“Remiel?” Rooster asked, surprised by the unexpected turn of events. “You two are working together? How is that exactly?”
“He had become suspicious of Gabriel’s intentions as of late and quite certain the seraphic court had become compromised, shall we say.”
“And he allied himself with you?”
“Indeed.”
“Ah, why?”
“Politics create strange bedfellows, Eóin. I merely presented a partnership of convenience. Someone outside the walls of Heaven with a vested interest in maintaining the status quo.”
“Okay, fine” I muttered, “Gabriel’s a dick. Remiel used to be a dick but might actually be a good dude. And Lew’s one hell of a shady bastard.”
Fixated on Lucifer, I said, “How do we put a stop to this bullshit?”
“With grace and artistry. Gabriel is playing chess. To defeat him, you must remove the most powerful piece from the board.”
“This isn’t a game,” Erin indignantly grumbled.
“Why yes, poppet, it most certainly is. We could play another game if you like. Just the two of us. Twister, perhaps?”
Restraining Doc from kneeing Lew in the ballsac, I said, “Before catching a grenade in the chest, Remiel said something about a vessel. Said it was the key to unlocking the gates of Tartarus. For some reason he thought I knew where it was. Told me to keep it hidden. Is that the piece you’re talking about?”
“Top marks, Dean,” Lew replied, with a content smirk. “But he wasn’t speaking of a vessel. He was speaking of the Vessel.”
Connecting the dots, Erin said, “As in the Ark of the Covenant?”
Shooting her a ‘how the hell do you know that’ look, she simply shrugged her shoulders and said, “What? I went to Catholic school.”
“The Ark,” Rooster muttered, under his breath somewhat rhetorically, “Of course.”
“And without it, Gabriel cannot open Tartarus and release the Watchers. An unforeseen glitch in his calculations.”
“But isn’t the Ark in the possession of the seraphic court? Everybody knows they snagged it from the Templars centuries ago and locked it away somewhere in the vaults of Tenth Heaven.”
“They did. Or so they thought.”
“Wait, what? Please tell me you didn’t steal the Ark of the freaking Covenant?”
“I didn’t steal the Ark of the Covenant.”
“Son of a bitch. You totally stole the Ark of the freaking Covenant. You asshole.”
“Of course, I did, Eóin. Absolute power such as that — in the hands of human beings no less? I think not. Terribly, terribly bad for business.”
“How did you do it?”
“After witnessing the destruction of Jericho, I paid a visit to the Philistine encampment and replaced the actual Ark with a strikingly authentic forgery of my own making. It was quite elegant. And quite harmless.”
“And then?” Erin asked.
Winking at her, he replied, “And then, poppet, I hid it away from the world. That is, of course, after spending a rather memorable evening with an absolutely charming Canaanite priestess. Very limber, as I recall.”
“You really are a piece of frigg’n work.”
“Why, thank you, Dean.”
“Wasn’t a compliment, dickhead.”
“But it was.”
“Whatever.”
“So,” Rooster chimed back in, “If the seraphic court is looking for it, they must realize that the one they have is a fake.”
“Indeed,” Lew replied. “And from what I understand, they’re turning over Heaven and Earth to locate the genuine article.”
“But, if you stole it — then it’s beyond Gabriel’s reach. Isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid the tale is a bit more complicated, son.”
“Shocker,” Erin grumbled. “Here we go.”
Ignoring her snide commentary, Lew said, “To truly put an end to Gabriel’s treachery, the Ark must be destroyed.”
“Okay. Then destroy it,” Rooster said.
“Sadly, I cannot. Although constructed by humans, the Ark embodies the hand of God himself.” Fixing his smug stare on me, he added, “And therefore can only be unmade by the hand of God. Or those touched by it, as it were.”
“Fine,” I grunted. “I’ll nuke the frigg’n thing. Where is it?”
“Ah, and there’s the final rub.”
“Rub. What frigg’n rub?”
“With great disdain, I must confess that it’s no longer under my purview.”
“Freaking seriously?” Rooster scoffed. “What happened?”
Clearing his throat, Lucifer replied, “She has it.”
“She?”
“Yes, Eóin. She.”
“She — she? No way.”
“Unfortunately, yes way.”
“Well, shit. That really blows.”
“Who the hell are you two talking about?” I asked.
“My mother,” Rooster replied, as his eyes flashed a blazing red. “We’re talking about my mother.”
“And that’s bad?”
“It ain’t good.” Turning to Lew, he said, “Please tell me you didn’t lose it in the divorce.”
“I didn’t lose it in the divorce.”
“Son of a bitch. You totally lost it in the divorce. You asshole.”
“I had no choice, Eóin. Your mother was quite adamant. Either I hand over the Ark or bequeath her my rightful claim to the entire kingdom of Hell. The entire kingdom, mind you. There was no middle ground to be struck. You know how unreasonable she can be. And her lawyers — the infernal law office of Stern and Pelchovitz — vicious, unrelenting harbingers of acrimonious legalities and ecclesiastical jurisprudence. Wickedly brilliant those two. I never stood a chance.”
“And what makes you think she’s going to give it to me?”
“Come now, son. You were always her favorite. Do you not remember how she used to dress you up like a delightful little—”
“Yep, got it,” Rooster muttered, raising his hand. “I’ll figure something out.”
Making the mental note that I’d really like to know what Rooster’s mom used to dress him up as, I grumbled, “So you’re saying to find the Ark, we need to pay a visit to your ex-wife because she handed you — the frigg’n Prince of Darkness — your ass in divorce court. Who the hell is she? Ivana Trump?”
“I’m afraid my dear, Lilith makes Ivana Trump look like Hillary Clinton.”
“What does that even mean?” Erin scoffed.
“That’s totally nonsensical, Lew.”
“Be that as it may, your path is clear, Dean. To put an end to this madness, you must locate the Ark and bathe it in Judgment fire before it falls into the hands of the seraphic court. A more than trivial task for a creature of your combative prowess and particular skill set.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Piece of cake.”
“Very well, it’s sorted. Now, off you go. Make haste. Time is not an ally in these matters as you are well aware. If the archangels retrieve it before you, all is lost. If you’ll excuse me, children, I must now bid you good day. I have work to do. Souls to torment — deals to strike. Much to do. Much to do, indeed.”
“Where can I find her?” Rooster coldly asked.
“Manhattan is her usual haunt this time of year,” Lucifer replied, as he hopped down from his pedestal desk, straightened his gaudy red blazer and hailed a nearby airport golf cart making its way through the terminal.
As droves of disgruntled people leapt out of the way upon the approach of the indoor assault vehicle making that obnoxious beeping sound, he added, “Remember, when you find the Vessel — do not open it under any circumstances. Destroy it. Without its power at his disposal, Gabriel will have no remaining course of action.”
“And then what?”
“Checkmate, Master Robinson. You can expose brother Gabriel for the treacherous malcontent that he truly is and clear your good name in the process. Then — we can all go on about our proper cou
rse of business, yes?”
Issuing us a cliche’d two finger salute, Lew then hopped into the driver’s seat and sped off while playfully tossing mini-bottles of booze and bags of airplane snackage into the surrounding hordes of strung out travelers.
“Eat, drink, and be merry, my pets!” He yelled as people dropped whatever they were doing and frantically scampered to retrieve them. And much to his delight, the somewhat civilized crowd instantly devolved into a frenzied mob of bloody fisticuffs.
“What a dick,” Erin grumbled.
“Trust me,” Rooster confirmed. “You have no idea.”
“We’ll deal with him later,” I said. “First things first. Where can we find mommy dearest?”
“Corner of Fifth Avenue and East 89th Street.”
“A street corner in New York City?”
“Yeppers.”
“Ah, is she like a hooker or something?” I asked, which earned me a swat to the back of the head from Erin.
“No. But she will be naked.”
“Oh, good. And I thought this was going to be awkward.”
Chapter 16
“Alright,” I grumbled as we left the pandemonium of Gate 13 behind and began to maneuver through the bowels of the fallout zone-like terminal. “Before we get too far down this road, I assume you took precautions to make sure you and Doc aren’t being tracked.”
“Please,” Rooster scoffed, checking the time on his peculiar antique pocket watch. “Is this amateur hour? My first rodeo? Erin and I are warded with some of my best ‘off the books’ Rooster tech. Not even the all seeing gaze of Skyphos can see us.”
“Off the books Rooster tech, eh?”
“I wasn’t always the fine, upstanding cleric you see standing before you. There were more than a few dark years back in the day.”
“Right. And this gadgetry of yours — it works?”
“Ah, yeah. Of course it freaking works. You see any archangels lurking about in smite mode? See any bounty hunters skulking in the shadows? No. No, you don’t. We’re as good as ghosts. Question is, how the hell are you staying off the radar? I can sense something on you. Something old. As in ‘Old Testament’ old.”
“Whatever it is, it’s hanging around his neck,” Erin said, rather matter-of-factly.
“How did you know that?” I asked, a bit taken aback.
“I can feel its power,” she replied. “Actually, it’s more like I can feel the power of its creator — he was a Dominion class angel.”
“That’s right,” I muttered. “His name was Armaros.”
“Wait, what?” Rooster chirped. “How did you get your hands on the Talisman of Armaros? It was supposedly destroyed when the seraphic court put the kibosh on his sorry ass back in the eighties. He had some Hugh Hefner wannabe thing going on in Montreal from what I heard. Horny bastard. Liked speedos a little too much. Unnatural.”
“MacCawill had it,” I replied, trying to instantly forget about that speedo comment. “It was stashed at his trailer park.”
“MacCawill,” Rooster scoffed. “That shady son of a bitch. Can’t believe—”
“So that explains what you were doing in Tennessee,” Erin said, thankfully diffusing the impending Rooster rant before it went thermonuclear.
“But it doesn’t explain how you found me there,” I replied. “And it sure as shit begs the question of how you found me here.”
“Don’t look at me,” Rooster grumbled, nodding at Erin.
“Doc?”
“I already told you,” she said wearing a smug grin. “It’s my job to keep you out of trouble. And as trouble seems to know where to find you — I just have to follow the trail.”
“Awesome,” I muttered. “That’s not cryptic at all. Glad we sorted that out. What about the rest of the team? They good?”
“Yeppers. Everyone’s holed up at Coop’s farm in Oklahoma. They’ll be safe there until it’s go time — or Stoner loses his shit from being stuck in close quarters with three other guys on high protein diets … and Duncan. Actually, we shouldn’t leave them there for much longer now that I think about it.”
“How about Abernethy? Does he know you’re with me?”
“Yes. Yes, he does.”
“And he’s good with it?”
“He’s good. Grouchy as hell, but good. He’s toeing the party line with the seraphic court until we get the proof we need to move on the traitor. Until then, we’re on our own. Oh, and he wanted me to tell you that he ‘bloody well hopes you know what yer doing and to keep yer wee heid out of yer arse.’ Something to that effect anyway. I might have paraphrased a bit.”
“What about Skyphos? Can we count on her to help?”
“No. But on the bright side, she sort of agreed to not actively hunt us.”
“Sort of agreed? Is that good?”
“Could be worse.”
“Could definitely be worse,” Erin drolly commented. “At least we’re not basing our entire plan on advice from freaking Satan — literally. Oh, wait — Yes we are. Never mind.”
“And there’s that,” Rooster added.
“Look, I don’t like it any more than you do. And just so we’re clear, despite Lew and his celestial gossip column bullshit, I’m still not convinced that Gabriel’s the traitor.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here.”
“But, that jackass makes a good point. If the Ark is truly the key to opening Tartarus, which seems to be the general consensus — we need to frigg’n find it. And we need to frigg’n find it before the archangels, Lucifer, or anyone else. It’s our only move.”
“Seems that way,” Rooster muttered, “And the clock keeps ticking. We’re about out of options.”
“Well, it’s definitely better than Dean’s plan to go to Tenth Heaven by himself and take on the barkangel,” Erin offered. “Which, for the record, was really freaking stupid.”
“Thanks, Doc. Really appreciate that.”
“This plan, however, is only mostly stupid with a twist of insanity.”
“Exactly. Which is precisely why it’s going to work. Rooster?”
“What the hell,” he replied, pulling to a casual halt outside a locked janitors closet in an unusually quiet spot amidst the surrounding back-drop of airport calamity. “I haven’t done anything stupid in the past few hours — ish.”
“Alright, then let’s go see your naked mom.”
And that sounded so much better in my head.
“Yeah, about that, there’s a few things you should know before we go and casually ask my mother to just hand over her most prized possession — so we can turn around and blow it up.”
Rather delicately, Erin asked, “Who exactly is she, John?”
“Her name is Lilith.”
“She’s a nepher?” I asked.
“No. No she’s not.”
“Angel?”
“Ah, no.”
“Demon?”
“No.”
“Giant mutated alien ecoterrorist?”
“Really?”
“Sorry, got carried away on that last one.”
“She’s human,” Doc said, like I was a total dumbass. “Lucifer is an angel and John’s nephilim which means that his mother has to be human.”
“Right,” I grumbled. “That was my next guess.”
“The real question,” Doc continued, “Is how old she is.”
“She’s, ah, pretty old,” Rooster replied, sheepishly.
“Like how old?” I asked, making the mental note that she may not have any right being naked on a street corner after all.
“Like — beginning of time old.”
“Beginning of time? Like Adam and Eve?”
“Sort of. Anyone up for some apocryphal biblical history?”
“If we say no, will that stop you?”
Ignoring me, he said, “So despite what mainstream religion would have you believe, Eve was not the first woman created by God. The first woman was my mother. Lilith.”
“Chickenman s
ay what?”
“It’s true. And if you actually read the Bible, it’s all there in black and white. Hidden in plain sight.”
“Bullshit.” Turning to Doc, I said, “Okay, catholic school, you buying this?”
Contemplating it for a quick second, she replied, “The Genesis 1:27 versus Genesis 2:22 debate. That’s for real?”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“For the less cerebral of the group, Dean,” Rooster said, transitioning to bloviation mode, “It means that in Genesis 1:27, the Bible states that God created mankind in his own image — both male and female.”
“Everybody knows that. Even me.”
“Yet,” he continued, “a few verses later, in Genesis 2:22, it states that God created woman from the rib of man.”
“So?”
“So, if you follow the logic, the Bible is telling us that before Eve was created from the rib of Adam, God had already created a woman to be Adam’s wife. A woman, mind you, created from the very same dust that spawned Adam. His equal.”
“Lilith?” Erin asked.
“Yeppers,” Rooster affirmed.
“So why is she not mentioned in the Bible?”
“Basically because she wasn’t down with the whole ‘women are supposed to be submissive’ thing. Adam was created from dirt, she was created from dirt — they were equals. Subsequently, she raised the woman’s lib flag, told Adam to suck it, and ditched his ass for bigger and better things.”
“And then what?”
“Then, she kind of went bat shit crazy and shacked up with Lucifer for the next few millennia. They got married, did the honeymoon thing, and then proceeded to crank out a legion or two of satan spawn heavenly half-breed nephers.”
“Lidercs.”
“Yeppers. The very first of the nephilim.”
“Goddamn,” I grumbled. “That creation story sucks.”
“Like really sucks,” Doc added.
“Yes. Yes, it does. Fast forwarding a bit, God opted for a divine take two. Enter Eve. Not exactly a fairy tale ending there either but much less with the trailer park drama. And evidently, Adam and Eve seemed to have a better ring to it than Adam and Lil. So, there you go.”
Wrath of the Fallen: The Guild of Deacons, Book 2 Page 14
