by Mark Harritt
In the process, he met Myra, Rothstein’s cousin. Rothstein was one of the main men in organized crime in New York City. Strangely though, Myra was considered to be the black sheep of the family. The difference was, Arnold Rothstein was a Jewish man, and Myra Rothstein was Jewish woman. She was also a free spirit. She was an actress and a singer. She didn’t want the staid life of a Jewish wife and mother. She was much happier taking part of the wilder side of New York life.
The first time he met her was in a speakeasy in Brooklyn. He didn’t know she was related to Arnold Rothstein, and she didn’t pay any attention to him. She spilt her drink on him, and snarled at him for getting in her way. He was amused by the dark haired beauty, but he had other interests that night.
Rothstein and Lazarus met at an upscale restaurant a few weeks later. The restaurant had a very exclusive clientele. Lazarus saw her walk in, and once again he was struck by her beauty. She walked in on the arm of a Protestant that Rothstein knew, and Arnold was not happy at all. He stood up, walked over to the couple, and said something to the man. The man’s face blanched, and he quickly left Myra with Arnold, saying, “I’m sorry Mr. Rothstein, it won’t happen again.”
After the Protestant left, Arnold talked, and Myra listened. Myra tried to argue with him, but he wasn’t having any of it. The smile she walked in with disappeared, and was replaced with a frown and sullen silence. Rothstein led her over to the table where Lazarus was sitting. Rothstein pointed at a chair and said, “Sit.”
Arnold retook his seat, and introduced her, “Please, let me introduce my cousin, Myra.”
Myra tried to ignore Lazarus, rolling her eyes. Lazarus smiled at her petulance. He spoke, “Sorry, Mr. Rothstein, that won’t be necessary. Your cousin and I have already met.”
She was startled, and Arnold was curious. “And where did you two meet, Mr. Bethany?”
Lazarus smiled at her, “At the Bedford Nest, in Brooklyn. We were partaking in, ah, some libations of a liberating sort, and Myra here decided to not only pour her drink on me, but also to disparage me for being in her way when she did so.”
Myra’s eyes widened, “Hey, I remember you! You knocked the drink out of my hand.”
Lazarus shook his head, “No, I was standing there, and you turned and spilled your drink on my suit.”
Myra poked him in the arm, “No, I don’t think so! It wasn’t like that! I wasn’t the one moving, you were.”
They continued talking. Rothstein was ephemeral at that point, and he could see what was happening. He didn’t care, since Lazarus, or Eli as he knew him, was Jewish, and rich. That alone would keep Myra’s mother, his aunt, happy, and by extension, him also, since he didn’t have to listen to her kvetch about her daughter.
Myra and Lazarus hit it off. Lazarus asked for Rothstein’s permission to escort her home from the restaurant. Myra didn’t like that. When Rothstein left, he got an earful from her. They argued. They argued as they ordered desert. They argued as he paid the tab. They argued as he walked her home. They argued as he walked her to her apartment. They argued as she opened the door. Once he was inside, there was no more arguing until morning. Lazarus fell deeply in love with her.
The wedding was huge, much bigger than Lazarus wanted. He had no choice though, marrying Rothstein’s cousin. Lazarus had the time of his life with Myra. They had an apartment not far from the theater district. He thought of the times when they walked naked through the apartment, listening to Jazz records, learning to play guitar, talking about the New York intellectual writers that were exploring Marxism. She thought they were deep and original thinkers. He thought they were deluded.
A lot of the Cotton Club regulars spent time at their apartment. She became a well-known painter, and patron of the arts. He didn’t even have to contribute money to the relationship. She established a following and was able to sell quite a few of her pieces. He never cared about that, and she didn’t either. It was something to keep her occupied when he wasn’t there. When he was there, they had each other, and that was their entire world.
Now, fifty years later, he thought about her often. He loved everything she did. Later in life, she lived in SoHo. Always the innovator, she moved there in the mid-‘50s, and more artists followed her. She eventually learned the truth, but she didn’t care. As she grew older, he stopped leaving to spend precious time with her. He had responsibilities, but he put them aside to stay with her. Their age drew them apart, at least physically, her mortality and his immortality putting a wedge between them. There was always the understanding, the kindness, the deep love between them, though, even as time drew them apart. Now, when he was in New York, he always paid his respects.
He found the monument, in the shade of an ancient oak tree. He touched it, and his fingertips lingered on the letters of her name. He brushed the few fallen leaves away, and placed the roses on the ground in front of the monument. He sighed. “Ah, Myra, my love, I still miss you girl. Oh, and Sam said hello.”
He stood there for fifteen minutes, updating her on what he had done since the last time he had talked to her. He wished he could take back the years, and feel her breath on his skin, taste her kisses, laugh with her, make love to her. He knew, though, that all things come to an end. Hopefully, one day, they would meet again. He finished by kissing his fingertips, then touching the monument.
Too soon, the world intruded on his reminiscence. As he stood there, a man walked up and stood next to him. He looked over and recognized him, or, more exactly, he recognized the type. Sometimes it was hard to differentiate between them. The Archangel was well dressed, though with little flash, dark suit, dark coat, white shirt, brushed oxford shoes, no jewelry.
The leaves rustled around the man as a small breeze sprung up. The clothes didn’t move with the wind. The features were subtly wrong, though. No human could ever look like that. The man was startling handsome, achingly so. White hair, eyes so blue they looked like glacier ice, and pale, very pale, skin. The light blue tie matched the eyes. The thing that stood out, though, was the flawless complexion of the skin, no dimples, no scars, no pores; also, no smile.
“What’s up, Uriel? Or is it Michael? Hard to tell you guys apart sometime.”
He didn’t get a reply. Lazarus knew who it was. There was a problem, if Uriel was here now. Angels don’t, as a general practice, come down to talk to mortals. That would be problematic. Angels are not known for being especially loquacious. They usually smite something, and then they’re gone again. Lazarus motioned towards the monument with Myra’s name on it.
“You know, it’s usually considered to impolite to bother a man when he is talking to his loved ones, especially when he’s standing at their grave.”
Uriel stood there, watching him. Archangels don’t get sarcasm.
Lazarus spoke, “So, there’s something you need to tell me?”
Uriel nodded. He didn’t say anything though, which was a good thing. When angels speak, multitudes die. Lazarus was pretty sure that the last time an angel said anything, it resulted in the ten plagues that hit Egypt. It was like charades, only without the hand gestures and silly faces. Lazarus had to fill in the blanks, which meant it was going to be a one sided conversation.
Lazarus thought about Lilith and the situation. He ran the scenario through his mind. He picked up on something, “How do you know that an incursion is going to happen, if it’s from outside our universe? Do you have some kind of source? Or is it just the ‘God, omniscient, omnipotent thing?’”
Uriel shook his head.
Lazarus kept pulling at the string, trying to unravel the mystery, “so, if you don’t have a source, and the boss didn’t tell you, then you must have known from something that’s happened in our reality?”
Uriel nodded.
Lazarus knew that these guys had a handle on everything that happened in this reality. They had all of creation to worry about, to make sure things were proceeding according to plan. If they didn’t know about it, it wasn’t happening. Still,
to understand what was happening, if there wasn’t a source outside, then something here had to have tipped them off. Understanding grew as he puzzled it out.
“Something has already happened. Something, or someone from there is already here?”
Uriel shook his head.
Lazarus continued, “Maybe you’re telling me, they aren’t here, but they have some influence here.”
Uriel nodded.
Lazarus thought about the implications. Not only did he have to worry about alien beings establishing a beach head in his reality, he had to worry about Lilith and her group of evil misfits. Now he had worry about a third entity, a stalking horse coming at him from an unknown angle.
Lazarus cursed. His life was beginning to become very complicated. He didn’t like complicated. He preferred it uncomplicated. He preferred, “There are the evil demons and their minions. Kill the evil demons and their minions.” Uncomplicated like that, he could deal with. Hell, he could stumble along on cruise control when things were that uncomplicated.
Uriel put his hand on Lazarus’ shoulder.
“I shouldn’t curse, I know,” Lazarus laughed, “I may be immortal, but I’m only human. You put a lot on my shoulders.”
Uriel reached out for the Crucifix and Star of David that Lazarus wore on a chain around his neck. As he touched it, Lazarus looked down. The hand was gone by the time he looked, and when he looked back up, Uriel was gone. There were two lingering thoughts. The first was, “You have broad shoulders.” The second was, “Protect the innocent.”
A wry smile slipped across Lazarus’ face. Then he frowned, and thought, “This is way above my paygrade. This is archangel smiting the unholy. If they need me to take care of this, what other issues are they dealing with?”
Lazarus was worried. He needed to make a few phone calls.
----------------------------------------------------
They began early the next morning. Sam went to the parking garage and got his Dodge Ram and drove it over the night before. They got up, ate breakfast, and packed anything they hadn’t packed the day before. Sam had his cousin Morgan, a dainty, lovely woman who didn’t look anything like the lumbering hulk her cousin was, to come over and take care of Mooch and to watch the house. She had beautiful, delicate features. The only thing that linked them as cousins was the dark, thick hair they shared.
Sam began going through the list of things that Morgan needed to do while he was gone. Then he gave her a potential date that he would be back. As Sam was talking, Mooch came over and began rubbing on Morgan’s legs, meowing for a snack. Morgan picked him up and cooed over him, but Mooch was his own man. If he wasn’t getting a snack, he wasn’t going to be held. He wriggled until she put him back down.
“Why do I get that from every man I meet?” she asked.
Lazarus stepped up, “Because, evidently, the men you’re dating are idiots.”
Morgan smiled at him, “Well, you might have a point there.” She looked at Sam, “Where’d you get this guy, Sam?”
Sam spoke up, “Eli, that’s my cousin, Morgan. Morgan, this is my friend Eli. Eli and I have done some work together in the past.”
Sam pointed at Lazarus, “He’s off limits to you.”
Morgan put her hand on her hip, “Since when do you have a say in who I do, or who I don’t, go out with?
Sam held his hands up in defense, “All I have to say about that is one word – Donny. Was I right, or was I right.”
Morgan crossed her arms, “Okay, you were right that one time, but that doesn’t mean you get to tell me who I go out with.”
Sam shook his head, “Oh no, don’t get me started. How many times have I had to come get you because the stiff you went out with treated you like garbage? Remember Dimitri?”
Morgan stomped her foot, “Look, you aren’t my father, you aren’t my mother, you aren’t my big brother. You don’t get to tell me anything.”
“No, you’re right. I’m not your father, I’m not your mother, and I’m not your big brother. I’m the guy that, night or day, whenever you call, comes to find you,” He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her in to his chest, and kissed her on top of her head. She cuddled in for the big hug.
He pulled away after a minute, “Now, I’m not going to be in town for a few weeks maybe. If there are any problems, you go to cousin Bobby, okay? He’ll step in and take care of you, or, if there’s a problem with the house, he’ll take care of it for me. I got him on retainer to take care of this stuff, okay?”
Lazarus enjoyed the byplay between the two cousins. He stepped forward, grabbed her hand, and kissed it, gently.
“Oh, wow, and he’s got manners as well.”
Sam shook his head, poked Lazarus, grabbed a duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder. He turned and walked out the front door. Lazarus grabbed his duffle, and followed him. He turned to Morgan, “it was a pleasure meeting you.”
Before Lazarus could make it out the door, Morgan grabbed his shoulder, and pulled him around to talk to him. Morgan spoke, just loud enough for Lazarus to hear, “You better bring him back in one peace, okay? I’ll come lookin’ for you if you don’t.”
He smiled at her, “I promise.” He closed the door behind him so that Mooch wouldn’t get out.
Morgan was no dummy. She knew her cousin very well. Sam would work on the high rises for a while, but then he’d get that far away look in his eye. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate, and he’d start talking about the different places he’d been. Sam loved his life, he loved his family, but sometimes, Brooklyn closed in on him and became too restrictive. Then he would leave and do something else for a while. His family understood that about him. He was a restless soul since the thing with Mikey. They knew that their Don Quixote had to go out and tilt at windmills once in a while. They didn’t ask, they just made sure he had a home to come back to.
Morgan walked over and sat down on the couch. Mooch hopped up on the couch beside her, and looked at her. She looked back. Mooch crawled over, began kneading her leg, then curled up on her lap. He rolled over and exposed his stomach so that she could rub it.
“Yeah, you little faker. I’m gonna miss him as well. Just you and me for the next few weeks, huh?”
Outside, Sam slung his duffle into the bed of the truck. The truck was a crew cab, like most men in the trades drove. It had a camper over the bed of the truck. Lazarus dropped his duffle onto the bed as well. Sam closed the camper cover and locked it. He got behind the wheel of the truck, and unlocked the passenger door. Lazarus climbed in, and Sam fired up the diesel. They began the drive out of New York.
Lazarus was sure that he preferred the prospect of being betrayed by demons to soul eating aliens than face the horrors of NYC rush hour traffic. Luckily, they were headed out of the city, and most commuters were driving in, so things didn’t go as badly as he thought they would. Sam was a pro, knew the city like the back of his hand, and Lazarus settled back to watch life in New York pass by.
----------------------------------------------------
Chapter Five – A Game of Tag in the Poconos
The drive to the Poconos was uneventful. It took longer to get out of New York City than it did to get there. As they drove, Lazarus thought more about the visit from Uriel. Sam noticed that there was something on Lazarus’ mind. He let Lazarus stew for a bit, then asked, “So, what’s eating you?”
“This, all of this,” he replied.
“What, all of this? Isn’t this what you do?”
Lazarus shook his head, “Not like this. This isn’t what I’ve been doing for the last two thousand years.”
Sam shrugged, “I don’t see what the problem is.”
Lazarus crossed his arms, “Really? How can you not? This isn’t normal. They ask us to work with demons. And, from what I was told, we’re using them against something that’s just as evil. That’s my problem. I don’t see the upside to any of this.”
“Maybe it’s the idea of an enemy of my enemy is
my friend.”
Lazarus turned to look at Sam, “Good and evil can never be friends, or even allies. Besides, aren’t you the one that said we should just kill Lilith and be done with it?”
Sam nodded his head, “Yeah, I did. I admit that.”
“So what, now you’re okay with working with Lilith to stop this,” he circled his hand like he was conjuring up magic, “incursion from another reality?”
Sam took his right hand off the wheel, and wagged a finger in the air, “Oh no, I’m not okay with any of this. Not at all. But I do see an upside to the situation.”
Lazarus frowned, “What’s the upside?”
Sam smiled, “First, we’ll know where Lilith is.”
Lazarus nodded, wondering where Sam’s logic was going.
Sam continued, “Second, we know that Lilith is going to try and kill us, yes?”
Lazarus kept quiet and let Sam continue.
“So, we know that she’s probably going to bring a lot of backup. Because, let’s face it, she isn’t going to put her ass on the line when it comes down to it.”
Lazarus nodded.
A big smile splayed across Sam’s face, “Which means that we’ll probably be surrounded, not only by Lilith and her evil minions, but also by the evil beasties that are going to spill across from some unholy dimension. That means, it’s you and me, surrounded by unmitigated evil on all sides,” he glanced at Lazarus, “yes?”
Lazarus had a bemused look on his face, “And this is a good thing, how?”
“Are you kidding me? As far as the eye can see, it’s gonna be targets! Everything is a target. Hell, this is awesome. Can you imagine how much demonic blood we’re probably going to spill? Unmitigated, absolute evil concentrated in one spot, waiting for us to take them out. Talk about a once in a lifetime opportunity.”
