by Borne Wilder
“Reel back you tongue, White Boy, Miss Azazel be royalty an’ you ain’t gone touch her wit you foul dick skinners. Show da thing you brung, Boy.”
Digging into the front pocket of his jeans, he produced a small flat wad of gray duct tape; he held it up, pinched between his finger and thumb.
Azazel chuckled, the most wonderful sound Ron had ever heard. “Did you find the patina of the coin pleasurable to the touch?”
Her voice was more magnificent than her laughter. He shook his head no. “It, uh.” Ron stammered and began to peel away the layers of tape he’d used to protect himself from the unwholesome feeling the coin produced in him. “It doesn’t feel right, it feels wrong. It uh,…” He felt as idiotic as he sounded. “You might want to put some gloves on if you have some.” Azazel stepped toward him and held out a slender, perfectly formed hand. Ron quickly stripped away the last of the gray tape and felt instantly sick in the pit of his stomach. He dropped the naked shekel in Azazel’s palm, regretting he hadn’t taken time to remove the sticky residue; the duct tape had left behind.
Closing her lovely fingers into a small fist around the coin, a soft moan escaped her. Ron was blinded by the warm glow of her smile. If love, at first sight, were possible, this had to be it.
Charlie was amazed by the foolish display of his brother. There was no questioning how hot this chick was, on a scale of one to ten, she was scalding, but Ron had always had a way with women. He had a calm, cool, collected swagger about him, it was always Charlie who got tongue-tied and tamped his hoof like Mr. Ed. Most of the time, Ron was already checking into a motel, while Charlie was still struggling to pronounce his name correctly in an introduction. Ron appeared to be fucked. If money was going to change hands, Charlie was going to have to make it happen. “Uh, about the money, do you think we could have it please?”
The old witch looked at Azazel, who returned a slight nod. The witch walked into the back room and returned with what looked like a check, to Charlie. “I thought this was a cash deal?” he asked as the witch handed him the check. Charlie smiled. “You seem to have misspelled the word million, you spelled it thousand.”
Laughter erupted from Azazel. Ron’s eyes never left her face, he hadn’t heard a word. “You will have to excuse Mama; she’s rather frugal when it comes to monetary matters. I’ve heard it said that in financial dealings if her lips are moving, she is lying. Run and get the satchel Mama.”
She was surprisingly fast for someone of her apparent age. This time, she returned with ratty, baby blue Samsonite. She tossed it on the floor at Charlie’s feet. “I would tell you to count da money, but I don’ think you got dat many fingers an’ toes.”
Azazel ran a long pink fingernail down the length of Ron’s forearm. “You were right. Mama, he’s perfect.” Ron grinned like an idiot.
“He a’ight fer a white boy. Prolly has hisself a tiny pecker.”
Charlie knelt and cracked open the case. It was a shit ton of money, more than he’d ever seen in one place. Bundles of hundreds worth ten thousand a piece, now he had a true visual the next time he heard the phrase, ‘fat stacks’. He closed the suitcase and looked over at Ron. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” His brother was mesmerized by Princess Payday. “It looks like it’s all here, even if it’s short, it’s a butt load of money. Let’s get the fuck out of here, Romeo.” Charlie stood and grabbed the handle of the Samsonite. A million five was heavy.
His brother ignored him.
“Romeo, would you like to come with me?” Azazel asked in a pouty childlike voice. “You would, wouldn’t you? There is something I would like to show you.” Ron nodded, he couldn’t believe his luck. Charlie was going to have to fuck off for a bit, he wasn’t passing on this.
“Why don’t you take the cash and get a room at a hotel. Call my cell and let me know where you’re staying. I’m going to take Miss Azazel to lunch.” Ron tossed Charlie his keys.
“Whatever you say, love monkey, I’ll think I’ll donate some of your share to the Harleys for Charlie Foundation.”
“What are you doing with him Azazel?”
The voice behind him made Charlie jump and spin on his heel, the heavy suitcase almost pulling him over. It was the undercover cop, from Nolte’s. He tightened his grip on the handle. “Where in the fuck did you come from?” He stepped to one side of the room to get a better angle for the door.
“There are rules concerning free will Azazel, you are not above them.”
Azazel smiled and stepped closer to Ron. “I’m not governing him, Michael; he just likes what he sees.
“He doesn’t know what he’s seeing.”
“Is this a sting?” Charlie interrupted. He looked to Ron and gave him a nod toward the door. Ron smiled and gave him a nod toward Azazel.
“Did you get the Shekel of Tyre?” Michael asked.
Azazel held out her hand and showed the angel. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?”
“It’s an abomination.” Michael turned his attention to Ron. “She’s not what she appears to be, friend; she’s playing with your head. You two need to leave.”
“He’ll be fine, Michael. Things are about to change and I can keep him safe.” Azazel lifted her hand so Michael could better see the coin. “Good times.” She turned to Ron and ran her fingers through the hair above his ear. “Let’s go, honey, I’m peckish.” Taking Ron’s hand in hers, she strode to the door. “No rules have been broken, Michael. Paul told them to put on the full armor of God, but no one ever listens”
“What are you going to do with the shekel, Azazel?”
“You will see.”
Ron bit the tip of his tongue in a grin and gave Charlie a thumb’s up, on the down low as he passed.
The archangel stood at the door until the Bentley had pulled away. Charlie had quietly made his way to the doorway leading to the back room. The only other exit from the house was covered with a sheet of plywood. He turned and started for the front door.
“What did she do to him?” Michael gave Charlie a worried look.
Charlie shrugged. “She offered him a blow job.” Charlie didn’t talk to cops.
Mama giggled, “Come heeya, Mikey, I give you a wet one.”
“What’s she going to do with him, demon?”
“You know I jes gone lie to you, Mikey. Why you even ask?”
Charlie stepped toward the door and Michael headed him off. “You might want to stick around; your brother didn’t just go on a lunch date.”
Michael crossed the room in an instant, his fingers wrapped around the old woman’s throat.
“Iya principality Mikey, you have no authority to visit death on me.”
“No I don’t, but guess who I came here with?” Michael felt the demon try to jump and chuckled. “Every single one of you knows you can’t do that around us, but every single one of you tries.” He released the grip on the witch’s throat, one finger at a time. “I’m going to ask you one more time before I get Jerry in here. What did she do to him?”
“Fuck you, Mikey, he not wit you. You think Mama be stupid. You woulda call him by now, ta to.”
“He’s busy with Baal. Have you ever known one of us, not to tell the truth?” Michael asked
“There is another cop with him,” Charlie spoke up. The suitcase was getting heavy, but he wanted to know what was going on. It was unlike Ron to trust Charlie with money of any sum. Something was up.
“Dis heeya ain’t no cop, White Boy.”
“Fuck this.” Michael grabbed the witch by a bony arm and dragged her to the front door. He opened his mouth and the sound of wind chimes rang out.
In the distance, Charlie could hear the screech of tires and a car engine racing. It grew louder until he heard it jump the curb and slide to a stop in the weeds.
Mama recognized Jeremiel before he had a chance to shut the door of the limo. “No, Mama tell you this thing, ta to. I jes playin’.”
“Who’s this, Michael?” Jeremiel looked the demon over.
“Well, she wanted to meet you. She tells me you’re her favorite archangel.” The witch started to struggle against Michael’s grasp. He wrapped his free arm around her chest.
Jeremiel walked up to the steps and the witch began to flail in Michael’s grip. “Azazel do nuthin’ to da white boy! He be thinkin’ wit his dick!” The old woman panted and shouted. It seemed she couldn’t speak fast enough. “She gone rip a hole in hell wit da Jesus money! Da two white boys do dis thing on dey own. I dinnit fuck wit nobody free will!” Her bare feet scraped and slipped on the concrete porch as she tried to distance herself from Jeremiel.
“Where did she go, demon?” Jeremiel asked.
“She at da Mazarin, she gonna clean up da white boy.”
Michael dropped the demon in a heap on the steps and rubbed his hands on his jeans. “That was the truth.” He turned to Charlie. “I’m not a cop and I can’t make you do anything, but we need to get your brother away from the woman he’s with, she’s not what she seems.”
Charlie walked to Ron’s car and popped the trunk. More glass fell out of the back window. He took one of the bundles of hundreds out of the suitcase and stuck it in the back pocket of his jeans. “I’ll follow you.” He slammed the trunk to another trickle of glass.
Michael nodded at Jeremiel.
Before he could shut the car door, Jeremiel was there. “You can’t drive this; you have a flat tire. You can ride with us.” The angel walked to the front of the car and kicked the tire off the rim. The air rushed out in a muffled bump and the car dropped with a clunk in a cloud of dust.
“Holy shit!” Charlie screamed. Amazed at the apparent ease the man had used to destroy a car tire. “What the fuck are you doing?” He got out and looked at the tire. “Fucking retard strength.” He said to himself.
“Don’t worry, you can ride with us.” The angel said.
“You couldn’t use your words, asshole?” Charlie walked to the back of the car and popped the trunk and Jeremiel pushed it back down.
“You don’t need to bring anything.”
“There’s over a million dollars in there, Superman, look around you, this is a fucking war zone. I’m not leaving it.”
The Angel brushed his hand lightly over the lid of the trunk. “Your money is safer here.”
Charlie popped the trunk and nothing happened. He stuck the key in the lock and a jolt of cold electricity shot through his body, knocking him to the ground. Jeremiel offered to help him to his feet. “Your money is safe here. You can ride with us.”
Charlie grabbed his hand and pulled himself to his feet. A swirling tingle raced through Charlie’s palm.” I put something in your hand. Touch the little man with this hand when you get in the car.”
“What little man?” Charlie walked to the rear of the limo and peered in the open door. The midget with taser fingers and Nolte sat side by side on the seat behind the driver. The midget wore no expression, but Nolte glared at him with red hatred.
Charlie leaned in and touched the midget on the shoulder. A crack of blue electricity sent the little guy shooting across the car like a bullet, knocking Nolte to the floorboard.
Jeremiel winked at Michael.
“What the fuck are you guys?” Charlie asked, looking at the palm of his hand in amazement.
“We stand before the throne of God. We’re Messengers.”
***
“Here, the shower is in there, sweetie.” Azazel handed Ron a suit and shirt on polished walnut hangers and waved him off toward the other room. “I hope you like Armani; it was all I could find in this dreadful neighborhood. Wear the red tie.”
Ron looked puzzled. “Where are we having lunch?” He watched the woman walk the length of the room; he had never seen a woman who moved with such poise and grace. Every motion and gesture was refined and perfect. He couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with her. It wasn’t that he was selling himself short, it was just painfully obvious how far out of his league she was.
She turned to face him, scurrying him along toward the bathroom, by waving dangling hands. “Make your shower quick, I have something important to discuss with you.”
Ron wasted no time in the shower. He had considered rubbing one out, in order to make himself last longer when it came time to get nasty, but decided it best to keep himself intact. Though he wanted this woman badly, he knew nothing about her, for all he knew, she could have a dick and the shower fantasy he’d thought about using, would be a hard memory to repress, if, in fact, she was sporting a tuck-under.
He walked into the dressing area wrapped in a towel. There were a few new items on the table, that weren’t there when he’d hung the suit on the valet, a Grand Seiko watch, and a wallet, a belt, and pair of shoes, socks, and garters. The watch was something he’d had on his wish list since he’d seen it in a magazine add. It was beautiful and cost almost as much as his car. The wallet contained one thousand in cash and an American Express Centurion Card, with his name on it. Saudi princes carried these cards, how in the hell did his name get on one? The credit card had to be a fake, but the cash looked real enough.
He dressed quickly and fell instantly in love with the feel of the suit and shoes. Maybe his ship had come in. Maybe this woman needed a boy toy. Fat fucking chance, he thought, this was some kind of a scam. He would play along, for as long as it stayed fun, then boogie-shoe when shit got real.
Azazel was having a glass of wine on the couch when he strolled into the room. He thought the word ‘walking’ didn’t do the shoes justice, strolling seemed more appropriate. Clothes do make the man. He felt like a million bucks as he 'James Bonded' his cufflinks. Azazel nodded her head and smiled her approval.
“You clean up very well. I have an eye for these things. We can cut that mop on your head, should you decide to conduct further business with me.” She said in a noncommittal tone. “Pour yourself a glass of wine and join me.”
As he turned to the bar, his phone buzzed in his breast pocket. It was Charlie. “I apologize.” Ron turned the alert off; there was no way, he was going to let the asshole fuck up his shot at a woman like this.
“I think I’ll have some scotch.” A bottle of fifty-year-old Chivas Regal had caught his eye. This woman had amazing taste in everything.
“There is a lot to be said for small indulgences, is there not?” she said as if she’d read his mind. “That scotch is a special edition, bottled to celebrate Queen Elizabeth’s fiftieth year on the throne. There are only two hundred and fifty-five bottles in the world, at last count.” It even sounded expensive as it splashed into his glass. This was going to be a great day and he was going to milk it, for all it was worth.
He could almost feel himself being evaluated, as he made his way to the couch. Azazel’s intense scrutiny, suddenly made him feel like he was walking with a stick up his ass. Soon she would realize, her sophistication experiment had failed and she would call security to have him escorted from the building, he was sure of it. It may be impossible to polish a turd, but as Ron caught his reflection in the mirror that was hung over the couch, he realized Azazel was very adept at disguising one.
The moment he sat down, Azazel placed her hand on his knee, her touch was electrifying. Avoiding the urge to toss it back, Ron sipped at the scotch, he felt unworthy to have something so wonderful in his mouth. He imagined only gods, would be allowed such an experience.
Azazel recognized his expression. “There are many things in this world that offer similar pleasure and all are within your grasp if you find my proposal agreeable.” She took a sip of wine and looked into his eyes. “Ron, I can make you a very rich man.”
Here it comes, he thought, the buildup part of the scam. She wasn’t wasting any time. He must have stooge stamped across his forehead for her to act so quickly.
“There is a service that I require of you and should you elect to provide it, you will find your heart’s desire at your fingertips.” She rolled the wine in her glass thoughtfully. “I’m sure you’re aware of you
r dearly departed father’s condition, as of late. The poor dear had not anticipated all the variables surrounding his circumstance, as I’m sure you have gathered by now, but more to the point, are you familiar with the significance of the coin I purchased from you?”
“I have no idea what the significance is, but the witch told me, she shaved off a part of Nolte’s soul and attached it to the soul of Judas inside the coin. Crazy talk. Nolte and the old lady say it can be used to make him live forever.” Although the words sounded ridiculous leaving his mouth, he felt reassured to find Azazel nodding in agreement.
“There are many things this coin may be used for, now that your father has linked it to the dark dimension and the dimension of time, the least of which is extending his pathetic existence.” He could feel his knee becoming warmer, beneath her hand. “What I want to use it for is a very important part of a much larger picture. The world we live in is filled with chaos and corruption. Mankind has been conditioned to keep itself eternally at war, or on the brink of war, without a second thought of the horror it entails. The most volatile of these conflicts are over religious differences. The absurdity is that the three main corrupters all have the same god, only varying versions of dogma and doctrine. Murder and mayhem, in the name of a god that is content to watch idly, as abhorrent atrocities unfold, never lifting a finger to stop it. The vanity of such a god sickens me.”
“Me too.” The way her neck fell into her cleavage was a symmetrical wonder of nature. “Shit happens, always has, but how is that going to make me a very rich man?” He knew he had misspoken because she withdrew her hand from his knee.
“I’m sure you have heard of DNA, and how the likelihood of someone else having the same genetic markers is very slim.” She waited for Ron’s acknowledgment. He nodded; he didn’t want to screw his chances with more words. “Well the likelihood is not just slim, it is nonexistent. DNA also ties into the soul and as with the more, well-known aspects of genetics, certain characteristics of the soul are also passed along.
