Holy Socks And Dirtier Demons (14 page)

rib. Somewhere in the back of my head, it registered that she was short one

rib, but it hardly mattered now.

From years of practice, I unhooked her black bra, freeing her breasts

and flinging the contraption into the front seat. It hit the dashboard with a

ping.

“You do have skills.” Lilith straddled me, tugging my jeans to my

knees. The boxers came off next, as did the skin-tight cargo pants clinging to

her toned legs.

I released a harsh breath. “I’m good with my hands.” And I began to

prove my claim.

She sucked in a breath, letting out a moan. “Condom. Now.”

“Right. Jean. Pocket.”

Her hand plunged into the aforementioned pocket, and pulled out a

breath mint, two cents, and the Holy Grail, an unopened foil packet.

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“Thank God,” she grunted.

“Let’s not bring Him into it.” I stroked her with the pad of my thumb.

Her face tightened. Jackpot. I captured her mouth, and finished the job.

Seconds later, she screamed and a bright white light exploded from

the center of her chest. I closed my eyes against the glare, which lasted for

thirty seconds before dimming to a yellowish glow. She collapsed on top of

me, smashing my nose in the process.

“We’re not finished yet,” I said as my teeth shredded the condom

package.

Lilith’s cell phone blared:
Please allow me to introduce myself...’

Sympathy for the Devil. Funny.

“Shit.” Lilith climbed over me toward the front seat, and her jacket.

She flipped open the phone. “What?”

I kissed the back of her knee, running my tongue down the tendons.

She kicked me in the jaw and crawled out of the driver’s side door. Naked. In

the snow.

My head dropped against the itchy carpet of the hatchback. Cold air

swirled inside the open door, and parts of me began to regret the invention of

cell phones and wintertime.

Lilith stuck her head back inside and reached for her pants. “Get

dressed.”

The tone of her voice left me cold. “What happened?”

She turned her back to me. “They found a child’s body. A crucified

child.”

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Twenty Three

We drove the forty minutes from Coney Island to The Clinton in

silence, a painful, regret-filled quiet that widened the wedge between us.

My stomach rolled as I pictured the kid’s last seconds of life. While I

was getting my rocks off, he was stapled to a pile of wood. Some fucking

protector I was. An ache grew under my breastbone. I rubbed at it, but it

refused to ease.

Rage swamped my grief. White-hot, self-destructive rage. My body

vibrated with it. I would hunt down his killers, and they would discover the

meaning of hell.

“Stop it.” Lilith cranked the wheel of the Gremlin as Trfying to

escape the automobile, Tyrfing, my newly purchased sword, shot from the

hatchback, missed Lilith by millimeters, and embedded itself in the

dashboard. The Gremlin let out a groan, and carbon dioxide poured from the

wound and into the interior.

Lilith turned to glare at me. “Damn it, Jace. Control your tempter

before you kill one of us.”

What the hell was she talking about? “I didn’t do that.”

“Yes you did.” She hauled the Gremlin to the curb, pulled the sleeve

of her jacket over her hand, and heaved Tyrfing from the dash. “This sword,”

she rattled it at me, “slays the possessor’s enemies. It feeds off your anger.

Basically, it stabs whoever ticks you off. Whether they die or not depends on

how angry you are.”

“That’s why it stabbed Dante.” I nodded. Not a bad weapon.

“But didn’t kill him. You were annoyed, not homicidal. But you must

be very careful.” She dropped the sword into the backseat. “Tyrfing doesn’t

discriminate between passionate anger, and a killing rage.”

“What else don’t I know?” I shook my head. God had entrusted the

wrong man to protect his son.

Lilith’s eyes softened. “I’m so sorry, Jace. You never asked for any

of this.”

“Save your pity,” I cracked my knuckles, “for the bastards who killed

the kid.” A hum echoed from the backseat, as Tyrfing readied itself for

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battle.

“Jace, please.” She touched my arm. Fear radiated from her. The

scent of it heightened the predator instinct inside me.

Kill. Destroy. “Don’t get in my way.” Her eyes widened and wetness

swelled at the edges. I took a deep breath, softening my warning. “I don’t

want you to get hurt.”

~ * ~

Lights flashed, blue and red, off pools of melting snow. Cops

directed traffic past the small church on the corner of W. 49th Street. St.

Malachy’s church. The saint of prophesies. The church for actors. Douglas

Fairbanks married Joan Crawford within its stone walls. Had the sainted

Malachy predicted that?

Lilith stopped the Gremlin a block from the yellow crime scene tape.

She touched my hand with icy fingers. “You don’t have to come with me.”

Yeah, I did. I shot her a sad smile, opened my car door, and stepped

into the frigid night.

The church hid between skyscrapers and landmarks. Its steeple

welcomed the faithful, but not this night. I patted my nine-millimeter and

stepped under the crime scene tape. A brown-skinned cop held up a hand to

stop me, but I shoved him aside.

“Hey, buddy.” The cop charged me, his hand hovering over the gun

tucked safely in its holster. With a glance, Lilith froze him in place much as

she’d done to Hades the night before. She whispered to him, “Now is not the

time.”

The cop gurgled with what I assumed to be agreement, and Lilith and

I disappeared inside. Entering the church, I half expected her to burst into

flames, but not even a hair on her head appeared out of place.

“It’s not like in the books,” she said, reading my thoughts.

I nodded, but a white sheet draped over the wooden cross at the alter

drew my attention. I raised my eyes to heaven and cursed. I cursed God, who

sacrificed his son twice. I cursed the bastards who killed an innocent child.

And I cursed myself. The kid had trusted me and I let him down. What kind

of man failed a child? I was no better than the man who’d fathered me and

walked away.

I pictured the kid’s chubby cheeks, and his random ‘miracles’ like

making his pooh dance in the toilet during potty training, or raising fleas

from the dead after I bug bombed the apartment. I’d miss him.

A plainclothes detective stepped in front of me, snapping me from

my memories. She wore an ugly blue suit with wide shoulder pads and a

butch haircut. Her demeanor screamed cop, but her clothes yelled for a dry

cleaner. Her eyes drifted past me, to Lilith, and back to me. “You can’t be in

here,” she said.

“He’s his guardian.” Lilith gestured to the wooden cross.

The detective raised an eyebrow. “Really? Is that what they call it?”

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Lilith frowned at the woman, but I ignored her. Instead, I walked

toward the cross. My stomach knotted. I wanted to puke, to rid myself of the

grief and guilt. Bile crawled up my throat, an acidy burn that stayed with me

even as I swallowed it down.

Gripping the edge of the sheet, I closed my eyes and took a deep

breath. The fabric felt rough, prickly against my fingertips. It was an

unworthy blanket for the kid underneath.

Lifting the edge, I peered at the body of God’s only son, and started

to laugh. I couldn’t help it. Mirth bubbled from deep inside me, exploding

from my lungs with gales of laughter.

Catching my breath, I peeked under the sheet just to make sure. Yep,

a two-foot, transvestite Chinese hooker dressed in black leather and holding a

riding crop stared back at me. His dead eyes twinkled like twin black holes.

As suddenly as my laughter started, it died at the sight of the black

book in his hand. My Bible. The one I’d left on the street the night before. I

glanced around the church. Was this a warning? Or a setup?

“Are you all right, Jace?” Lilith stroked my shoulder as if I’d lost my

mind. Was she offering me comfort or looking for a place to stick a knife?

Was my paranoia showing?

No, I wasn’t okay but now was not the time to discuss it. Relief

warred with my growing paranoia. Wherever I went, an unknown force

followed, always one step ahead of me. I shook my head, and motioned to

the Bible in the dead guy’s hand. Lilith’s eyes widened and she let out a

small gasp.

The detective shot us a questioning look. Shit, it was time to go. I

reached for Lilith’s hand and headed toward the front doors. For once, she

didn’t argue but meekly followed my lead.

“Wait.” The detective held up a hand to stop us. “I need to see some

identification.”

“Now would be a good time to use that freezing thing,” I whispered

to Lilith out of the corner of my mouth.

She winced. “I can’t. Hallowed ground.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. I turned to smile at the detective. “I lost my wallet.”

She rubbed her chin. “You look a little like a suspect we’re looking

for. Jace Miller? He’s traveling with a black haired woman with tattoos.”

“Really?” A wrinkle arched in my forehead. “Can’t say I’ve seen

them.”

She pulled out a pair of thick steel bracelets. “Mr. Miller, you’re

under arrest for murder.”

“What?” I backed up a step. “Of who?”

The detective smirked. “The man founded incinerated inside your

apartment, and your girlfriend’s,” she waved to Lilith, “ex-husband, the

reverend Adam Just.”

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Twenty Four

Lilith’s eyes flashed to mine. “Did you really kill Adam?” She

stepped between the detective and me, and gave me a hard shove.

“Hell, no.” I pushed her back, and she, arms flailing, fell into the

detective. The impact knocked the shorter woman to the floor. Her eyes

rolled around like dice in her head before settling on snake eyes.

“I’m so sorry.” Lilith reached to help the woman up, but instead of

assisting her managed to take the detective’s handcuffs, and shackle her to

the nearest pew.

“Time to go.” Grinning, I grabbed Lilith’s hand and we ran for the

front doors. Lilith frowned, but didn’t slow her steps. “And just when things

started to get fun.”

We flew down the church steps, pushing through the crime scene

tape and across the street before anyone tried to stop us.

The buzz of a taser sparked to life behind us. “Stop or I will be

forced to apply non-lethal force in the form of a taser. A taser is a handheld

electrical device that propels twin prongs into the skin of the person of

interest. These prongs act as conductors to a specified amount, the amount is

adjusted in accordance with the state and local regulations, of electricity or

volts, if you will. Following application, you, as the person of interest will be

rendered…”

I glanced back, eyeing the same cop I had assaulted earlier. He

readied his taser while reading off a list of warnings and side effects. “A taser

can cause burns, epilepsy, and even death. It should not be used on persons

who are pregnant or may become pregnant.” He flipped the card over.

“Occasionally an erection lasting four or more hours can occur.” He paused

before reading further. Lilith and I stopped running, and stood waiting for the

poor guy to finish.

“The use of the taser does not imply guilt. By acknowledging the

taser warning, you agree to forgo all legal right to sue the NYPD, or any of

its subsidiaries, for any and all harm perpetrated by your tasing. Do you

understand these warnings as I have just read them?” The cop looked

expectantly at me.

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I shrugged. “I do?”

He nodded and aimed the taser. I wasn’t stupid, so I took off again,

running at full steam to the Gremlin parked a hundred feet ahead. Fifty feet.

Ten.

The buzz of electricity sent chills up my spine, but I didn’t feel

anything. No zap of pain. No frequent burning or irritation. Nothing.

Ahead of me, Lilith stopped, and my momentum carried me over the

top of her. “Look,” she said, pointing to the cop. My eyes followed her finger

to the cop, who stood in the middle of the street covered in burnt angel

feathers. The angel, his face black with rage, hovered a few feet off the

ground berating the poor officer.

“I should smite you.” The angel wagged a wing at the horrified

policeman.

“Ummm… Angel?” I cleared my throat. “No smiting. Pick up

your—” I pointed to the feathers on the ground “—stuffing and let’s get the