by D. C. Gomez
“If you spent more time around her, you would know she’s worried sick about you. Are you avoiding her?”
Angelito wouldn’t answer my question or even meet my eyes.
“Angelito, what’s going on?”
“Isis, I have no idea. I heard those girls talking about Abuelita and using me to get to her. What does that mean? Why would anyone want to hurt my grandma? Everyone loves her.” Angelito looked as if he wanted to cry. He was blaming himself for this. Oh God, what was I supposed to say now?
“Are you sure that’s what you heard? Maybe it was because she stopped them from beating me up the day they blew up the Whale.” Or maybe it was because Abuelita was a badass at whatever it was she did. I knew I didn’t want to make her mad or be on the receiving end of her wrath.
“You think so?” He wanted to believe something.
“Probably. You know they’re crazy, right?”
He was staring at his hands. He had them folded on his lap. I grabbed another fry, hoping he would talk.
“I’m planning to stay with Abuelita at the restaurant and then make sure she’s secure at home. I can’t take any chances. I need to get Lily out of that group.” So mystery girlfriend had a name: Lily. Too bad she wasn’t as sweet as her name.
“Do I even want to know what you have in mind?” I really didn’t want to, but I was afraid it was coming.
“I heard them talking about squatting at the Grim tonight. I’m going to get her out after I’m done with Abuelita. I can’t leave her there.”
“How do you know she wants to leave? Angelito, please don’t do anything stupid.” I shook my head. This whole thing was stupid. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because Abuelita trusts you. Isis, if something happens, please tell her I love her. I’m just trying to do the right thing.” He tried to smile but never made it.
“Oh God, that sounds so morbid. Please don’t get killed, or Abuelita will lose it.” He wasn’t listening to me.
“I’ll be careful. I promise.” I didn’t believe that. “By the way, if you’re trying to hide, you need a less flashy car. Driving the only yellow Camaro in town makes you stand out. I saw you a mile away.” With that, he got out of the booth. He grabbed one of my fries and headed out the door. He winked on his way out. Angelito was an idiot, but he was loyal. I just couldn’t trust whatever influence he was under.
“You should be careful with that one, Isis. Something’s not right about him.” T. J. was probably working on his stealth moves, because I never heard him approach me.
“Too many things are not right lately, T. J. Angelito is just the icing on my problems.” I was watching Angelito climb into his F-150 truck. Something was seriously wrong with him.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were dating him.”
I had made the fatal mistake of popping a fry into my mouth when T. J. was speaking. I was choking on it.
“Isis, are you OK?” He was gently tapping my back. I prayed he wouldn’t try to give me the Heimlich.
I took a big gulp of my tea. “God help me, no. He’s the grandson of my boss. Nothing more, thank God.”
“Oh, sorry. No need to die over it.” He was still smiling at me. “But still, stay away from him. Whatever he’s on, it’s pretty strong.” T. J. walked away with a rag in his hand. He started wiping down tables. I could see him watching me out of the corner of his eye.
I was sure whatever Angelito was on could not be purchased at any normal market. I needed to do something, but I wasn’t sure what exactly. This could be another trap. Anytime Angelito was involved, it was hard to guess. I also needed to head back home and work on that recording. The one thing I was pretty sure of was that Saturday was going to be a huge day. And T. J. was right—I had barely finished half of my plate. I devoured my pie. I was feeling a little guilty for having lunch and not checking if the boys had any. I walked over to the counter to order them something.
“T. J., could I order two plates to go, please?”
He looked at me, very confused. “Wow, that’s a first. You barely finished your lunch.”
“I got roommates now—my stepbrother and a cat. I forgot to check with them before ordering.” Bartholomew could be my stepbrother, and Constantine was still a cat. A talking cat, but a cat nevertheless. So I wasn’t lying, not too much.
T. J. just smiled. “Wow. No wonder your week has been crazy. Do they eat meat?”
I nodded as I stared at the menu, confused. I was feeling like a newbie.
“Let me help. How about brisket plate with beans and potato salad? A house favorite. Not sure what you should feed a cat.
“Just give me another brisket plate with everything.”
“For a cat?” T. J. was giving me an incredulous look.
“Hey, he comes from a very spoiled household. I’m not taking any chances for a mutiny now.” I tried to smile.
“Whatever you say, Isis. You are the greatest roommate ever. Where were you when I was looking for mine?”
“Thank you; you’re my hero.” Fortunately for me, T. J. dropped the conversation.
T. J. smiled, and this time I swore his eyes were sparkling. I paid him and was out of Big Jake’s in less than ten minutes. After all my food, I wanted a nap. How was I going to write music about napping when I was falling asleep? I would probably knock myself out in the process.
Chapter 29
The lights on the first floor were all on. Nobody was in the gym area, so I wasn’t sure what was going on. I parked Bumblebee next to the Deathmobile and walked around to grab the food from the backseat. Constantine and Bartholomew were coming out of the shooting area. They were deep in conversation.
“What are you two talking about? You look very suspicious.” I struggled to close the door while holding the food and drinks.
Bartholomew looked up and ran over to help me. “What are you carrying?” He closed the door and grabbed the drinks.
“Lunch. I wasn’t sure if you two had eaten already.” Bartholomew and I started heading toward the stairs. Constantine was smelling the air as he followed us.
“Nope. We got a new shipment in, and we were taking inventory.” Bartholomew was eyeing the bag as carefully as Constantine. Food was going to be their downfall.
“The missiles are missing, but at least all the smoke grenades got here on time.”
I tripped on a step. I looked at Constantine in shock. “Missiles? Grenades? I thought we couldn’t kill anyone.”
Bartholomew and Constantine were up the stairs and heading inside by the time I recovered.
“We can’t—unless it’s self-defense, of course. Unfortunately, this is war. They attacked you first. Repercussions are in in order.” Constantine was scary when he was mad.
“No wonder the world fears us. When provoked, we’re ruthless.” This was serious stuff going on.
“We’ll never start anything. As long as people don’t interfere with our job, we leave things alone. The moment the line is crossed, we will destroy them.” Bartholomew put the drinks on the table. I knew it was irrational, but I felt sorry for those witches.
“What’s for lunch?” Thank God for Bartholomew. At least he was focused on the present.
“Brisket with beans and potato salad.”
They both were staring at me, mouths wide open.
“Isis, are you feeling OK?” Constantine jumped on the table to get a closer look at me.
“Yeah, Isis, are you all right? When did you start eating meat?” Bartholomew was ready to take my temperature.
I laughed. “It’s not for me, you silly boys. I already had lunch.”
“Oh, wow. You were scaring us.” Constantine sat on the table, relieved.
I shook my head, still amused, and placed the food in front of them. I grabbed a bowl with water for Constantine. We all settled into our respective seats. Like most people, once we claimed a seat, we continued to sit in the same spot—Constantine at the head; Bartholomew to the left, closest to the computer; an
d me on the opposite side, closer to the kitchen.
Bartholomew took the first bite. “Wow, this is really good.” He was all smiles. Constantine was purring from his side of the table.
“Great food, and it’s gluten-free.”
Barbecue was going to be an easy go-to from now on. They were loving it.
“What made you go to a barbecue place when you don’t eat meat?” Bartholomew was trying to talk in between bites.
I was sipping my tea. “Big Jake’s has great chili fries, and they’re cheap. When you’re broke, you find the places with the biggest servings for the least amount of money. It’s a plus when the food is great.”
They both agreed.
“How did it go? You were gone for a while.” Constantine was back in business mode.
“Good and bad. Which one you want first?”
“Bad. At least we can end on a happy note.” Bartholomew was awesome and so positive.
“Found Ana, and then she was kidnapped.” That pretty much explained the whole thing.
Bartholomew and Constantine were staring at me. Constantine was in midbite, and Bartholomew had his fork in the air.
“Isis, that’s not bad news. That’s actually horrible. We need to work on your definitions.” Bartholomew’s happy mood had vanished, and he placed his fork back on his plate.
“Did she at least tell you something?” Constantine licked his paw.
“She mentioned seeing ghosts, and they told her something about a golden door coming.”
“Do you believe her?” Bartholomew was not buying it.
“She looked like hell. She believed she was seeing ghosts. Who am I to argue? Besides, I see dead people all the time, as I found out today.”
“You are Death’s intern. You don’t count. What soul did you run into now?” Constantine never took my ghost issues seriously.
“Father George at Sacred Heart.”
“Oh, great. How is Father George?” Why was I not surprised Constantine knew him?
“I guess he’s OK, considering the man is dead and hanging out at a cemetery. I don’t get it. Is he in purgatory?” I had figured it would be rude to ask the dead guy. I had no issues asking Constantine.
“Girl, please. He’s actually a unique client. Death delivered him to heaven. Once there, he spoke with Saint Peter and asked to come back. Saint Peter agreed. Death brought him back, and he’s been watching over that church and flock ever since.”
I was so happy Bartholomew was looking at Constantine, as confused as I felt.
“I thought you said he was dead. What do you mean, Death brought him back?” Bartholomew said exactly what I was thinking.
Constantine looked at both of us as if we were stupid. “Of course he’s dead. Death delivered his soul to his new home. Remember, we deliver souls. How else was he going to get there? Granted, it was a little unconventional.” Constantine ate another piece of his brisket before going on. “She left him her card, so anytime he gets tired, she’ll take him home. In ten years, he has never called. Dedication, I’m telling you. They don’t make souls like that anymore.”
“That’s crazy. I don’t think I would had done that.” I was honest enough with myself to know that.
“You’re also not a priest who gave up sex for your god. Different career path.” That was a valid point. Constantine was right—very different paths.
“So what is the good news? The way this conversation is going, I’m afraid to ask.” Bartholomew was hiding his face behind his cup.
“Thanks, Bart. Well, we now have an informant.” I gave them both a huge smile.
“You do know we work for D-E-A-T-H, not D-E-A. What kind of informant do we have?” Constantine was a little too proud of his wittiness.
“Constantine, you are not funny.”
“Yes, I am. Stop changing the subject. Talk, little girl.” Constantine would have made a great mob boss.
“Bob’s friend, Shorty. It seems the witches have put a bounty on me. Shorty wants to even the playing field.”
“Wait. You got someone in the underground to work for us?”
I nodded.
“Now I’m impressed. That is really good news.”
“Technically, he volunteered. Word is traveling around the country about New York. The underground and the souls are nervous.”
“When are you supposed to hear back from this Shorty?” Constantine had finished eating and was in his military general mode.
“He knows our time frame. As soon as he hears something, we’ll know.”
“Not bad at all. We’ve been trying to infiltrate their communication network for years, but it’s almost impossible. They don’t trust outsiders. I’m surprised he talked to you, especially with your track record.”
“Don’t remind me, Constantine. I already feel awful. He’s doing it for Bob.”
“Good deal. What about Father George?”
“The church is protected, but that won’t stop the witches. Based on what Father told me, with enough power the witches can blast a hole into purgatory from anywhere.”
“Not anywhere, Isis. Locations are just as powerful as spells. We need to find a place in Texarkana where the walls are weak enough.” Constantine had a far-off stare, as if he were seeing a map in his head.
“Constantine, are you going to eat your beans?” Bartholomew said, bringing Constantine back to reality.
Constantine looked down at his plate. “Not at all, Bartholomew. I prefer meat.”
“This is perfect. Isis doesn’t eat meat, so you can have her share. You don’t eat the sides, so I can have your share. I love it.”
Constantine and I just stared at Bartholomew. For a boy genius, at times I forgot he was just a kid.
“That’s a great way to look at it.” He did have a valid point. I just smiled.
“Oh, I also ran into Angelito at Big Jake’s.”
That stopped all food eating and conversation.
“Did you kick him?” Words of wisdom from the eleven-year-old.
“No, I didn’t, but homicidal thoughts did cross my mind. According to him, the witches are at the Grim. At least for tonight. Shorty said they moved locations all the time.”
“Isis, please tell me you don’t trust that boy. He already set you up once.” Bartholomew was not happy.
“I don’t know what to think when it comes to Angelito. He didn’t actually ask me anything. He’s supposed to be heading that way after work. I would like to check it out before he gets there. If the prisoners are there, maybe I can get them out.”
“Isis, that place is going to be guarded pretty tightly. Bartholomew is right. It could be another trap.” Constantine was probably right.
“I know, but we don’t have a lot of options. The old hotel is condemned. Worst-case scenario, I check it out and find nothing. Can’t hurt to look.”
Bartholomew and Constantine were not buying it.
“OK, but this time you go prepared. No more of this wandering around half-blind.” General Constantine was back in charge.
“I can handle that.” The more protection I could take, the better I would feel.
“We have the armory pretty well stocked. We just got in a pair of very stylish night-vision glasses, heat sensors, and, of course, gas bombs.” Bartholomew had been busy shopping.
“Do I want to know where you get all this stuff?” By the look on Bartholomew’s face, I really didn’t. “Never mind.”
“We’ll load you up.” Constantine was way too excited for my taste.
“I’m glad you both enjoyed the lunch. I have work to do before I head out tonight.”
“Thank you, Isis. It was delicious. You’re very thoughtful.”
“My pleasure, Constantine. I don’t want you two starving to death. Or eating any more of that cardboard-tasting cereal.” That stuff was awful.
“Thanks, Isis. I do appreciate that.” Bartholomew smiled. He had cleared his plate and was almost done with Constantine’s.
�
�Anytime, Bart. Constantine, I do have a question.”
“Sure thing. What’s on your mind?”
“If I can see and touch dead people, how am I supposed to tell the difference between the dead and the living? Father George looked pretty real to me.”
“Easy. Their body temperature.” Constantine said that with a smile.
“Excuse me. Do you want me to touch every person I see?”
“It’s either touching or using your sight. I wouldn’t recommend the sight.” Constantine was right. The sight would be awful. “Not that hard, Isis. Just shake hands when you first meet them. The souls don’t generate body heat, so they’ll feel cold to the touch. Besides, it’ll make their day. Most haven’t touched another human being in ages.” That explained Father George’s reactions that morning.
“OK, I guess.” Shaking hands didn’t sound too bad.
“What are you working on?” I was heading toward the door when Bartholomew asked.
“My lullaby. So cover your ears.” The last thing I needed was to knock my own people out.
“No need. I’m heading into a food coma, and by the looks of Bartholomew, he is, too.” Constantine was yawning. I was jealous. I wanted a nap myself.
“That’s a good idea. I want a nap.” Bartholomew was not fighting sleep too hard. “If you need us, we’ll be over there, passed out.” With that, they headed to the couch to sleep. Life was not fair.
It was midafternoon. I had a few hours to work on my song and get ready for my recon mission. I was tired of not being prepared. If we could at least get the prisoners back, maybe that would slow them down. I was afraid. If we didn’t stop them, they would just move to another city and start all over.
Chapter 30
My plan was simple: go to the Grim and wait for Angelito. I would follow him in and recon the area. Be back home before anyone noticed, then go back with backup. Why couldn’t my plans ever go smoothly? Instead, I got a rambling call from Abuelita around eight that evening. Angelito never showed up, and he wasn’t answering her calls. She was going to look for him. I had the horrible feeling that was exactly what the witches wanted. After ten minutes of pleading and begging, I persuaded her to stay put. I needed Abuelita safe.