit. He’d have Saint’s powers, all the energy from each host he has killed thus far, and yours, too!”
“Shit…”
“It would be an absolute nightmare to try and undo, and you both definitely would be killed in the process. Additionally, he’d have Saint’s sex addiction, all of Saint’s knowledge about Angel Children in the city, and then come over here and try his damnedest to kill each and every one of us with that newly found intelligence. Just don’t. Let’s sit here and keep concentrating. We have to give Saint everything we have … every last drop until we have nothing else to give. I hate this as much as you do and I know how close you two are, but it’s the best we can do.”
Jagger slumped back down on the couch, a look of torment and defeat on his face. He grabbed his Glock G40 and stared at it, eyes narrowed to slits and glimmering bright as diamonds.
“If he dies, we may all be still alive, but a part of us will die with him. His shoes are too big to fill. We’re all connected, we’re brothers. Without Saint,” he sighed deeply and shook his head, “the Rainbeau Knights, his family and friends, and New York will never be the same.”
“I know he was supposed to be out late. He had that meeting with the attorney at this ungodly hour but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t answer his phone, Mama. I’m getting worried.”
Xenia sat on her mother’s quilt covered bed. The woman looked at her with her red silk bonnet hanging half way off her head and a scowl on her face. Pam kicked her feet over the side of the mattress, cursing under her breath as she tried to wake up from her deep slumber.
“Xenia, I need something to cool my nerves because you’ve worked almost every single last one of ’em in a matter of seconds. You done busted up in here…” The woman pointed a shaky arm at her bedroom door. “Talkin’ about a bad feeling when, you said yourself, the man is three hours away and it’s going to take him a minute to arrive back home. He called you when he left the lawyer’s office. You know he’s fine. It ain’t been three hours yet, so he isn’t late. Now get out of here, take your crazy ass to bed, and leave me alone. Some of us need our beauty sleep!” Mama snapped up the sheets to her chest, but remained sitting up as if prepared to walk away.
“I know I’m driving you crazy, but I can feel it in my gut, Mama. It’s instinct.” Xenia wrung her hands as she nervously hopped about in her silk, emerald green pajamas like she had to pee. “I’ve called four times, left three messages—nothing. I sent a text message—nothing. He never does this. He always picks up, calls me right back, or texts me.”
“Maybe his phone ran down, Xenia.” Mama huffed, her eyes closed as if exasperated.
“He keeps his phone on the charger usually. I doubt that.”
Mama ran a weary hand across her forehead and got to her feet. She shoved them into her white, fluffy slippers.
“Come on, baby. Let’s go do what I always used to do when you’d get like this.” She wrapped her arm around Xenia’s, giving instant warmth and comfort. They exited the guest room.
“What, Mama?” She rested her head on the woman’s shoulder as they dragged against each other down the hall towards the steps.
“I would fix you some cocoa and make some popcorn, turn on the T.V., and put on a cartoon.”
“That sounds good, Mama. I hope I’m wrong and you’re right. You probably are; he’s probably fine. Maybe he is in an area with bad cell reception.” Xenia perked up at the notion, then kissed Mama on the cheek before they headed down the steps.
But she couldn’t completely shake her concern, and her stomach knotted in angst, turning and churning like some electronic mechanism on the fritz…
The pain had churned and turned into pure numbness, then resuscitated to a level of aching too unbearable to imagine. Still, he managed a smile. Saint telepathically turned Cruz off, letting him know that the added energy was being used against him now. The demon was hellbent on penetrating his thoughts and as long as that freeway was open, the fiend could travel down the highways and byways of his mind like some tourist with no regard. He couldn’t explain it, but Asmodeus was seemingly sucking his friends’ energy, too, like liquid through a straw, trying to draw them close and take them along for the ride. No … this would be no buffet. Table for one, then table for none.
Saint kept pressing upward against the beast’s heart, though he could feel his own spent blood from broken vessels and tendons streaming down to his elbows from his sliced and wounded wrists. The more he hurt, the stronger his faith became, and the harder the demon fought—but now, the fiend feared. The demon looked down at him through the host’s eyes, and for a split second, he saw what he needed. What he craved.
A desire to retreat…
Saint snarled and groaned as the body slowly but surely lifted higher, then higher. His ribs were kissed by a cool ether, bone chilling agony rushed through him from the sudden lack of pressure and unexpected exposure to the brisk, whipping air. He fought through it, pushing harder until finally, he forced the beast away with a hard shove, causing the big body to tumble to the ground.
With strength he didn’t know he had, Saint quickly got to his feet and straddled the monster, swooping low. He wrapped his hands around the giant’s neck and cracked it hard. Jerking the head upward in a sharp tug, he then severed the brain stem from the spine. The body flopped beneath him, then rose up and violently convulsed, until finally, the movements came to an abrupt stop.
The odor of fresh shit permeated the air as the newly deceased defecated on himself. Saint carefully shut the host’s eyes and got to his feet. He took unsteady, weary steps towards his car. His sight was blurry, almost double, but he managed nevertheless.
Moments later he sat exhausted in the driver’s seat, the ding, ding, ding noise of an open-door alert refusing to cease. He fought the urge to vomit, to sleep, to fuck and to curse all at once. Checking his phone, he took note of several missed calls from Xenia. He blinked several times, trying to muster the strength to speak coherently, and dialed her.
“Saint, shit. Thank God you called,” Mama Pam whispered.
He swallowed, wondering why his mother-in-law had his baby’s cell phone.
“Yeah … it’s me. Anything wrong?”
“Xenia was worried about you all night, said she couldn’t shake it. Don’t tell ’er, but I slipped her some Nyquil in a cup of cocoa to get her ass to simmer down and go to sleep. She’s knocked out cold on the couch beside me right now.” Saint mustered a faint smile. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine, Pam. Uh, I’ll be home in a bit. Ran into … an old friend and we … we uh needed to say our final goodbyes.” He scratched his chin as he glanced over at the gas station, now dark and empty, a ghost town of sorts. “Tell Xenia, if she wakes up, that I’m just running a bit late but that you spoke to me.”
“I will. Drive safe. Goodnight.” Mama Pam ended the call, and Saint looked at the time. He was certain
it had to be at least seven in the morning, but it was only two. His body felt like the rig parked across the way had run him over. In a way, it had. He started the car and said a silent a prayer as he pulled out of the lot.
He’d looked into the face of pure evil, watched it work, wiggled inside its brain, and discovered unthinkable thoughts, the most grotesque wishes and desires known to man and demon alike. Taking several deep breaths, he gripped the steering wheel and fought the anger and confusion that roamed within him. No matter what, after what he’d seen and endured just now, he’d never be the same again…
The house was empty, yet full of people…
It was one man and one woman, but the man was haunted with spirits, too many to count. Xenia sat there at the small, ebony desk in their bedroom, reading the biography of Sojourner Truth. She glanced out the corner of her eye at her husband, then turned another page in her book before checking the time: 6:49 P.M. Tomorrow, at work, she planned to have a radio discussion about Black Women’s Empowerment and the ancestors who’d paved the way. Saint had been home for a quite some time, but his communication was limited and the light was out of his eyes…
“Saint?” She glanced over at their bed once again to see him lying there in navy and forest green plaid pajama pants, staring blankly at an episode of some cop show. His ankles were crossed and his hands folded on his thighs. He looked at her, a mere whisper of a grin lifting the corner of his mouth.
“Yeah…”
“Why are you so quiet since you got in this morning? It’s now nighttime. The kids are with Donna and Lawrence for the evening. Mama has already left and won’t be back for at least a couple of hours. We have the house to ourselves. We should be talking.”
“Not everything needs to be talked about.” He shrugged.
“That’s not an acceptable answer!”
“Xenia, we’ve been married long enough for you to know these things. Women want to talk about everything, men don’t. I just want to sit here and chill, damn! Is that too much to ask? Please back off.” Frowning, he turned away from her, dismissing her in the rudest of ways.
“But it’s not about male and female communication styles right now, Saint. This is about you bottling up your issues, time and time again. What are you protecting me from, huh?” She threw up her hands. “Your dirty laundry never comes out in the wash! This is about needing my husband to be okay, and if he is not, for him to at least have the courtesy to tell me why.”
“Xenia … I’m fine.” He didn’t even look at her.
“This is just an ongoing theme for us right now.” On a heavy sigh, he kept his eyes glued to the television, his brow raised.
“What theme?”
“You coming home, getting in the bed or going into your office and shutting out the world.”
“Xenia, damn.” He pumped his fist against his side in frustration. “I’m tired, baby. I took off work today because I need to just rest.”
“You’re only tired after doing healings or fighting…” He simply glared at her. “It wasn’t no damn lawyer visit, or at least, it didn’t turn out as you had expected. You haven’t said much since you got home from seeing that attorney. Was it the meeting itself? Did it go badly?”
“Nah.” He grimaced and shook his head. “It went fine.”
“Why didn’t you kiss me good morning as you always do? You’re acting strange. I’ve already told you that I know the truth and yet, you’re still trying to pull one over.” She closed the book and stood to her feet. Marching up to the bed, she thrust her finger in his face. “Don’t fuck with me, Saint!”
The man grabbed her hand so fast and swift, it was as if he’d turned into a human bolt of lightning. She grimaced from the way he squeezed her, though she could see he didn’t mean to cause her pain. Loosening his grip, he shot to his feet, towering over her, and looked down on her with a mean, sinister scowl across his face.
“You wanna know what the fuck is going on?” He clamped his lips closed, but she could see him working his tongue along the side of his jaw.
“Yes!”
“My job is to protect you, and ain’t shit you can do about that, Xenia. Yes, I met with a lawyer. No, things didn’t go as expected. I ended up running into a demon, the worst fuckin’ one yet, and almost died! It crawled inside my head and I saw shit it had done and wished to do, so horrible it would make you want to slit your own goddamn throat! I saw shit that made my stomach so sick, I had to pull over three fuckin’ times on the way back home and throw my guts up! I saw shit that if you tried to look it up online, the FBI would be at your house so mothafuckin’ fast, it would make your head spin! I AIN’T GONNA EVER BE THE SAME. I’M FUCKED! When I close my eyes, I see it! When I wake up, I see it again! I’m spiritually exhausted. I need energy; I need to build myself back up, but I refuse to drag you down with me! Please. Leave. Me. Alone! Why do we both have to fuckin’ suffer?!”
“’Cause I’m your wife and when you suffer, I do too!” she screamed, tears tracing her cheeks. “So you may as well open up to me, completely.” She gripped his chin. “Saint, tell me what happened to you last night! I need to know!”
“Oh, do you?” He sneered, his lower lip trembling. “Babies! Sex trade! Pain!” His eyes sheened with rage and tears. “It was the demon of lust, and he turned me inside out! He used the good parts of sex and perverted them. He made all the love I have for you seem wrong, but worst of all, he made me see things … feel things … twisted me up!”
Xenia grabbed the man by his shoulders, forcing him to look at her.
“Let me help you, baby!” She dragged her hands through his hair. “I know you are hurting. Your energy is low… Just take me… take me!” She stepped back from him and tugged at her snow-white robe so it fell down and puddled around her ankles.
He picked up the tissue box on the nightstand and flung it across the room, then turned and glared at her, damn near salivating as she shimmied out of her gown.
Crouching on the bed, ass up, she eyed him from over her shoulder as she pressed her stomach into the silky teal and black sheets. Knees spread, she reached under her stomach and stretched open her lower lips for his viewing pleasure, then urged him to come hither with an inviting smile.
“I don’t want to fuck you pretty… I want to brand my name inside of you.”
“Do it … and seal it with a kiss.” She rubbed her fingers all over her pussy, giving him an eyeful.
“Once we start, Xenia, I won’t be able to stop until I’m satisfied, all the way from E to F, full to the motherfuckin’ brim … no breaks. That could take all night, maybe longer. This is your final chance.” He clasped his hands together. “You can just let me get back in the bed. It would take much longer, not be nearly as healing, but it would be better than nothing.”
“Try me…”
“There’s no trying, only doing. Are you sure you want to open this Pandora’s box? Because if you let me get some of that vitamin P, you are going to need some time off work once I’m finished with you, and that’s a promise…”
“Take my energy, baby … take me.” He stood behind her, his chest rising and falling as the sounds of traffic horns crawled in from the outside world. Snatching his pajamas down his legs, he exposed a rock-hard erection, his cock heaving and ready, his balls tight.
“This isn’t good enough.”
She sat up and ran her fingertips across her collarbone. “What’s not good enough? What do you need me to do, Saint?”
He motioned towards the electronic panel behind them. “I need your ass in the red room. Now…”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Pam sat across from Gasper in a nice soul food restaurant she’d heard about called, ‘Amy Ruth’s.’ They were in Harlem, and she couldn’t recall the last time she’d been to the borough. She looked around the place, pleased with the sights and sounds, and definitely with the delightful aromas of savory fares.
“Saint told me what type of food you like.” The man’s smile was
so wide, she knew he wanted a little pat on the head for approval. Gaspar held up his menu, his blue eyes—showing just above the thing—pleading with her for some sort of endorsement. “I hope you’re okay with this choice.”
“Yes, I like soul food.” She nodded at the man and shoved her bosom into the table’s edge. She wanted to flop her jugs on the table and let them rest, but also wanted to come across as classy so she thought better of it.
“Good … very happy about that.”
“But Saint also wrote in his books to not take Black women to restaurants like this unless we ask. It’s like you’re trying to typecast me. Not all Black people like greens and fried chicken, you know.” She grimaced at the man as she snatched her menu up, feigning irritation. Through the speakers, LaBelle crooned “Lady Marmalade.”
“Oh no … I didn’t mean…” He waved his hands about. “I mean, I didn’t think you’d mind. I guess, I thought this is what you wanted. Oh goodness, I’ve made a mistake, haven’t I? So sorry.”
The poor guy looked downright distraught, as if he were going to fall apart and melt right then and there in his chair.
“I’m just kiddin’ you, Gaspar!” She guffawed, causing him to sigh with relief. “I love soul food and I’ve been itching to get over here for a while now. I just thought I’d pull your leg since we’d gotten off on such a shaky start when we first met, but I see my sense of humor tonight didn’t go off too well. Didn’t mean to come across so serious. I was just playing with you.”
“That’s okay.” The man smiled shyly. “You like to joke. That’s good.”
