by D. C. Gomez
“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.
Instead of her walking into the arms of danger, I volunteered to do it. I had lost my ever-loving mind. What was wrong with me? In less than a week, my normal little life was turned upside down. I barely had enough to time to finish my recording. I never got around to making the loop; forget copying it to any device. Bartholomew felt sorry for me and agreed to finish it.
The boys were not kidding when they said they were prepping me for battle. They ordered custom-made military fatigues. These were all black and coated against spells. Constantine had contacted a witch in Salem who specialized in the extreme. To neutralize the regular thugs’ combatants, I got issued a light Kevlar vest. According to Bartholomew, it could sustain any number of rounds. I believed the vest could, but I was afraid my ribs would be shattered just from the impact.
If the clothes were impressive, the accessories were to die for, no pun intended. The night-vision googles looked more like a pair of Ray-Ban aviator glasses. The black leather boots had trigger-activated spikes, and my belt doubled as a whip. They strapped a machete to my left leg, a 9mm to my right, and my M16 across my chest. I was a cross between Trinity from The Matrix, Rambo, and Batman. I had more firepower than most army squads in the middle of Baghdad. Constantine took revenge very seriously. My earpiece was in place, and by the time I left, I wasn’t sure whether I was going on a recon or execution mission.
I drove downtown very carefully. The last thing I needed was to get pulled over. I refused to strap the grenades to my belt, so they were sitting on the passenger seat. Bartholomew decided to put them in a basket. I was not playing Little Red Riding Hood today. If the witches had spies looking for me, Bumblebee was going to be a problem. It was also Friday night, and some areas of downtown actually had business going.
The Grim Hotel was located on State Line, down the street from the post office and right before you got to the correctional facility. Why didn’t these witches just take over the police department? They were fearless. I needed to find a place to park without driving by the hotel. The hotel sat at the end of its block, but it had windows on all sides. To make things worse, the damn thing was seven stories high. That stupid building was actually in the center of downtown. I couldn’t afford to walk around downtown with all my gear. I needed a place to park that was close by but would, I hoped, provide me with some cover.
“Bart, any suggestions on parking?” The boys were monitoring both sound and visual.
“Safest bet, in front of the TRAHC building at Fourth and Texas Boulevard. Then hike up the next two blocks. Everywhere else, they can see you from the rooftop.”
“Thanks, Bart. TRAHC it is.”
“Be careful, Isis. I haven’t seen any movement from that area, but it doesn’t mean they aren’t using magic. I’m taking care of the cameras.”
“I’ll do my best. Keep me posted.”
I parked the car in the darkest area I could find. Once I got out of the car, my blood started pumping. I wasn’t sure if it was the gear or just having the rifle in my hand, but I was more alert. The first thing the army teaches is this: be a soldier. The marines joked that there was no such thing as a retired marine, just one not serving. I guessed it was the same for the army. For the first time in months, I had a purpose, and I was a soldier. I made my way through downtown Texarkana almost like a ghost in the night. By the time I reached the hotel, I wasn’t even winded.
“Isis, did you know the Grim is haunted?”
I had found a lose board in the back of the building when Bartholomew’s voice came in. I stopped and looked around. “What?” This was not the time for this.
“According to the Internet, seven people died in a fire back in the fifties. So be careful.” Bartholomew sounded worried.
“What do you mean be careful?” I was trying to whisper.
“Isis, there are times when a soul refuses to move on. When that happens, it’s stuck in places haunting it,” Constantine said.
I looked around at the extremely creepy building. “Why doesn’t Death just drag them away?”
“Remember free will. Depending on the way they die, they won’t leave. In those cases, Death leaves them her number to contact her when they’re ready. Isis, some never leave. Watch out!” Constantine had a way of making my day so much better.
“OK, from now on, you two are not allowed to nap before a big mission. Got it! This information could have helped before I left the house.” If I got out of there alive, we were having a come-to-Jesus meeting, as they said in the South.
“Sorry, Isis.” Bartholomew sounded so pitiful.
“Yeah, Isis, sorry. But do not engage them. They could get violent.” Constantine was full of good news now.
“Got it. Anything else before I step into the fifth door of hell now?” They were both silent. “Good. Going in.”
I passed a few signs on the outside of the building that stated a redevelopment plan was in progress for the Grim. Why would anyone name a building Grim? Why would they want to fix it? By the time I slid inside, I realized why the Grim was still standing. Like most of the old buildings downtown, the Grim was beautiful. It was built back in the 1910s and 1920s, when architecture and aesthetics were the key. Yes, the poor thing was falling apart now, but it still held some of that greater elegance. They didn’t build hotels like this anymore. A touch to an era long gone. Now it was being desecrated by those witches.
I was scared but needed to get moving. My boots did not make a sound on the tile floor. Th
e night-vision glasses were amazing as I made my way through the building. I heard voices, and I followed the sound. I was heading to what appeared to be the main lobby when I was pulled back by a pair of hands. It took everything in my power not to scream. I slowly turned my head, afraid of what was holding me.
“Shhh. They’ll see you.” A woman in her thirties dressed in 1950s clothes was standing next to me. She was beautiful, at least the parts of her face that weren’t burned. I didn’t need to touch her skin to know she was dead.
“Holy crap!” Bartholomew screamed for me. “Isis!”
“Hi.” My voice sounded weak, even to me.
“Come this way,” the lady whispered, and she started to move away.
“Isis, don’t go.” Bartholomew was pleading. I took one look over my shoulder and followed the ghost.
“When in Rome, do like the Romans. It’s a haunted house. Do I have much choice?”
“Isis, at least the souls won’t lie,” Constantine said, but even he sounded worried.
“Got it.”
The woman was moving pretty fast down corridors and passages. We passed a pair of teenage boys, also badly burned. They watched us go, but the woman made them stay quiet.
“Go; keep them busy.”
At her words the boys ran off. I watched them vanish through walls. That was when the wailing started.
We took a few more turns and entered a small room. It looked like the back of the reception area in the lobby. The woman pointed at a broken door. I peeked through the cracks. The witches were there—more than I expected. I counted nine, and two of them looked very familiar. One was the volunteer from Randy Sam’s, and the other the outreach volunteer. It figured. Angelito was standing by a wall, but I couldn’t tell with the glasses what was wrong with him. The place was lit by candles. I took my night-vision glasses off, but it was too dark without them. I put them back on and checked the rest of the room. They had at least five really large guys with them. Horrible odds.
“Get them out,” the woman whispered behind me.
“Trust me; I would love to. But I’m a bit outnumbered. Do they have anyone else here?”
“No. The men are new. Normally it’s just the women. They keep coming and torment us.” She looked evil when she spoke. That was not good; I was sure Death had a rule against tormenting the dead. “Shhhh.” I wasn’t sure why she had shhhed me; I wasn’t talking. She pointed at the crowd behind the door. I leaned in and listened.
“My dear sister, if you won’t keep better control of your pet, we are going to have to put him down,” the Randy Sam’s volunteer said. Great. So little blonde was the leader.
“Oh, please. You wanted him here. Here he is, Rose. Come, Angelito.”
Her sister, a.k.a. Angelito’s Rose, was my favorite outreach volunteer.
Angelito moved like a drunk man. There was nothing normal about him.
“Kneel, boy.”
He actually did. I was in shock. I hoped Bartholomew was recording this. I had blackmail on him for life.
“Yes, dear, I see that. I wanted his sorcerer of a grandmother, not this useless boy.” Blondie grabbed Angelito’s face. I was sure she was digging her nails into him.
“She will come for him. Trust me.”
“Ahhh!” Oops—I screamed. I couldn’t help it. The most disfigured, scary ghost appeared out of the wall carrying an ax. Trust me; that would scare the hell out of anybody. Unfortunately, the witches heard me.
“What was that?” Blondie was looking around in my direction.
“Probably one of those stupid ghosts. What else?” one of the other witches said. Her voice was the same as the one who had held the gun to my head.
“That sounded too human, Natalie. You two go and check it out.” She sent two of the really large muscle guys my way.
I had just a few seconds. “I need your help. Can they see you guys?” The dead woman looked terrifying.
“They will now.” She nodded at her partner, and she headed straight through the door. Ax Man was right behind her.
“Boys, no prisoners here besides Angelito. I need to get him out.”
“Isis, get him if you can. If not, get out as soon as possible,” General Constantine said.
“Holy shit!” I heard one of the men scream. The other squealed worse than I had. It made me feel better knowing I wasn’t the only one screaming. The feeling went away when they started shooting in my direction to get the ghost. I hit the floor.
Fourteen to one was not the best odds. If they were controlling Angelito, that would make things fifteen to one. I was sure Abuelita would not mind an injured Angelito instead of a dead one. I took a face mask from my cargo pocket and covered all the important parts. I grabbed a tear-gas grenade from Bartholomew’s basket. Once the breathing seal was secure and I was sure I could breathe, I kicked open the door and released the tear-gas grenade.
“What the…” The group started coughing and cursing up a storm.
The smoke was everywhere. The witches were moving around toward the back of the room. A gust of wind hit me, and I had to hold on to the counter not to be knocked down. Little Blondie was standing in the middle of the room. She had cleared the gas, but not before taking a good hit. She looked like hell. It was a small consolation for this week.
“Who in damnation did that?” Her glare landed on me. Feeling devious, I waved at her. “You!” Who knew one word could hold so much hate?
She created a large ball of energy and threw it at me. I barely had time to duck. The light was so bright it was blinding. I took my mask off and rolled to my stomach. In less than two seconds, I had the safety off the M16. Before anyone could throw any more spells at me, I opened fire. The witches scattered like roaches, but I was sure I had hit at least one.
“Do you honestly think you will get out here alive?” Blondie was taunting me.
“I was planning to take a few of you with me. Great way to get my boss here.” Dying was not part of the plan. I moved around the desk for better coverage. I saw Ax Man pointing straight down. “Really, dude, do something.” That was the worst thing to say to an angry ghost with an ax. He unleashed hell on the world.
Ax Man was swinging as if he were still trying to get out of the fire. He connected with three of the guys, and they dropped like sacks of potatoes. The teenage boys appeared behind the witches, swinging sticks. Everyone was screaming, and spells were thrown everywhere. I couldn’t get close enough to grab Angelito. In the distance, I heard police sirens coming.
“Shit, the cops. Let’s get out of here. Bring the boy.” Blondie was giving orders.
“Hurry. You must leave.” My favorite dead tour guide was pulling me away.
“They have my friend.” I tried to fight, but she was pretty strong for a ghost.
We were heading down the corridor when I was hit in the head. I heard Natalie yell “Bitch!” and then I was out.
CHAPTER 31
I woke up a bit disoriented. I was in my bed, under my covers. I lifted my sheets, and I had pj’s on. Had I dreamed everything?
“Hi, Isis.” Nope, I had not. Death was sitting in my room again, so it had all been real. I reached over and turned on my night-light. The movement made my head explode.
“Ouch. Hi, Death. What got me?” I rubbed the back of my head, and it was tender.
“A two-by-four.”
“That explains it. In battle, a two-by-four is always going to win against a head.”
Death smiled. She was wearing a red suit tailored to fit her, and she looked amazing.
“Nice suit.”
“A Valentino special.” She brushed her skirt, which was immaculate.
“Very nice. So what happened? I didn’t realize I killed anyone.” I tried to get comfortable on my bed and not slouch on the pillow. Big mistake. My head was pounding.
Death got up and came over. “Let me help.” She arranged my pillow and helped me sit up. She sat on the bed next to me and brushed her fingers on my forehead. �
��Better?” Like magic, the pain was gone.
“Wow, much better. I can see straight again.” I rubbed the back of my head. I had a huge lump. Thank God, now it hurt only when I touched it. I wasn’t planning to touch it again.
“You made quite an impression. You can imagine how surprised I was to receive a call from the Grim after all this time.”
“Are the souls OK?” I didn’t want them to suffer more because of me.
“Funny. You asked about the dead and not the living.” She was smiling—the smile a mother gives an infant when the infant is learning to crawl.
“The dead weren’t trying to kill me like the living.” That was the honest truth.
“So I heard. Somehow, they were very protective of you. She gouged the witch’s eyes out after the witch hit you.”
“Oh God, that’s horrible. What’s going to happen to her?” OK, I was glad to be alive, but that was extreme. Mental note: never piss off a ghost.
“Isis, she’s dead already. No more punishment is needed. Besides, she did it to save your life. I would have preferred other methods.”
“Did she kill her?” I was praying she hadn’t. Even for a dead woman, that would be a lot to carry.
“No. Her friends took her before I arrived. Some of their puppets did die. After I delivered the residents of the Grim home, I dropped them off as well. You had a busy night.” She didn’t sound mad, just very matter of fact.
“Death, I can explain.”
“You can?” There was humor in her voice.
I had to think about that for a second. “Actually, no. No, I can’t. We’re at war. I guess those are casualties.” I sounded cruel but also matter of fact.
“I think you’ve been hanging around Constantine too long.” She was smiling.
“You are so right. I sound just like him.”
“Not just. You’re still not as arrogant as he is. But he’s right. This needs to stop tomorrow. I hate looking bad, Isis.” The smile was gone, and Death was cold and calculating. I. was sure the temperature of my room had dropped. “You have company waiting outside. It’s not polite to keep people waiting. I’ll let you change.” Death got up and headed toward the door.
