Holy Socks And Dirtier Demons (9 page)

love without condition, and I had failed him time and again.

“So your brothers brought their families down for Sunday dinner. I

told them about your new job and they are thrilled. Just think, my son, a

Homeland Security agent.”

I smiled into the phone. Close enough. “Mom, I really have to go.” I

added, watching Mary bend to pick up a broken glass, “I’ll call you on

Saturday.” But we both knew I wouldn’t.

“I love you, Jace. Be safe.”

“I love you too, Mom.” I hung up the phone and glanced at Mary.

“You don’t have to clean up.”

She straightened, brushing off her jeans. “Why would someone do

this to you?” She waved her hands around the trashed apartment. “First little

J.C., and now this. I’m scared for you.”

“Don’t be.” I reached for her hand. “I have to go, but I want to make

sure you’re all right.”

“Oh, Jace, I’m scared. Please stay.” Her eyes lit with passion, and

need. I wanted her. Wanted her like never before, but I had to track down the

kid, and the treacherous bitch, Lilith before someone, namely Mary, ended

up dead. I stared into her beautiful face, and said, “I can’t.” I pulled away and

headed for her apartment. “Lock yourself in your apartment and don’t open

the door to anyone unless it’s me, and even then keep the chain on.” At her

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apartment door, I kissed her quickly.

“Be careful,” she whispered as she disappeared inside her apartment.

I nodded, listening for the telltale click of her deadbolt locking.

Satisfied she was as safe as she could be, I headed for the stairs. My stomach

rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten in two days. I’d kill for a Big Mac, but

I had more important matters to attend to.

Halfway down the hall, the stench of dead fish so vile the wallpaper

peeled from the walls, struck me, knocking me back a step. Sid was making

sushi again. I rolled my eyes and detoured to his apartment.

“Sid, open up.” I banged on his door, rattling the tiny gold numbers

affix to the wood by a screw.

After a few seconds, Sid did as I demanded but didn’t look happy

about it, his too small shirt covered in blood and guts. “Who speaks the

sound of an echo? Who paints the image in a mirror? Where are the

spectacles in a dream? Who knocks on my door? And what does he want?”

“Listen Sid, someone broke into my apartment. I was hoping you

saw who it was.” I waved a hand in front of my nose to dispel the fishy odor.

He scratched his nuts and replied, “Past mind can't be seized. Present

mind can't be grasped. Future mind can't be sensed. With which mind will

you drink the tea?”

“What?” I scratched my head. “I don’t want any tea. Did you see

anybody or not?”

“You will find what you seek.” He nodded to himself. “Go and find

what you desire.”

“Go where?” Did he know where the kid was? “For once, man, say

what the fuck you mean.”

He frowned, rubbed his fat tummy, and repeated, “Go, and find what

you desire.”

I glanced at his hand on his stomach and the t-shirt stretched tightly

across it.
Heavenly Grace Buddhist Temple.
Got it. “Thanks, Sid. I owe you

one.”

“I leave, circle, stick, stone. The game of life, of chance, of faith.”

“Yeah, same to you.”

Sid shook his head and slammed the door in my face. So much for

the kindness of neighbors, but I had a lead. Things looked up, that was until

my cell phone rang again.

“Mama take this badge off of me
…” I pressed the silence button

sending God to voicemail.

51

Fifteen

The Heavenly Grace Temple sat a few blocks from Chinatown on the

Lower East Side. It didn’t look like a temple, but my frame of reference for

what a temple actually looked like, came mostly from cheesy 1970’s police

detective shows.

A brick veneer covered the building, and a small, unobtrusive sign

hung over the door. I rang the bell and waited. Minutes passed. Maybe it was

prayer time, or head shaving day. I rang the bell again.

A short, serene looking man in a robe answered. His expression of

calm faltered slightly at my presence. Unwarranted, I believed. After all, I

had showered before heading over and the nine-millimeter was concealed

beneath my sweatshirt.

“May I help you?” The man’s accent sounded upper crust WASP.

Great, a Buddhist CPA.

“Sid sent me.” I gently pushed open the front door and stepped

inside. “He said you had something of mine here.” I sniffed the air. No new

Jesus smell. Damn.

“We have been waiting for you.” He gestured for me to follow.

“Sorry for my rudeness, but we cannot be too careful.”

My stomach growled, as the scent of fried animal flesh tickled my

nostrils. Weren’t Buddhists vegan? Something wasn’t right. “Why don’t you

tell me exactly what you expected?”

“Are you not on the noble path?”

Why did everybody answer a question with a question? What the

fuck happened to the straight answer? “I think there’s some sort of mistake.

I’m looking for a kid, not to convert.”

“You are not a Buddhist?” He stopped, face paling under my gaze.

“No. Don’t get me wrong, I love what you guys do. The airport

drumming and sing-alongs are loads of fun, but I can’t quite pull off wearing

a dress.” I pointed down at my jean clad legs. “Chicken legs.”

The Buddhist’s lips thinned. “We are not Hare Krishnas. We do not

wear dresses, nor do we hold sing-alongs.”

“Oh, sorry.” Shit. I probably should’ve read the religions manual the

52

angel provided, but it was over a million pages, and I’d never even finished

Stephen King’s,
The Stand
.

Another guy, who wore a robe that barely covered a row of tattooed

Sanskrit lettering around his arm, handed my CPA Buddhist a plain white

paper bag. A grease stain appeared on the bottom.

My robe-wearer opened the bag, sneered, and quickly closed it. “This

is what you desire?” He shook his head. “Now go before more unenlightened

ones get the sudden urge for flesh.” He pushed the bag into my hand and

pushed me out the door.

What was that about? I peeked into the bag, and laughed. A Big Mac

stared from the paper depths, mocking me. My one true desire happened to

be a hamburger, and damn, if Sid hadn’t come through.

I wolfed the sandwich down, thought about desiring a drink, but

decided against it. Getting my ass kicked by a bunch of Buddhists wasn’t a

productive way to spend my day.

But I did need a drink, and I knew just where to find it.

~ * ~

“Hades, what the hell is she?” I sipped a beer, watching as Hades

scrub a tar-crusted glass. I’d come to the Underworld looking for answers,

but so far had only found a Heineken.

“What is who?” Hades scratched his head. A snake ratted in anger.

Again with the questions. “Lilith. The PI you called. Who is she, and

why did
you
send
her
to help me?”

His mouth dropped. “Lilith? No shit? I didn’t send her. I wouldn’t

put her on my worst enemy, let alone someone I called friend.”

“Thanks, I think. So she wasn’t the PI who located Persephone?” I

was a fucking moron. I never questioned her presence, nor the fact she didn’t

look like any detective I’d ever seen.

“Hell no.” Hades smiled; venom dripping from his follicles. “Is that

who you were with the other night? I wondered what she looked like in

human form.”

“Yeah. You wanna fill me in? Who is she?” I pounded my beer on

the bar, rousing Dionysus. He burped out a hello and fell asleep again.

“She is the mother of all succubae. The first wife of Adam, said to

have tempted Eve into feeding him the apple. She is also Satan’s mistresses

and as evil as they come. E-V-I-L.”

Stupid Angel, and his ‘she smells human’ assurance. He was an idiot,

and Lilith, the bitch, was the origin of dastardly deeds. “Great.” I shook my

head, slumping lower on the barstool.

“Legend has it, she has the head of a lion and a scorpion vagina. Not

a woman to mess with. But, brother, she is smoking HOT. I’d get me a piece

of that.”

“Hades! If I ever hear—” Persephone shouted from the locked back

office.

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“Sorry, pumpkin.” Hades glanced around sheepishly. “Jace, you have

to be very careful. If she finds J.C. before you do, all the prayer in the world

ain’t gonna save us.”

“I’ll find him.” But where? A half-assed idea formed in my brain.

Devine intervention maybe, but chances were it was plain stupidity.

54

Sixteen

I spent the rest of the day hunting for the kid, tracking new reports of

suspicious happenings, and supposed miracles throughout the city. An

exorcism of an infant in the Bronx turned out to be gas, and a priest faked a

bleeding statue of the Virgin Mary in Queens. At least I wasn’t hard up

enough to e-Bay grilled cheese sandwich faces of Jesus. Yet.

I trolled the streets in a stolen BMW taken from a televangelist who

claimed God meant for him to own two houses in Aspen, and a mistress in

Manhattan. I flipped through radio stations, looking for the latest news brief.

One particular snippet caught my attention.

A reporter said, “Advocates for the homeless wonder about the

overall effects.”

A secondary voice of a homeless guy screeched, “Who’s going to

give me money now? No one feels sorry for a two-legged panhandler. I used

to pull in fifty bucks a day with one leg, now look at me. Miracle my ass.”

I flipped the wheel and sped toward 151st Street, the epicenter of

homeless in the city. By sheer chance, I glanced in my rearview mirror. A

pale blue Gremlin followed. The driver, a black-haired succubus, flipped me

off.

I smiled and slammed on my brakes. With a loud crash, the Gremlin

smashed into the bumper of the Beemer, crumpling it like an accordion. To

my dismay, the Gremlin swung into the left lane and kept pace.

Lilith raised her arm and fired a round from her big-ass gun. I

pressed on the brakes again, and the bullet ripped into the BMW’s engine

block instead of my head as intended.

Flames shot from the car. The engine seized, and I rolled to a dead

stop. I waved away clouds of smoke in time to see Lilith’s Gremlin speed

down the street. Fuck.

I banged my fist on the steering wheel. When my temper tantrum

subsided, I reached for my cell phone and dialed Hades’s number. “Plan B,”

I said when he answered.

~ * ~

The back alley of the Core smelled like I remembered; a combination

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of grease, garbage, and brimstone. I checked my nine-millimeter for the third

time, waiting for Hades’s signal, a signal that should’ve come ten minutes

ago.

I glanced at the Gremlin parked at the entrance of the alley, and

smiled with anticipation. That bitch would pay. Red light from Hades’s laser

pointer bounced off my retina. Showtime.

Slipping an electric lock pick from my pocket, I went to work on the

back door. The whirl of the pick rang from the deserted alley and into the

street. But no one paid me any attention.

The lock snapped, and I pushed the door open. Blackness filled the

backroom. The room I’d died in. A shiver passed through my body. Fear was

good. My drill Instructor had beaten that into me repeatedly. Fear kept you

alive.

I slipped through the double doors, and into the semi-packed club.

Hades and fifty other gods sat around the room in fully god-like glory.

Apollo caught my eyes and winked. Having the sun god watching my back

felt good, almost like I was invincible. I missed the angel, however. He’d

been an annoying tool sure, but
my
annoying tool. One more sin Lilith would

pay for.

A hiss sounded on my right. I twisted toward it, gun at ready. “She’s

not here.” A snake-tongued demon-girl withered to the heavy music beat.

“Who?” I played dumb.

“Ki-sikil-lil-la-ke, of course.”

Okay, this time I wasn’t playing. “Who?”

The beast-girl sighed. “Lilith, you fool. She is not here. Samuel

replaced her with another.”

I stared into her eye. Yep, one eye, dead center of her pale forehead.

“Do you know where she went?”

The demon-girl laughed. “Where do you think?”

Blood pounded inside my head. “Forget it. Demons don’t know shit

anyway. Satan doesn’t trust your kind.” I started to walk away.

“I know more than you think.” Her tail swished, kicking up a cloud

of dust and smoke. “I know where the prize you seek is kept.”