Saint And Sinners (95 page)

“That is too funny! You are gonna have to get a video camera and start taping this
stuff.”

“Whew, child! I know, right? Not letting kids have Kool-Aid is like no toys for Christmas!
I don’t know what type of rodeo Xenia is runnin’ over here, but she definitely need
my help! Yeah, chile, and my old ass is gonna get a driver’s license, too…”

“I could never drive in New York City!”

“Yes, honey! The traffic is scarier than Oprah Winfrey without makeup, but I’mma make
it do what it do! I’m about that life, Gloria! I feel young and free again out here.
It’s just something about it! It gets ya blood pumpin’! ‘Adrenalin’, they call it!”

“Well, I think you better clear this with your daughter and son-in-law first, Pam.”

“I’m grown! I can move wherever the hellsss I want to! Hold on, Daaaaakarai! ’Sani
and Isis! Get in here and get somethin’ to eat… I know your mother ain’t feed you
nothing but bean curds and hard as leather dried apricots! I seen those odd ass collard
greens chips she bakes in the oven, ol’ nasty ass shit! Girl, Xenia be cookin’ vegetables
in the damn oven, greasin’ ’em down with olive oil, sprinklin’ sea salt on it and
sayin’ they veggie chips! Like they came from a damn bag in the store! That shit belong
in
one
bag and one bag
only
, the garbage bag! Well, I gotta go, I’m caught somewhere between the moon ’nd New
York City!” Pam cackled as she disconnected the call…

*

Saint watched his
woman fidget with her thin gold necklace. The moon shined on Xenia’s profile, gave
her dainty nose a light blue sheen of illumination. Lawrence was stationed around
the corner, and Jagger, well, he was close but his exact coordinates unknown as the
man flipped about here and there, morphing into shadows. Now, all they had to do was
wait. Saint’s thoughts drifted about, but he made certain to not engage Xenia in conversation.
Her nerves were a wreck, and she made it crystal clear she didn’t want any small talk
or unnecessary banter. The woman had her game face on, and Saint hoped and prayed
she’d be able to go through with the shit. Xenia was a softie when it came to things
like this…and well, he supposed it kept her mortal, connected to the spirit of universal
human life. It was also a thing he loved about her, but at times like this, it could
be a perilous trait. He shook his head, and reflected over the past hours’ events.
After reviewing the tape rather extensively, an idea came to him. Why not present
the situation to Cruz? Maybe he had data that could change and roll the tide in his
favor. The inkling had hit him like an epiphany, and of late, his psychic intuition
seemed to be spot on. Not only could Cruz tell him where the son of the bitch stayed,
he also gave him vital information on how to handle the situation. It saved them a
hell of a lot of time, and furthermore, he received more enlightenment than he’d ever
bargained for…

Cruz’s home was modest, at best. When Saint walked in, his damn ‘hello’ echoed as
if he were speaking into a canyon. Interestingly enough, despite being verbally disowned
by his father, the man had left him the property, as well as a small inheritance.
Cruz kept the walls in colors of pearly white and dismal gray. Only a handful of childhood,
rustic furniture dotted the place. It was the home in which he grew up, indeed, and
not a thing appeared to have been updated. He’d returned to it after the death of
his father, and gutted the place of all Satanic inklings, décor and memorabilia. Regardless,
the negative energy within the walls proved a damn doozy. Saint’s nostrils flared
as soon as he stepped inside, catching the odor of despair-filled trapped souls, the
angst of the dearly departed and the sulfurous nausea of demons lying in wake. He
wished he could set the place on fire, allowing those trapped to finally escape, and
the evil spirits within to meet their fate.

As Saint walked about, he stood here and there, his heart murmur becoming more intense
as he gasped for breaths. Then, he realized what the issue was… Cruz’s father had
conducted animal sacrifices on the property, which only compounded the problem, and
there was simply no getting around that tortured vibe.

Saint continued to tour the house at Cruz’s urging. The young man wanted him to give
his take on the place for some peculiar reason. So, Saint complied. He’d made a half
decent wage at the Empire City Subway, but upon seeing the sparse décor, lack of a
television, only one dated radio in the kitchen, Saint wasn’t certain what the man
was spending his cash on.

“Please, have a seat,” Cruz offered, pointing to a red plastic chair in the kitchen.

Saint hesitated, then did as requested. The damn thing was peg legged, rocking about.
Saint slicked a cigar out of his pocket and waved it lazily in Cruz’s direction.

“Do you mind?”

“No, not at all. Angel Children smoke helps to purify, so please, smoke away.”

“I thought that was just the curls of smoke coming naturally from our mouths.” Saint
smirked as he lit the thing and set his lighter on the card table that served as a
place for dinner for one.

“No. All smoke that comes from your mouths does. Doesn’t matter if it originated from
a cigar, cigarette, joint, or your soul; it is coming out of your mouth which is kissed
by the Creator. Anyway…” Cruz turned away, wearing his customary hood as he removed
two small glasses from an overheard cabinet. “So, you say you are looking for a Love
Jones Demon Child?”

“Yes. It would take us more time than we have to comb through the history, but I was
not familiar with Demon Children, as you may or may not recall, at least not in the
traditional sense. So for the sake of time management,” Saint said, placing the cigar
to his lips and taking a leisurely puff, “I thought I’d ask if you knew him.”

“I do. He goes by the name of ‘Zoo’.” Cruz filled the two glasses with tap water and
set them down on the table. He took a seat across from Saint, slid a cigarette out
of his pocket and lit it. Both men stared at one another for a moment or two. “You
know, I still find it difficult to look into your eyes.”

“You shouldn’t.”

Cruz shrugged and continued on as he tossed his glance towards the floor. “Zoo is
Koki’s muscle man. He is one of his many bodyguards, if you will; his favorite, actually.
They go way back. He has the ability, as you’ve learned the hard way, to control the
desires of others in affairs of the heart. Koki has the same gift, which is one of
the many reasons why he is so popular, since the gift is not exactly what I’d classify
as common. Similar hexes are conducted, but they eventually wear off. This is the
only kind that does not. Instead, each sunset that passes, it grows a bit stronger
until it completely consumes the couple, forcing their inevitable breakup. It is only
used in what are considered dire cases, though.”

“Why do you believe Koki sent Zoo versus doing it himself? He doesn’t strike me as
the cowardly type. Xenia didn’t know him. He could have done this himself.”

“Oh, you’d be correct.” Cruz smiled and nodded in agreement. He took a thoughtful
sip of his water and set it back down. “No, you see, with this gift comes a great
price. Whoever administers it, as you are aware of, sets themselves up to be murdered
should the victim discover what has taken place. No civilian, to my knowledge, has
ever been able to do so.” He shook his head. “Now, sometimes these situations are
blamed on things like hoodoo and voodoo, when in fact, it is neither…a Love Jones
Demon was at play. It is a very serious curse, if you will, for lack of a better word
because of all that I’ve described. Koki, if I were a betting man, sent Zoo because
it is an honor to serve in this manner. They receive promotions, and if you administer
this curse and get away with it, you’ve definitely climbed higher up the ranks. It
was seen as an opportunity, not a set-up. Now, Zoo likes to hang around at the Morimoto
in Chelsea, the Meatpacking District.”

“I’m familiar with Morimoto.” Saint grinned then placed his cigar down in a nearby
ashtray. “It’s a bit crowded on the weekends, but their sushi is good.”

Cruz nodded in agreement. “Yes, and at times, Koki is there, too. So be careful. Here
is the other problem…just like you can smell us, we can smell you. I suggest you all
spread out. If Zoo gets wind you’re looking for him, he’ll bail.”

“Our plan already covered the fact that we will not be lumped together in the same
spot during the stake out.”

“Good, because a bunch of multi-tiered Angel Children in one area gives off a strong
aroma. Sickeningly sweet, as if a batch of chocolate were melted in a big cauldron,
right in the middle of the damn room. Add some honey and lilacs, and you have the
scent…rather hard to describe, but that’s the best I can come up with. It smells different
to everyone. To civilians, it smells like cologne or perfume. To Demon Children, it
is a grotesque, nauseating, sweet scent that can induce one to vomit. To other Angel
Children, it is reminiscent of spring time, flowers in bloom, and freshly cut grass.”

“Cruz.” Saint crossed his ankles and shot the man a glance. “You’re in trouble for
telling me this, aren’t you?”

“Yes. It is part of our code. Even though I have gone AWOL, if a Demon Child does
what I am doing—basically hands over another Demon Child to our sworn enemy, that
being Angel Children—then I have literally placed myself on the chopping block.”

“…Then why did you agree to meet me and talk to me about this after I called you?”

“Because…you’re Saint Aknaten.”

Saint smirked, shook his head, and looked out the kitchen window.

“Cruz, there is a pentagram in the basement of this place,” he announced as he watched
the sun begin to set.

“Yes, I am aware of that.”

“Then why do you keep it?”

“I didn’t. I removed it, but it has stained the concrete. He must’ve used a mixture
of paint and blood.” He took a long draw of his cigarette.

“You wished for me to survey your home. I must say, it would be best burned down to
the ground. However, if you wish to reside here, would you like for me to remove it?
As a gesture of gratitude to you?”

“I would like that very much.”

The men slowly rose from their seats and made their way down a precarious flight of
rickety wooden steps. Cobwebs draped along the place, forcing Saint to destroy many
a spider’s home as he descended downward.

“Zoo is rather pleased with being able to do this for Koki,” Cruz offered as they
made their way to the bottom.

“What do you mean?”

“Well.” Cruz shrugged. “It’s the ultimate sacrifice. He’d be promoted from Demon Child
to Demon in Hell if he is murdered by his victim. He’d transcend his flesh, and become
full-fledged demon. That is a big deal in our world. However, there is one way to
ensure that doesn’t happen.”

“How?” Saint stood still. An old bare light bulb swung to and fro as the man pulled
its frayed string.

“Timing is imperative. This is a secret that is not written down, Saint. So your learned
friend Lawrence may not know of it. Matter of fact, I can promise you he does not.
If your wife kills him, and you, as a multi-tiered Angel Child behead him within twenty-one
seconds of his last heartbeat, he loses that chance for promotion. It is null and
void. The reason being, Satan gives the promotion starting from our hearts, and it
travels to our brains. If you disrupt that turn of events by disconnecting the head
from the body, then he will remain in limbo and possibly be turned into a slave in
Hell, instead. The mere fact that I’ve uttered these words to you has sealed my fate.
We have no direct witnesses, but we do have witnesses, if you will.” The man bowed
and turned away, not seemingly phased that he’d just committed a form of suicide.

Saint took a deep breath and looked around the basement. An assortment of dust-covered
wicker baskets was stacked in one, dismal, lonely corner. In another crook of the
enclosure sat an avocado colored washing machine and dryer that looked as if they
were on their last leg. They had to be at least twenty years old. And on the concrete
floor stood out the main motherfuckin’ attraction—the pentagram, conveniently covered
with a threadbare, fetid, claret rug. Saint made his way towards it and flung it back,
revealing the hideous thing. His heart instantly began to pump harder and harder.

“How odd,” Cruz said.

“What?” Saint looked behind himself at his host who now leaned against a cobweb covered
stonewall.