by D. C. Gomez
“Slam into one of them,” Constantine yelled, but it was too late. By the time Katrina attempted any evasive maneuvers, the enemies had pulled guns on us.
“Duck!” I screamed as I pulled Bartholomew down. My brain knew the vehicle was bullet proof, but my reflexes took over.
Katrina tried to move away, but it was no use. They opened fire on us. Bob cursed under his breath when they shot holes in all four of our tires. Katrina hit the brakes and the two vehicles sped past us.
“You wouldn’t happen to carry four spare tires with you?” Bob said it as a joke, but I knew he was serious. After the last episode, he had equipped every vehicle in the house with at least two spares. The ones that could handle the extra weight had four.
“I wish,” Katrina told Bob as she pulled over and stopped the vehicle.
“Where is Reggie when you need him?” I asked Bartholomew. Reggie was the roadside king to the supernatural community in Texarkana. Everyone used him.
“We are over twenty miles away. We’re not going to make it on foot. We need wheels soon,” Katrina told us, and she almost yelled with excited nervousness. She let out a deep sigh as she stepped from the SUV, pulling her phone from her pocket.
“Any ideas?” I asked Constantine, hoping he had a way to fix it.
“I’m blaming the vampires. They’re probably trying to stop us from coming,” Constantine snapped.
Katrina opened the driver’s door and leaned in. “Hey guys, I found us a way out of this mess. That farmer is going to give us a ride in the back of his truck.” Katrina was pointing at a skinny man with a beat-up F-150.
This trip was getting stranger by the minute. We were going to jump in the back of a truck with a total stranger. Nobody else seemed concerned, so I shrugged and followed the team.
“I’m going to have the SUV fixed and dropped off at the center, but we need to get there now.” Katrina left no room for argument. We grabbed our gear from the SUV and headed towards the back of the truck.
“Wow. Constantine, she sounds just like you,” I whispered to him.
“Where do you think she learned it?” Constantine replied, a cockiness shining from his stance, his eyes, and even his voice. “I freelance for War as his guardian when he gets new Interns.”
“I can see you working with War,” I told Constantine. “I’m surprised you didn’t stay.” Honestly, Constantine would make a great wing-man for War. They were both nuts.
“Never. War has an obsession with uniforms,” Constantine told me, his whole face scrunching up in a disgusted look. “You can’t go around covering this beautiful fur with clothes.” Constantine groomed his coat for extra emphasis after he found a comfortable position in the truck. “Now I’m planning to take advantage of these strange accommodations. I recommend you do the same. Who knows what we are going to be doing next.
I was afraid Constantine was right. This little adventure wasn’t starting that well. I leaned back against the side of the truck and watched the tumble-weeds roll by. That could only happen in Kansas.
CHAPTER SIX
The twenty miles in the back of the truck seemed to take forever. By the time we stopped and hopped off, it felt like we’d been riding a horse for half the day. My butt had gone numb and every part of my body ached. That dirt road had been rough.
I had no idea what Katrina told the old man who gave us a ride, but he was mumbling something about crazy soldiers when he drove off. We all waved, but he didn’t even turn around. I was sure the old man wasn’t planning to take that road ever again.
“Are we in the right place?” Bartholomew asked from behind me.
“This is the International Negotiation Center,” Katrina answered.
“This place is a dump,” Constantine said.
I turned around then, and sure enough, I faced a beaten-down, older-than-dirt house. It reminded me of a house in an old western, from the porch housing two wooden rocking chairs to the wraparound wooden fence that created a barrier around the entire place. And Constantine had been right, it looked like a dump—maybe even worse. It kind of looked like it might go up in flames at any moment.
“No offense Katrina, but this place doesn’t look like a negotiation center?” My words had been a statement, but they sounded more like a question.
“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” Katrina told me. It was hard not to when this cover looked so beat down and empty. “This state is under the jurisdiction of War. All supernatural treaties take place here. No one dares to violate the sanctity of this location.” Katrina puffed her chest out when she finished her statement.
“Well, that at least explains why Fort Riley is in the middle of the country.” Bartholomew stepped closer to me. “I always wondered if the US might have been afraid Canada would invade us one day.” Bartholomew shot me a huge grin.
I couldn’t help it; I had to laugh. That was a very valid point. Of all the military locations in the US, the ones in the middle of the country made no sense. I understood the ones that were training grounds, or even the prison, but Fort Riley was neither one of those things. If anything, it was the home of one of our most decorated Divisions. I guess if you were a Horsemen, you could claim an entire state as your territory and make people come to you for guidance. I’m surprised Pestilence didn’t think of it first.
“Great. Why are we standing outside?” I asked. Truth be told, I was growing tired of staring at the old, dilapidated house. For that matter, just staring at this house made me wonder why anyone would want to stop us from having a meeting here, which made me wonder exactly what our mysterious shooter’s motivation was.
“We are supposed to wait for the witch delegation.” Katrina answered. Her gaze darted back and forth as she searched the place. In fact, it made her look a little worried. Maybe she didn’t like being so exposed.
“Leave it to the witches to always be late,” Constantine hissed. Witches were probably his least favorite paranormal creature.
“They should be here by now. We sent them very specific coordinates,” Katrina told him.
“I thought you said the elves changed the location? Maybe they went to the first one,” I said, trying to give the witches the benefit of the doubt. Not all my experiences had been bad with them, although there had been a few.
“Impossible. We confirmed they received the new info,” Katrina explained as she walked over to the house and checked the front door.
I hung back and grabbed Bob’s arm to pull him aside. “Bob, are you okay?” I’d been wanting to ask since he’d gone so pale remembering Katrina from the war, but I hadn’t wanted to ask in front of everyone and embarrass him.
“I’m fine, just bad memories,” Bob told me as he walked away from the group.
“Good. There they are.” Katrina pointed to the East.
Either Katrina had hawk eyes, or magical powers, because there was no way she could have spotted those vehicles. I had to strain to see them, and I noticed Bob was struggling to see as well.
“How fast are they going?” Bartholomew asked the group. “I have never seen any vehicle gain that much distance that quickly.” Bartholomew was right. In less than three minutes, they were almost on top of us.
“Sometimes it is safer not to ask,” Katrina told him.
The rest of us joined Katrina on the porch to avoid becoming road-kill by a group of speed-racer witches. Within a few minutes, the convoy had stopped in front of us. I was impressed when I noticed three black, shiny limos in front of us. At least they knew how to ride in style. Who needed a broom when you could ride a Mercedes Benz limo?
“You have to admit,” I said to Constantine, “they know how to make an entrance.”
“At least this group has taste.” Constantine’s cold tone told me he still wasn’t happy.
The limos had created a cloud of dust, so we all covered our faces to avoid inhaling it. The doors to the limos opened, and women stepped out of the cars, their loud voices attacking us all at once. In the sea of di
fferent tones, one in particular caught my ear. It sounded rather familiar.
“Oh no. She’s here. Why me?” Constantine said.
“Who is here?” Bartholomew asked him.
I didn’t wait to hear his reply. I was sure I knew one of the voices. I ran around the limos at full sprint.
“Isis, get back here. What are you doing?” Constantine shouted behind me.
I couldn’t reply because I had already started running around the limos where the group of witches had convalesced. There were about fifteen of them, and all wore red capes. I must’ve startled them because as I stopped before them, they all turned as a unit, their wands at the ready.
Definitely not my best first impression.
“Don’t come any closer,” a woman said. At least I thought it had been a woman, but I couldn’t see her face under her hood.
“Who are you and why are you here?” a man asked me. Not a single one of them had lowered their wands yet.
I swallowed hard.
“Easy everyone. She’s with me,” Katrina shouted as she jogged up behind me. “Isis is Death’s Intern and was invited by War to attend.”
“Isis?” There it was again. That was the voice I’d been searching for when I’d run around the limo. As I examined the group, a tall figure moved from the back of the crowd. Her robe was different, a rich, deep red instead of a bright color. When she lowered her hood, Godmother’s face stared back at me.
“Godmother.” It wasn’t a question. She might look different with her vibrant red hair blowing in the wind and her younger features. She might be a bit taller, a little more powerful, and her warm brown eyes might be filled with shock—perhaps anger—but I had recognized her voice as soon as I’d heard it.
“What in all the stars are you doing here?” My godmother stepped closer to me and her entire coven froze in their place.
“Isis, how do you know her?” Constantine asked me. He stood on top of the limo now, looking down at everyone.
“Constantine, meet my godmother,” I said without taking my eyes off her. My godmother stood five feet away from me, looking at me like a wild animal.
“What?” Constantine hissed. “You are kidding. Your godmother is the high priestess of the order of witches? Oh, this day really sucks.” Constantine shook his head violently.
“High priestess? What are you talking about?” I glared at my godmother. “You are a witch?” I yelled at her.
“Please tell me you don’t work for Death and this bag of fleas?” Godmother asked, looking from me to Constantine and finally back at me again.
“Don’t change the topic. I recently took this job, but I’m sure you have been a witch my whole life,” I told my godmother. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me.
“Everything I do is to keep you safe. You shouldn’t be here, and you shouldn’t be working for Death. Where is she?” Godmother turned her full anger on Constantine. “Where is Death, you diabolical cat?” She made to charge forward, and I grabbed her around the waist to hold her back.
Constantine’s fur stood up on all ends and he hissed like a wild cat. His claws were out, and I had a feeling he was about to pounce right on my godmother.
“Virginia Black, I will rip you to pieces if you dare attack Death.” Constantine snarled at my godmother. Both of them looked like they were ready for war, with each other.
“Enough you two,” I shouted at them. The situation had escalated, and the witches had taken out their wands. Bob and Katrina had rifles out, too, ready to unload. This was getting ugly. “Easy, everyone. We are all on the same side. Put your weapons down,” I told the crowd as calmly as I could.
I wasn’t sure if anyone had listened to me, and the tension lasted a few more minutes before my godmother waved a hand at her group. Their wands went down, and Katrina and Bob followed suit, dropping their own weapons. Bartholomew let out a deep breath.
“I don’t think I like family reunions,” Bartholomew told me.
“Me either,” Katrina agreed. “Okay, so, just a quick recap everyone. We have business to attend to, remember?” Katrina told the group as she glanced at her watch.
“She is right. We need to get going,” my godmother told her people. “When this is over, Isis, you are coming home with me.” She gave me a stern look—the one that meant there’d be no arguing with her.
“No, she is not,” Constantine yelled back. “She has a job to do and responsibilities.”
I guessed Constantine had no problem arguing against her look.
“You tricked her into this and I’m taking her back where she is safe,” my godmother shouted at Constantine.
“Enough,” I shouted at them both. “Would the two of you stop talking like I’m not standing right here? In case you forgot, I’m an adult and will make my own decisions. Got it?” I turned around and left them standing there. “Katrina let’s go.” I walked over to Katrina and took her arm.
“You are not going in there,” my godmother said from behind me.
“I’m not a child. I have been doing this job for over a year and guess what? I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.” I stopped and looked at her. “You have a job to do. I recommend you do it so we can all get out of here.” If she couldn’t trust me with her secrets, she didn’t have the right to boss me around.
“Oh yeah, that’s her daughter alright,” one of the witches said.
I had no idea who my godmother was anymore. The woman I grew up with was a little gypsy hippie. She was care free and not associated with any organized group. Could she really be a witch and the head of the Order? Granted, I always wondered why she never looked like she aged, and why we always had to move every six months. What else had I missed?
“Are you okay?” Katrina asked in a whisper.
“I’m not sure,” I answered honestly.
“That’s fair. Keep your head up. You are doing great.” She offered a kind smile, and I returned the gesture. She was right. I could keep my head up and fake confidence. It worked well for me.
Katrina turned to the crowd once everyone had joined her on the porch. “The rules are simple. Each delegation has two reps downstairs already. High priestess, you are allowed to take your second in command with you.” She pointed to the door after she finished, and my godmother and a really tall witch passed us. I refused to meet my godmother’s stare.
“Isis and I will be representing the Horsemen,” Katrina told the remainder of the group. “I recommend you all make yourselves comfortable. This could take a while.” Katrina turned and headed inside.
“You got this, Isis.” Bob patted me on the back. It was nice, really. He never cared who I was or what I did. He just believed in me.
I flashed a smile right before I headed inside our little house of horrors. This day kept getting weirder and weirder, and I was getting a pounding headache. Neither of those signs boded well.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Katrina was right. The inside of the house was gorgeous. It was one large room with rustic furniture scattered around the place in a very artistic fashion. A sizeable fireplace was located on the far wall, with the biggest flat screen TV I had ever seen sitting on the mantel. The place looked like it should be inside a ski lodge magazine. Katrina locked the door behind us and made her way to a door on the far right. My godmother and her sidekick followed behind her, staying quiet. I brought up the rear, falling behind as I glanced around the room.
I was expecting another impressive room behind the closed door. Instead, a large staircase was the only thing we found. Katrina let the witches go first. I closed the door behind me and followed a few paces back. The entire place was white, and almost had that sterile hospital smell. Katrina was a few paces ahead of me. I could feel the tension pulsating from her, like she was ready for action. We descended at least thirty feet before reaching another large room. This one was at least thirty-by-thirty feet wide with an arched ceiling.
I felt like Dorothy, and I was sure we were not in Kan
sas anymore. The entire place was white and radiated with a soft glow. There was a stage with a small altar in the middle. Four men in suits were already in the room, two on one side of the altar and two on the other. Neither of them looked like supernatural beings. Instead they screamed over-paid lawyers.
My godmother walked directly towards the altar and climbed the three steps to the top. The four men climbed the other side to face each other, leaving my godmother in the middle. Katrina and I stayed near the door, away from the group. For some strange reason, my godmother’s number two stayed with us.
“This was not what I was expecting for vampires and elves,” I whispered to Katrina.
“Their energy is too intense for the old ones to be in the same room,” my godmother’s sidekick answered me. He had a deep voice that sounded like Barry White. “They each send their most trusted emissaries.” He waited while I processed that information. “For our high priestess’s safety and yours, I recommend not letting anyone in this room know you two are related.” Before I could reply, the mysterious Barry White crossed the room to stand against the opposite wall.
“He is right, you know,” Katrina told me.
“I guess, but it doesn’t make it any easier to accept the fact that she lied.” My voice cracked, and I hated that it had because it showed the hurt I’d tried to bury inside.
“Tell me, what would you have done if she told you two years ago that she was a witch?” Katrina asked me as she looked at the proceedings.
I took a deep breath before answering. Two years ago, I had an ordinary life with no knowledge of the supernatural world. As I thought about that, I realized I would have reacted very differently, so I said, “I probably would’ve thought she lost her mind and made her take meds.”
“Exactly,” Katrina said in a soft voice. “The truth can be a very dangerous weapon. Sometimes we have to ask ourselves if it’s necessary.” She stared hard at the altar in front of her. “It took me over twenty years to learn that lesson. Just because it’s true doesn’t mean it needs to be shared. You will find that out as an Intern.”