Holy Socks And Dirtier Demons

by J. A. Kazimer

  Smack. Lilith slapped me hard across the back. “Knock it off. We

  don’t have time for this. We have to get you into hiding.”

  I shook my head, focusing on her words. “Me? It’s the kid they’re

  after. They want to use him to create…” I realized my mistake as I said the

  words. The less the demonic Lilith knew about the prophecy the safer we’d

  all be.

  “Jace, I’m sorry.” Tears grew in her yellow eyes. “There’s so much I

  have to tell you.”

  “Tell me what exactly?”

  The stench of sulfur swirled around us, thickening the already burnt

  air.

  “Later.” She grabbed my hand and dragged me over steel mounds of

  automobile corpses, and tractor bones. “I’ll tell you everything later. Please,”

  she added, voice breaking on the plea.

  I nodded, and followed her across the wreckage of the junkyard.

  With each step my need to know the truth receded, replaced with a frantic

  desire to find and protect the kid. I broke into a run, leaving Lilith in my

  wake.

  I rounded a stack of burned out Pintos and stopped dead. On the

  ground lay the angel, greenish blood pooling around his serene face. In the

  angel’s arms was an empty kidsack. The kid and cat gone.

  “Who did this?” I bent down next to the angel, wiping an aqua tear

  from his perfect cheek. My eyes scanned the automobile graveyard, seeking

  and searching for a target. Someone, anyone to blame, but the truth was

  there, reflecting off the rusted metal bumped of a Volkswagen bus. Me. I was

  the only one to blame.

  I was the angel, Nemamiah. The protector of the innocent. And yet,

  I’d lost the most innocent of all, not once, but twice.

  Jesus, I sucked at this.

  “Nemamiah, grant me one last wish…” the angel said in a choked

  whisper. Blood spilled from his pearly pink lips, staining them a muddy

  green.

  Tire screeched a hundred yards in front of us. A white mini-van spun

  around a row of junked cars and into the busy street. In the passenger seat, a

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  bald-headed man with a tattooed wrist held the kid in his muscular arms. The

  man grinned at me, a gold tooth shining from his mouth.

  Fuck.

  I started to run, pushing every ounce of energy through my limbs.

  “What about my last request?” the angel called after me.

  “Later,” I yelled, continuing after the mini-van.

  “Jace, wait!” Lilith screamed, but I ignored her and kept running.

  My legs took on a life of their own, muscles straining underneath

  battered skin. I hit the street seconds after the mini-van rounded the next

  corner.

  Don’t fucking lose him, my brain ordered.

  Five blocks from the junkyard, the mini-van took a left onto

  Broadway. I ran behind, eating up the distance between us in the mid-

  afternoon traffic. My appreciation for the city grew. Nobody went anywhere

  fast. Unless faced with divine intervention—yeah right—I would not lose the

  kid a second time.

  A pain in my side formed just below my ribcage. Not intense, more

  of a steady burn. The kind of burn marathon runners and escaping criminals

  know all about. I shifted my gait to relive the pressure, and barreled ahead.

  Even if it killed me, I wouldn’t let the kid down again.

  The driver of the mini-van sped up, whipping around the avenue,

  tires ripping up the pavement.

  Shit.

  A hole the size of Rhode Island opened in front of me. The stench of

  hell fire rose from its depths. Thick clouds of blackness shot from the pit,

  covering the street in darkness.

  I slammed on my mental brakes, stumbled, and flew headfirst toward

  the pit of hell. Could this day get any fucking worse?

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  Fifty

  Stupid fucking question. Dangling by the tips of my fingertips over

  the black hole of hell forced me to reevaluate. Yeah, as a matter of fact, shit

  could, did, and would get worse.

  Dead dammed hands caressed my legs, tugging me into the

  blackened depths. Voice called from down below. Sweet, feminine appeals

  much like Odyssey’s sirens, but their song was anything but pleasant.

  “Come sail away, come sail away…”

  Goddamn Styx. If I survived this, I’d make it my mission to kill off

  every member of that fucking group.

  I swung my leg toward the edge of the hellhole, using my body as a

  pendulum. Back and forth my lower limbs swayed, until, by the grace of

  God, my boot heal hooked the edge of the blacktop.

  Pushing up with my last threads of strength, I climbed back from hell

  and kissed the filthy New York sidewalk. Oddly, it tasted much like a

  Wisconsin sidewalk, and bubble gum.

  As quickly as the hellish hole had formed, it disappeared, leaving a

  pentagram burned into the avenue inches from my puckered lips.

  I glanced up the street, praying for a sign of the malevolent mini-van.

  It had vanished too, as had my one and only charge. Some fucking protector I

  was. For a second time in a week, I’d lost God’s son. But this time, I had an

  idea where to find him, and there would be hell to pay when I did.

  ~ * ~

  “He can’t be dead.” I shook my head, my eyes darting around the

  packed bus. Lilith and I rode across town on our way to her apartment. A

  bum snored in the seat next to Lilith, drooling on the sleeve of her jacket.

  “I’m sorry, Jace,” Lilith said, pushing the bum away and tentatively

  touching my hand.

  I brushed her away and gazed out at traffic. After a second or two, I

  spoke, my voice filled with anger, “He’s a fucking angel for God sakes.

  Angels don’t die.”

  “They don’t die, not like you or I...” Her eyes drifted to the bright

  gray sky barely visible through the grimy window. “But he’s not of this

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  world anymore. God called him home, and you can’t, no matter how much

  you want to, bring him back.”

  “Who says I’d want to? I’m better off without his constant bitching. I

  do not like this, or that,” I added in a fair imitation of the angel. “I’d have to

  be a masochist to miss him.” But miss him I did, like a cancer, or famine.

  “And we both know you’re anything but masochistic.” She winked at

  me. “However, there’s something more important to think about.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Without the angel you’re as good as dead.”

  Some faith Lilith had in my abilities. Next she’d be fitting me for

  bubble wrap and health insurance. It wasn’t like I was completely useless. I’d

  survived thirty-three fairly violent years of life without an angel. What was a

  few more? I frowned, my beaten ego igniting my anger.

  “Don’t be like that.” She pushed a piece of hair behind her ear and

  focused on my face. “I just don’t want you taking any risks.”

  “Risks, huh?” I gave a bitter laugh. “In other words, put my faith in,

  and leave finding the kid to, you.”

  The bus lurched sending Lilith careening towards the gum-puckered

  floor. I caught her in time, wrapping my arms around her and squeezing

  harder than necessa
ry.

  “Would it be so bad? Me finding Jesus?” Her eyelashes blinked at

  me. Pretty, black lashes. Innocent black lashes. Demonic lying lashes.

  Hell yes. I grinned, about to get some much-deserved payback. “But

  you’re just a girl.”

  Her eyes flashed red, burning with a strong desire to strangle me. Her

  murderous musings were telegraphed in the way she choked the empty

  kidsack in her hands.

  I smiled, which caused Lilith to growl. Shaking my index finger in

  front of her face, I warned, “Don’t do it. I’m fragile remember?”

  “God dammit, Jace.” Smack. Her fist connected with my jaw. “Be

  serious, please. I can protect him.” The “you can’t” was left unsaid, but it

  rankled all the same.

  “God dammit, Lilith.” I grabbed her chin in my hand, forcing her

  yellow eyes to mine. “I’m Nemamiah. Not you. It’s my destiny to protect the

  kid.”

  She twisted from my grip and bowed her head. “Yeah well, about

  that...”

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  Fifty One

  “You fucking bitch!” I slammed my fist into the door of Lilith’s

  apartment, barely missing the back of her lying head. The door took its

  revenge though, busting three out of four of the knuckles on my right hand.

  Lilith held up her hand. “Relax, already. And I repeat, none of this

  was my fault. Eight months ago, I was lying on a beach being oiled up by

  naked Grecian men, not fucking up your pathetic little existence.” Her smile

  widened. “Blame your dead angel and God if you want, but leave me out of

  it.”

  “But you knew. The whole time you knew the angel had made a

  mistake, and I wasn’t Nemamiah.” A vein deep inside my forehead throbbed,

  swelling with the rising pressure of my rage.

  She shrugged. Shrugged for fuck sakes, as if my last eight months of

  Messiah-laced hell mattered little in the big picture.

  “So why did you do it? Why keep it all a secret? Wasn’t it in hell’s

  best interest to tell me the truth?” I stepped back, waiting for Lilith to enter

  the apartment. Her shriek of disgust almost made up for her deceit.

  Apparently, I wasn’t Nemamiah or a decent housekeeper. Served her right.

  After a few minutes of bitching and violent hurling of heavy objects

  at my head, Lilith sat on the couch. Deflated.

  I moved a nacho cheese covered couch cushion to the floor and sat

  next to her. “Sorry about this.” My hand waved around the filthy room.

  “Guess I’m not a good maid.” Which was partly true.

  A loud sigh erupted from her. “Forget it. In the scheme of things, a

  cheese soaked couch doesn’t seem quite that bad.” She twisted to face me.

  “Jace, I really am sorry about lying to you. God thought it best to keep up the

  charade, at least until...”

  “Until what? I died?” Stupid fucking dogma. “And you listened to

  Him? What? Are you fucking God now too?” Yeah, I’m an asshole. A

  sudden question popped into my head, and my hand fisted. “That’s why

  you’re alive again? Give God a blow job and it’s resurrection time.”

  A flash of light shot through the apartment, narrowly missing my left

  foot. A crack of thunder followed, as did a right hook from Lilith.

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  Smack. My brain rattled inside my head, and an explosion of blood

  shot from my cracked lip.

  “Fine, I deserved that.” My fist uncurled, and I wiped at the trail of

  warm blood dripping down my chin. “But tell me it’s not true. For once let’s

  try for a little honesty.”

  “And ruin a perfectly good relationship?” She smiled, and for a

  minute, my rage disappeared. Her beauty had grown on me. Slowly at first,

  but since the day I’d met Lilith, I’d felt as if we belonged together. Forever.

  What had I gotten myself into?

  She smacked me. “You don’t have to make it sound like a curse,” her

  voice rose with each word. “And you want honesty? Here goes, you and

  Jesus should’ve never met. You and me should’ve never happened, and you

  should be dead right now. How’s that for a reality check?”

  Yeah, I could’ve done without it, but at least we were getting

  somewhere. Me being dead for one thing was a topic I’d liked to pursue

  further.

  Rubbing at my bruised face, I said, “Explain to me again how the

  angel mistook me for Nemamiah.”

  “All right, but it doesn’t change anything.” Lilith launched into a tale

  of stupidity, lack of angel GPS, and an overall comedy of errors.

  It seemed that following the Myrrh explosion; the angel was given an

  address in New York City. An address for the real Nemamiah.

  In true idiot angel fashion, he took the wrong train. But the stupidity

  did not end there. Instead of asking for help, he decided to wander the streets.

  This eventually led him smack into the Grim Reaper, literally. And according

  to Lilith, the Grim Reaper was on a mission of his own, namely to collect my

  wayward soul.

  In the clichéd collision, the angel accidentally pocketed my address,

  and unfortunately, for Nemamiah, Death ended up on the protector of

  innocents’ doorstep.

  My brow furrowed. “So Nemamiah’s dead?”

  Lilith shot me a crooked smile. “Not exactly.” Her story continued...

  Death realized the mistake quickly enough, but by then, it was too

  late to stop the angel’s and my fated meeting.

  God decided, in His vast wisdom, to wait and see how things worked

  out. After all, Jesus had taken an instant liking to me, and it wasn’t like I had

  much else going on.

  I held up my hand in disbelief. “You’re telling me, God just gambled

  on the life of the Second Coming with a semi-suicidal ex-soldier?”

  “Not exactly.” Lilith wrapped a strand of her blue-black hair around

  her finger, and finished the tale in a far-off voice.

  On the day Jesus arrived on my doorstep, God called forth

  Nemamiah, and together they came up with a plan. While I protected the kid,

  by His heavenly order, Nemamiah would protect both of us. But with one

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  condition, because with God there was always a hoop to jump through,

  Nemamiah could not interfere unless I asked for intervention.

  Everything was going great until the night the kid disappeared.

  Nemamiah watched the kidnapping, pleaded with the Lord to intervene, and

  was denied.

  It wasn’t until the next night, in a darkened hell’s pit, that Nemamiah

  broke her vow with God…

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  Fifty Two

  “What?” I pushed from the couch, caught the edge of my pinky toe

  on the coffee table, and screamed. “You’re fucking kidding me right?”

  Lilith shook her head. “It doesn’t change anything. It’s just a name.”

  “The hell it doesn’t.” Hopping on one foot, I paced the living room;

  drips of toe-blood spilling onto her now dotted pink carpet. “How did Lilith,

  evil incarnate and mother of all succubae, become the protector of

  innocents?”

  “I’m good with a resume?” She grinned, unrepentant. “I didn’t start

  off evil, Jace. A cheating husband and a shitty job pretty much ki
lled my

  wholesome, human glow, though.”

  “So how did you get here?”

  “After Adam’s betrayal, I was so angry, so filled with hate, I turned

  to Samuel. He offered me something I never had. Power. Power over life.

  Over death. Sure, there were drawbacks.”

  “Samuel being one of them, right?” Jealousy turned my voice sharp.

  She nodded. “After a few years with Samuel, I realized power wasn’t

  all it was cracked up to be. And I was sick of being the mistress of evil. It

  wasn’t like it was my life’s ambition or anything. And then came the day,

  everything changed...”

  I couldn’t take it in. Lilith was Nemamiah, and I was nothing but a

  plaything to the asshole ruling the Heavens. Like a cat with a ball of string,

  Lilith had molded my every move. Was that what Adam had come to tell me

  before he conveniently incinerated at my apartment?

  Fuck.

  She was saying, “The First Coming gave a sermon on the side of a

  mountain around 30 AD, that day my true path was clear.” Her eyes

  sparkled, yellow irises dancing in the sunlight poking through the windows.

  “I swore I would do whatever I could to save him the second time around.

  And so God in all His infinite wisdom—” surprisingly she said this without

  sarcasm “—forgave me, the Mother of all Succubae, and granted me His

  love, and the name Nemamiah, and all that it entails. When Jesus was

  kidnapped, God asked me for help, and I gave it without question.”

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  “How noble,” I sneered, each syllable echoing my disgust. After all,

  she’d done nothing but question and argue with me since the day we met.

  What made Him so special? A second bolt of lightening barely missed my

  toe. I stomped out the small fire burning her carpet. “So Nemamiah, where

  do we go from here?”

  Her eyes narrowed, and before I knew what hit me, she’d tackled me

  to the floor. Her lithe body pressed intimately to mine, like the lovers we

  once were. And would never be again, I vowed.

  But my penis had other plans though. My fingers threaded around her

  waist, pulling her closer until our naughty parts folded into one.

  I stroked the small of her arched back, exploring the ridges of her

  spine. Her breath, hot and fast against my neck, smelled of temptation. When