by D. C. Gomez
“Hi Katrina. TJ,” he replied, shaking her hand. I was glad I didn’t have to do the introduction. “What are you guys doing here?” TJ asked Katrina.
“Would you believe we were getting a membership to the waterpark?” Katrina asked him.
“Not at all,” he said.
I slowly turned around and leaned my back against Ladybug. TJ didn’t disappoint. He looked fabulous in his Big Jakes shirt.
“Why are you here?” I asked him.
“Delivering,” he said, pointing to his shirt. “Some big-wigs are in town and wanted food. For the money they paid, we would deliver to New Boston.” He gave me the sexiest smile ever. “Are you going to tell me why you are here, or is this top-secret Reapers business?” He chuckled. Although, if he knew how accurate his statement had been, he might not find it funny.
“Reapers business, but I need some help,” I told TJ. “I have a hypothetical question. If you wanted to hide in Texarkana, where you would go?”
“The mall,” TJ replied.
Katrina and I looked at him with blank stares.
“Why?” I asked him.
“It’s climate controlled. They have bathrooms, and you have plenty of stores to go in and out of.” TJ told me as he ran his hands through his hair. I was pretty sure he had no clue how hot he looked right then. “Besides, nobody ever buys stuff at the mall now a days. It won’t be unusual to have a random guy hanging out at the food court for hours playing on his phone.” TJ’s theory was solid and made a ton of sense. The mall would be the last place I ever thought to look.
“That’s a pretty good idea,” Katrina told him. “And since you’re full of great ideas, where would you hide a girl you’re keeping one as a hostage?”
“Oh God, Isis. Who is missing now?” TJ turned his full attention on me. “You do know you spend most of your time looking for missing people.”
I thought about that for a second. TJ was right, but I didn’t want to admit it out loud.
“It’s all good, TJ.” I gave him a hard stare, trying to look convincing. “We don’t think she is in danger. Just being held against her will.” My voice cracked right at the end, so I didn’t sound convincing at all. I sucked at lying.
“Is that really the best you can do?” TJ asked me, and even Katrina shook her head.
“Hey, I’m trying here,” I argued. “Back to you, wise guy. Any ideas?”
“I would have pulled a Dogma,” TJ said.
Why was TJ so cryptic today?
“Fine, you got us. What does that mean?” Katrina asked, and I was grateful.
“Are you serious? You two haven’t seen the movie Dogma?” TJ asked us. Neither Katrina nor I had seen the movie, which I found out when we both shook our heads. “Make a note. You are watching it with me,” TJ told me, and I could feel the heat pool in my cheeks. “I hate to ruin the ending but here it goes. God came down to earth and one of the fallen trapped him here by putting his human form in a coma.”
I scrunched my forehead. That movie sounded weird, and I had no idea how it pertained to the princess being kidnapped.
“You would put the person in a coma?” Katrina asked.
“A coma might be drastic,” TJ replied. “I would just find a way of hiding them in a hospital. Nobody ever checks those.”
“That is brilliant,” I told him.
“Thank Kevin Smith. I’m just copying him.” TJ was even cuter when he was being humble.
“We might just do that,” Katrina told him.
“I’ve got to go,” TJ told us. “Ladies, fun talk. Weird, but fun. Isis, stop by the restaurant. You need some fries,” TJ told me as he walked towards his car.
“Are fries code for something?” Katrina asked me as we watched TJ walk away. He had a really nice butt.
“Nope. Just fries,” I told her, but Katrina did not seem convinced. “Let’s get out of here,” I told Katrina as I hopped into Ladybug.
The vamps and elves were right about one thing. We were running around of time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
TJ’s mall idea might be crazy, but we had no other leads, so it was somewhere to start. On our way to the mall, we called the boys for an update. I told Constantine TJ’s theory and he agreed it was worth checking. Constantine sent Bob to check the hospitals. Since Bob volunteered at both hospitals, the homeless shelter, and even Saint Edward’s Outreach Center, he was Reapers Good Samaritan. I was starting to wonder if we kept Bob gainfully employed.
Katrina and I were tasked with checking the mall, as well as Walmart Super Center on the Texas side. That alone could take us forever. That Walmart was a giant rectangle with tons of stuff everywhere. Searching the mall and Walmart sounded as exciting as hanging out with the vampires. I was starting to believe Bob got the easy assignment. Technically, though, Eric had the easiest assignment. He had to check all the jails. As a cop, that wouldn’t be very difficult for him. All he had to do was check computer records, which was almost cheating. Why didn’t I ever have those kinds of missions?
After three hours roaming the shopping centers, we made it back to Reapers with nothing to show. Unless you counted extreme mental exhaustion. I really hated shopping and shopping centers. I was also traumatized about some of the things you saw in those places. The latest was tan colored skinny jeans, or maybe they were leggings. It should be illegal to wear them. The rest of the world should not have that image imprinted in their brains for all eternity. Regardless of your size, a pair of pants that made your legs look like a raw Pillsbury biscuit was never the way to go.
Katrina and I walked into the loft of Reapers looking beat-down and depressed. Bartholomew and Constantine were so focused on the computer screen they didn’t even glance in our direction. Maybe they had found a new lead. Otherwise, we’d all be going in blind.
Finally, Constantine met our eyes. “With those looks, let me guess. You found nothing.”
“Oh no. We found tons of stuff. Just nothing useful,” Katrina told Constantine.
“Next time I want to hide, I’m doing it at Walmart,” I added as I took a seat at the kitchen table. Katrina joined me with a loud thump as she dropped in a chair. “That place was nuts. How can the noon crowd be just as weird as the midnight crowd? Why?” I wanted an explanation about the mysteries of the world. Why were some Walmart customers totally out of control?
“Why do you think I refuse to go there?” Bartholomew chimed in, but his opinion didn’t count since he couldn’t handle crowds, anyway. Walmart was a nightmare for him any day, but I decided not to point that out.
“Avoid it, Bart,” I told him, then I sighed. “Please tell me one of you found something.” I hoped they did. At least then someone’s afternoon would have been productive.
“I tapped into some of the security cameras downtown,” Bartholomew said. “I have several shots of Noah walking around down there, but they have no rhyme or reason. He is just walking in circles.” Bartholomew glared at the screen, then turned the same unhappy look on us.
“Let me see,” Katrina told him as she walked over to the computer area.
My stomach chose that moment to grumble so loud I’d be surprised if the room hadn’t heard it, so I went to the fridge and opened it, searching for something to eat. As soon as I opened the door, Bob walked in the kitchen.
“Isis, please grab the glass dish on the top shelf,” he said from the doorway.
I shook myself. Did Bob somehow rig the fridge and when someone opened it, he appeared? I almost laughed at the ridiculousness of my thought, but somehow, I controlled myself.
I pulled the dish out, not sure what Bob had made. He stepped into the kitchen and started opening cabinets. I had no idea what he was looking for, but Bob moved with a purpose. He handed me a few cans of veggies. Hopefully he was about to make some lunch because I was starving. He piled some clean dishes and food items on the kitchen island, and then he looked up. I followed his gaze to find Eric walking in the room.
“No luck with
the jails,” Eric announced.
I felt like somebody had kicked me in the shins after I’d already gone down.
“Great,” Constantine said. “Okay, Chef Emeril. Do you have an update for us?” Constantine asked Bob, who was busy gathering more ingredients.
“Checked Saint Michael’s and found nothing,” Bob answered, not looking happy at all.
“What about Wadley?” Constantine asked him.
It took Bob a minute before he answered. “Unfortunately, she is there,” he said, not looking at the group.
“That is awesome,” I told him.
“Not really. She is in the ER.” His shoulders deflated,
“They have her connected to a lot of tubes,” Bob told us. “They have no idea what is wrong with her, but she is not waking up.”
“We need to get her out of there now,” Katrina told us from the computer area. “The medicine they are giving her is keeping her unconscious. She is an elf. Human medicine is not good for her.” Katrina really knew how to quiet a room.
“What do you suggest we do?” I wasn’t sure if I was ready for the answer.
“We break her out,” Katrina said.
“What?” Eric said.
“You can’t be serious,” I told her.
“How?” asked Constantine.
“Easy. We create a Trojan Horse,” Katrina said, like that made all the sense in the world. “We just need an ambulance and uniforms. We can walk in through the main door of the ER and get her out.”
“It sounds like it’s time for me to get going,” Eric told us. “I don’t need to be an accessory to a crime.” Eric waved at us and headed out the door.
“Isis, what else can your music make people do?” Katrina asked me.
I watched Eric leave, longing to follow him. But I knew I couldn’t, so instead, I took a deep breath. “I guess almost anything if I can add the right emotions to it.” I didn’t need much energy to create a stay away song. “Normally, I just have people fall asleep or stay awake. Those are two things we can’t have going on in an emergency room.” Last thing I needed were a bunch of dead people due to a lack of treatment by comatose caregivers.
“True. Both of those things would be bad,” Katrina admitted. “How about making people dazed and confused for a few minutes?” A gleam brightened her wide eyes.
“Maybe,” I told her. “I will need to create it.” It wasn’t like I had a huge collection of mind controlling tunes laying around.
“Good. Now that we have a distraction, we just need an ambulance,” Katrina told us.
“I got that,” Bartholomew announced.
“Are you planning to buy one?” I asked him, my chin touching my chest as I crossed my arms over my stomach.
“Nah. No time,” Bartholomew replied. “I know a guy who works at Lifenet. He owes me a favor.”
“Do I want to know why an EMT owes you a favor?” I asked him, sounding very big-sister like.
“It’s probably safer if you don’t know,” Bartholomew told me in a shy voice.
I shook my head but let it go.
“Can your person get us uniforms as well?” Katrina asked Bartholomew.
He nodded. “I’m not sure why not.”
“I think we got everything, then,” Katrina said. “I’ll put some make-up on before we leave so we look like professional paramedics.”
I didn’t have the confidence Katrina did, but it didn’t matter. This was going down whether I was ready or not.
“I like it,” Constantine said. “But you need to be out of the downtown area before the parade starts at seven. I recommend you leave within the hour. Bartholomew, make sure to have your friend bring the ambulance ASAP,” he ordered.
“Boss, what if they recognize me?” Bob asked Constantine.
“No worries. We will give you a face mask and a hat,” Katrina told him.
Bob looked anything but convinced.
“Trust me. It will be fine. I’m going to check my kit and see if I have face paint with me. I usually keep some in my rucksack,” Katrina added and headed out the door.
“I hope this works,” Constantine said as he went back to helping Bartholomew.
“Bob, what is going on? You haven’t been acting like yourself since Kansas,” I asked him in a soft voice.
“Nothing. I’m fine,” he told me without meeting my eyes.
“You are a terrible liar.” I walked around the kitchen area and blocked his path to the sink. I figured he would talk to me or I wouldn’t let him cook.
“Isis, I need to get this done and we don’t have a lot of time,” Bob told me. “Besides, shouldn’t you be making music?” Bob might be right, but I wasn’t letting him off the hook that easy.
“Not moving. If you don’t talk, I’ll blame it on you if I’m late.” It was a low blow but I didn’t care. I was worried about Bob and he was being ridiculous.
“Fine,” he said reluctantly. “You heard Katrina say we served together,” Bob told me, and I nodded. “Well, I was technically War’s gunner.” My eyes got really big when Bob said that. “He didn’t look the same, but his voice never changed. I will never forget his voice.” He shivered. “The day I got hurt, we were in a convoy and we got attacked. It was my job to protect the General and he got shot right in front of my eyes. For years, I have been carrying the shame and guilt of letting my hero die.” Bob paused and clenched his fists. “You don’t understand how it felt to find out he is alive. Isis, I tried to kill myself—more than once I might add—because I thought it was my fault he died, and now it turns out he never did.”
When he stopped, I didn’t know what to say.
“You are allowed to be pissed,” Constantine said as he jumped on the island. I didn’t realize he was listening to us. “The Horsemen are not human. For most of them, they don’t understand human emotions or attachments. War has died thousands of times. It’s how he can start fresh in a new place with a new face. The fact that he chose you as his witness says a lot about your character and he trusted you.”
I could tell Constantine’s explanation did not help Bob, and it definitely did nothing for me.
“Constantine, it’s still pretty crappy to do something like that,” I told him.
“I don’t disagree,” Constantine said. “Why do you think I work for Death? Everyone is not indispensable.” Constantine put his paws over Bob’s hands.
“We all have crosses to bear, but you don’t have to do it alone,” I told Bob. “You have a family now. Besides, if War tries that crap again, he will have to deal with Death and me.” I leaned in and gave him a huge hug.
“Thank you, Isis,” Bob told me. “I’m more afraid of you than Death. You are accident prone.” Bob gave me a forced smile.
I punched him in the shoulder in a playful gesture. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I guess you are not the only one who needs to learn to forgive and let go of the past,” Bob told me.
“Ouch. Low blow.” Did he have to go there? I was trying to be supportive. We were not talking about me and my godmother drama.
Bob met my eyes. “I’ll promise to let go and forgive, but only if you do the same.”
He had a point. How could I ask him to do something if I wasn’t willing to do it myself?
I nodded. “Fine. We will do this together,” I reluctantly agreed. I didn’t want to forgive my godmother yet. There was still too much anger, and I felt like being petty for a while, but I would try.
“I love it. Beautiful. So much healing going on,” Constantine jumped in. “But you are running out of time. Take your skinny butt to your room and get to work. Bob, you need to get ready as well. Best way to heal is to keep on moving. So move.” It was official. Constantine only allowed fifteen minutes for a pity-party. After that, it was work time.
I marched to my room to get things going. I didn’t want to get yelled at again by my evil fur-ball dictator.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Preparation for Operation Bo
dy Snatch did not take long. We were out of Reapers in less than forty-five minutes with sirens blaring from the ambulance. That part was really fun. Normally people didn’t jump out of my way when I drove—not like they do with Shorty. Having traffic clear out was pretty exciting. Bartholomew’s friend called in the emergency for us and Wadley was ready. I just hoped we didn’t go to jail for impersonating EMTs.
Bartholomew had given us headsets to communicate with each other and him. They were a better version of the ones the secret service wore on TV. They actually blended in, so nobody would be able to tell we were wearing them. Katrina and Bob had earplugs on their other ear for protection. The plan was to roll Katrina in as our victim and have her set off my recording. According to Bob, the princess was in one of the first beds in the ER area. We should be able to make the grab quickly.
Bob drove down like a true paramedic, as fast as possible without looking suspicious. We parked by the ER and rushed to the back to get Katrina. We had her secured on the stretcher to avoid too much attention. Unfortunately, as soon as people saw Katrina, they were going to panic. She might have done too good of a job with her make-up because it looked like half of her head was missing. At first, I wanted to call a real ambulance for her.
“Everyone ready?” Bob asked as we pulled the stretcher out. I was grateful Bartholomew’s friend explained the procedure to us.
“Not at all, but we don’t have a choice,” I replied.
“That’s the spirit, Isis,” Katrina mumbled from the stretcher. “Now let’s go and steal us a princess.”
I rolled my eyes. She was way too excited about this. I took a deep breath, gave Bob one last worried look, and we pushed her inside.
The next three minutes were straight chaos. I had a new appreciation for how much coordination hospital staff needed to handle every case that rolled in their door. From the moment we rushed in, nurses and doctors scrambled from every direction to reach us. It made me wonder if having a person die in their facility affected their rating, kind of like when hotels had bedbugs. When the doctors directed us down a hallway, I met Bob’s eyes, unsure what to do.