Holy Socks And Dirtier Demons (8 page)

taking shallow breaths until my nose acclimated to the smell. “If so, don’t tell

anyone I fell for it.”

She laughed, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a flask. She took

a long drink, and passed it to me. “Singular for female demon is succubus,

plural is succubae. And what makes you think you’re the hero?”

“I’m the guy with the white hat.” I pointed to my dingy gray

skullcap. It might have been white at one point.

“I’ll try to control my desire to kill you then.” She pushed me further

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inside the small room. Behind me, she struggled to pull the heavy door

closed. The scraping sound of marble and metal exploded in the dark silence,

but somehow instead of being frightened, I felt reassured. Safe.

In the blackness, Lilith took my hand, or I hoped like hell that it was

her hand. A match flared, illuminating Lilith and a fat black candle. She lit

the candle, and the mausoleum burst into light. A rush of something curled

along my spine; lust, desire, terror?

She smiled, reading my dark, dirty thoughts, or maybe she

recognized the gleam in my eyes. “Don’t get any ideas.” After all, she didn’t

strike me as all that innocent.

“You wanna tell me what we’re doing here?” I sat on the icy floor,

sucking in dust-mite dead guy air. The things I do to get laid.

“Your apartment is condemned.” She lit a few more candles, all

black. The flames danced, wavering back and forth in the slight crypt breeze.

“I know it’s not the Ritz.” I shrugged. “But it ain’t that bad.”

“No, it’s damned. You and I both felt it this morning. There are

powers at work. I don’t know if they’re good or evil, but they’re there.” Her

fingers traced the gold inlayed placeholder for Steve Brodie, the first guy to

supposedly jump off the Brooklyn Bridge and live. “And I’d rather not deal

with that tonight.”

“There’s more to it, isn’t there?” I gave her my best Clark Gable

smile, complete with shiny white teeth.

She sighed. “I got a phone call before we left the Underworld. A tip

if you will. A couple of angry demons planned to pay you a visit tonight.”

That wasn’t quite what I expected to hear. Damn. “And?”

“And I don’t want you to die, so I brought you to the one place I

know you’ll be safe.”

“Who are you?” Suspicion crept into my voice. She knew too much

about me, about the kid, about the darkness to be human. My brain searched

for a name, for a description of the sexy form in front of me. What did I

know about her? Her ex-husband, Adam, preached submission to

brainwashed idiots. Her boyfriend smelled like brimstone and owned a pit of

hell. Hades called her friend, but could I count on him?

I wanted to trust her, to believe she would lead me to the kid, but I

wasn’t born-again yesterday.

“Who do you want me to be, Jace?”

“I warned you about that.”

“About what?” She smirked, knowing damn well. Striding past me,

her long, lean legs swung to a hypnotic rhythm uniquely Lilith. I reached for

her, knocking her into my lap. She fell willingly enough. Her hands slipped

around my neck, and she nipped at my lower lip.

“Tomorrow. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” She traced

my mouth with the tip of her tongue. She tasted of wine, cigarettes, and salt.

Salt. Shit.

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The flask.

GHB.

“You date-rape drugged us.” I blinked, more stunned than angry.

“What the fuck for?”

“Not us, sweetheart.” She shifted positions on my lap and kissed my

forehead. “You.”

Heaviness descended on me. “I trusted you.” My lungs felt sluggish

as my heart rate slowed. Was this it? Death by date rape drugs? A part of me

almost hoped so. It would save me from God’s wrath, not to mention the

embarrassment of being drugged by a girl. The angel couldn’t save me this

time.

“Hush baby.” Lilith brushed a piece of hair from my eyes. “It won’t

hurt a bit. Just relax and go to sleep.”

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Thirteen

“Ahhhha,” I moaned and clutched at my fractured skull, feeling

around for fragmented bones and blood, but finding none. My head remained

intact; it just felt shattered into a million pieces. Next, I checked my jaw,

chest, arms, legs, and penis. All still there and ready to go, some parts more

than others.

What the hell? I crawled to a sitting position, considered puking, but

decided against it. In the dim, seemingly never ending candlelight, my eyes

inspected the mausoleum. With the exception of a missing Lilith, nothing

looked out of place. I stumbled to my feet and toward the door.

Check that. A missing Lilith and a broken door handle.

Fuck. I was trapped, pissed off and claustrophobic too. I had to get

out. The walls warped, shrinking in my mind’s eye. Running full tilt at the

door, I slipped on a puddle of candle wax, hit my head against the marble

archway, and knocked myself unconscious.

Lord knows how much time had passed when I awoke to the rumble

of the granite door opening. A cooling breeze drifted into the room,

extinguishing the flickering candles. I inhaled deeply, sucking in the fresh

scent of cemetery air.

My savior spoke, “Jace? Thank God. I was so worried.” Mary ran

into my crypt, threw her arms around me, and hugged me tight. She smelled

of woman, turpentine, and oil based paint.

Heaven scent.

“How’d you find me?” My voice bounced off the stone, sounding

louder than it had inside my head. I winced at the sound, but slowly rose to

my feet, keeping her body close to me.

“Someone slipped a map under my door. It said you were in trouble,

so I got here as fast as I could.”

Ah, the angel. He said he couldn’t affect the timeline of someone’s

life, but he sure as hell interfered in mine at will. Just this once, I was

thankful for the intervention. Spending an eternity with a bridge jumper and

two dead New York City mayors held little appeal.

“What time is it?” I blinked at the glaring sunlight as Mary helped

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me from the crypt.

“Noon.”

Shit.

“Thursday.”

What the fuck? I’d been trapped for two days? When I found Lilith I

was going to—

“Does this have to do with little J.C.?” Mary trembled, her body

absorbing my rage.

I swallowed the bile of hate, and lifted her face to meet my eyes.

“Yes, and it’s very dangerous. I want you to stay away from me and your

apartment until I get things settled.”

She shook her head. “I can’t, Jace. I have nowhere else to go, and

even less money to get there.”

She was so innocent, standing there with big violet eyes. My

protective instincts surfaced, and my thoughts shifted from search and

destroy to serve and protect. I would give my life to keep her and the kid

safe.

~ * ~

Mary and I stopped on Flatbush Avenue for supplies. Little Haiti, as

Flatbush was better known, served the needs of thousands of Voodoo

practitioners throughout the five boroughs. Pick any storefront, and behind

the fried plantains and bottles of rum were spells for all occasions.

I traded a golden cross I had worn since my baptism for two

protection spells and a couple of talismans, one of which was in the shape of

a blood-sucking succubus that reminded me of Lilith.

Pulling off my dog tags, I strung the talisman onto the heavy metal

chain, and looped it around Mary’s neck. The clasp caught a strand of her

white-blond hair. I gently removed the strand, taking a moment to thread it

through my fingers. Its soft, silky texture played havoc with my libido.

Pulling away, Mary lifted the tags and smiled. A possessiveness I

hadn’t felt since wife number one entered my heart. I kissed her, running my

fingers along her skin.

“I’ll keep you safe,” I promised, tasting her sweetness with hungry

lips. “As long as I’m alive, nothing will hurt you.”

She stroked my cheek. “Thank you.”

The blare of a taxi horn interrupted our tender moment. Reluctantly,

we climbed inside and returned to the real world. A world where only fools

made promises and dark-haired succubae ruled.

~ * ~

An hour later, Mary waited on the street while I crept into my

apartment. No sign of the angel or Lilith, but there was a huge pool of black-

red blood, and a trail of feathers on the floor. My heart sped up. No, not the

angel. Guilt at bringing death in the form of Lilith to our doorstep rocked my

otherwise iffy mental state.

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I picked my way through the rest of my apartment. Someone had

searched it, knocking over my milk-crate dresser and cardboard-box

bookcase. The kid’s crib lay smashed on the floor. His ragged teddy bear, the

only toy he owned, lay decapitated in the corner. I focused on the bear parts,

channeling my rage.

From the kitchen counter my cell phone rang. I swallowed hard,

listening to God’s ringtone,
Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.
Fuck. Could this

day get any worse? A small explosion on the street below answered that

question.

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Fourteen

I ran for the window. Four stories below, Lilith stumbled to her feet,

the big-ass gun smoking in her hands. The barrel swung toward Mary once

more.

“No!” I yelled through the closed window. Lilith glanced up, her face

burning with rage, eyes glowing like diamonds. Why the fuck was she mad?

I was the one who had been drugged and locked underground for two days,

not her.

She turned to Mary, and the boom of the big-ass gun rocked the

street, setting off car alarms and fits of dogs barking. Lilith flew backward

ten feet landing hard on the ground. But Mary remained standing. How? Had

Lilith missed? It didn’t seem possible.

I ran from my apartment and down to the street, pulling my nine-

millimeter before exiting the building. I frowned, watching as Lilith’s pale

blue Gremlin disappeared around 11th street.

Mary ran to me, her face pale, limbs trembling. I folded her into my

body, running my hands over her unmarked skin. No bullet holes. No blood.

I lifted my dog-tagged talisman from around her neck and smiled.
I’ll be

damned. It worked
.

“What happened?” I tilted her chin to face me.

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “One minute I was standing

there, waiting for you, and the next your girlfriend started shooting.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I mumbled.

“Then who is she, and why did she try to kill me?”

“I wish I knew.”

~ * ~

Back inside my apartment, a barely audible twerp echoed from the

mobile phone in my pocket. I glanced at Mary, checked the caller ID, and

flipped it open with a mixture of dread and inevitability. If I didn’t answer

they would only call back, and keep calling back until I finally answered or

shot myself.

“Hey, Mom,” I said into the phone. “I’m kind of busy right now.”

Like that mattered. My mother was a talker, and that trait exploded when her

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first-born son answered the phone.

“I’ll just be a minute, Jace, baby. I miss you. We all miss you. When

are you going to come home? Last week I ran into.”

I tuned out, picturing the house I’d grown up in with its pink

flamingos and white picket fence on a couple of acres of farmland in the

middle of Nowhereville, St. Francis, Wisconsin, population 8,800, and

growing smaller as years passed.

“And your father said to the reverend.”

Stepfather, I nearly corrected but swallowed the bitterness that

haunted most of my childhood. Don’t get me wrong, Joe was the perfect

father. He loved me like his own kid. He took me to baseball games, and

taught me to target shoot. But he wasn’t biologically mine. I’d grown up

longing for a nameless, faceless ‘real’ father.

My brothers took after Joe, each blond and big. I, on the other hand,

resembled anyone from the mailman to my high school principal. My mom

swore my biological father was a Peace Corps volunteer passing through our

small town, but I had my doubts.

My mom had met Joe while giving birth to me at the hunting &

fishing department at Wal-Mart. An electrician by trade, Joe worked part-

time as a salesman at the store and had just come on shift when my mom’s

screams rocketed from the aisle.

The rest, my parents claim, is history, but I knew better. I owed Joe

more than I would ever be able to repay. He had given me his name and his