Lilith, at least not yet.
“Who’d want to take him?” She tapped a tiny, sexy diamond chip
embedded in the side of her nose.
I blinked, willing away the rush of lust. This was a tricky question.
“Like I said before, his father is powerful. J.C. has a bright future.”
She nodded, as if my lame explanation made sense. “What aren’t you
telling me?”
I smiled. “Nothing that matters. So you’ll help me?”
“Yes. I’ll find the child for you, but you have to do something for
me.” She stood and stroked my cheek with a metallic manicured nail. “Dance
with me?”
The music changed from a hard, heavy beat to a slow sensual purr.
My mind said no, but the desire to feel her skin had me rising to my feet. I
knew it was stupid before we hit the dance floor.
Lights swirled around us. They bathed her in an eerie silvery light,
highlighting the whiteness of her skin. Yellow eyes flashed as she pressed
her lithe body to mine. My palms, damp with sweat, slid over the supple
leather of her dress, caressing the fabric like flesh.
She smiled, running her fingers through my hair and pulling me in
for a kiss. Our lips touched, tentatively, two strangers meeting for the first
time. She tasted like candy and cigarettes. I wanted more, but she pulled
away, touching a long finger to her lips.
“Do you like me or is that a gun in your pocket?” She brushed her
hand along my body.
“Gun.” I tugged her close again.
She laughed, a pure sensual sound of pleasure.
18
My body responded even as my mind warned there was more here
than meant the eye. “What game are you playing?” My fingers brushed the
ridged indentation of scarred skin on the back of her neck, tracing the scar,
absorbing tiny electrical shocks sparking between us.
“I ask the questions.” As quickly as the dance started, it stopped, and
Lilith stepped away. She winked, blew me a kiss, and disappeared into the
crowd. I watched until she vanished from my view before turning to face the
hulking figure behind me.
“The boss wants to have a word with you.” The hulk grabbed my arm
and propelled me toward the back of the club. I glanced at our table,
searching for the angel, but he had disappeared. Some fucking help he was.
Damn, I was about to find out Lilith’s ultimate price. I hoped like
hell that I could afford it.
19
Five
The bruiser twisted my arm from its socket, forcing me through the
crowd. The pain was severe, but I ignored it, having more important matters
to attend to; namely, staying alive for the next hour or so.
He pushed me through a set of double doors and into a dark storage
area. The coppery stench of drying blood and vomit in the room promised a
less than desirable outcome.
The lights flicked on with blinding intensity. My pupils pinpricked,
and I blinked until my eyes focused. Thick pools of brownish red blood
stained the concrete floor. I was in serious trouble.
The “boss” sat in the center of the room, picking his teeth with the tip
of a switchblade. A typical tough guy with slick backed hair and an evil grin.
I glanced around the warehouse, noting the one and only exit, twenty feet
behind eight thugs with baseball bats and tire irons.
Eight. Shit. I only had six bullets. Even though math wasn’t my
strong suit, I was pretty sure that left two assholes standing.
The boss stood, taking a step toward me. “What’s your name, boy?”
Boy? I laughed. “Does it matter?”
He grinned, stroking his goatee. “Not to me. Did you think you could
come into my club, and touch my woman without a little payback?”
“Your woman?” I smiled. “My mistake. I assumed she was a free
agent when she cupped my nuts on the dance floor.”
The first punch was expected. The second and third were a bit of
overkill, at least in my mind. Blood poured from a gash above my eye,
blinding me. I wiped it away with the sleeve of my corpse coat, my stomach
burning with rage and bile.
By the sixth and seventh hit, I had dropped to my knees. I wasn’t a
pussy. Hell, I’d taken my fair share of hits since reaching puberty, but this
was different. Something wasn’t right. I couldn’t move, couldn’t fight back.
It was as if some inhuman force had seized me.
“Nobody messes with one of Samuel’s toys,” the closest thug yelled,
bashing a steel pipe into my ribs. They cracked under the assault, puncturing
my left lung. Blood exploded from my mouth, showering the boss, Samuel.
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I would die here. I knew it, and so did he. Had Lilith? Was this all
some sort of setup to keep me from finding the kid?
Pop, pop, pop.
My knuckles crunched under his boot heel. The sound released me
from the trance I had slipped into, and I reacted by pulling my gun. Broken
and slick with blood, my fingers gripped the metal with complete calm.
“Don’t make me do it.” I chambered a round, aiming the weapon at Samuel’s
pretty-boy head.
He laughed a malicious sound that echoed off the blood-splattered
walls.
Fuck it. I fired the first round into his heart. Boom, boom, boom. I
fired until the click of metal against metal filled the room. A neat circle of
bullets, dead center of his chest, flowed with blood. His eyes went wide and
he dropped to the floor.
Revenge was sweet, but short lived. One of the remaining seven
thugs smashed a tire iron into my skull. Bolts of light flashed behind my
shattered eye sockets. A hollow ping echoed in the depths of my brainpan.
Blackness closed in, but before I died, I prayed the kid was safe.
~ * ~
“Owww!”
“Remain still.” The angel soared above me.
A warmth spread through my frozen limbs as my heart began to beat
again. I blinked, trying to focus. Where was I? It smelled like rotting flesh
and urine. Rats squeaked, fighting over putrid garbage, and cold wetness
seeped into my clothes.
Was I in the alley behind the club, tossed away like trash?
Those bastards.
“This job sucks.” I flexed my busted fingers. My bones and organs
healed, scabbing over before my eyes as the angel placed his hands on my
body. Why had I agreed to this? It wasn’t like I didn’t have a choice. I could
have walked away. I could have slammed the door in the angel’s face when
he showed up eight months ago.
“The final reward will be worth it,” the angel promised.
Yeah, right. I’d never see the pearly gates. After all, I’d broken every
single commandment and six of the seven deadly sins. Okay, who was I
kidding? I’d committed all seven sins, sometimes at the same time.
“What happened?” I changed the subject, not wanting to get into a
philosophical discussion of Heaven, pearly white gates, harps, and fluffy
white clouds, blah, blah, blah. Sounded somewhat lame if you asked me, but
of course, no one had.
“I do not know what happened to you.” The angel paused, touching
his
hand to my head. “I found you here an hour ago.”
“I’ve been dead for an hour? Why didn’t you bring me back sooner?”
It was an odd thought. Not the death part, I’d long ago come to terms with
21
the Reaper, but the fact the angel had brought me back, again, sent chills
down my fractured spine. I’d had enough of this supernatural shit. I felt like a
zombie in those late night horror flicks. Would I now develop a taste for
brains?
“I tried to restore your life light, but at first your soul would not
comply.” The angel shrugged, as if my soul’s wishes were of little
consequence. “Not until I promised it a cookie.” From his robe, he pulled out
a chocolate chip cookie and handed it to me. “You must have made someone
exceedingly angry,” he added, scooping up bits of my brain and stuffing it
back inside my head while I carefully chewed my soul’s reward.
“No more so than usual.” I touched my skull, feeling the oozing
wound. “But something weird did happen. What do you know about this
place?” I gestured to the club.
“It is a pit.”
While it wasn’t my kind of club, I wouldn’t have called it a pit.
“Don’t be such a snob. I’m sure they serve Zima.”
The angel flushed. “Not that kind of pit. A hell’s pit. A den of
inequity. Satan’s lair.”
Anger washed over me. “And you’re telling me this now? That
information might have been useful.” I paused for effect. “Oh, I don’t
know… two hours ago.”
“You did not ask,” he huffed, placing a healing hand on the hole in
my head.
Once he let go, I shakily rose to my feet, ignoring the buzzing sound
inside my brain, a side effect to reanimation that disappeared in a few hours.
“Once I find the kid, I’m going to kick the feathers out of you.”
“If you find the child.” His words reverberated in my ears the entire
scooter ride home.
22
Six
We arrived back at my apartment at two in the morning. My front
door stood open. I reached for my nine-millimeter realizing two things, one, I
was out of bullets and two, whoever was inside didn’t care that I knew they
were there. The rational part of my brain suggested I proceed with caution.
So instead, I charged the door. Not the smartest of moves, but fifteen minutes
ago, rats had feasted on my brains, so I wasn’t exactly functioning on all
cylinders.
The intruder slept the sleep of the innocent on my stained sofa, her
black hair spilling across a cushion. One arm wrapped around her knees like
a child, Lilith looked peaceful and beautiful in the patchy moonlight.
I kicked the couch, sending a plume of dust mites into the air. “What
the fuck are you doing here?” Getting killed had changed my opinion of
women in general, and Lilith in particular. Fucking her was the last thing on
my mind. Well, maybe second to last. I wanted answers, and I wanted them
now.
She cracked an eyelid. “It’s been a rough night. Can this wait until
morning?”
“Rough night?” I booted the couch again. “Your boyfriend tried to
rearrange my face, and you had a rough night?”
She sat up, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “I see you
survived.”
That was it.
I lunged for her, wanting to wrap my hands around her skinny neck
and squeeze until her eyeballs popped out of her deceitful head.
She twisted away seconds before I made contact, leaving me groping
at thin air as I tumbled head first against the cushions. The sofa struck the
wall with a bang, and knocked a large chunk of plaster from the ceiling.
“There goes your security deposit.” The angel pointed to the falling
debris.
Could this night get any worse? It was a stupid question to ask,
because no sooner had it formed in my mind, then Lilith unsheathed a
wicked looking dagger from her garter belt. My eyes dropped to the creamy
23
skin of her thigh, roaming over the pale, toned flesh like a man dying of
thirst.
“You should work on controlling your baser impulses,” the angel
stated. “Lust is a sin.”
“So is duct taping a certain entity to a chair and shaving his head,” I
threatened, never taking my eyes from the girl with the knife. “What are you
doing here?” I asked her, as my last threads of energy and anger waned.
She held the knife in front of her, seeming leery of my sudden
change in demeanor. “I wanted to see where J.C. disappeared from.” She
paused, giving me a small smile. “I also wanted to apologize and make sure
you were all right.”
My rage surfaced again. She’d left me to die and now wanted to play
nice? And how the fuck did she know where I lived? “Don’t fucking lie to
me. You set me up, and now you’re here to finish the job your lover
couldn’t.”
She flinched. “No. Look, I’m sorry about tonight. I thought that if
Samuel saw me with another man he’d let go of the idea of us.”
Oh, he let go all right, about the same time my third bullet had
burrowed through his chest. “So you used me.”
“So I used you. I’m sorry.” She gave me a slow once over. “It all
worked out though. You don’t look any worse for wear.”
“Yeah. I’m feeling just great.” I took a breath, weighing how much I
needed her help. I couldn’t find the kid on my own. Damn. “No harm, no
foul.” She would pay, one way or another, but for right now, I’d hold my
tongue.
“Really?” She tilted her head. “I had you pegged for being stubborn.”
“Naw, I’m a pushover.” What I really was, was tired. Bone achingly
so.
“So can I stay?”
“Yeah.” I yawned, glancing at her filled to the brim duffel bag. “But
you’ll have to toss a coin for the couch.” I grinned, gesturing between her
and the angel, pretty sure who would come out the victor.
The angel started to argue, but I closed my bedroom door in his face,
and fell onto the bed. What was the harm in letting her spend one night?
~ * ~
“Morning.” Her cheery voice rang inside my head like a bad
seventies laugh track.
I looked around the kitchen and grunted. Yeah, it was morning. The
bright glare of the sun peeking in my grimy windows gave it away.
“Nice pj’s.” She glanced at me and smiled.
I blinked and followed her eyes downward, nothing but skin. I
shrugged, not caring one way or the other. It was too damn early for
modesty, and my head was stuffy from the night before.
“Coffee?” I sniffed the air, searching for the scent of roasting beans.
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She stood, pulled a mug from a pile of dirty dishes in the sink, and
poured me a cup.
“Thanks.” Taking the cup from her hands, I noted the odd symbols
and shapes tattooed into her skin, a combination of Arabic and Sumerian
script. Exotic and beautiful, much like Lilith herself.
I took a sip of the dark brew, and spit it out in a spray of hot liquid.
“What the hell is this?”
“Tea?” I closed my eyes, remembering why I’d divorced my third
wife. She made me drink tea, said it was good for my mental health. I found
out later she’d been spiking it with anti-psychotics.
“I’ll make you a deal. You put on some pants and I’ll make coffee.”
She gave a vague wave to my genitals. “It’s too early in the day to face that
over the breakfast table.”
“Fair enough. I’ll be right back,” I said, disappearing into the living
room. On the floor, the angel laid curled next to the heater. I kicked him in
the butt as I passed. “For God’s sake, you’re a fucking angel and you
couldn’t win a coin toss.”
He rubbed his sleep-crusted eyes. “She hit me. I offered to flip a
coin, but she growled and struck me like some kind of animal.”
I liked this girl more and more. Too bad she drank tea and dated
demonic assholes.
Inside my bedroom, I searched through a pile of dirty laundry until I
located a pair of Levis that didn’t smell like baby puke and alcohol.
Five minutes later, I arrived in the kitchen, awaiting my promised
caffeine fix. Lilith sat at the table, twirling a shiny object in her fingers. A
cup of rich, black coffee sat across from her. She gestured for me to sit,
which I did. The table wobbled, and coffee splashed over the rim.
Dammit. I looked down.
“Looking for this?” She tossed a gold heart shaped medal at me. It
skidded across the table, and landed face up. The noble face of General
George Washington stared up from the purplish inlay.
I picked the medal up with a smirk and stuck it back underneath the
too short table leg. Once in place, the table stopped wobbling, a regular Mr.
Fix-it.
“Better.” I took a sip of my coffee and wiped the spill up with the
edge of my shirt.
She looked at me as if I was crazy. “That medal is a Purple Heart.”
I nodded.
“Is it your Purple Heart?”
I nodded again.
“Care to explain?”
I shrugged. “I was in the Army. I got hurt. They gave me a medal.
Hell, they give them out to guys who stub a toe.”
25
“How long were you in?”
Why I answered was beyond me. I didn’t owe this girl shit, least of
Holy Socks And Dirtier Demons Page 3
