by D. C. Gomez
“The guardian sent you. Interesting. Hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to need to search you.” The bouncer put the card in his front pocket and signaled for me to turn around. I was always the poor victim at the airport who got searched, so I knew the drill.
I extended my arms and spread my legs wide. For a big guy, the bouncer was quick and light on his feet. The search took less than thirty seconds. He inspected my lip gloss very carefully. He looked disappointed when he realized it was only lip gloss. What was he expecting, a blade in there?
“I don’t need to remind you this is a business establishment, and we don’t want any trouble.” Sure he didn’t. The look in his eyes was murderous. He was ready for me to start something.
“Of course. I’m just here to talk.”
He gave me a look almost like the Rock before a wrestling match. I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it out alive.
The bouncer inclined his chin. He walked over to the wall on his right and pulled over a velvety curtain. This was where I walked faith. My rational mind kept telling me I was going to smack my face into a wall. My intuition said to trust Constantine. If I died, Constantine was going down. Without looking back, I stepped through the velvety curtain and went through the wall. The place was pitch black.
“Watch your step, and hold on to the rail while going down the stairs.” Those were the last words I heard the bouncer say as the curtain fell back in place. So down the dark stairs it was. I went down twelve, maybe thirteen steps before I reached another velvety curtain. Before my eyes could adjust, the curtain was pulled open for me. I stood frozen in place. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but this was not it.
The Cave was definitely underground, but it was not a Cave. It was a cross between Ricky Martin’s club in “Living la Vida Loca,” the Jennifer Lopez and Pitbull club scene from “On the Floor,” and Cirque du Soleil, all in one. Crystal chandeliers hung strategically around the club. On a stage at the far wall, a full band was playing their hearts out. Balconies were filled with people on either side of the stage, with a pit in front of the band. Dancers were suspended from cages, cables, and even small platforms scattered through the club. If the United Nations needed a postcard, this place had everyone represented.
“Good evening, intern. Should I escort you? He’s expecting you.”
Wow. I was betting the devil recruited at GQ for his staff. The bouncer next to me was breathtaking, just like the first one. I had to swallow a few times to get my thoughts in order.
“Yes, thank you. That would be great.”
GQ smiled at me and led the way. “First time? Don’t worry; you get used to it.” I wasn’t sure how, but GQ’s voice sounded like a purr in my ear. It was crystal clear even with the music pounding. I had to admit, the devil had a killer DJ.
I wasn’t sure if the bouncer did it on purpose, but it appeared we were taking the scenic route. Everyone stared at me as I passed. I was hoping it was because I was the only one fully dressed. If Shooters had tons of half-naked girls, in this place they were just naked. They even had full samba dancers in their full outfits. Nobody needed beer goggles in this place; these people were beautiful.
GQ led us up a staircase to the left of the stage to an empty balcony. At least it looked empty as I approached.
At the top of the circular staircase, I got a full view of the balcony. Unlike most theater balconies, this one was set up to look at the whole club, not just the stage. To the left, a pair of Victorian-looking chairs were facing the stage. To the right, a very black leather couch was by a wall, facing the opposite way. I was sure it was custom made, and it was huge.
“Your Highness, she is here,” GQ said to a man on the couch. He was dimly lit, and I wasn’t sure what to expect.
“Thank you, Adam. You can leave us.”
Adam gave me one last look that screamed I’m watching you, and then he walked back downstairs. Honestly. As if I could kill the devil.
“Well, well, this is a pleasant surprise. Normally it takes interns at least a few months before they venture down my path.”
I was speechless and probably drooling. I got a full view of the devil as he walked around the couch. The devil was hot. OK, not just hot. We’re talking Brad Pitt in Interview with the Vampire sexy hot. He was blond with piercing blue eyes, and he was wearing the best Armani suit I had ever seen a man pull off. This was not happening to me. How was this possible?
“Has anyone ever told you it’s not polite to stare?”
“Are you serious? I mean, I’m sorry. OK, I think I’m lost. Who are you again?” I was sure Constantine had given me the wrong directions. Where were his horns, red skin, and tail? This was not my idea of the Devil.
He actually laughed at me. He even had a sexy laugh. No wonder Christianity was losing the recruitment battle. Jesus was portrayed with sandals and messy hair, and here was the devil, straight out of Cosmo. That wasn’t fair.
“Now, Isis, do you really not know?” He walked over to one of the chairs and sat down, drink in hand.
“You’re not what I was expecting.” That was the honest truth. Was he really the devil?
“Blunt and brutally honest. I like that. But you’re right. I guess I’m not, considering your boss is whatever people have envisioned. I can see why you’re surprised. I’m a little vainer. The horns and flames got old after a while. Besides, horrible for business. Nobody wants any of that.” A capitalist devil. My day was getting better by the minute.
“I can only imagine. But I won’t take too much of your time. I just have a few questions.” This place was a sensory overload, and I needed to get out before I did something stupid. Like actually want to stay.
“Of course you do, dear. What are you going to give me in return?”
“Give you? Give you…like what?” I was going to strangle Constantine for not explaining this better.
“Knowledge is power, and you know people tend to die for power.” He was caressing his drink as he spoke.
“Sorry, death is out of the question. House rule. I can’t kill anyone, and I’m sure that includes me.” I was definitely not making a deal with the devil.
“Oh, really? You might need to share that rule with some of your peeps. But no, I was thinking something more enjoyable.” The devil’s eyes ran down the length of my body. I was sure I was blushing, but I was not going to look away. I could do arrogant with the best of them.
“What do you have in mind?” I crossed my arms over my chest and waited. I was not going to volunteer for anything. Constantine had said to let him spell things out. Don’t fill in blanks, or I would not get a straight answer.
“Defiant. Death made an interesting choice with you. Some entertainment. How about a dance-off? It is a club, after all.” The devil was playing with me. Great. A dance-off didn’t sound so bad.
“Fine.” I hadn’t gone all the way down there for nothing.
“That’s the spirit, dear. On the main stage, of course. Oh, be careful with the competition. They fight dirty.” He sounded mischievous.
I walked back down the staircase and headed to the main stage without looking back. I was met by a pair of tough-looking chicks at the edge of the stage.
“Song?” a bad chick with crazy, spiky pink hair asked me. Her twin had spiky blue hair. At least they were wearing clothes, even if they were see-through. Oh, I got to pick my own funeral anthem. Great.
“Chris Brown’s ‘Look at Me Now.’” If I was going to die, I was to do it my way.
They both smiled and walked to the DJ. I made my way up on the stage. Of course, like every horrible dream most people had, the entire place was dead, and still everyone was staring at me. The devil leaned down over his balcony and smiled as Chris’s lyrics started: “You can’t hate from outside the club. You can’t even get in.” I figured he would appreciate the reference. He did.
The music started, and I let the beat and the flow take me. The acoustics in this place were mind-blowing. I closed my eyes and we
nt down my own routine. I moved from shoulder rolls to butterflies to Chris’s own moves. I had been twerking before Miley knew the meaning of the word. It didn’t hurt that I had spent months memorizing the routine to this song. I could have given Chris Brown a run for his money here. Of course, shaking my ass and flaunting my moves was too easy—dancing came natural to me. To make things interesting, the devil added a few sword-waving, dancing ninjas. I hated ninjas.
“Poles!” I yelled at the DJ. With a wink, I had stripper poles rise from the floor. My upper-body strength might have sucked, but I had a hell of a roundhouse. Only in a place like this would the stage have been stocked with stripper poles ready for the calling.
This was my show, and I wasn’t going down that easily. I timed my moves to Busta Rhymes’s lyrics and slammed my opponents with a kick to the chest. The crowd went wild. I slid to the left and then back to the right, ending with a Matrix bend to avoid the blade over my head. I just needed to survive this song—all four minutes of it. I was doing great at avoiding the swords, sliding down the poles, and throwing kicks. My boy Lil Wayne came on, so it was time to shut this mess down. I moon danced to the side and grabbed one of the silk ropes from the ceiling. I wrapped my arms around the silk, took a leap off the stage, spun around, and kicked one of the ninjas in the face. I wasn’t planning to kill anyone, but I was winning this contest. I released the silk, did a quick roll back to the center, and twerked the rest of the song off. I was sweating to death, but I was still standing.
Why weren’t those witches challenging me to a dance-off? I got this! The crowd was going nuts, and the devil was smiling. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. He gave me a bow, and I hopped off the stage. I wasn’t planning to push my luck. I took the stairs two at a time.
“Impressive. I did not see that coming.” The devil was smiling a very dangerous smile. He handed me a drink, which I really wanted since I was parched.
“No, thank you, sir.” Constantine had said not to drink from any open container.
“Of course. I’m sure Constantine gave you the warning.” I just smiled. “How about a bottle of water? Not open.” Could you trust the devil? He probably read the look on my face. “I’m still a business owner. If people can’t trust the water, they’ll stop coming.” He was a true capitalist.
“I’ll take the water. So what should I call you?”
He handed me a bottle and gave me the most innocent smile. “Call me Jake.”
I almost spit my water. “So, Jake. Jake? Really?”
“I’ve always liked the name Jacob. So much history behind it.” Oh yeah, he was arrogant to the core.
“Fair enough. So tell me, Jake, are the witches working for you?” I was too tired to play any more games.
“Sorry, Isis. Not mine.”
“What?” All that work for nothing. “Are you sure?” If they weren’t his, who were they working for it?
“They’re independent.” Was he reading my mind? “Besides, killing a bunch of people in my name doesn’t get me anything. Those souls would go straight to heaven, most of them as martyrs. Do I look like I want to help the competition?” He was definitely all about business.
“Are they killing in hell?” I was praying they weren’t. I really didn’t want to go there.
“I wish they were. We have a score to settle. I don’t enjoy losing souls to wannabes. Half of their victims were coming to me anyways. Not anymore.”
Oh, I had totally forgot about that part. He was not a happy camper.
“You know, you could have sent Constantine a text instead of making me do all that work.” This was truly a waste of my time.
“I could have. But I wanted to meet you. Besides, now you’ve earned your own right to be here. That’s a huge thing. Not everyone can come to one of my clubs. And as long as you’re not blowing up the place, you’re welcome—both for business and pleasure.” He handed me a black card. Unlike the paw Constantine’s had, mine had stick figures dancing. That was too cool, because they moved as you moved the card. I couldn’t help but smile.
“Thanks, I think. Not sure when my boss will give me time.”
“You do have a very jealous boss. I would hate to incur the wrath of Death.” The wrath of Death—I had never thought about that before. “Come back soon, Isis.”
“Hopefully not too soon.” I waved at Jake and took off. That was way too much for one night for me. I needed to leave before somebody else tried to challenge me. Jake gave me another devious smile before I walked away.
Chapter 25
There was a heavy pressure on my chest, and I was struggling to breathe. My eyelids flew open when a wet thing touched my nose. A pair of huge eyeballs was inches from my face.
“Holy Jesus Christ! What is going on?” I screamed.
“It’s six a.m., and you’re late for practice.” He sat back on his back legs and looked down at me, very king-like—which meant he was not happy.
“I had a long day. Remember, you sent me to see the devil.” I tried to cover my mouth as I yawned. It was way too early for this. I wanted more sleep.
“That was yesterday. Today is Friday, and we have things to do. Get. Up.” Constantine was an evil overlord. Why didn’t anyone believe me?
“OK, OK. Just remember, if I fall down, I warned you.” I was sure if I fell down, the only thing Constantine was going to do was laugh at me.
“You’ve got five minutes. Eric is already downstairs.” Constantine hopped off the bed and was heading out before I could speak. I had thought Eric was not supposed to be back till next week. Great. Another beating, before breakfast.
Sleep was out of the question after Constantine had scared me to death. My heart was still racing, and I was wide awake. I really wanted to skip practice, but I doubted I had an option. I forced myself out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. After quickly brushing my teeth, I got dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. My hair was a hot mess, so I pulled it up into a quick bun. It wasn’t as if I could impress Sexy-Butt downstairs. He was turning more into Sour-Face.
By the time I made it to the gym area, I was ready to battle. I was expecting Bartholomew to be doing his drills with Eric and Constantine giving orders. Instead, all three were gathered around one of the bench tables. Bartholomew was sitting on the floor, Constantine on the bench, and Eric was in a squat. I shook my head. He could even do those well. That boy really sucked. I sneaked behind them to find them staring at a laptop.
“What are you three looking at?” I was praying it wasn’t porn and I would have to kill Eric and Constantine.
“You! Nice moves, Isis. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
I had no idea what Constantine was talking about till I focused on the screen. By God, I wished they were watching porn now. It was a video feed of me doing last night’s dance-off.
“Ouch, that looked painful. Nice roundhouse, Isis.” Bartholomew looked very impressed.
“I’m actually impressed. An intern who got information without killing anyone. How did you know the Devil would have poles at the club?” Eric had stood up and was giving me his undivided attention. I was sure I liked it better when he ignored me. His intensity was overwhelming.
“He’s the Devil. If he didn’t have stripper poles, nobody else should. How did you get a copy of that?”
“Is all over YouTube.” Bartholomew’s matter-of-fact voice was scarier than Constantine’s.
“Oh God. That’s out there for the whole world to see?” I prayed I would get hit by lightning.
“Only for the supernatural world. This is a private channel.” Bartholomew was still not helping.
“That’s a relief. At least my godmother won’t see it.” I was pretty sure they had missed my sarcasm, since they all looked way too happy. “That was not helpful. The supernatural community, from what I’ve seen, is huge. Did I mention huge? And I don’t even know who’s in it.”
“Stop overreacting, Isis. It wasn’t like you made a fool of yourself
. If you had lost, that would have been embarrassing. All you needed was to drop the mic.” That was the first compliment Eric had ever given me.
“Thanks, but after all that, I didn’t get anything.”
“What do you mean?” I had Constantine’s full attention. “Did the Devil not talk to you?”
“Oh, he talked to me. He just didn’t say anything useful. And he goes by Jake.”
“Imagine that. He has always been an arrogant one.” At least I knew Constantine was not a fan, or he didn’t like competition in the arrogant department. “Let’s hear it.”
I took a deep breath before starting. “The witches are not his. In his terms—and I quote—they are wannabes. They are also not working out of hell.”
“That’s really good news. We really don’t want to go to hell. Well done, Isis.”
Was I missing something, or had Constantine also given me a compliment? “OK, what’s going on? Why are you two being so nice to me?”
“I’m nice,” Bartholomew said, almost offended.
“You’re always nice, Bart. These two, not so much. What’s the deal?” I crossed my arms and faced them. I had my angry face on.
“Nothing’s going on. We’re just glad everything went well.” Constantine was way too quick for that to be the truth.
“I didn’t get much.”
“It’s like science. We’re eliminating everything that is not it so we can find what it is.”
I tilted my head and stared at Constantine. Was he rambling? “We have no time for trial and error now. And thank you for destroying my illusions about science.” Great. Even science was failing me.
“Why do you think they call it practicing? Obviously, doctors have not perfected their craft.” Constantine was on a roll. I was never going to see a doctor the same way again.
“Constantine, stop playing with her. Just tell her. Most people try to outsmart the Devil and end up losing their souls. Why didn’t you try to bargain with him?” Eric was calm as he spoke, but he was curious.