demonslayer

day 8

2004-07-16T16:10:00.000-07:00

After asking around we found Absynthe.
It wasn't easy since most people we asked hadn't heard of it, and the ones that had - hadn't heard of us.

The place was not what you'd expect: no neon lights, no body guard, no scantily-clad Botox babes, just an old boarded up bookstore on a dark side-street in Hollywood. They wouldn't let us in, so we waited outside and watched the door from the Dodge. After a couple of hours Napolean talked himself to sleep and I was left alone to think about my own demons. Its times like this when you wonder how your life got like this: 38, lonely, miserable and mad. Then you wonder how you can get out of it: suicide, booze or sex. I've tried all 3 and none of 'em work.

"2 o'clock" Napolean whispers and points to a group of Goths dressed in black in the 2 o'clock position, half way down the street. They're passing a bottle of green stuff around, when the tall one looks over his shoulder like he's looking for trouble.

"That's him."

I grab my .9, ease out the Dodge, and motion for Napolean to stay put. Crouching low on the street-side of the parked cars, I start to close-in on them. As I get closer I see Tommy fidget like he knows something's wrong but his friends are too loaded to care, so Tommy tells them "he's gotta go" and starts down the sidewalk.

So, do I.

His friends wave "bye", but Tommy doesn't respond and turns down an alley. The alley is dark and I can hear Tommy breathe, he's nervous.

"Where you going, Tommy?"

I hear him crash into a garbage can.

"How you know my name?"

"Your picture's on my bathroom mirror."

"Fuck you."

Then he comes running at me with everything he's got, including a lead pipe.

So, I cock my .9, but someone hits me in the back of the head and I go down. I drop my gun and Tommy and his friends start wailing on me. Their white moon faces are screaming at mine, but all I can hear is that little voice in my head say, "It's a good day to die."

And I think to myself, "That's not a bad idea", seeing how my life sucks anyway. But that's when I hear this other voice say;

"REPENT. THE END IS EXTREMELY FUCKING NIGH!"

And like magic the kids stop wailing on me and fall flat on their faces like God himself showed up.

This was a new twist on the near-death experience, so I try to pull myself together to see what's going on, but all I can see is some guy at the other end of the alley surrounded by a bright white light. I spot my gun a few feet away, crawl to it, and check the kids. But they're frozen in amber and I don't get what's going on. So, I stagger toward the white light, barely seeing where I'm going 'cause blood's coming down my face, and the white light's getting closer.

Then all of a sudden the light stops 2 feet in front of the Ozzy Ozbourne crew and Napolean hops out.

"They think I'm God." he whispers in my ear.

"So did I."

Napolean pops the trunk and makes 'em get in, but not before I introduce Tommy to my .9.

"Whose idea was it to kill the cat?"

But he don't wanna talk, so I rework his jaw.

"I-I-It was Ipso."

"Where's Ipso?"

"Hollywood Casino... But please, he'll kill me..."

Like that really matters to me. So I slam the trunk shut and run Ipso's name through my head, but either I can't think or I ain't never heard of him. So I figure if Ipso's hanging out at the Hollywood Race Track and Casino he's either "Trouble" or in trouble.

Napolean starts the Dodge. "Where to?"

"You drivin?"

"You gotta better idea?"

"Find Joe." I collapse on the back seat...

---

...When I come to; its dawn, we're in the station parking lot, and Joe's at the window.

"You don't look so good." Joe's got a flashlight in my eyes, checking my pupils.

"So they tell me."

Napolean opens the trunk, and Joe cuts the flashlight.

That's when I hear Napolean say, "Book 'em Dan-o."

And that's the last thing I hear before I pass out.

night 7

2004-07-12T09:36:00.000-07:00

I drove around L.A. for a couple of hours thinking about the girl, the cat and the devil...

When I stopped I was at my old station house.
Funny, how when things are upside down you always find home.

Once, I get inside the station a lotta the guys congratulate me on catching that pervert, then some tell me, how sorry they are about Violet. They're being nice, so I don't tell 'em I'm trying to forget.

Later, after I slip Joe the bloody newspaper, somebody brings Napolean out of lock-up. I hardly recognize him. Joe must'a had him washed, sheared, and stuffed into a cheap blue suit...(Joe's middle-class attempt at normalcy)

"DEMONSLAYER!" Napolean hollars, then moves across the room like a celebrity; waving, grinning and blowing kisses at suspects, cops and anyone stupid enough to wave back. Finally, he arrives bouncing around like a kid who sold his last Ridolin.

"Let's go," He whispers, "I hear there's been some key developments in your case."

He points to his ears. I don't ask.

Then Joe comes out and gives me one of those looks as if to say 'Meet me in the back'.

Napolean tip-toes behind us like a cartoon character. I pretend this is normal.

In the parking lot, behind the station, Joe slips me a piece of paper with a name and address.

"Captain'd be pissed if he knew... but I ran the print off your newspaper, and your Perp's been here before...juvie, that's all I know. Be careful."

I watch him leave and can't help but smile; 'cause for a guy who thinks I'm crazy - he's very supportive.

Napolean snatches the paper out my hand.

"Thomas Casey, I know that guy."

"Not this time. I'm taking you back to your box."

"Pleeeeease. I wanna come."

"No."

"I'll be good."

"No."

"I'll be bad."

"No."

"What I gotta do?"

"Be quiet."

"Impossible."

"Thought so." He follows me to the Dodge and jumps in the back seat.

"That girl's been here." He sniffs the air in the car.

"What girl?"

"The one the devil tried to kill. The one with the red hair. I like her, you should marry her."

"What're you, a psychic?"

"Nope, their fake. Guy I know used to do that stuff to buy speed, now he sells crack. Same difference."

"The crack or the speed?"

"The psychics."

"Alright, you can come, but you gotta stay in the car."

He flashes a snaggletooth grin.

Me, I dunno why I let him come;
Maybe it was the stuff about the girl.
Maybe it got to me.
Maybe it was the same stuff I was thinking.

Traffic is bad, so It takes a couple of hours to get to Tommy Casey's house; a rundown 1-story suburban in need of everything.

A woman in her 40s answers the door in a stained nightgown. She's Tommy's mother alright; they both got that I hate life look.

"Tommy here?"

"Who wants to know?"

"A friend"

"He ain't got none, must owe ya' money."

"Nope."

She looks me over a second time."

"You married?"

"No."

""You gay?"

"No."

"You gotta job?"

"Nope."

She starts to close the door in my face, but I stop it with my foot.

"Where's Tommy?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"He's in trouble--"

"So, why do you care? I thought you wasn't gay?"

"He killed my cat."

"FUCKIN' CREEPS!" She slaps the door frame. "Him and those goon freaks he's been hanging out with, they make me sick!"

"Where?"

"They go to this club over there off of Sunset in Hollywood, Ab--Absence--Abstaince--Abs--

"Absynthe, a flavoured distilled liquor, emerald green in colour. Its chief flavouring ingredient is wormwood, an Elizebethan term for rotting corpse, which is native to Europe and Asia. Thujone the toxic chemical in wormwood has a similar molecular geometry to THC, the active chemical in cannabis"

Both me and Tommy's momma turn to see Napolean, standing behind me, grinning ear to ear.

"Who's he?" she asks.

I don't try to explain.

I just left her there in the doorway watching us leave.

day 7

2004-07-03T11:16:00.000-07:00

Maybe Joe was right.
Maybe there is no Devil.
Maybe there is no God.
Maybe there is no hope.

Someone slides a note under my door. I reach for my .38, but Captain's got it, then I remember the .9 mm taped under the table and I ease over to it.

Whoever left the note is still on the other side of the door, I can hear 'em. I fish the note back with a clothes-hangar and read it:

"I HAVE TO TALK TO YOU."

By the writing I can tell its a woman. So I tell her I'm not interested, leave the gun under the table, and turn on the TV.

"Please, your Captain said I'd find you here." She says from the other side of the door.

Captain's not in the habit of sending me women, so I turn off the box and open the door. It's the pretty red-head from the other night, only with a black eye and a few bruises.

"You saved my life, thank you." She offers her hand to shake, its soft and warm, I almost don't let go. But I do.

"You're after Asmodai," She says. "I wanna help."

"Go home, lady, I don't know what you're talking about."

I start to close the door.

She stops me.

"My name is Hope."

I look for the hidden cameras. "That s'posed to be a joke or something?"

"No, my parents were Christian missionaries in the Sudan."

"Look, Hope, Peace, Charity whatever; if you're here about God, I'm not interested. I gave at the cemetary. And if you're looking for a hero, you got the wrong guy. Cause last time I looked there's no Superman, no Devil, and no God--

"WHY!?! POURQUOI!?! POURQUOI!?!" Suddenly, I hear Mrs. Diop at the bottom of the stairs screaming her head off.

I pull the .9 taped under my table. Hope stiffens.

"Stay here!"

I run downstairs, but stop 1/2 way. Mischa's head is on one step and the rest of her is on the next, wrapped in a bloody newspaper. The same one the kid left last night.

"POURQUOI, EMMANUELLE, POURQUOI? MON CHAT! MON CHAT! POURQUOI!?!"

I try to calm her down. Pain in any language is the same, but I can't stop her from screaming and I can 't stop the people from coming and staring. The guy in #4 tells his wife to call 911. And all I can see is more headlines, more news, more trouble.

"Je'en suis fache'. Je vous plains." A voice comes from the top of the stairs. Me and Mrs. Diop look up, its Hope.

I dunno what she said, but Mrs. Diop does.

"Merci." Diop says, and Hope moves past me to take her out the door. A few people go back to their apartments, but the rest linger hoping to see more blood.

I put the cat in a waste bin and take her out the back way to the alley dumpster.

"Sorry Mischa, I shoulda stopped the kid."

I put the bloody newspaper in the trunk of my car, maybe there's a print on it or something. I wash my hands with a hose at the back of the building and get into the Dodge.

Hope knocks on the window.

"Can I come?"

"That's not a good idea--"

"Emannuelle, the thing that killed those 6 girls, and tried to kill me is still out there. I wanna help."

I don't need help.

When I pull away I see her in my rear view, but I hold her in my mind, and I can't let go...

night 6

2004-06-26T18:09:00.000-07:00

I can't sleep.

The kid with the black lips bothers me. What could cause a kid to hate life so much?

Me, I got an excuse...

I roll off the sofa and go to the fridge, but I'm out of beer. So I turn on the TV and flip the channels: Jerry Springr (people hating people) - Oprah (people hating themselves) - ACL U press conference (people hating God).

Which, I sorta understand, seeing how God let Violet die.

The guy from the ACL U is stabbing his finger at a picture of hundreds of little white crucifixes at Arlington National Cemetary. (Personally, I think its a little too late to change those guy's minds). I turn up the volume to hear him rant, (somebody angrier than me), but it ends too soon, and a picture of me comes up. It's me at the hospital and I don't look so good.

The reporter calls me a "Hero" and that makes me feel better till they show the pictures of the 6 dead girls. I change the channel and there I am again. This time they call me a "Vigilante". And now I turn it off.

The room is dark without Violet...like my life.

Outside, I can hear Mexican wedding music mixed with Rap from the building next door. But Violet only had one song she listened to: "Clair de Lune".

Me, I don't really like Classical, but I liked how she made up words about us and then would sing it to me.

So, when she died I kept her I-Pod cause it was the only song on it. So now I listen to it over and over so I can sleep.

I miss her.

I hate God.

day 6

2004-06-26T05:31:00.000-07:00

Norm's is a low-rent version of Denny's. That's why me and Joe go there; no hassles, no people, no Grand Slams. We stay there till morning figuring that's when it'll be safe to go home. The roaches should be gone by then.

I pull the Dodge up to the end of my block; no white vans with satellites, no news crews, no "face-men" with mics, so maybe I was right. I pull into the alley and park.

The front door to the building is open, Mrs. Diop hasn't fixed the lock in months, so I push it open and I am greeted by her sassy black cat Mischa. Mischa purrs when she sees me. I think she's in love, but she'll have to take a number. She follows me 1/2 way up the stairs and waits for me to rub her head then she goes back down to patrol the front door.

As I turn on to my floor I go in and out of pools of light - mostly out - because Mrs. Diop hasn't replaced the burnt-out bulbs in the hall, since her husband left her for the girl in #11.

As I get closer to my door I can barely make out a figure sitting at my door with his knees pulled up to his chest. I stop before he sees me. His hooded sweatshirt covers his face. He's tall by the length of his legs, but he's thin. He sees me and stands sharply.

I reach for my .38, but I had to leave it at the hospital with Captain.

Out of nowhere he starts to run for me. He has something in his hand, an ice pick.

I stiffen, side-step, and pin him against the wall with my elbow in his throat. He's an amateur, he can barely breathe. His hood falls back and he's a sickly muthafu*ka; black painted lips, chrome spikes sticking out of his chin and a chain tattooed around his neck. His skin is pale; maybe drugs, maybe just hiding out in his little cave. He's 20 or so. But there's something else in his eyes, I've seen before...

"DEMONSLAYER, I HAVE A MESSAGE FOR YOU FROM SATAN!" He hisses.

(Yep, that would be hate...I know cause I seen it in me.)

"Go home kid, you don't know what you're messing with."

"Satan rules this earth, every system of man, every heart of darkness is controlled by our lord and saviour and he will destroy you!"

"Maybe so, but not today. Take a bath kid, and get some sun." I pull the pick out his fist and let him go. A creep a day is enough for me, I need some sleep.

"It's not over, Demonslayer." That's the last thing I hear him say before he runs down the stairs. A torn page from a local paper falls out of his pocket. I pick it up: "IS THIS MAN A DEMONSLAYER?"

Great, now I'm a celebrity.

"Bravo." A voice comes out of the shadows followed by a woman in slacks. I step back.

"L.L. Beardsly, I wrote that." She sticks out her hand to shake. She reminds me of a man.

"Then you should follow him out." I rummage for my keys.

"I was at the hospital. I heard the crazy guy's story--"

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear." I open my door, she tries to stop me.

"Maybe you're not over Violet's death yet, maybe you're a vigilante, maybe you're the one that needs help."

I slam the door in her face.

But, maybe she's right.

night 5

2004-06-25T14:28:00.000-07:00

Getting me outta the pervert's room is one thing. Getting me outta the hospital is another...

Cockroaches with cameras are everywhere.

After I de-brief Captain I try to go out a back way. But that's kinda stupid on my part, because cockroaches can be sorta smart when they want something. So, I go back in and there's Joe.

Captain is busy playing mop-up with the LA Times, who by the way, I personally hate.

Anyways, Joe gives me that "look". The way your brother looks when he knows you're in trouble. We both figure it'd be better if I go out the front door and do the "NO COMMENT" thing.

But just as we get to the door I remember Napolean, that could be real trouble, so I tell Joe we gotta get the "funny" guy out, too.

"But I thought you said he was just some guy you met on the street" Joe eyes me.

"He's sort of...my friend"

Joe looks hurt, but covers it well.

At the other end of the hall I can see Napolean giving the Orderlies hell.

Joe raises an eyebrow and heads to the other end of the hall. Now, Joe can be a beautiful piece of work in action, but not with psychos, crazies and dreamers. And Napolean is definitely all 3.

Joe flips his badge and tells the Orderlies, (who by now have Napolean neatly tied up), that he is taking custody of "psycho-boy". I am not certain why Joe used that particular medical terminology, but that is exactly when hell caught fire.

"I'M NOT CRAZYYYYY!!!!" Napolean screams louder than a kid at a slasher flick.

"He didn't mean it." I try to calm him down.

"YES, HE DID!"

An Orderlie slams Napolean into a headlock.

"MY HELMET! MY HELMET! HE'S DENTING MY HELMET"

By now the cockroaches are beginning to smell dinner. One points at me.

"THAT'S HIM!"

I grab Napolean and try to shake some sense into him, but he don't hear me and kicks an Orderlie.

The Orderlie screams like he lost a kneecap, and I see a nurse coming from one end of the hall with an evil looking syringe and the roaches in hot pursuit.

"Manny, forget psycho boy, we gotta get you outta here!" Joe tries to pull me away. But I can't leave Napoelan like this.

"I'M NOT CRAZY! TELL 'EM DEMONSLAYER! I'M NOT CRAZY!"

Something about the name "Demonslayer" that you just don't hear everyday. And now all of a sudden it seems like a 1000 news cameras are in my face and there's only one way out:

"THIS GUY'S 51-50, SOMEBODY SEDATE HIM." I make it official and the cockroaches move out the way for the nurse with the wicked looking needle. She smiles for the cameras and pumps my friend full of stuff. It works fast... Napolean starts to go down,

"Why Demonslayer? Whyyyyyy?"

Now, I feel like the king of the cockroaches as me and Joe push past the other cockroaches, (who are too busy to notice us leaving 'cause they are feasting on Napolean's video derangement).

I look back and Joe whispers, "He'll get a bath and a good night's sleep. I'll get him out tomorrow. It's better this way, Manny."

Joe, always knows when I'm in trouble.

day 5

2004-06-20T10:05:00.000-07:00

There comes a time in a man's life where he thinks about all the things he's done, and all the things he shoulda done, and all the things he regrets...

This ain't one of 'em.

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING!?!" Captain stands over me, barking like my old man.

I look up and the hospital staff are frozen watching to see what happens next. (I guess there's nobody dying in this hospital)

"Can't you see the Press on this?...'Vigilante Cop Shoots Slasher'". Captain has a way with words.

"I guess that means I didn't kill him."

Captain throws his hands up - about the same time I hear Napolean WHOOP it up at the other end of the hall, "DEMONSLAYER!" He hisses, and he's got a couple of Orderlies with a straight-jacket worked up as he gives them an instant-replay of last night's big event.

"And who the hell is that?" Captain asks.

"Just a guy I met on the street." Somehow, I don't think Captain would understand if I told him the truth.

"Smells like it..."

Then Captain sits next to me in a way that reminds me of my dad after Sunday supper, "Manny, if this guy dies you're in real trouble--"

I wanted to say, "That's okay dad, it don't matter no more", but I don't get the chance 'cause a nurse interrupts...

"Your John Doe is out of surgery and he wants to talk...to you" She point at me.

Captain stands.

"Captain, you gotta let me talk to him."

Captain looks me over, then...

"...Gimme your gun."

I do, and me and the Captain follow the nurse into a hospital room, the cop at the door winks. That makes me feel good.

When we go inside the room, I sorta expect to see flowers cause this guy is getting the Hollywood treatment on the Tax Payer's dime: private room, view, color tv - instead of bars and the needle like he deserves.

"You shot me?" He says in that affected Jack Nicholson kinda way.

"You could say that."

Then the bastard spits at me, but it hurts him and he starts hacking up a furball.

"Officers, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." The nurse opens the door for us to go.

"Not yet nurse, I need to ask him a question." He smiles at her. She smiles back...(Me, I never had it that easy with women, but then again I wasn't trying to kill em, neither)

"Who's Violet?"

I musta tried to finish the job right there 'cause Captain had to pull me off of him.

"GET HIM OUT OF HERE!!!" The nurse screams and a cop comes running in, it's Joe.

"Manny!" He grabs me.

"I'm okay, I'm okay...Look, I'm okay..." I raise my hands like I'm surendering to the Indians and smile, but the nurse is not buying it.

"Captain, get your man out of here."

But the creep tells the nurse it's okay and she backs down.

I cut to the chase, "Why'd you kill her?"

Now, here the creep looks genuinely confused...

"Violet..? I didn't kill her. I heard you say her name after you shot me and I wanted to know what she looked like, because Violet's a pretty name."

"YOU LYING FREAK--"

Joe grabs my arm, "No Manny, he's not lying. We found pictures of 6 girls on his walls, none of them were her--

"The red-head woulda been #7 if you hadn't...you know..." The creep smiles.

"Somebody read this guy his rights!" Captain slaps his forehead.

Joe pulls me out the door, "Manny, there's no DNA match. He's not the one."

Behind me, I can hear Captain reading pervert his rights.

Funny, world we live in; he kills 'em and we protect him.

night 4

2004-06-15T11:22:00.001-07:00

After several hours of searching Napolean's memory and the slums of downtown L.A. I was getting tired of Napolean illuminating the intricacies of the "Golden Ratio", Phi or 1.618 whatever. Napolean was trying to figure out if we would experience the Golden Ratio at the precise moment we killed evil (in this case Asmodai), or would Asmodai just melt like the Wicked Witch in the Wizard of Oz.

And I was trying to figure out if I was making a mistake...

"THERE!" Napolean points to a grafitti covered building on the corner, then covers his ears.

I pull the Dodge over in front of the Pico Union 4-plex, (an area where the Illegals sleep 4 deep in a bed). There is a dealer out front checking his pager and a 12 year old turning tricks for him on the corner. She eyes me, makes me for a cop and signals her pimp. He checks me out, shakes his head and she shrugs.

"Wait here". I tell Napolean.

"No."

"No?"

"This is a chance of a lifetime. Bigger than Oprah, the Super Bowl and Lucky Charms!"

Napolean is out the car before I can stop him. He marches to the building's front door. The dealer eyes him suspiciously.

I check my piece and follow Napolen to the door. I nod at the dealer, he flashes a gold smile and motions for me to buy some crank.

"Maybe later" I tell him and he's happy for now... I'll deal with him later.

Napolean disappears into the black abyss of the stairwell. I grab him and pull him behind me. This is the worst possible scenario; a pissed cop with a .38 and a vigilante mystic searching for Satan or something like that.

"6th floor" Napolean whispers.

I grab Napolean. "There's only 2 floors"

"But there's gotta be a 6 somewhere, didn't you say he's a demon?"

That's when I almost lose it...How stupid could I be; dragging around L.A. with a nut and a .38?

I drag him back down the stairs.

"Where we going?"

"I'm taking you back to your cardboard box."

"But, what about the 'you know what', in the 'you know where', with the 'you know who'?"

"There is no you know what, in the you know where, with the you know who!"

We get to the bottom of the stairs.

"But she has such pretty red hair"

I stop.

"Red?"
"Very."
"Where?"

Next thing I know I'm around the back of the building stepping over tires, used condoms and beer cans. Napolean sneaks upto a basement window, the number 6 1/2 is grafittied across it. Napolean smiles.

There's boxes and stuff blocking the window from the inside so you can't really see nothing, but I can make out a woman's naked leg on the floor.

"Go get back-up"

Napolean stands.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting back up."

"Nevermind, wait right here."

I press my finger to my lips, Napolean thinks it's a game and he does the same.

I find the basement door about 20 yards from the window, but its pad-locked. I look back and Napolean is gone. "FU*K!"

"Napolean..." I whisper, but he doesn't answer.

I go back to the window and look inside. I see a man bend over the woman, she tries to crawl away from him, he punches her hard.

I cock my .38 and I go back to the padlock--

Suddenly, a service door opens at the back of the building and Napolean peaks out.

"Demonslayer..."

I shrug and follow him inside.

It looks like we're in the furnace room of one of those 1940's buildings. I can hear the girl cry for "help" but it is real faint. We go down a long dark hall and arrive at another locked door. I can hear the girl more and more. Napolean starts getting weird and pounding his ears with his fists but I ain't got time to ask why.

I rear back and kick in the door. (seen cops do that on TV, but never did it myself).

The girl screams and the creep stands with a 6 inch blade in his hand. He's the guy at the Turkish place, alright, but he doesn't know me from Adam.

"Who are you?" He looks surprised.

I got my .38 on him and I don't feel like chatting.

"Drop the knife...get away from the girl."

He smiles.

"You're no fucking cop."

"And you're no Hugh Heffner. Get away from the girl" I cock the trigger and he backs up.

"Check the girl." I tell Napolean.

Napolean inches toward the girl while giving the creep the evil eye like he was a vampire or something, then he pinches the girl and she screams.

"She's alive."

I keep my gun and my eye on the creep, but as my eyes adjust to the darkness I see pictures of dead girls on the walls; his trophies.

...I find myself looking for Violet.

"Name yourself" Napolean hisses.

That brings me back fast.

Suddenly, a million voices speak out of the guy, like rushing water.

"We are Asmodai"

Napolean squeals and hides.

"Emanuelle..." The creep turns to look at me, but its not really him if you follow me, more like he's controlled by something else.

"Emanuelle...why do you persecute us?"

Suddenly, I feel cold inside and my mouth won't work, but I make myself speak.

"What do ya want asshole?"

"Kill this man if you like, he has served his purpose, wouldn't you say?" The creep nods to the pictures on the wall. "But me, I am spirit and I cannot be killed with the weapons of man. You are wasting your time."

"Let's see." I level my gun.

"Kill him!" Napolean whispers from a behind a box.

"Yes, kill him" Asmodai says, "but he's not the one that killed her."

My hand starts to shake.

"Who, then?"

"That would be too easy." He laughs.

I shoot. The creep goes down, but the demon goes up.

Or at least that's what it sounded like to me.

day 4

2004-06-13T10:54:00.001-07:00

Her name was Violet. Her parents were 60's radicals out to change the world. They didn't succeed, so they named their child Violet because they said the sky's violet before the sun rises and after it sets. I dunno, the sun never set when I was with her, and now it never rises without her.

"MANNY!"

Someone beats on my apartment door. Must've been pounding there for some time cause they sound pissed.

"Manny, open up. It's me Joe, your old partner."

Me and my place look like crap, so I don't feel like seeing nobody. I turn my face back into the sofa, but Joe keeps pounding.

"I know you there. I'm not leaving, so get up."

Joe has one bad quality, he never gives up. So, I let him in.

He smiles like everything's okay, cause he's not sure if it is.

"You okay, Manny?"

"Yep."

He produces a foil package.

"The wife made you some cookies, peanut butter, like you like."

"Thanks." I set the foil thing on top the TV and Joe comes in. He makes room at the table and sits.

"We miss you Manny, come back."

"Not till I get him--"

"Don't worry, we'll get the bastard--"

"Not if you're looking for the wrong one--"

Joe stands sharply.

"THERE - IS - NO - FRIGGIN - DEVIL!"

"If there's no devil then there's no God - so why do I hate both of 'em?"

Joe eyes the picture of Violet on the table and goes to the door, "Why did he have to kill her Manny? I'm losing my best friend."

"I'll ask him."

I could see Joe shaking his head as he leaves. Maybe, one day he'll see the truth maybe not, but I can't wait.

I get dressed, stuff a couple of cookies in my pocket and leave.

I pass by the corner liquor store and part of me wants to go in, maybe buy a 5th, but it's only 10am and I still got some self respect, so I'll buy a 6-pack instead.

The A-rab behind the register is watching CNN and he doesn't even look at me.

"DEMONSLAYER!" A voice whispers loud enough for everybody to hear.

Now that's something you don't hear everyday, so I turn to see donut guy at the door waving me outside.

"I seen your demon."

The Arab behind the counter eyes the 6-pack, then me, and shakes his head.

I change my mind about the beer and follow donut guy out onto the sidewalk.

Donut guy looks like he hasn't slept since I left him at the burrito shop last night.

"I made some drawings of your guy from the description you gave me. See?"

Donut guy unfolds something like a "Da Vinci". I mean; I never seen something so beautiful. This guy's got talent you don't see in museums. But I guess I was staring too long cause he snatched it back.

"What'd you do that for?" I asked.

"I got a better one."

Then he shows me portrait after portrait of the "Lord of the Flies" himself, Asmodai.

I don't know what to say, so I study every detail; down to the signature at the bottom of the picture, "Napolean."

Suddenly, donut guy marches down the street, "Come on, I know where he stays."

I follow Napolean to my car.

So donut guy has a name after all.

day 3

2004-06-12T10:00:00.000-07:00

Today, I met a guy at a donut shop, who said he knew a guy who had killed a demon. This guy looked like he needed someone to talk to, so I listened to his story. It all sounded pretty silly to me, but who am I to judge?

I bought him a bottle of aspirin, cause he said he had a headache and it was cheaper than a beer.

He took me to a little market on the eastside with a tacky mural of the "Virgin of Guadalupe" painted on the wall. He said that the locals liked it; reminded them of some village in Mexico I never heard of. A candle with a picture of the Pope flickered beneath it for protection. He whispered that the "Priest" we were going to see didn't believe it protected anybody, but it made the locals feel better he shrugged.

When we went inside the shop donut guy waved at everybody so they could see he had friends. Then he introduced me to the "abuelita" at the register as his "amigo". She smiled and offered me a soda pop. I gave it to the donut guy and he stuffed it in his knapsack for his dinner.

We went to the back of the store and up some stairs to an old wood door. There was a crucifix nailed to it.

"That!" He pointed, was the priest's protection. He tapped the door 3 times, then stepped back. So I stepped back, too.

"Name yourself", a voice called from the other side of the door. I figured it was the "Priest".

"It's me and the Demonslayer", he said. (so much for secrecy)

The door opened slightly and a small Spanish man of 60 or so looked us over and let us in.

His place was bare except for the shelves of dusty books in Latin, Greek and Hebrew. It was like being in a monk's cell; there were Bibles in every language stacked on the floor like the leaning tower of Pisa (never been there, but I seen pictures).

"You think I'm crazy." The priest announced.

"Not if you really killed a demon."

The priest smiled and poured 3 cups of tea from a pot on a one-eyed burner near his bed. I eyed the blackened leaves in my cup. The priest gestured for me to drink. The pungent aroma reminded me of the last time I saw my fiance; she was going to the mall to buy a wedding dress. It was white 'cause she was a virgin. She was a nice girl--

"I was a priest in El Salvador in '79.'" He interrupted my thoughts.

"There were Sandinistas everywhere. No one knew the bad guys from the good guys, because there were none."

"SEEEEEE, I TOLD YOU HE'S A PRIEST!!!" The donut guy squealed with delight.

"Was." The priest looked sharply at him. Donut guy buried his face in his tea.

"So this demon was working with the Sandinistas?" I asked, half mockingly.

"Demons work through anyone weak enough to let them in, because they cannot inhabit you without your permission."

I thought again of my fiance, she was a nice girl, but she had a few weaknesses.

"I see." Then I stood, because I wanted to get out of there, but he stood first.

"You don't like me."

"I don't like anyone anymore."

"That is a weakness the enemy will use against you. You must cleanse your life of all darkness so that the Prince of Darkness has no place to grow. I, myself, struggle with this very thing. A man cannot always walk in the light. But he had better try."

I didn't like the things he was telling me but I knew it was true, because there are times when I can feel a darkness growing inside of me and it scares me.

So, I cut to the chase. "My buddy, here, says you gotta way to kill demons." I gestured to the donut guy, and he lit up like the 4th of July.

"Light, Demonslayer...Light."

That was the last thing I heard the priest say as the door was closing. To my right, I could hear donut guy babbling how he was "the happiest guy in the whole wide world cause now he had 2 friends!" He was really beginning to annoy me, but that's when I felt the darkness coming on me again, and I remembered what the priest said. So I offered to split a burrito with donut guy and that soda in his knapsack, and he was happy.

So was I.

I needed someone to talk to.

day 2

2004-06-12T09:55:00.000-07:00

I followed Asmodai to a small cafe in an up and coming slum in Los Angeles.

He was there, or one of him was anyway, 'cause he's gotta lotta faces, lotta lies, lotta names. But he's only got one weakness: pride. He'll stop anywhere to look at himself...to boast...to savour his conquests.

I have no such luxury.

The girl he was with was pretty. She had red hair and a lisp. She giggled and crossed her legs, her eyes were sleepy with sex. They ate a Turkish dish I 've only seen once. He never ate as much as she. He was too busy looking for me or maybe just his next victim; like the preacher in the corner booth with his young pregnant wife. They looked good. If Asmodai could seduce the preacher it would take the wife years to recover. The kid would be bitter; maybe hate God - maybe just hate. Asmodai could earn bonus points for that.

Or the effete at the next table, Asmodai glanced at him lazily. That was too easy.

The girl leaned into him, her breast teasing...He smiled, this too, was too easy.

The waiter brought a frothy yoghurt drink to the table. (This was one of those trendy places - next year they'll serve Indian) The waiter peaked at her breasts, then shared a lusty wink with Asmodai. Asmodai swelled with pride and ordered a double espresso.

That is when I gripped the sawed-off under my trench--

Suddenly, Asmodai's back stiffened and his head tilted. He never looked at me, he didn't have to, he knew I was there.

He smiled...

Guns don't kill demons, just the flesh they inhabit.

He looked back at me and winked. Just in time for the Cop at the register to pick up his lunch and go.

I released the trigger...

I had to find a better way to kill a demon.

day 1

2004-06-12T09:54:00.000-07:00

I have been hunting Asmodai for days, or is it years?

I don't know anymore. He has taken my life, my light, my air. I cannot live like this anymore. I have to write it down. Minutes seem like hours and days seem like years. There is no more time...I have to kill him.

I cannot wait for God.