by D. C. Gomez
“I had a meeting one of my sources.” I looked around at the church. I was not going to admit to Eric that Shorty was my only source. “Maybe we should talk and move. I think they’re waiting for those things.”
“Oh, crap. You’re right.” Eric looked back to the truck.
“Let me help you.”
Eric looked around almost reluctantly. Finally he handed me a couple of boxes. They were full of rolls and apples.
We walked back to the breakfast table together. We handed the volunteers the boxes and went back for more.
“The ladies normally have more help, but for some strange reason, five of their regulars didn’t show up today.”
“Probably because they’re getting ready for genocide.” I beat Eric to the truck.
“What?” A sleep-deprived Eric was really slow.
“I’m pretty sure the witches were volunteering here. They’ve been working in most of the shelters and nonprofit organizations to find victims and get their trust. After tonight, for one reason or another, they won’t be coming back.” I prayed it would be because we’d found a way to stop them. “Why are you here?”
He looked a little shy. “This is one of my favorite events in town. Everyone here truly wants to be here, and they care for one another.” We carried the last of the supplies to the table. Eric headed back to the truck. “Can you feel it?”
“I can feel something. I don’t know what it is.” I looked around the place again. The fellowship was incredible.
“Do you trust me?”
That was a very odd question coming from him. I knew Constantine trusted him, but did I? The man drove me nuts at times, but somehow I did trust him. I nodded.
“OK. I don’t recommend you doing this around town. Open your sight.”
I looked at him in pure horror. Was he trying to scare me to death? With all these people here, I had no idea what I would find.
Eric stepped closer and held my hand. “It’s going to be OK. Try it.”
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and opened my sight. I was bracing myself for demons, monsters, and maybe even hell. Instead I was surrounded by golden light. The place was illuminated by a soft, warm brilliance, and a canopy of light covered the crowd. The Church under the Bridge was a Church of Light and Warmth. Everyone around me was glowing, even Eric. He looked like an avenging angel.
To my left a lady sat on the ground, crying. Two children sat on either side of her, holding her hands and soothing her. As I looked, their wings expanded, and, by God, they were cherubs. They smiled at the lady and wiped her tears. My heart exploded with emotions, and I had tears running down my face. I couldn’t stop them. The church was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I couldn’t see the people, just their souls. At this very moment, those souls were pure and full of love, and they radiated that. Eric came closer to me. I cried on his shoulder.
“You should close your sight now, before you pass out.”
I didn’t want to. I was in awe, but I forced myself to do it.
“Eric, is she OK?” The head volunteer lady was by our side when I finally opened my eyes. Eric was gentle, as I never seen him. He slowly let me go. The lady handed me some tissues.
“She’s had a very long week.”
“Oh, sweetie, you poor thing. You’re among friends now. Come, join us.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. She took my hand, and I let her lead me toward the food table. Eric was right behind us. Texarkana had a way of surprising me every day. Jesus’s recruitment techniques were not as flashy as Jake’s, but they were just as powerful.
CHAPTER 33
I made it to Reapers after noon. Unlike Catholic masses, which only lasted an hour, this was at least two. After the service, I helped the volunteers clean up. I wasn’t sure how, but the underground community knew who I was. Their expressions were mixed at first. Some stayed away, as if I had the plague. With the number of people who were disappearing around me, I didn’t blame them. The other half was very welcoming.
The energy or magic in that place was so intoxicating. I agreed to go back the following week and help. That was crazy. I didn’t make it to my own mass every week, but I was picking up a second church. I was losing my mind. It was odd to start thinking of war after that service. For some reason, I wanted to find those witches and pray with them. Maybe talk reason into them. By the time I opened the door to the loft at Reapers, reality hit. The boys had pictures of dead bodies all over the kitchen island and table.
“Wow. Where did you find all these?” They almost looked like dried-up mummies. I couldn’t guess the age of any, but their clothes were fairly modern.
“Evidence file from New York. The victims.” Constantine jumped from the table to the kitchen counter. That quickly, peace-talk ideas were gone. The war was back on.
“Constantine, if we don’t stop them, they’re just going to keep doing this.” My stomach was turning as I looked at those poor people.
“Pretty much. They’ll probably go away for a while. They have enough years accumulated, but they will do it again. Who knows what part of the world next?” Constantine was going over the pictures as well.
“Those poor souls are gone.” My voice came out a whisper.
Even Constantine felt sorry for the dead. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Yeah. They will never go home.” Oh yeah, the war was on. “Where have you been?”
“Are you sure you’re not my dad?” I tried glaring at Constantine. But have you ever won a staring contest with a cat?
“Why do you think they call me the guardian? That’s my job description.”
“Good point. I totally forgot. I still don’t have to like it.” I was not winning that argument. It wasn’t as if I ever won any arguments with Constantine.
“You don’t have to like it. Just conform to it.”
“Constantine, did you ever advise any generals in the military? ’Cause you have an evil side to you.” He had a very dictator personality.
“Just Patton, at least directly. I had others I mentored from afar.”
“Oh, wow. Only General Patton.” I took a moment to process that. “I’m not even surprised.”
“Where do you think he got his style from?”
“Lead me, follow me, or just get the hell out of my way. I always wondered why he was so angry. Now it makes sense.”
“That was one of my best quotes. Now girl, stop stalling and talk.” Typical cat. They were easily distracted, but once they were done, they were right back on their target. Constantine did not forget a thing.
“I met Shorty at the Church under the Bridge.” I had too much energy, so I started pacing the room.
Bartholomew was quiet by the computer area. “Great place. People forget their problems there. Pure magic. I love it.” He looked entranced with his thoughts. Too bad those didn’t last long. “Anything new?”
“The witches need to move the people by six p.m. That doesn’t give us much time to find them.”
“We’re probably too late to find them. We need to figure out where they’re going. Either stop them en route or go after them.”
I looked at Constantine carefully. “Our plan is break into purgatory, find the people, and bring them back. Simple, straightforward. I like. How are we breaking into purgatory?” I didn’t know any magic to break supernatural barriers.
“Simple. We use the door the witches create. They have to keep it open long enough to get out and dump the bodies. It would take them too much power to blast two doors in one day.” He was watching me carefully.
“Why doesn’t purgatory have guardians on the other side?” I was so confused.
“You don’t need to guard souls whose next destination is heaven. What could they possibly do?” Constantine had a point. “Unfortunately, we took for granted the ambitions of your species and the things you’re willing to do to achieve things. Humans can be truly evil.”
“Thanks, Constantine. Now tell me how you really feel. Are you sure you don�
�t need a nap?”
Constantine was looking vicious now.
“He’s hungry. We skipped breakfast,” Bartholomew said from the computer room, almost giggling. “Maybe he needs a Snickers Bar.”
“Oh, you got jokes now.” Constantine was working himself all up. He was looking like a small, vicious tiger.
I walked over to the pantry and pulled out a couple of cans of tuna. Constantine was pacing around, ready to unleash hell on Bartholomew and me. Bartholomew stayed really far away. I preheated the oven. While the oven was heating up, I opened a can of tuna. Constantine stopped in midpounce in Bartholomew’s direction. He made a quick U-turn and headed my way. I placed the tuna in a bowl and the bowl in front of Constantine.
“Here you go, Mr. Lion King.” I could have sworn he growled at me. I stepped away from the angry beast.
While Constantine ate his meal in silence, I prepared Bartholomew an open-faced tuna sandwich with asparagus and cheese. It took less than five minutes to toast the bread, add mayo to the tuna, and then layer the sandwich. Toast went on the bottom, followed by the asparagus, the tuna, and then the cheese. A few minutes under the broiler, and the sandwich was done. With the new gluten-free bread we had bought, I didn’t feel bad making him a sandwich.
“OK, Bart, come and eat now. I don’t need you transforming into the Hulk over there.” I didn’t have to tell Bartholomew twice. Food was the only thing that would separate that boy from the computer area. He brought a stack of papers with him.
“Here you go.” He handed me the papers.
“What’s this?” I opened up the sheets.
“Obviously, maps. I tried to break them down by areas.” Bartholomew had been busy. By the looks of it, they had gotten up as soon as I left.
“Maybe if I looked at things before asking, I could save myself the smart replies.” I glared at Bartholomew over the maps. He smiled back brightly. Boy geniuses were a menace to themselves. “According to the priest and the ghosts, we’re looking for a location where the walls to purgatory are weak. What can cause that?”
“Ley lines are the most common,” Constantine said between tuna bites. Thank God, he was coming back to normal. I liked nice, useful Constantine so much better.
“Does Texarkana have any ley lines? Whatever those things are.”
“Ley lines are—”
“Constantine, not now. You can explain the concept later. Do we have any?”
Constantine wasn’t even mad. Which meant the tuna was doing its magic.
“Not any strong enough to break the barriers,” Bartholomew said between bites. We needed to work on manners with these two. “I checked earlier. Sorry.”
“No ley lines. What else, then?” This was not my specialty.
“Crossroads and intersections have power. They allow the flow of energy and at times redirect it,” Constantine said.
“Is that why feng shui discourages people from building houses in front of the end of a street?”
Constantine stopped chewing and looked at me, surprised.
“Oh, don’t give me that look. Feng shui is fairly common now.”
“You’re right, but most people don’t make the connection. Every major religion has understood the power of energy and magic.” At least the lecture hadn’t lasted long this time. Constantine was back at his tuna.
“That’s not good.” Constantine and I turned to look at Bartholomew as he spoke. “If crossroads are that big a deal, State Line is a giant magnet. Not only is a major street, it’s a highway, and it separates two states.”
“Oh God, that’s what they meant by loving the twin cities. But we need something that connects State Line to downtown.” I opened Bartholomew’s maps on the counter. I found the downtown map and traced State Line down. Bartholomew and Constantine were both looking over my shoulder.
“Holy cow,” Bartholomew whispered.
“You got to be kidding me.” I was in shock.
“Can you humans make things any more complicated?” This time, I completely agreed with Constantine. “Why would anyone in their right mind put a post office in the middle of State Line? That stupid building is sitting in two states.” Constantine was staring at the map in pure anger.
“That is the second-most photographed post office in the country. Not to mention the FYI—the Texas Marshals and the correctional officers have offices there. This is a giant nightmare.” I thought I had issues with dead people.
“That’s a federal building. We can’t bust in there.” Bartholomew looked at the map as he chewed.
“We? Where you think you’re going?” I sounded like my godmother, but I didn’t care. I was not letting Bartholomew get hurt on my watch.
“With you. Isis, you can’t do this on your own. Besides, Constantine can’t enter purgatory.” Bartholomew was looking directly at me. There was no fear in his eyes, and he was not backing down.
“You can’t enter purgatory? Why?” How come nobody had ever explained that before?
“Purgatory is a human creation for souls. I’m a magical cat, but even I have limitations. In the end, only humans can enter—not even Death.” Now that explained why he was so upset about the whole purgatory thing. It meant he couldn’t help. “Bartholomew is right, Isis. You’re going to need help. I don’t like it any more than you do.”
“Bart, this is dangerous. If something goes wrong, I might not make it out of there.”
“Exactly why you need me. I thought we were all a team. I want to be part of this.” For an eleven-year-old boy, Bartholomew was really brave—or naïve. “Isis, please. I’m tired of being left behind. Besides, I could just follow you anyways.”
I wasn’t sure which part scared me the most. I knew the feeling of being left behind all too well. I took a deep breath. “Fine. But you follow my orders and do exactly what I tell you.”
“Deal.” Bartholomew was the only one who was excited about that. Constantine and I just glared at the kid.
“Constantine, can you call your contacts and get us another vehicle, please? We need to blend in in Texarkana. The witches will be expecting Bumblebee.” Getting downtown was important.
“Too easy. It’ll be ready by five p.m.” I really believed Constantine was the head of the mafia.
“Bartholomew, can you disable the cameras at the post office? Make sure there’s no trace of us there.” The last thing we needed was to get caught on camera driving like maniacs.
“Simple enough. I’ll bring my laptop so I can monitor things as we get closer. I’ll double-check all the police frequencies and scanners.” Bartholomew was going over his list of things to destroy. Yeah, that child was dangerous.
“The post office is a huge building. It’ll take us forever to search it all.” I had no idea how that would happen.
“Maybe not, Isis.” I stopped to look at Constantine. “Think about it. The building is on top of State Line. They really don’t need to access the inside to get the most benefits. The outside of it would do. Besides, it’s Saturday. They would draw too much attention walking into a federal building.”
“That’s good news, right? We drive around till we find the door.” I was trying to sound optimistic.
“Something like that.” Constantine needed to work on his optimism.
“OK, boys, we need to be rolling by five p.m. That gives us less than four hours. I’ll get the gear ready. You both know what to do. We have a war to plan; let’s go.”
Both Bartholomew and Constantine nodded at me. While the boys took care of transportation, surveillance, and police issues, I was going to prep the firepower. For the first time, I prayed that Constantine had ordered every weapon he could imagine.
CHAPTER 34
Why was I surprised that we were late leaving Reapers? It was 5:24 p.m. by the time we headed downtown. Granted, it wasn’t a very long drive, but I was going at least three miles below the speed limit. This job was making me a real law-biding citizen when it came to traffic laws. We carried too much firepo
wer. Not to mention Bartholomew and I were dressed ready for war. It wasn’t hunting season, I was told, so we couldn’t even use that as an excuse. Constantine had come through on the ride, as usual. We had an F-150, white, with dual cab and extended bed. Constantine wanted to make sure we could transport a large group of people.
By the time we made it downtown, my adrenaline was pumping. We needed to do something soon, before I had a heart attack. Bartholomew was busy working his magic with his laptop. I couldn’t explain what he was doing; all I got was that the cameras would be disabled and perimeter secure. I was sure those words did not have the same meaning for him that they had for me.
“Done. Downtown is secure.” Bartholomew had a huge smile on his face. I was really worried.
“Why are you all smiles?” He did look suspicious.
“When we blow up the post office, nobody will be able to blame us.”
“We’re not planning to blow up anything.”
“Of course not. But just in case, we’re covered.”
As much as I was hoping we could avoid mass destruction, I didn’t want to take any chances. I let Bartholomew finish his final checks.
Shorty had done his part. Downtown was deserted. Not a soul was walking around anywhere. Even the businesses that were normally open late on Saturday were shut down tight. That at least made me feel better. The fewer pedestrians around, the better. We drove around the post office several times and saw nothing. Had we made a mistake? Where could they possible be?
“Constantine, are you seeing anything?” Constantine was manning the drone, which was really scary on its own. It wasn’t just any drone; it was military issue, with high-power cameras, heat sensors, and a few machine guns. His idea of watching the fort was dealing death from above. I was sure Constantine was part of the Eighty-Second Airborne—similar philosophy.
“The skies are clear, and not a soul on the ground. What did you tell Shorty to do, kill them all? He really cleared the town.” Constantine was coming through the headpiece extremely clear.
“I was wondering the same thing myself. There isn’t a soul in town. Anything on the scanners?” Constantine was also in charge of monitoring all the police scanners as well as the supernatural world. We were running out of time.