all my life story. “Since I was eighteen.” It felt like a lifetime ago. I’d been a
career soldier, a killing machine. Then suddenly I wasn’t.
Lilith shook her head. “I can’t see you taking orders.”
“I grew up in a small farm town, so it was either join the Army or
drink myself to death.” Which reminded me, I opened a cabinet door and
poured a healthy dose of whiskey into my coffee. “I stupidly joined up and
the rest is history.” Recent history since I had only been discharged three
years ago and still I hadn’t quite adjusted to life on the outside.
“How did you get hurt?” Her eyes flashed with compassion.
“I.E.D.” I swallowed, thinking back to the day an improvised
explosive device changed my life. It had been a routine assignment, a simple
sweep of the area until a roadside bomb exploded.
It was my second tour in Iraq. The first, Desert Storm, went off
without a hitch. No one shot at me or tried to blow me up. I was golden.
The second tour, ten years later, was a far different story. The first
week of the invasion, I lost seven men in my platoon to a roadside bomb and
ended up in a M.A.S.H unit with my brains scrambled. It was touch and go
for a while, but I made it through. Or, so I thought until the voices started.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, and for a second I believed her.
“Yeah well, shit happens.” I took another drink. “I was lucky.” Was
it luck? Would I have been better off dead? I had been asking myself that
question for over two years.
Shrinks and doctors tried to stop the rising tide of voices inside my
head, but to no avail. I was labeled paranoid, schizophrenic, dissociative, and
depressive. I’d taken handfuls of pills, swallowing lies and half-truths fed to
me in hopes of quieting the voices. Nothing worked.
Then eight months ago, I sat on my couch with my nine-millimeter
pressed against my temple, ready to end it all. The rush of voices urged me to
the Promised Land. Do it, they shouted in chorus. I chambered a round, and
prepared myself for death.
Goodbye cruel world.
My finger grasped the trigger, applying a subtle pressure, enough to
blow the back of my head off.
Ding.
The doorbell rang and the voices stopped. For the first time in over
two years, my head was my own.
“It’s better to be lucky than good,” she said, bringing me back to the
present.
“That better be true, because I’ve never been any good.”
26
Seven
“How do you suggest we find the kid?” I broke the quiet that
surrounded my last comment. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, nor was it
unwanted. It felt sort of friendly. As that notion popped into my head, I
jumped to my feet and paced. I didn’t want to be friendly with her. I wanted
to hate her. Hate her for using me, hate her for getting me killed, and hate her
for tempting me. Hate was easier.
“I thought I’d check in with some of my buddies on the NYPD, see if
they’ve got any leads.” She stressed the word I.
“They don’t.”
She closed her eyes. “Because you never filed a report.”
I nodded.
“Why the hell not?” Her eyes heated, turning to molten amber. “The
cops can help you.”
“No, they can’t.” I paused, trying to think of a rational explanation
that didn’t include angels and God’s favored son. “The cops and I don’t
exactly see eye to eye when it comes to what constitutes legality. In order to
find the kid, I have to work outside the box, and that means outside the law.”
“Fine,” she gave in. Much too quickly in my opinion, which only
made me more suspicious. She added, “In that case, I’ll have to consult some
of my less desirable informants, but it’s going to cost you.”
Seeing as how I didn’t have shit to pay her with in the first place,
adding to the bill wasn’t a problem.
“When do we start?”
Lilith smiled. “We, is it?”
I nodded, not really liking the term. It was almost a declaration of
partnership, one that meant trust and disclosure, or at the very least, dinner,
and a movie.
“Now is as good a time as any.” She pushed herself from the table
and winked. “Give me ten minutes to freshen up and we’ll roll.”
Why did I feel like I had just made the biggest mistake of my life?
~ * ~
Twenty minutes later, I stood outside my apartment door, glaring at
27
my watch. The smell of sulfur fumed around me, and I turned to the source.
“What’s taking your friend so long?” Lilith blew out the match she’d
used to light the end of an expensive Indian cigarette. The aroma of rich
tobacco and vanilla filled the hallway.
“I wouldn’t call us friends.” I paused, thinking about ways to rid
myself of the angel. “And I have no idea what’s taking him so long.” He was
probably preening in front of the mirror again. I should just shatter it and
solve the problem, but I was afraid he would start ogling himself in my
spoons, which wasn’t sanitary.
“If you’re not friends, why does he follow you around?” She inhaled
a stream of smoke, her neck muscles flexing with what I assumed was
pleasure. “Do you know what’s weird? I don’t even know his name.”
Shit, neither did I. Did angels have names? Of course, they did. Let’s
see, there was Gabriel, Michael, Raphael…Donner, Dancer, and Blitzen. I
was bad at this. Why had God chosen me, I wondered for the thousandth
time.
Lilith brought me back to the present. “So what’s his name?”
“Angel.” Not good under pressure, the name burst from my lips.
She tilted her head. “Angel? Really? He looks more like a Harry or
maybe Bob.”
Bob. Damn it. Now why didn’t I think of that? A moment later, Mary
saved me from answering. Lilith turned to the sound of Mary’s apartment
door opening and the subtle scent of sage creeping into the hallway. Lilith’s
hand slid toward her dagger. I raised a finger, indicating friend not foe.
“Mary.” I smiled at her, eyes roaming her supple skin.
She stepped into the hallway. The single light bulb bathed her in a
heavenly glow, caressing her. “Jace? Did you find little J.C. yet?”
“No.” Her concern was palpable as she stared at me with big, violet
eyes. My heart beat faster. I licked my lips, wanting to taste her.
“Well, this is cozy.” Lilith cleared her throat.
Mary’s gaze fell on Lilith, dismissing her with a quick once-over.
The difference between the women amazed me. Blonde, sweet, and
tanned, Mary was the girl next-door. Actually, the girl down the hall and to
the left, but that was semantics.
In retrospect, Lilith looked like a cartoon figure, with huge yellow
eyes and pale skin. Vampires and succubae came to mind when I glanced at
her black hair and blood red lips. She was darkness to Mary’s light. Funny, I
wanted them both, and in such different ways. Dark, dirty ways.
“I’m Lilith.” She stuck out her hand.
“Mary.” Mary gla
nced at me for an explanation. Her eyes burned
brightly with anger, or interest I wasn’t sure. “Are you a friend of Jace’s?”
Maybe Mary held some kind of torch for me after all. Lilith and I answered
at the same time.
“No, she’s helping me find—” I began.
28
“Yes, we are good friends,” Lilith stressed the word friends. “As a
matter of fact, I’ll be staying with him for a few weeks.” She paused,
grinning. “You know, keeping him in line, protecting him from himself.”
Mary and I both glared at her, but Lilith merely smiled. Why had she
lied? Was she trying to make Mary jealous?
Whatever Lilith’s game, one look into Mary’s envious eyes and I
decided to play it. For me, this was a win-win. Lilith would help me find the
kid and get the girl.
“I see. Well, it was nice to meet you.” Mary turned toward her
apartment, but Lilith stopped her.
“I think we’ve met before.”
Mary laughed. “I doubt it.”
Ouch. The claws had come out. I loved a good catfight, so I stepped
back and let the fur fly.
“Oh, I’m almost sure of it.” Lilith smiled, her teeth gleaming against
the dark red of her lips. “Don’t worry, it will come to me.”
“Don’t strain yourself.” Mary grinned, an evil smirk that heated my
blood. “You’ll need all your energy to handle Jace.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Lilith said, her voice strained with laughter.
“But for your information, I can HANDLE anything.”
This was getting out of hand. Next they would be comparing notes
and for some reason, I didn’t think I would come out a winner. I needed a
distraction and I needed one right now.
The roar of a .357 Magnum fired at close range did the trick.
29
Eight
“Fucking rats.” Siddhartha, my neighbor from the end of the hall,
fired another round into the plaster wall of the hallway. On the other side of
the wall, a squeak, followed by the thud of a small corpse hitting the floor,
sounded. We all glanced at the hole in the wall, and then at the demented guy
with the gun.
“Hey, Sid,” I called, happy to see the crazy old man the other tenants
jokingly referred to as “The Pillsbury Doughboy.” I. however, suspected Sid
was a lapsed Buddha from the shape and smell of him. Something like fat,
bald guy, spoiled beer, and enlightenment. Worse, he spoke in meaningless,
fractured sentences that annoyed me. At times, squeezing the life out of him
held more appeal than pressing his tummy for a cheap giggle.
Sid glanced at us, his eyes raking over Mary and Lilith. “Do not have
evil-doers for friends. Do not have low people for friends. Have virtuous
people for friends. Have for friends the best of men.”
“Ummm, thanks.” I shrugged, “How are things with you?”
Lilith smiled, and responded in some foreign tongue. The words flew
from her mouth, sounding exotic and hot. I had no idea what she said, but
whatever it was caused Sid’s face to wrinkle. He flipped her the bird and
walked back into his apartment.
I raised my hands in question. “What’d you say?”
She rubbed her chin. “I have no idea. I don’t speak Tibetan.” I raised
an eyebrow, but before I could question her further, she said, “We should go.
Now.”
I frowned, but the look on her face convinced me quick enough.
“Okay, but what about Bob?”
“Angel you mean?”
Shit. “Yeah, Angel.” I yawned, overcoming by an intense exhaustion.
My legs felt heavy, so heavy I couldn’t raise them. I closed my eyes,
preparing to lie down and take a tiny, little nap.
A sharp, stinging slap across my face knocked me from the trance.
Lilith rubbed her palm, a smile on her face. “I’ve wanted to do that since the
moment I met you.”
30
“Glad I could fulfill that fantasy.” I shook my head, ridding it of
whatever spell I had slipped under. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
I grabbed Lilith’s hand and ran down the stairs. Mary stood at the top
step, her beautiful face glowing in the sunlight. Her eyes sparkled indigo
waves, eyes like the calm waters of the ocean before a storm.
I stopped at the bottom of the stairwell. “Mary.”
“Damn it.” Lilith twisted her fingers in my belt loop and dragged me
out the door.
On the street, she pulled me into a pale blue 1972 Gremlin. Yeah, a
Gremlin. The lamest car ever built, and probably a decade older than Lilith.
“Nice ride.” I waved to the rust-spotted vehicle.
“It gets me around.”
“And in style.” I opened the passenger side door and slid inside. The
interior seemed new, clean, and smelled of foreign tobacco and feminine
mystery. “Where are we going?”
“To see my ex-husband.” Lilith shoved a key into the ignition,
pumped the gas a few times, and punched the dashboard before starting the
engine. I raised an eyebrow. She shook her head. “I’m a bit superstitious.”
The car turned over with a pop, and we took off down the street.
So there we were, rushing across town on the way to visit Lilith’s ex-
husband, in hopes of finding the son of God. Even odder, a blond-headed
angel ran after the Gremlin, his white robe flowing behind him, hair rollers
bouncing in the wind.
I glanced in the passenger side mirror and laughed. Lilith looked over
at me and I shrugged. We were better off without the angel anyway. I rolled
up my window, and cracked up the radio to drown out the angel’s cries for us
to stop.
The radio newscaster was saying: “People in Newark area are
flabbergasted by the spoiled milk. Is it some sort of terrorist attack on our
nation’s dependence on dairy—”
I flipped the radio off, and rubbed my five o’clock shadow. “Do you
want to talk about what happened back there?”
“Not really, but I will if you insist.”
“I insist.”
She sighed loudly. “Fine. Mary.”
That was it. Mary. Was it supposed to mean something? “What about
her?”
“You’re kidding me, right?” Her eyes widened. The sun reflected off
her black pupils, and a stirring of something deep inside me grew. Fear?
Lust? Evil?
Lilith braked hard and pulled into an empty alleyway. She stopped
the car, got out, and started pacing.
I stepped out too, but wearily. “Are you jealous?”
Her cat-eyes exploded into burning amber embers. “Jealous?” Her
31
fist caught me in the solar plexus.
I doubled over, trying hard not to puke. “What the fuck was that
for?”
“Do you know the danger you’re in?” She bent down next to me,
raising my face to meet her eyes.
I pushed her away. “No, and you do?” Danger? I’d lost God’s kid.
How much more danger could I be in? Hell might be too nice of a place for
me once the Big Guy got word of how badly I’d fucked up.
“Don’t trust anyone, not even your own eyes. Forces are at work.
Evil forces sent to—”
I cut her off with a wave. “Destroy me and the very universe. Yeah,
I’ve heard it before.”
“This isn’t a joke.”
“I never said it was.” I straightened, sucking in a polluted breath of
city air. “While I appreciate your concern, I don’t need it. What I do need is
to find the kid, and find him fast. So you either help me with that, or leave
me the fuck alone.”
“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I smiled. A warning I could live with. Another fist into the gut, and
she and I would have problems.
32
Nine
Thirty minutes later, the Gremlin pulled to the curb of the Ministry of
the 2nd Coming Church of Latter Day Southern Baptists, or MCCLDSB for
short, even though the acronym wasn’t all that short.
The building looked like any other on the Upper East Side; Madison
Avenue wealth mixed with 5th Avenue pretension. Decorated in floor to
ceiling stained-glass, the church resembled a whorehouse, but without the
fun.
“Your ex works here?” I shielded my eyes from the intense glare
reflecting off the brightly colored building. Lilith didn’t strike me as a church
going gal, and she seemed too young to have been married and divorced. But
then again, I’d been married three times in my thirty-three years on Earth. So
what did I know?
“Yeah. He wasn’t always a saint.” She winked once, and climbed the
stairs to the double brass church doors.
I followed behind, watching the hustle and flow of the congregation.
People smiled serenely at Lilith but didn’t approach, almost as if we had a
protective bubble of jaded religiosity.
“Where is he?” She motioned to a smiling poster of a cap-toothed
minister with bleached blond hair and a plastic grin.
A woman with the same affected smile answered, “He’s preparing
for tonight’s sermon on the sins of the flesh. Sex outside the marriage bed is
a sure path to damnation.”
I hoped so. What fun would it be otherwise? I tried to get Lilith’s
attention, but she barreled through the flock. She was a woman on a mission.
I caught up to her a few seconds later as she opened a heavy wooden
door and slipped inside. A shout of surprise sounded, followed by a squeak
Holy Socks And Dirtier Demons Page 4
