“Double drat,” she pouted. “You disappoint, Eóin. Such a terrible tease.”
“Gross,” Erin muttered.
“Ugh,” I added.
“Okay, we’re so starting this conversation over,” Rooster grumbled in exasperation. “Mother, this is Dean Robinson and—”
“Erin Anne Kelly,” Lilith said, intently gazing at Doc like she was looking straight into her soul.
“You know me?” Erin asked, completely taken aback.
“Fearless determination wrapped in untamed beauty,” the beguiling femme playfully replied as a silken, shoulder-cut dress of pure white gracefully manifested over her pale body. “Your very existence gives me credence.”
When Doc offered nothing in response but an icy stare, Lilith said, “More to the point, child, I know what you’re meant to do.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You walk in the shadow of a certainty destiny, or so you’ve been told. Am I right?”
“My purpose. You know what it is.”
“I do,” Lilith replied, keenly studying Erin like a fortune teller in the moment. “But you do not. Not yet.”
“Mariel told me—”
“What you needed to hear. Nothing more. And much, much less. For that’s what angels do. Incessant race of meddlesome, pompous dissidents. Gag me.”
“Okay,” Erin frustratingly muttered, “You totally lost me there.”
“Worry not, child,” she somberly replied, placing a hand on Doc’s forehead in an obscure motherly fashion almost like she felt compassion for her. “Your will is strong. Stronger than that of any angel and certainly that of any man. You will soon understand all that you must. And then — you will do what you must. That is why you were chosen.”
Instantly switching back to bat shit crazy mode, a deviously wide smile curled across Lilith’s flawless face and she said, “Yay! You’ve so much to look forward to. How exciting!”
“Ah, what the hell was that about?” I grunted.
Shifting her acute stare to me, her smile morphed into a flirtatious grin as her pristine blue eyes danced with an intoxicating fiery madness.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased, tapping a finger on my nose. “But you can’t. I’m not telling.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because, lover, such a precious secret is not for me to tell. My lips are sealed, Dean Robinson, Seventh Deacon of the Seventh Line. Unless, of course, you would like to un-seal them?”
“About that,” I muttered, making the mental note that Lucifer’s ex was definitely a couple twists short of a slinky. “Gonna pass, Lil. You, ah, don’t mind if I call you Lil, do you?”
“You may call me whatever you wish,” she bewitchingly quipped, circling me like a praying mantis while running her hands through her lavish ginger mane.
Momentarily mesmerized by her overbearing, unnatural wiles, I found myself strangely at a loss for words.
“I know about you, Dean Robinson,” she continued, holding me hostage with her vexing gaze.
“Ah, you do?”
“Such terrible trouble you’ve caused for the seraphic court,” she said, playfully scolding. “So wonderfully naughty.”
“Look, Lil, I don’t know what you think you know, but—”
“Oh shush, lovie. It’s deliciously naughty. I haven’t seen the Heavens worked into this much of a tizzy for millennia. You and that interminable do-gooder, Stephen, have caused quite the fuss with your mutiny.”
“Mutiny?” I grunted. “That’s total bullshit. We’re not traitors. We’re trying to stop the frigg’n—”
“Oh, simmer down, Captain,” she replied, like I was a total buzzkill. “Do you not think me wise enough to see what’s unfolding? I’m well aware of where your loyalties lie.”
“Wait, you do?”
“Of course, silly boy. More pressing, however, I must admit that I’m simply tickled you finally got around to paying me a visit. I understand you’re quite popular these days.”
“Come again?”
“Don’t be shy, Dean. I’m in possession of what you need,” she said, smacking her lips. “Aren’t I?”
“Ah, what?” I grumbled, completely caught off guard by what I really hoped wasn’t a double entendre from Rooster’s mom.
But I was pretty sure it was.
Beyond awkward.
“You know why we’re here,” Erin boldly said, thankfully placing herself between me and the physical embodiment of original sin.
“I do, child,” Lilith replied, winking at her. “I’ve been expecting you. All of you.”
“Wait, what?” Rooster chimed in. “You know? You know we’re here to talk you into giving us the Vessel?”
“Why else would you be here, dearest? To pay homage to your beloved mother who pines for you, moment by painful passing moment, throughout countless centuries?”
“Ah, maybe?”
“Sadly, I think not, Eóin.”
“Ouch,” I muttered.
“Guilt trip much?” Doc added.
“Okay,” Rooster cringed, “I may have deserved that. Missed a few Mother’s Days over the years.”
“No matter, dearest,” Lilith replied, stroking Rooster’s cheek, “You’ll always be my absolute fabbest fave — despite your prodigal nature. Your brothers, much to my dismay, are all their father’s sons. But you — you have always been mommy’s little boy.”
“Well,” I muttered, making the mental note to reuse the living shit out of ‘fabbest fave’ in every future conversation I ever have with Rooster, “This was fun. A really special, and incredibly strange, Griswold family moment. And now that it’s frigg’n over — can we start talking about the part where you give us the Ark? Please tell me it’s not somewhere in that picture with the frigg’n snake. I hate snakes.”
“Give you the Vessel?” Lil scoffed amongst a sultry laugh, “You misunderstand me, lovie. I have no intentions of giving you anything. Unless, of course, we’ve transitioned from business to pleasure. In which case, I’d be happy to—”
“No, no, no,” Rooster blurted out. “We’re still proceeding with the business end of things here. Actually, not the business end. That came out wrong. What I meant was—”
“You want to make a deal,” Erin said, fixated on Lilith and thankfully shutting Rooster up.
“Something for something,” she replied, “Anything less, my dears, would be charity. And there’s no enterprise in charity. Is there, darlings? No, I think not.”
“Time for you to appeal to her good nature, fabbest fave,” I grumbled at Rooster who responded with a quick flip of his middle finger.
“What are your terms, mother?”
“Eóin, shame on you, dearest,” she chided. “Please tell me you didn’t come to ask for that which is mine without compensation in hand?”
“Ah, I totally didn’t come to ask for that which is yours without compensation in hand.”
“For Christ’s sake,” I muttered, having had enough of this crap. “He totally did. And we don’t have time for this bullshit. What do you want, Lil? Money? Subscription to the frigg’n jelly of the month club? A nice two bedroom condo painted into your portrait? What?”
“Your negotiating skills seriously blow,” Erin grumbled.
“Interesting,” Lilith said with a truly wicked grin, “Am I to understand you are willingly entering into negotiations with me, Dean Robinson?”
“You’re goddamn right I am.”
“No. No, he’s not.” Rooster interjected. “I am.”
“No, you’re not,” I grunted. “I am.”
“You don’t understand—”
“Will you shut the hell up already?” I barked, glaring at him. “I know what I’m doing.”
Reaching into her sultry gown, Lilith casually produced a small dagger etched with some curious Enochian scripting, which was somehow unnaturally concealed in her voluptuous bodice. Holding out her right hand, she then proceeded to open a sizable ga
sh on her palm.
“Give me your hand,” she ordered, as her eyes lit up and started a slow transition from pristine blue to fiery red.
Offering my right hand in response, she ran the dagger across my palm and tightly gripped it in her own.
“Dean Robinson,” she said, squeezing with otherworldly force as her eyes glowed a harrowing blazing red and a spectral silhouette of arcane energy framed her body. “My terms are simple. As blood is given and blood is received, so shall be the nature of our binding pact. I solemnly swear to furnish you with that which you desire. And, in turn, you shall do the same for me. Something — for something. Should either party renege on this arrangement, their very soul do they forfeit to the other. Do we have an accord?”
As blood literally gushed from our locked palms and trickled onto the surrounding floor, I locked gazes with her and replied, “Fucking A. I’m in.”
Releasing her death grip, her eyes flashed back to normal as she callously wiped her bloody mitt across the torso of her immaculate white dress.
“Very well,” she said as her mouth curled into a triumphant grin. “Now that the formalities are concluded, shall we discuss payment?”
And there was just something about the way she said it that made me instantly realize that I’d just made a mistake.
A really frigg’n big one.
Damn the bad luck.
Chapter 18
“Ah, mother,” Rooster said, like a real momma’s boy.
“Yes, dearest?” Lilith replied, with the gaiety of an apex predator that just swallowed her prey whole.
“You mind if I have a moment with Dean and Erin? Just need a minute. Quick chat. Guy stuff. I mean, guy stuff and Erin stuff.”
“But of course,” she purred. “Go right ahead.”
Pulling us aside, Rooster mockingly said, “Fucking A. I’m in? Really?”
“Seriously, Dean,” Doc added, “What the hell were you thinking?”
“What?”
“Well, firstly,” Rooster scoffed, “Who says shit like that outside of B movie actors? And, secondly — do you have any freaking idea what you’ve just done?”
“I got us the frigg’n Ark. Plain and simple.”
“At what cost?” Erin asked.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Doc. Did I miss something? Or, was it not pretty fucking crystal clear that Rooster’s whack job of a mom, no offense, wasn’t going to simply give it to us with a goddamn bow on top.”
Shaking his head, Rooster replied, “You should have let me make the deal.”
“Not a chance. I don’t need that on my conscience.”
“You don’t get it. This is echelons above your pay grade. You ever negotiate with a supernatural being that’s as old as time itself? No? Oh, I didn’t freaking think so. My mother is literally a force of nature. You have no idea what she’s capable of.”
“Well, I guess we’re about to find out,” Erin said, coldly.
“Yes we are,” I tossed in, “Unless there’s any more guy stuff to talk about.”
“You might not have any guy stuff left when she’s done with you,” Rooster muttered, under his breath.
Hoping like hell that wasn’t the case, I grumbled, “We good here?”
“Look,” he said, with the utmost of sincerity, “Whatever you do, be very literal in your terms. Okay? Like very specific. If you do anything less — she’ll eat you alive. Don’t assume anything.”
“Literal. Got it.”
“Very specific.”
“Yep.”
“Like making a wish to a genie in a bottle.”
“Will you frigg’n stop already?”
“Are you darlings finished with your little confab?” Lil interjected, still smiling like she won the damn lottery.
“All set,” I grumbled. “Let’s do this.”
“Yay!” She replied. “Let’s!”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Erin said, clearly not happy with the way this was playing out.
“Relax, Doc. I got this.”
“So, lovie” Lil said, with a distinct air of legality, “What is it that you desire from me?”
“You know what I want,” I confidently replied. “The Ark of the Covenant. Also known as the Vessel.”
“You want the Ark of the Covenant,” Lilith confirmed.
Watching Rooster cringe, I added, “Ah, more specifically, I want the Ark of the Covenant, formerly in the possession of Lucifer, that you may or may not have procured with extreme prejudice during the most unfortunate marital warfare campaign you waged against your dirtbag, fallen angel ex-hubby.”
“Very well,” she nodded. “I agree to your terms of wanting the Vessel as you have so described.”
“You do?”
“I do,” she said, matter-of-factly. “And in return, you will agree to perform a single favor for me. A favor whose nature will be disclosed at the time of its necessity.”
“A favor.”
“A teeny, tiny — favor.”
“What kind of favor?”
“That is for me to decide. When I decide it.”
“And I can’t refuse this favor, whenever the hell you ask for it.”
“Of course you can, lovie. But, let me remind you that in accordance with the terms of our pact — you’ll have to willingly forfeit your soul in recompense.”
“Always good to have options,” I muttered, instantly feeling sympathy for the Devil for actually being married to this crazy bitch.
And for the record, that was totally a Rolling Stones reference.
“So, do we have an accord, Dean Robinson?”
“Yep,” I reluctantly muttered. “We have an accord.”
“Yay!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands together and twirling around like a child on Christmas morning.
Doing this for a really long few seconds, as we all stood there and awkwardly watched, she finally stopped and gave Rooster another full body hug.
“It was just wonderful to see you, Eóin. Please do visit again, dearest.”
Spinning toward me and Doc, she added, “The very best of luck to you, darlings. And, Dean, I’ll be in touch sooner than not. Toodles!”
As she began to elegantly waltz toward her portrait, I said, “Aren’t you forgetting something? What about the frigg’n Ark?”
“What about it?”
“You just agreed to give it to me.”
Stopping in mid-stride, turning around she said, “I did no such thing, lovie. We agreed that you wanted the Ark of the Covenant. Do you not still want it?”
“Of course I goddamn want it.”
“You see? My end of the bargain is upheld. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“Oh, hells no,” I grunted, having had more than enough of this bullshit.
Glancing at Rooster, I shrugged my shoulders and said, “Sorry about this, buddy.”
“Wait, what? No, no, no—” He protested to no avail as I willed the cloak into being and it elegantly manifested in a spectral flash of white luminescence. Billowing about my shoulders, its otherworldly power coursed through my body like an electric current as my lips curled into a dark smile. Feeling the mental switch flip to the on position, I called for the shotgun and instantly felt the presence of the leather, scabbard-like holster on my back.
“Hey, Lil,” I grunted, ripping the semi-divine 1887 Winchester free, and training the muzzle on her bodacious tatas, “We just entered hostile negotiations.”
“My, my,” she purred, rolling her head back on her shoulders and creepily soaking in the arcane power emanating from the cloak. “Is it just me — or did it suddenly get hot in here?”
“Cut the shit, crazypants. In less than seven frigg’n hours, the goddamn barkangel and his demented main minion, Azazel, are going to rain down an unholy fucking shit storm on mankind.”
“What, pray tell, is a barkangel?”
“The bad archangel,” both Rooster and Erin unenthusiastically mumbled in unison.
“Be tha
t as it may,” Lil continued without further commentary on my moniker for the Heavenly traitor, “I don’t see what any of that has to do with little old moi. And besides, lovie, a little rebellion now and then is a good thing. Trust me.”
“And now you’re quoting Thomas Jefferson,” I muttered taking a bold step toward the wicked whack job witch of the oil painting.
“To be fair, I believe he was quoting me.”
“Whatever, Lil. It’s like this — We need the Ark to stop the barkangel. You have the frigg’n Ark. And despite your bullshit cutesy pie play on words, you and I just made a deal for it. A deal you’re gonna deliver on. Right frigg’n now.”
“Or what, Dean Robinson? What will you do?”
Focusing my will for a quick second, I cocked the shotgun lever and grinned as the muzzle glowed with Judgment fire and the cloak rippled like a caged animal in a brazen show of force.
“You make a compelling argument,” Lilith jested, oddly enjoying the moment as her eyes glowed a harrowing, fiery red. “But I remain unwilling to alter the terms of our arrangement. A deal is a deal.”
“Please, mother,” Rooster pleaded. “Be reasonable.”
“Reasonable,” she daintily giggled. “Why should I do such a thing, dearest?”
“Because if you choose not to help us,” Erin said with the utmost of sincerity, “You’ll be helping the seraphic court by default.”
“It’s that frigg’n simple, Lil,” I added. “Us or them. Which side are you on?”
“Neither,” she replied, as her eyes flashed back to their normal intoxicating blue. “But, call me curious, what are your intentions for the Vessel should it come into your possession?”
“To turn it into a pile of splinters. So the gates of Tartarus can never be opened.”
“And you promise to do so?”
“Come again?” I asked, completely caught off guard by her response.
“Do you promise to destroy that wretched trinket should I provide its whereabouts?”
Sheathing the shot gun, I said, “Hell yes, I promise!”
“Very well,” she surprisingly acquiesced. “I may be inclined to help you after all. For some deluded reason, Lucifer cherished that miserable object above all else—including me. I simply reveled in ripping it from his grasp. My intentions were to reduce it to ash myself, but I’ve found Father’s Earth bound treasure chest annoyingly impervious to my power — or any other power for that matter. But perhaps that of a Deacon, the very Wrath incarnate, would do the trick and finally rid me of that haunting reminder of him. What a delicious thought!”
Wrath of the Fallen: The Guild of Deacons, Book 2 Page 16
