Page 56 of Good Vampires Go to Heaven

“That is not for me to say,” Michael said in his usual enigmatic way. “Show me your battle plans before I go, Vikar. I brought Joshua with me as an advisor. And I have some warrior skills myself that might be helpful.”

Joshua? The Biblical warrior of Jericho fame? And St. Michael, patron saint of all fighting men, as an advisor? Holy clouds! Maybe it wouldn’t be a losing battle of good fighting evil, after all.

“Before that, though, take me to those witch demons thou brought out of Horror,” Michael ordered Regina. “I would settle their fates afore they revert to their demonic selves and wreak havoc.

“I still must decide on your punishments, as well.” Michael looked at both her and Zeb.

What? Marriage isn’t enough of a punishment? she thought, not daring to say the words aloud.

“Some appropriate punishment,” Michael continued. “Hmmm. I will have to think on that.”

They were back to bad signs.

Michael looked at Zeb then and said, “Mazel tov!”

Was he joking? Wishing Zeb “Good luck!” and in Yiddish, yet, seemed rather odd. But then, this whole situation was odd.

As Vikar led the way, Zeb hung back and whispered to Regina, “You planned this, didn’t you? I was to be your prize all along.”

“Get over yourself,” she snapped. “You are no great prize.”

“What a mess! And I don’t even know if I’m a vangel yet.” He turned sideways and said, “Check my back and see if I have shoulder bumps.”

“I am not touching you!”

“Two days ago you had my cock in your hands.”

“Crude moron!”

Suddenly, they were awash in the scent of cinnamon rain, and they heard Michael say ahead of them, without looking back, “I feel a storm coming on.”

And Zeb who probably hadn’t said anything very Yiddish in hundreds of years, muttered, “Oy vey!”

Chapter 12

Devil-may-care, they were not . . .

Zeb thought he’d been prepared for what they’d find in the Close Quarters Combat room in the basement, but he was shocked. As were Michael and Regina and Vikar.

When the door opened, the three Lucipires glanced over, claws raised, ready to fight them, as well as each other. The three Lucipires, in full demonoid form, along with a crazed cat, fur standing on end, had shredded the mattresses which lined the wall, floor, and ceiling of the room where vangels presumably honed their fighting skills. It had been modeled on a Navy SEALs program, CQC, which taught hand-to-hand combat techniques. These three beasts must have been in combat, all right. With each other.

Leave a demon alone for an hour, and this is what happened. If they didn’t have humans or vangels to fight, they fought each other.

The fools were covered with seeping wounds and bruises which would show up better when they transformed into humanoid form. There was mattress batting everywhere. In the air, caught in the scales of their demon skin, piled on the floor, in Thor’s tail. The room reeked of sulfur and cat piss.

“Son of a star!” Vikar exclaimed.

“Can’t you three behave, even when your lives are on the line?” Regina chastised them.

“I’m not surprised,” Zeb said.

Michael pointed two arms at them and yelled, “Satan, begone!”

Immediately, the three demons reverted to humanoid form, looking dazed and then shamefaced at the archangel who held their destinies in his hands, which were no longer pointing at them.

Michael shook his head from side to side and made a tsk-ing sound of disapproval.

Meanwhile, the cat . . . Thor, he believed it was called . . . had its back arched and appeared ready to launch itself at them all.