Holy Socks And Dirtier Demons (19 page)

front of me.

She motioned to my finger. “You’re ringing my apartment.”

Damn so I was. I released her doorbell. “Sorry.”

“Are you all right?” She wrapped her arm around my shoulder and

half dragged me into the building, Tyrfing flopping behind me.

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“It’s raining hamsters.”

“What? Did you fall and hit your head?” Her hand brushed through

my hair checking for injuries.

I searched the now empty street. No hamsters. Shit. “I don’t think

so.” My eyes lost focus for a few seconds, and I tripped up the stairs, landing

face first on the smelly carpet.

“Come on, let’s get you upstairs and into bed.” Mary hefted me up

and dragged me up the rest of the steps.

Bed. Bad idea. “I can’t… we can’t… um…”

“Relax. I’m not going to rip your clothes off.” She smiled, her eyes

filling with tenderness and love. “I’m worried about you.”

God, I was an asshole. I didn’t deserve such kindness, but even as I

basked in the glow of Mary’s love, a picture of Lilith formed inside my

mind.

“Here we are, baby.” Mary pushed open her door. “Why don’t you

go lay down and I’ll be there in a second.”

I gave her a small smile, and like a dutiful child headed to her

bedroom, her pink bedroom, the same cotton candy color of every one of my

ex-wives. Fuck, Lilith had been right. Mary was a carbon copy of my past

three mistakes.

My fingers traced the edge of Mary’s pale cherry dresser. What had

drawn me to her in the first place? Sure, she was beautiful, but passionless

like the Mona Lisa, or a Hustler.

Damn it. Lilith had ruined me. Before I’d met her, I knew what I

wanted in life. Actually, I hadn’t wanted anything, and maybe that was the

problem. Mary was the easy choice. Simple. Unconditional. Boring. Shit.

Her bed seemed inviting though, decorated with an embroidered

pink-haired unicorn pillow. I looked closer. Were those teeth? The fucking

thing had fangs. I picked it up and tossed it on top the dresser with a shiver.

Mary definitely had an edgy side.

Tyrfing scraped against her bedpost as I unbuckled and slid it under

the bed. Tomorrow I’d find the kid. I knew it with an almost frightening

divine certainty.

The good guys would win, and the evil succubus bitch could go fuck

herself. The sword under the bed started to buzz, so I shook off my residual

anger and lay down on Mary’s fluffy soft bed.

An exotic blend of incense reached my nostrils. It smelled like

Jasmine and Clary sage. I sniffed again. Jasmine, sage, and purity? Sulfur?

My head started to pound, and blood pooled in my groin.

“Mary?” I cleared my throat.

“Right here, my love.” She stood in the doorway, glowing in the

early morning sunlight. Her naked skin shone like an angel, its intensity

burning my tired eyes. Her legs trembled as she floated toward me.

“Listen, I like you and we’ve had—” I started. My mind flashed to

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Lilith’s face, and the scars on her back. I pictured her playful smile, and the

teeth marks torn into my skin.

Mary’s fingertips brushed my lips, stopping my protest. “Forget her.

Forget everything but this moment. Us. Here and now.”

Forget her.

I blinked a couple of times. Mary. Sweet Mary. Our lips touched in a

gentle, undemanding kiss. Longing built within me, the sweet and

sentimental kind. My exhaustion gave way to the soft feel of her fingers on

my skin.

I kissed her neck, running my thumb across her breast. Her flesh

tasted like honey, but smelled like sage. Here, in her arms, urgency faded and

time stopped. Mary lifted my sweatshirt from my body and kissed my

bruised skin, tracing her nails across my sore muscles.

She smiled. Soft, sweet Mary.

In no rush, she removed my boots grimacing at the green smears on

their soles. Was that gum? I pressed my fists against my eyes. A fleeting

vision crossed my fevered brain, but I couldn’t catch hold of it.

My jeans hit the floor, again without urgency. I floated in a dream-

like state, playing with the ends of Mary’s long blonde hair and imagining

our life together.

Violet-eyed Mary.

She straddled me, riding me as pleasure curled around us. My dog

tags around her neck jangled with a steady beat. I caught a glimpse of my

expression in the metal and barely recognized myself. My pupils had

expanded until my irises disappeared, turning my eyeballs black. Beads of

sweat rolled off my face, puddling on Mary’s pink sheets.

My breathing spiked, coming faster and faster. After ten or so

minutes, my will gave in to my body’s desire to climax. I came inside her,

losing my sense of time and place.

Again, a memory of something tickled at the back of my brain, but

no matter how hard I tried it stayed elusive.

Mary collapsed on top of me. Her skin was barely damp, and her hair

had stayed in perfect order. Against my neck, she whispered, “You are mine.

Tonight and forever.”

No. Bile rose in my throat, as did the heavy and sudden need for

sleep. I fought to keep my eyes open, but with each breath, I slipped deeper

into a dream world.

“Hush baby, don’t fight it.” Mary kissed my lips.

I closed my eyes, seeing a face I didn’t recognize, a beautiful, black-

haired woman with a wicked smile, and cat yellow eyes.

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Thirty Three

Sometime during my impression of Rip Van Winkle, Mary kissed

my forehead and left the bed. I felt her go, heard her rustling around the

bedroom, and then nothing. Peace. Quiet. Deep, even breathing.

The dreams came. Violent, bloody nightmares. The kid crawled on

the floor, weaving his way closer to my body. My
dead
body with brains

splattered over the concrete.

The angel glared down at me. “Time is everything.”

The kid picked up a piece of my skull, blood, and drool dripping

from his chubby fingers. “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

God entered next, his hippie beard riddled with organic corn chips,

and Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia. “God should have His own flavor,” he

complained before gazing down at my corpse. “First, second squared.

They’re all the same.” He kicked my dead arm. “Never trust a man willing to

die for the devil.”

Next the whispered voice of a woman cried, “Help me.”

A hollow, feminine laugh followed the voice. It grew louder, and

louder, until the bits of my gray matter and brain pan scattered across the

ground. A stark white cat gobbled them up with an evil grin.

I awoke shivering, naked and alone. Where was I? Pink everywhere.

Mary. Fuck. I picked up the nearest pillow and beat myself in the head.

What had I done? And how the hell was I going to explain to her?

Well thanks for the fuck, but I’m infatuated with a demonic succubus who

wants me dead. Even I didn’t understand it.

I rubbed my face. As long as Lilith didn’t find out everything would

be fine. If she did find out, Mary could always join the witness protection

program. Maybe get a new identity, and some plastic surgery. Hell, I’d join

her. I glanced around the pink room. Maybe not.

Sitting up, I whimpered in pain. My body ached with a deep

unending burn. I glanced down at my chest, and the numerous bite and

scratch marks left by Lilith. What had Mary said? Mine, now and forever?

Odd that Lilith, not Mary, had left her mark.

I needed to call Lilith. No matter what had happened between us, the

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kid came first. We both knew and accepted that. I searched the floor for my

jeans, and the cell phone Lilith had handed me the night before.

Curled in a ball at the end of the bed, my jeans lay with its pockets

flipped inside out. Two cents and a breath mint sat on the floor next to them.

No cell phone, though. Damn. Had I lost it?

I dropped to my knees to search for the wayward device. My hand

reached under the bed, pulling out a dust bunny the size of a bowling ball.

Mary wasn’t a great housekeeper. Yet another check mark for Lilith.

Wait a minute. Only a dust bunny, I thought. I reached under the bed

again, panic racing along my nerves. No. No. No. I tossed the mattress from

the bed, knocking the barren frame out of my way.

Tyrfing was gone, a dusty outline the only evidence of its existence.

Had Mary taken it? Or had something snuck in here while I slept? Was it

Lilith?

Lilith. My stomach rolled, doubling me over. I sprinted to the

bathroom and hurled into Mary’s pink-coated sink.

A horrific smell seeped through the room. Like fish. Dead stinky

fish. I fell back a step. The stench came from the shower. I held my nose and

crept toward the pasty pink shower curtain.

Grabbing the edge, I counted to three and ripped it open. Thousands

of dead fish lay piled in the tub, with greasy gray skin and an oily sheen, not

to mention their blank black eyes. I shoved the curtain back in place and ran

to the sink. Dead fish? Was Mary into some sort of cult?

After my stomach settled, I threw on my jeans and borrowed Mary’s

house phone. I dialed Lilith’s number. It rang once then went to voicemail.

Damn. My guts tightened even more, and my level of anxiety reached

biblical proportions. Something was terribly wrong.

Hanging up, I shook my head. Where was she and where the fuck

was my sword and cell phone?

I scribbled a quick note to Mary, saying, 'It’s been fun but it’s time

we moved on'. I added an ‘it’s not you, but me line’, and signed it, your

friend, Jace. It was official. I was an asshole.

“Help me,” a voice inside my head whispered. Chills shot up my

back, and my anxiety changed to outright panic. I knew that voice. Oh God, I

knew that voice.

I grabbed my nine-millimeter, checked the four rounds left in the

clip, and ran for the door.

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Thirty Four

I took the stairs two at a time, and hit the street running. I ran and

ran, my legs and lungs burning. But where was I going? I had no idea, but in

my soul, I knew I was too late. The voice was fading.

Turning the corner of D, I slammed into a passing taxi and dropped

to my knees. Please God, I stared into the hamster heavy clouds and prayed.

“You must hurry, Nemamiah.” The angel appeared next to me, his

angel face looking a little green. “Time is running out.”

“But where am I going?” I scanned his expression for an answer.

Any answer. Hell, I’d settle for a direction. Something. Anything.

The angel shrugged, twirled without moving his feet, and pointed up

the street. “North, I think.”

“That’s south.”

“I am not good with directions.” He picked at his robe, pulling at a

long white string. “God did not install GPS on His earlier angel versions.”

I clenched my fists. “Do you know where they are?”

“Yes.”

“Where?” I stood and grabbed his feathery shoulders, shaking him

hard. Teeth rattling hard. “Tell me, damn it.”

The angel smiled sadly. “I cannot tell you.”

“What if we play twenty questions?”

He clapped his hands together. “Yes, yes. A game. I love to play

games. I prefer Mage. That Aphrodite knows her stuff. She beat my

character, Celestial Choruster—”

“Are they in the city?”

He scratched his chin. “The answer to question one is yes. They are

in what you call the Bugged Apple. Nineteen questions to go.”

Bugged Apple. I shook my head. Why did I bother? I doubted he

could tie his own shoes. “Are they within five miles of here?”

His fingers flicked out as he counted. One. Two. Three. Four. His

pinky finger rose but only to the first knuckle. Four point two. “Yes.

Seventeen questions left.”

Four point two miles left only one direction. North. I started to run.

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In New York, a four-mile cab ride could take forty-five minutes. On my

worst day, and this one was top at the list, I could run that in less than

twenty-five.

“Wait.” The angel pumped his skinny legs behind me. “The game is

not over. Time is not up. You have ten questions to go.”

Time…

No way. It couldn’t be that easy. I ran the remaining four miles, my

sweatshirt dripping with sweat, and my heart slamming in my ribcage.

At the mouth of Hell’s Gate, or West 40th street as New Yorkers

called it, I paused to glance up at the Panasonic Astro Vision television

screen, and the stiff, robotic reporter from Fox News plastered across it.