Free Holy Socks And Dirtier Demons by J.A. Kazimer

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
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    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.