Death's Intern (The Intern Diaries Book 1)

by D. C. Gomez

  “OK, you’re right about how impressive a talking cat is. But what about Bartholomew?”

  “You haven’t actually looked at him. Go ahead and do it.” I was starting to dislike that he was right so often. “Isis, it’s going to be OK. Just look at him.”

  I took another deep breath and looked up. He looked the same. He had a slight blue glow around him, but other than that, he looked normal.

  “What do you see?” Constantine asked, fairly patiently for a cat.

  “Just a blue haze over him.” I looked at Constantine for confirmation.

  “Good. All you’re seeing is his aura. Most of Death’s interns and the guardians he chooses have a bluish aura. Around other interns, guardians, and Bartholomew, you will see only auras. Same as most humans.” Constantine scratched his ear. It was creepy how normal he looked at times.

  “Wait—Death is a woman.” I was pretty sure it had been a woman who had completely messed up my life last night. Why was that such an important fact for me, above all things?

  “Death is whatever your mind and soul decides it is. You’ve spent a long time courting death. Death to you looks like an old friend.”

  My mouth was hanging open.

  “Death is a woman for me, too, Isis. I think it’s because we’re both orphans. We see her as a parental figure.” Bartholomew’s explanation was even more disturbing than Constantine’s.

  “You’re procrastinating. Can we start?” Constantine was annoyed.

  “Is it going to hurt?” I was stalling. But hey, this was scary stuff.

  “Did it hurt when it opened?”

  I gave him a confused look.

  “If you can’t remember, then probably no. Pay attention now.” Not the most convincing argument, but I stopped fighting. “OK, close your eyes and visualize a window between your eyes. This window has large curtains on either side. You want to mentally close the curtains on the window. Imagine yourself pulling them shut.”

  I took deep breaths and calmed my heart rate down. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, but I followed Constantine’s instructions. I kept repeating the exercise over and over.

  “How do I know if it worked?” For a mind exercise, this was exhausting.

  “Open your eyes and look at Bartholomew. Can you still see his aura?”

  I followed Constantine’s instructions. “He still has a haze, but it’s not as defined as before.” I was out of breath by now.

  “Good. You’re getting there. You need to put more of your willpower into it. Almost like you’re slamming the window shut.”

  It was easier said than done. I took another breath and tried again. Around the tenth time, I felt a sensation that ran down my body. The pressure in my head stopped, and my muscles relaxed. I opened my eyes, and Bartholomew was normal.

  “Thank the Lord; it worked.” I couldn’t stop smiling.

  “Great. It took you only an hour. Now open it back up and close it again.”

  My jaw dropped. “In the name of all that is good and great, why would I want to do that again?” This cat had lost his ever-loving mind. I was not going to do that.

  “Because you need to control it. Do you want it to fly open in the middle of the mall? Do you know who hangs out at the mall?”

  I almost choked on my saliva at that thought.

  “I’m glad you see my point, Isis. You need to practice till this becomes second nature. Today we just need to make sure you can close it and open it at will. So go back to the window, and this time, open the curtains. Got it?”

  I nodded and went back to work. I had always been good at playing make-believe, but this took concentration. I tried opening the curtain and then opened my eyes to see Bartholomew. No blue haze. Then back to the curtain I went. This time it took me an hour and a half to open it.

  “The first time is the hardest. Do it again.” Constantine had very little sympathy for me.

  “You’re a little dictator. How old are you?” I was exhausted, and my clothes were covered in sweat from the mental hell.

  “He’s been around since the pharaohs,” Bartholomew said from his chair.

  My curiosity got the best of me. “Which one?”

  “All of them.” Constantine did not seem happy when he said that. “I was glad to leave with Death. All those people always wanting to kill everyone and take them with them to the afterlife. Like I wanted to follow them that far.”

  I had to smile at that. He was right. The nerve of humanity, to assume everyone agreed with their way of thinking. I could imagine an indignant Constantine walking out.

  “Constantine, another one went missing.”

  I had no idea what Bartholomew was doing at the computer station, but he was upset. Constantine jumped off the couch and made his way toward him. With another leap, he was at the monitors.

  “Where this time?”

  Bartholomew pointed at a monitor on the top right, and Constantine followed his gaze.

  “Downtown again.” Bartholomew looked at Constantine.

  “What went missing?” I couldn’t help myself. I was curious by nature.

  “Nothing. Back to practicing. You have other issues to worry about now.”

  I wanted to argue, but my eye was still open, and the headache was kicking in.

  Constantine was right. The first time was the hardest. After three hours, I was able to open it and close it in less than ten minutes. At some point during my session, Constantine left for a recon mission. Bartholomew relayed the message from the little dictator that my homework was to practice. I needed to be able to open and close it within seconds. I could barely move. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get home. I tried to get up but fell back on the couch.

  “You should really rest before leaving. Your room is the first one on the left on the other side,” Bartholomew said without looking up.

  “I don’t live here, and I haven’t agreed to anything.” My words came out slurred.

  “OK, Isis. Whatever you say.” That was the only reply I got. Bartholomew came around the computer area and laid me back down on the couch. He grabbed a blanket from somewhere and draped it over me. I was too tired to even argue.

  “What are you monitoring?”

  “People are disappearing from the area. Mostly homeless, so the reports don’t have a lot of information.” He sounded a lot older than eleven.

  “Are you sure your boss isn’t taking them?” Morpheus was pulling me to slumber, but I still tried talking.

  “That’s the problem. They’re not dead—just gone. Just like New York…”

  I faded to sleep while Bartholomew was talking.

  Chapter 6

  These late nights were going to kill me. I was used to at least eight to nine hours of sleep a night. Granted, most were Ambien induced, but I was sleeping. Lately I was averaging less than five hours a night—not good. My Sunday alarm was set on my watch for 10:00 a.m. I woke up completely disoriented. It took me a minute to remember where I was. Blessings for the alarm, since I had to head home to shower and get ready for work. My shift at Abuelita’s started at 11:00 a.m. Abuelita’s offered a brunch special on Sundays for the church crowd from 11:30 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. We were closed for dinner on Sundays.

  We didn’t have uniforms at Abuelita’s, but I always wore black pants with a black shirt. Made dressing quick and easy. I made it to Abuelita’s with fifteen minutes to spare. I parked in my favorite spot. Nobody ever took that one—it was the farthest spot from the restaurant. On most days I combat parked, which meant I backed into the spot so the front was facing the entrance and the back bumper was parallel to the line of trees on the left-hand side. I liked to practice my driving skills, and one day I actually parallel parked the Whale. It was Texas. We had so much space everywhere that nobody parallel parked around there. I was still proud of my accomplishment.

  Today I was so tired that I didn’t bother to combat park. I pulled into the space and was grateful the Whale looked fairly straight. I locked the Whale—nobody
was ever going to steal it, but why tempt fate?—and walked to the back of the restaurant. Abuelita was busy stirring a pot of crispy southwest potatoes for her huevos rancheros when I walked in. Her huevos rancheros were a house favorite. Most of our clients had their huevos with chorizo, but they were still amazing without the meat. Maybe I just worked at Abuelita’s for the food.

  “Isis, I wasn’t expecting you this morning, but I’m so happy you came. Angelito was out with his new girl and didn’t come home last night. He probably will be late if he makes it in. This is not like him.” Abuelita was right. Angelito was a player, but he always put Abuelita first. For him to not come in when he was scheduled was not like him.

  “He might come in before we open.” I had barely made it in time myself, so who was I to judge the boy?

  “How are you feeling, dear? You looked awful last night. You’re not looking much better now.” Abuelita was trying to sound normal, but her voice was lined with worry. I noticed she was trying not to stare at me. I appreciated the space, but I knew it was taking a lot of effort for her to hold back.

  “My headache is gone. I’m tired but OK. You were right—I was just tired.” No need for all the details from last night. The less Abuelita knew, the easier it would be. At least I hoped. “I’ll get the dining area ready to open. Do you need any help back here?”

  “I think I got it. But would you like to work the rest of the week? My nieces are heading to Mexico on vacation, and I need extra help. What do you think?”

  “Sure thing, Abuelita, I could use the money. Thank you for asking.” That wasn’t a lie; I really could use the money. Especially after I’d left early yesterday and missed all my tips. Besides, I would do anything to help Abuelita.

  “Oh, good. Now I don’t have to ask that crazy cousin of mine. She’s a hot mess on a good day.” That was the understatement of the century. Cousin Maria was a mixture of Days of Our Lives; Beverly Hills, 90210; and Jersey Shore all rolled into one. If she didn’t have drama going, she was making some up. With three baby daddies, that woman made the rest of the world look boring.

  I left Abuelita to her brunch extravaganza, as she called it. “All-You-Can-Eat Mexican Brunch” involved a lot of food. Our bar doubled as a buffet table on Sundays. So my job was to set up all the warmers, plates, utensils, and all those little things you needed to eat. I always wondered how many steps I took in this small space, but I never wanted to spend the cash for one of those fancy watch/pedometers. I was convinced I was at least at 2,500 before we opened. I kept forgetting something for each area and table.

  Right before we opened, I heard Abuelita talking. By the sound of it, she was on the phone with Angelito. It was not a good talk.

  Abuelita walked to the bar from the kitchen. “OK, Isis, it’s just us two. Are you sure you can handle things today?”

  “I’ll be OK, Abuelita. It’s only a few hours. Where’s Angelito?” I was hoping he had a really good excuse for bailing on us.

  “According to him, just getting home from driving all night. Something about going to Dallas with his girl. He sounded exhausted. After your spell yesterday, I was afraid of having another tired server around the customers.” Her expression turned sour. She was a very loving woman.

  “Abuelita, I got this. You’re right. We don’t need him falling on people. The Sunday crowd serves themselves, so it’s easy.” I gave Abuelita my best Shirley Temple smile. She didn’t buy it.

  My words came back to haunt me. There was nothing easy about the crowd. They were coming in all day, nonstop. If I wasn’t refilling food, I was busing dishes back and forth. In between the stampede, I ran the dishwashers. I was so grateful for the little things in life. I wasn’t sure how Abuelita did it. The food never stopped coming, and it was always delicious and hot. Even the people with special plates were impressed. The drive-through was killing me. By the time I got one order delivered, another car had pulled up.

  Four hours on my feet moving like Speedy Gonzalez took its toll on my poor feet. I didn’t fall asleep on anyone or drop any more plates. I was too busy to even daydream. My only goal was to head to bed the moment I left Abuelita’s. It was 3:45 p.m. when the last customer left. Cleanup on Sunday normally took about an hour, but that was with Angelito here. I braced myself for at least two hours of hard-core manual labor. Abuelita was in a fabulous mood. She was singing an old salsa song to herself.

  I was hurting everywhere, but slowing down was not an option. All warmers, plates, and utensils had been cleared from the dining area and moved to the back. That was my normal pattern—clear the dining area and then worry about all the kitchen stuff. With just one person working, dishes had accumulated everywhere. It took forever just to get all the horizontal surfaces cleared and ready to disinfect. I went by the window to wipe the tables. I looked over at the picnic table, and Bob was settling down. Bob normally showed up around five-ish to look after the place. He was early today. I wondered why. I planned to check on him when I went out to take the trash. Abuelita normally had a plate ready for him around five thirty.

  My adrenaline rush from earlier was now gone. It took me over twenty minutes to wipe everything up in the dining hall. The last family with kids had spilled beans on the table and all over the chairs. I wasn’t even sure how that was possible. The kitchen was my next target. I decided to take a break and delivered food to Bob instead. I walked over to the window and saw two men carrying Bob to the door of a van. He wasn’t dead, I hoped. They looked as if they were helping him walk. What in the hell was going on? I ran to the door just in time to see a brunette girl in her late teens close the van door.

  “Hey, bring back Bob!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. OK, so my comeback lines under stressful situations were not that great. I searched my pockets for my phone, but I had left it on the kitchen counter.

  I ran back inside. Abuelita had probably heard the door open, since she was standing by the window when I came in. I got my phone and ran back to the dining area. My fingers were already dialing by the time I reached Abuelita.

  “Hi, yes, I need an officer. My friend Bob has just been kidnapped.” I was nervous and talking way too fast for down South.

  “Ma’am, please slow down, and repeat that again.” The female dispatcher sounded patient but confused.

  I took a breath before starting. “Sorry. My friend was just abducted by three people in a van.”

  “OK, ma’am, what is your friend’s full name?” I could tell she was taking notes.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t know it.” I had never thought to get Bob’s full name.

  “You don’t know it? Was he resisting?” The dispatcher was starting to sound confused.

  “I’m sorry. I never asked him. He didn’t look like he was resisting. They were almost carrying him; maybe they drugged him.” I was frantic and wanted to scream.

  “Are you sure it wasn’t his family?” She was still taking notes.

  “I don’t think so. Bob is homeless, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have any family in this area. He doesn’t even have many friends, especially ones that drive a van.”

  “But you can’t confirm that he was going against his will or that it was family taking him. Is that correct?”

  I really wanted to choke this lady. “Yes, ma’am. That is correct. But can you help me?”

  “OK, how long has he been missing and from where?”

  “Less than five minutes ago, from Abuelita’s on 82.” I prayed she was taking me seriously.

  “OK, ma’am, he is not technically considered a missing person just yet. Since you have no idea whether those people were not his family, it’s hard to tell if something actually bad is taking place. I’m going to send an officer down to take your statement. What’s your name?” She thought I was crazy.

  “Isis Black.”

  There was silence on the other end of my phone.

  “Are you serious?” The dispatcher thought I was prank calling her. Damn terrorists! Now nobody takes me ser
iously because they stole my name.

  “Yes, ma’am. Please hurry.” I hung up the phone. I knew she wasn’t listening anymore. I slammed my fist down in frustration.

  “Don’t get mad, dear. Nobody is paying attention to people like us and Bob. Society has forgotten about us. Bob is smart. He’s going to be OK.”

  I looked at Abuelita. Fear was written all over her face. I couldn’t just sit around waiting for police who might never come. I needed to do something.

  “I’m going after them.” My keys were in the kitchen area. In less than a minute, I had all my stuff in my pockets. I never carried a purse. If everything I owned couldn’t fit in my pants, I probably didn’t need it. My wallet was a man’s billfold, compact and practical. “Abuelita, are you going to be OK finishing up by yourself?”

  “Isis, this is crazy. You don’t know where to find them.” Abuelita kept glancing out the windows, almost willing Bob to come back.

  “I know, but I need to try. Please call Angelito to meet you. Don’t leave alone, please.” The last thing I needed was to lose her, too.

  “If you are going to do this, go. I’ll call Angelito, and I’ll be OK. Please be careful.” Before I could walk around her, Abuelita pulled me close to her and said a silent prayer with her hands on my forehead. I hoped it was a prayer.

  When she was done, I hugged her. I wasn’t sure what else to do, and I ran out the door.

  Chapter 7

  Texarkana was not a big city, but when you were wandering around with no clear direction, it was a huge place. The adrenaline rush had passed, and I was worried to death. I drove for over an hour, going to Liberty-Eylau, Wake Village, Nash, and Beverly Heights with no luck. My last resort was to head toward downtown. My plan was to check out the shelters. Maybe the dispatcher was right and they were family or friends. I highly doubted it, but I was out of options.

  I was too tired to notice how fast I was going. Granted, most minivans were not known for their speed, but they can hit fifty pretty easily. The speed limit for most of Texarkana was forty, and I had no reason to speed. It wasn’t till the red and blue lights were behind me that I noticed my speed. I pulled over across Wadley’s Hospital on Texas Boulevard. On Sundays this part of Texarkana was empty. Downtown was home to several court systems, the police department, the city hall, the local jail, and plenty of bail bondsmen. On weekends the only people working downtown were the cops. I took a deep breath and waited for the officer.