Chapter 2: The Savior

“I can see it now...Roman the Savior.”

Okay, I’ll admit it. At one point, I really liked Jazz. Like, really liked her.

            “Open,” she held her small hand to my lips. I shifted into a more comfortable position but, it was hard to get comfortable in the back of a pickup truck. And with Jazz practically leaning on me.

            Jazz and I decided to ditch out on the concert early. The music sucked really bad. It was like three guys banging on Casio keyboards in this basement flashing with seizure-worthy strobe lights. Not to mention the crowd was unbelievably disgusting with their greasy hair and sweat flying all over the place. Instead we decided to drive out to the border of Sunrise Mountain. It was weird; one side was in the middle of nowhere and the other side blazed with neon lights.

            “You want it or not?” she wiggled the salty peanut in between two short fingers. I opened my mouth and she quickly dropped it in. “Too bad we’re not here at sunrise.”

            “Being at Sunrise Mountain at sunrise is too mainstream anyway.”

            “That’s my boy,” Jazz patted my head with a laugh.

            It was the day she came back from New York, three years ago. That was the point in my life when I thought I really liked Jazz. Of course I kept it to myself. And of course that feeling had completely dissolved since then. It was just a usual thirteen year old’s crush on his only friend. Nothing special.

            “Are you cold?” I asked her. The temperature had dropped dramatically as it usually did at night and all she had was a tee shirt and ripped jeans. “Still have Stinky?”

            When we were younger, we had found this old blanket in her house that we used to wrap her dog in. For a while, we brought the fleece sheet with us everywhere we went. After all that usage, I think the name of the blanket was self-explanatory. Anyway, sometimes Jazz would have old Stinky in her pickup.

            “You bet,” she grinned and pointed behind me. “It should be somewhere in the back here, probably on your side.”

            I felt around until my fingers brushed a familiar soft fabric. I shook it out and sand dust flew off of it. I gave the other edge to her so we could pull it across our selves. It was a little too small so she scooted closer next to me, her shoulder right against mine.

            Her head quickly turned to me and I looked back. Her eyes scanned my face. “What?”

            “Stinky still smells like piss,” she cringed.

            “I think your dog pissed in it so…”

            She smiled slightly, “Happy sixteenth, Ro-Ro. I know you didn’t want any gifts but…” she reached for something behind her.

            “Come on, Jazz,” I rolled my eyes. “You already got the concert tickets.”

            “Yeah but I knew it was going to be crappy so I got you something else,” she pulled out a shoe box wrapped in newspaper. “Just take it, Becker,” she shoved it at me, her face quickly coloring.

            “Okay, okay,” I ripped it open. Breaking into laughter, I asked her, “Why?” and pulled out the complete DVD set of Seinfeld season one from the inside the box.

            “There’s more, keep going,” she pointed inside with a grin.

            Some other weird gifts included were a cheap yo-yo, a tape of Aerosmith’s greatest hits, pencils with smiley faces printed on them, and a lot more other things.

            “What are all these?” I looked back to Jazz.

            She reached out and took the Seinfeld DVD, “Remember when you first came over my house? It was only like a couple of days after I moved in and my only TV at the time was stuck on one channel. You remember?”

            I smirked, “And there was a Seinfeld marathon on. And we watched it all day.”

            “All day,” she agreed and took the small pack of juicy fruit gum. “And that time in third grade when David Welner pushed you off the slide and you got scraped on your knees.”

            “And we put gum in his hair the next day,” I couldn’t stop smiling. I couldn’t believe Jazz did all this. She went on to explain a few more objects and all the memories came back to me at once. Okay so, Jazz may have been my only friend but, she was still the best one that I could have. Some people have multiple friends who aren’t as great as her.

            Though, if you were counting, I’d say Jazz is worth like, more than ten friends.

            “Jazz,” I interrupted her reminder of the time we broke my bathroom mirror and attempted to use glue to put it back together. “This is…” I was barely given compliments or gifts but, the rare times I was I never quite knew how to react. Especially this time, it being something incredible.

            “Wait,” Jazz put the stuff back in the box and left it to the side. “I have one more…gift for you.”

            I quickly glanced around for a hint of what might’ve been next but I didn’t see anything. “Um, alright.” I looked back to her; her round cheeks were completely flushed and her big eyes even larger than I remembered. “What’s wro�"?”

            My first thought was that I was getting attacked. But as her arms quickly slid around the back of my neck and her fingers tugged at my hair and her mouth came against mine that thought quickly melted. Just as quickly as she came at me, she snapped back.

            Now I really had no idea what to say. “Um…thanks?”

            Jazz shook her head, “You really are an a*s.”

            “Don’t tell me you’ve just realized that.”

            It was dangerously silent after that and I was afraid that I’d said something wrong. I guess I hadn’t since we both came back at each other, lips pressing and hands tugging. I let my arms come behind her and bring her closer to me. I pulled her even closer as one of her hands ran through my hair and her other pressed against my chest. My heart pounded in my ears and my fingers itched to touch more of her.

            I guess it was safe to say that not all of my feelings for her had dissolved.

            “There you are.”

            Jazz and I pulled away from each other immediately at the sound of a voice. My heart almost stopped as I saw a figure crawling up the back of the truck, it being too dark to see exactly who it was.

            “Roman Becker,” the figure was now in the truck bed with us, crawling closer. “I have a message for you.” I scrambled around me for my phone. I finally found it and blazed the flashlight on the person.

            “Hey,” my nerves turn to confusion. “Aren’t you my plumber?” the light revealed the figure as that dark eyed plumber girl that my mom had a fit over. She was still dressed in her overalls but her cap was gone and her dark hair flew wildly as a breeze came.

            “My name is Naamah, succubus of Asmodeus, Granddaughter of Lilith,” she kneeled in front of me her head low down. “Asmodeus wishes to present you with this,” she brought her head up and held out her hands. She showed me a long thin metallic tool that pointed at one end and had a complex handle at the other end.

            “Is that a tattoo gun?” Jazz looked over.

            Naamah ignored her, “It is the Amalgamation. The only object in existence made of Divine and Infernal. With this you will receive your blessings from the Archangels and Archdemons.” She put the tool in my hand and a sort of breeze brushed by all of us. “It is time your mission has begun, Roman Becker.” She stood back up and jumped off the back of the car.

            Jazz turned to me, “What the f**k."

 

***

           

            “And we shall pray together in silent blessings for all of our loved ones,” Father Simon, standing in front of the altar, raised his old hands and closed his eyes.

            I looked over at my mother next to me. She had knelt on the bench and had her head lowered, her black hair dangling down. Her pale hands were clasped together tightly and a frantic trail of whisper left her mouth.

            I could never understand what she was praying on about. It kind of seemed like a foreign language. But it was probably just because she was talking so quickly.

            “Now, may you all leave in peace,” Father Simon’s monotone voice echoed in the small church. Barley anyone else came to church, or at least at nine in the morning. It was usually almost empty whenever I went.

            With a sigh, mom and I left our seats.

            “Roman,” my mom pulled me aside, her eyes hard, “stay here; I need to have a word with Father Simon.”

            “Okay,” I sat back down on a stray bench in the back row. My mom headed towards the old priest. The old man was stumbling away from the altar, scratching his head. Church probably wouldn’t be so bad if they didn’t have senile clergy. I watched silently as my mother came face to face with him. Her mouth started moving a million miles a second and the man just stared back at her blankly.

            It was obvious that my mom wasn’t good with people. She never did leave the house, except for church. So she never really did have a chance to talk to people outside. I think it’s just because she is extremely paranoid. Or she just doesn’t like people.

            If that was the case, she really is my mom.

            “Why would I not be able to?” I turned my head, hearing a girl talk from not too far away. “Have I not put enough devotion? Shall I try harder?” It was a small nun standing in the back of the church and, by the sound of her voice, she was young. In front of her was another nun, whose face I could see. She was certainly not young.

            The older nun held the girl by her shoulders, “It is a reason you will find out eventually. I am not the one to reveal it to you.”

            The girl turned away from the woman, who just stood there patiently. I could catch a glimpse the younger girls’ face. She was pale skinned but dark eyed and certainly pretty. She brought her long hands to her face and wiped her eyes.

            “Cry all you wish, Ariel, you cannot change who you are,” the woman walked away. The girl sat down at the other end of the bench I was at and buried her head in her arms. She took her headdress off, white blonde hair falling into her face.

            “Yes?” she turned to me.

            I blinked; I hadn’t realized I was staring. “Nothing,” I turned away. I wondered if I should have been saying something, asking her what was wrong. I opened my mouth but shut it right closed again, she was a nun, it’s not like I could try to charm her or anything. And she probably thought all guys were pigs or something.

            “Today is not my day,” she shook her head, her hair shaking with it. Her voice was quiet, even a little hoarse.

            “What happened?” I decided to ask.

            She looked up and down at me. It reminded me of my mother’s critical inspections. “What didn’t happen is more like it,” she said coldly. “This morning I overslept and had to listen to a lecture about disgracing Lord. Then when I was walking the street, some man tried to grope me. And now this,” she gestured at her headpiece.

            I waited for her to go on but she just crossed her arms. “What’s ‘this?’”

            “Mother just told me I can dress like a nun, pray like a nun, stay pure like a nun, yet I’ll never be able to truly be a nun.”

            I looked at her skeptically.

            “She says it is because of something that is not in my control, because of my family. I don’t even know who my family is! I was brought to the church as a baby and raised here for all my life. And now, now I’m being treated like a forsaken woman,” she pulled on her sleeves, “treated like a stranger. I mean, I can’t truly be part of the convent until I’m eighteen, I know that, but I’ve devoted myself for as long as I lived. Is that not enough?” She looked at me. “I’m sorry, I’m being insolent, telling my whole life story to a stranger. You probably are annoyed and don’t care.”

            I rubbed my aching wrist, “I don’t mind.”

            She gave me a kind smile then lowered her eyes to my hands. “What happened? Why are you bandaged?”

            “Um, I have a condition,” I pulled my sleeves down further.

            “Oh,” she sounded like she wanted to know more but didn’t want to invade. She looked up at my forehead, “Is it on your head too?”

            I hesitated before brushing my hair out of the way so she could see the little red divots herself.

            Her eyes widened, “What about your feet? Is it there too?” I nodded and she jumped to her feet. “I have to bring you to Mother.”

            I stood up as well, “Why?”

            “She said someone like you would come and I was the only one who believed,” she grabbed my arm and pulled me.

            I looked back at my mother who was still talking with the priest. “I should wait here.” I had a bad feeling about this. The memory of my demonic plumber came up in my mind I felt like this definitely had something to do with it.

            “No, you have to come!” she pulled me along. She brought me to the back of the church and down a dark staircase. I was getting ready to really question where the hell she was taking me but then we reached the bottom of the stairs. It led to a hallway with a few wooden doors. She tugged me to the closest one.

            She took a deep breath and led a thin hand to the knob and carefully opened it.

            Inside was the old nun hunched over a desk with a book set out. The bible, I automatically thought. But then I looked harder and saw the yellowing pages had pictures of black lines, not words.

            The girl knocked on the doorway, “Mother?”

            The nun quickly shut the book and turned around. “Oh, Ariel, now what?”

            Jeez, Mother Superior was old. By the looks of her frail, veiny hands and pale wrinkled face, she must’ve been a thousand. Her analytical eyes searched my face. “Who is this?”

            The girl opened her mouth and then turned to me, “I’m sorry, what is your name?”

            “You didn’t even go through introductions?” the woman shook her head.

            “My name’s Roman Becker,” I said plainly. “Look, I don’t want any trouble�"”

            “Mother, he has the markings,” the girl pulled my sleeve up and showed it to Mother.

            “Ariel, you don’t just show me a young man’s arms like that by force,” Mother sighed like this was basic Nun 101 information.

            “He has the markings!” Ariel brushed her thumb across my forehead, showing the red dots.

            Mother eyed me suspiciously then came closer. “Excuse me young man,” she pointed at my wrists, “you think you can undo your bandages?”

            “Yeah, I rather not.”

            “Of course,” Mother nodded to me, then shot a venomous look at Ariel.

            “I can replace your bandages with new ones,” Ariel pointed to the shelves behind her. Basic first aid supplies were laid out.

            “Ariel, stop bothering the man.” Mother placed a hand on my shoulder, “You can go. I apologize on behalf of Ariel. Go in peace.”

            “No, I know he has them! Can you please show us?” Ariel looked up at me with her dark eyes.

            I frowned. Her eyes were strange. A dangerous blue, almost black. They were so familiar…

             “Okay, fine.” I took my time, peeling back each layer on my right arm. I was a lefty, so it was out of habit. Once it was all off, I threw the bands on the floor. I held my hand up to the two others watching their faces.

            “Would you mind?” Mother asked before she could grab my wrist. I shrugged and allowed her to take it. “I can’t believe it. This is on your other arm? Your feet too?”

            I nodded. My wrist was purple and swollen but, it was my palm that was the star. It wasn’t bleeding as much, thank God, but it still had a straight hole through the center, all red and fleshy.

            I saw Ariel wince.

            “You think we could wrap it back up now?”  I suggested.

            “Yes, of course,” Mother dismissed Ariel to get the bandages. “How long has this been going on?”

            “For as long as I could remember,” I pulled my hand back, but I saw Mother’s eyes watch it. “I have no idea what it is.”

            Mother gave a deep breath and said darkly, “I know exactly what it is.” She went around her�"office I guess you could call the room. “They told me it was a possibility but…I never thought I’d live long enough for this day,” she seemed to be looking for something, throwing things around and bending under tables.

            “And what day is this, exactly?”

            Superior grinned and sat back on her knees, looking at something under the main table. “You have no idea how much I longed to be a part of this.” She brought up two boxes, each about the size of a shoe box. One of them was pure gold and the other silver. They looked heavy for her so I took the silver one in my good hand, cupping it under my arm.

            Ariel came into the room, ready with the bandages.  She cocked her head when she saw the boxes. “What are those?” She began to wrap my hand for me. I tried to shoo her away but she kept at it.

            Mother brought the gold box up to her face with a strange smile. The metallic lid’s reflection made her teeth look yellow. “Will you do the honor?” she held it out to me with both of her hands.

            I thought a moment. What the heck could be in it? I put the silver one down and carefully unlatched the gold one. I saw that all along the edge of the lid was an inscription. I was too impatient to read it all and quickly flipped the lid instead. All three of us peered in. Inside of the box was a�"gun? A gold gun at that.

            Ariel and I looked at each other, similar expressions of alarm and confusion on our faces.

            Mother just kept smiling.

            “Open the other one,” she said hungrily, placing the gold box aside.

            Ariel finished wrapping my hand so I took the silver box. Another gun was in this one, but of the respective color of the box. I stared down at it, a warped reflection of myself looking back at me.

            Mother Superior took both of the guns and tossed them at me. I somehow caught both flawlessly. If only I could be this smooth all the time.

            “I can see it now,” Superior rubbed her aged hands together. “Roman the Savior.”

            I laughed, “Roman the what?”

            “Don’t you see Roman? This is who you are. This is your destiny, your purpose,” Mother motioned at each gun in my hand as she spoke. “Do you know what these are?”

            “Guns?” Ariel’s voice was small.

            Mother glared at her. “This one,” she pointed at the silver gun, “is the Infernal Revolver. This,” she pushed my hand with the gold one up, “is the Divine Cannon.”

            “So they’re guns,” I looked at them. My dad sneaked me into a shooting range for my fifteenth birthday. His friend owned the place so he let me at a few shots despite me being too young. It was actually pretty cool. But once mom found out, we could never go again. “Are they like, loaded?”

            Mother gave an amused smirk, “Are there dark and light forces in the world?” I raised my brows. “All you need is good aim, Roman,” she said plainly.

            “Uh, what exactly would I be aiming for?” I clutched the weapons carefully.

            Mother motioned with her hand to follow her as she moved further back into the office. She led us to the end of the room where there was a tall book case against the wall. “Would you two move this? I am a little old.”

            Ariel and I looked at each other and shrugged. She took one end and once I hooked the guns into my belt, I took the other. “How far out?” I asked.

            “You’ll know when to stop,” Mother guaranteed.

            Ariel made a face at me that I’m pretty sure was meant to mock Mother. I made a face back and then we began to move the case along.

            “Ariel, why’s your headdress off?” Mother noted.

            Click. Ariel and I stopped moving the case once it made a noise. “It doesn’t seem to matter anyway,” Ariel said bitterly, moving to see what was revealed behind the case. “I’m not a nun.”

            Mother pursed her lips yet said nothing.

            “There’s another room?” I was really stating more than asking as I saw the door that was once hidden. “There’s no door knob.”

            “Oh, there are many rooms,” Mother walked up to the door, which was two different colors I noticed. Gold and silver. Superior muttered some strange word under her breath, causing the door to swing inward. “And we don’t need doorknobs.”

            Ariel and I stepped into the doorway and immediately froze at the sight.

            “Here is the study,” the old nun said and went forward into the room. No, room was not a big enough word for it. I’ll come back to you when I found one that was. Anyway, it looked as though the walls of the area were made of books. When I looked up, the shelves seem to have risen for forever. There were people of all ages reading some books, others were writing at the various long tables.

            “You’ll find every point of view of religion in every one of these books. It’s a growing collection of course,” Mother added.

            Ariel looked at me and I looked right back.

            “Mother, shouldn’t you only care about our Catholic views of this church?” Ariel took the thought out of my head.

            “Don’t be silly,” was all Superior said. She clasped her hands together as someone approached her. “Layali, I’d like you to meet somebody.”

            Layali was tall. Like almost a whole head taller than me. Her skin was brown and she had these beautiful Iranian features to her face.

            “Layali, this is Roman Becker,” Superior introduced.

            It took me a second to realize that that was me. I quickly shoved the guns into Ariel’s hands and stuck my own out to Layali. “Nice to meet you.”

            She clasped my hand with her long one and smiled. “I guess you’ll be joining us on the team. Cambion or Nephilim? Just out of curiosity.”

            I blinked. “What or what?”

            “No, you see Layali,” Mother put a hand on my shoulder. “He’s Him.”

            Layali’s expression quickly changed and she looked at my bandaged hand shaking hers, as if she was just realizing its wrappings for the first time. She took her hand away. “You’re Him?”

            “He is; I’ve seen his markings.” Ariel confirmed. “He has to be Him.” She almost dropped one of the guns.

            “If only I knew what any of you were talking about.” I suddenly thought of my mother who was probably freaking out that I was probably kidnapped. “But since I don’t, I think I’m going to go,” I quickly turned around and started in a fast walk through the office, up the stairs, and back to the benches. Just in time too, because I saw my mother walking down the aisle towards me.

            “Let’s go,” she announced. I rushed her out the parking lot before Layali or Ariel or Superior could hunt me down.

            I checked my phone as it vibrating in pocket. Jazz.

            Meet me @ the diner

            I almost didn’t text back. We left right after Naamah had left and the whole ride back was way too uncomfortable�"I’ve never felt that weird around Jazz. But we’d parted without ever mentioning what had happened in the back of her pickup truck.

            When? I responded anyway.

Barely a second passed by when she answered back: NOW

            I turned to my mom and asked her to drop me off at the restaurant. There were a thousand diners just outside of Vegas but Jazz and I usually met at The Grand Calzone.

            “Is it because Jasmine is there?” I noded. “Is it another date?”

            “Will you just drop me off?”

            Without another word, she drove straight to the diner. “Have fun,” she told me as I walked out of the car, though her voice was cold. Nothing unusual.

            I came into the diner and scanned around for Jazz. I found her alright, next to someone else at a booth. She spotted me and slowly waved me over with her lips pursed. Not good.

            “Hey,” I came over to her and looked at the guy sitting next to her on the booth. He rubbed his large, long fingered hands together. He looked sort of Indonesian or Filipino or something I couldn’t quite place. His chin had a thin layer of black stubble across his freckled, tawny colored face. His heavy lidded eyes were the color of Jack Daniels and his black hair was lazily spiked, like he’d just rolled out of bed. He looked about nineteen or early twenties.

            “Well?” the guy took a swig of his beer.

            I rubbed my wrists subconsciously, “Well, what?”

            “I know you’re new to this but come on; it’s common sense to pay respects to an Archdemon!” he stuffed one of the burgers on his plate in his mouth, finishing it in one swallow. “Roman Becker, you’re not doing a very good job of your job!”

            “Jasmine, what is he talking about?”

            Jazz was too disgusted in watching the stranger open the whole bottle of ketchup and empty the whole thing on to the second burger; on the bun and everything.

            “Please don’t eat that. Please,” she whimpered. “Eating that much ketchup is a crime.”

            “You bet it is,” he grinned before shoving the red grease ball down his throat. “I invented ketchup, you know. One of the best ideas I’ve ever had. Makes all you hungry humans stuff your faces with even more salt and calories and fat. It’s delicious for me.”

            “Make him stop, Roman. I’m gonna puke,” Jazz buried her face in her arms across the table.     

            The guy grinned. “Please join us, Roman.”

            I gave Jazz a glance before sliding into the booth. “How do I know you?”

            “Oh, you don’t,” he took a swig of his beer bottle.

            “But you said�"”

            “I know you, but you don’t know me,” he stuck his hand out. “My friends call me Bee.”

            I frowned at the boney hand. “But what should I call you?”

            He took his hand back with a wider grin. “Sassy. You’ve definitely got demon stuff in you,” he took another long drink from his bottle. “I’m Beelzebub.” He threw aside his now empty bottle and it shattered on the floor. Next, an entire wine bottle appeared in his hands. He tugged out the cork and began to chug.

            “Like the demon,” Jazz eyed him carefully.

            He tugged the bottle away from his face. “Not like the demon.” Bee turned back to me. “You must have some clue by now.”

            He leaned into me. “Roman, you do know who you are, right?”

            I waved away his alcohol breath. “Maybe. I don’t know why you think you do, though.”

            Bee’s lips curled and his eyes narrowed. “You’re lucky I’m one of the nice ones.”

            “Okay…” Jazz looked between us. “So you’re the Beelzebub.”

            He looked over to her. “The one and only.”

            “And…what did you want from us?” Jazz tapped her nails on the table.

            “Oh, I’m actually doing a favor,” Bee looked to me. “I want to help you, Roman. Give you direction. Because, frankly, I doubt you even know where to start!

            “Start with what?”

            “Roman, along your journey you’ll find that we Archdemons are not that different from our counterparts, the Archangels. In that I mean, we are all a******s. But I like to consider myself the least assholey of all the a******s.”

            “So you’re saying…”   

“I’m saying I’m actually interested in helping you then screwing you over. And boy,” he finished off his beer, “you are going to get screwed over big time. More than once. Like probably over a hundred times. But I want to make sure that maybe only 5% of the times you do get screwed over it’s my fault.”

            “Really appreciate it, man.” This wasn’t an Archdemon; he was just some college dickhead.

            “Hey, Roman!” a familiar voice sounded.

            I buried my face in my hands, “Darius.” He walked over to us, his customary grin on my face.

            “I have a job here, see?” He pointed to his name tag and his white apron. He must’ve been a busboy here at the diner. “Hello Jasmine!” He waved to her.

            She snorted. “Yo, Darius.”

            “And hello,” Darius put his hand out to Bee. “I’m Darius Essa.”

            Bee’s smile wavered. “Essa? I see,” he shook Darius’ hand briefly.

            Darius squished next to me into the booth. “What are you guys up to?” he grinned at all of us.

            Bee’s smile returned. “Oh nothing much. But you, Mr. Essa, how’s your sister?”

            Darius blinked at sat back, frowning. His eyes were almost black, staring at Beelzebub with pure rage.

            “That’s right Mr. Essa. I know all about her,” Bee’s smile never left.

            “You’re one of them,” Darius hissed.

            “Ah, you catch on quickly. You really are smarter than you look.” Bee waved over a waitress with hands full of trays of food. “It’s about time,” he took the trays from her and spread them around the table. Burgers, subs, French-fries, coleslaw, all around.

            “What is that?” Jazz pointed at a basket of something slimy.

            “Frog,” Bee licked his lips and reached for it. He only plucked something small off of it though, leaving the rest.

            “Is that a fly on it?” Jazz leaned away from him. “You don’t have to eat that. You can send your food back if there is something wrong with it. Please don’t eat it. Why are you bringing it to your mouth? Oh my God, you ate it.”

            “You had something to tell me?” I reminded.

            “Ah yes,” Bee finished a whole burger in two bites. “Roman, you’re the Savior.”

            “Ugh,” I threw my head back. “Not this again.”

            “So you have heard,” Bee gulped down a basket of fries. “By Mother Superior I presume. How much did she tell you?”

            I told them of everything that happened at the church, from Ariel to the guns and the library.

            “Did you take Cannon and Revolver with you?” he looked around. “The guns?”

            “No,” I went to take a fry from another one of his baskets.

            He slapped my hand away, “Why don’t you check under the table? I think you did.”

            “Why would I�"” my eyes widened when I felt something at my feet. “Excuse me for a moment.” I slid underneath the table. Sure enough, the two metallic guns were there. I grabbed both of them and slid back up to my seat. “How did this happen?” I eyed Beelzebub.

            “They’re yours now,” he pointed the tip of silver one away from himself. “They follow you.”

            “Wonderful,” I quickly put them out of sight as a people came walking by. The last thing I needed was to get accused of violent behavior or something. My mom would lose it if I took that road.

            “They really are,” Bee observed me before stuffing his face with a turkey club. “Let me get straight to it then, for why I’m really here. You must find Asmodeus. Like, now.”

            That name was so familiar, “Like what Naamah said.” I avoided eye contact with Jazz.

            Bee’s smile wavered. “So Asmodeus wants a race huh?” he mumbled to himself. “Roman, as the savior you must confront each of the seven Archdemons and Archangels. Firstly, you are to seek Archangel Gabriel. But only his counterpart, Asmodeus, knows of his location. So, if you are willing to follow through, I can tell you where to find Asmodeus.”

            I groaned. This was so not how I wanted to spend my weekend. “Okay, so you’re telling me that angels and demons are…real.”

            “You’re looking right at one,” he chugged down an entire glass of soda.

            “Right,” I leaned on my hand. “Does that mean that, well, God definitely exists then?”

            Bee actually stopped eating. “Whatever you think, Roman. But that’s not what I was saying, no. That’s up to you.” He spread jam across a bread slice. “Whatever anyone thinks, it is true. For them.”

            “So then what does it mean that I’m the ‘Savior?’ I thought that was a God thing.”

            “You have too many questions,” Bee rolled his eyes. “Just answer mine: do you accept your duty as the Savior? Or am I wasting my time?”

            “You mean I have a choice?”

            Bee leaned in to my face, “Do you accept your duty?”

            With the look he was giving me, I could finally believe that he was a demon; his amber eyes were fire and from his mouth protruded a jaw of pointed teeth.

 “I�"yeah.”

            Bee settled down again, stuffing the bread into his mouth. “Then go to the trailer park.”

            “The trailer park,” my hands subconsciously found their way to the guns. “I’m going there because…”

            “For the love of Lucifer, to find Asmodeus of course!” a chunk of bread flew from his mouth onto Jazz’s arm. “You’ll recognize him by his limp. As strong and tough as he appears, he’ll always have that limp.”

            “Why don’t we get going?” Jazz wiped the chunk off, cringing. “As soon as possible?”

            “Agreed,” Darius sighed.

            “Who said you’re coming with us? I mean, don’t you have to work?” I pointed out.

            Darius suddenly shouted, “Hey can I leave early?”

            “Yes!” a choir came from his coworkers and Darius stood up.

            “Let me return my apron and I will be back!” his grin returned as he left.

            “Before you go,” Bee reached a long arm across and grabbed my arm as I slid out of the booth. “Do you know what Asmodeus is the demon of?”

            “What do you mean ‘demon of?’”

            “Oh dear,” he rubbed his temples. “You’ll learn along the way. Though I must warn you, Asmodeus will try to tempt you into giving you what you need. Or what he thinks you’ll need; his blessing. But you must get the blessing of the Archangel always before you get the blessing of the Archdemon. In this case, you must get Gabe’s blessing before Mo’s.”

            “Um, Mo?”

            I’m pretty sure Beelzebub blushed. “Asmodeus, I mean. Don’t let him tempt you.”

            I slid out of the booth and stretched my arms above my head. “Are you coming, Jazz?”

            She glared over to Bee whom was in her way of sliding out of the booth. “Move.” She pushed his shoulder but he didn’t budge. She gave a heavy sigh and struggled her way over him, muttering curses under her breath. “Come on, Roman,” she tugged my arm.

            “Once again, Roman,” Bee looked to me. “Don’t let Asmodeus tempt you.”