by D. C. Gomez
Today I planned to do a long-run, at least fifteen miles. After my little episode with the gnomes, I wanted to make sure my head was completely clear. I had been running six days a week and doing two long-run days. On average, I ran between a five-and six-minute mile. I wanted to take all the credit for that, but I had a feeling Death’s gifts played a part. The plan was simple. Head west for seven and a half miles on Highway 72, and then turn back.
I tiptoed down the stairs before sunrise. I didn’t have to be quiet at this time of the day. The boys were night owls and there was no way I’d wake anyone up. Still, I enjoyed the silence.
I left Reapers using the pedestrian entrance. Our doors were opened by hand-scanners, which made it easy to run and not worry about keys getting lost. I did a quick stretch outside and took in the warm, fall air of October. After one last look around, I set my watch and took off.
It was almost eight by the time I made it through the security door. The weather was so perfect when I had started that it inspired me to run a couple of extra miles. I hummed out loud by the time I entered the first-floor training area. The lights were on, and I heard someone talking. As I went further inside, I found Eric on the phone, pacing the length of the work-out area. God sure had blessed that man with some good genes. He was six-feet tall and muscular, with brown hair and gorgeous brown eyes. He was also one of the most focused, no-nonsense kind of guys I had ever met. Today, he looked upset, though.
I waved at him, but he didn’t even notice me. It was not like Eric to be distracted and unaware of his surroundings.
“Honey, please let me explain,” Eric shouted into the phone.
Obviously, Eric was having a private conversation and it had nothing to do with me, so I jogged to the stairs. I knew he’d been dating a hot blonde, and there must be some trouble between them. Maybe that wasn’t the best way to describe the girl. Texas was full of hot blondes, after all, and between the big hair and the accents, the women there made quite an impression. It wasn’t fair how one state could have so many good-looking people.
I put those thoughts out of my mind as I rushed up the stairs, hoping Bob was up and had made breakfast. I was one of the few non-meat eaters in Texarkana, so breakfast used to be fairly boring, at least until Bob had come along. I couldn’t have been happier when he’d become our resident chef, going as far as taking culinary classes at Texarkana College.
I wasn’t expecting Bartholomew or Constantine to be up when I got to the loft, but they were, along with everyone else, including Death. Bartholomew still wore his pajamas while he worked in his computer area. Death paced the room, wearing a path in the floor. Constantine did the same, only on the kitchen table. It would have looked funny if the tension wasn’t so thick. In fact, Bob even looked on edge. Every burner on the stove was covered with pots. I wasn’t sure if he was cooking or sacrificing ingredients to some secret God.
“Morning everyone. Did I miss the world domination meeting?” I asked, trying to break the tension.
“Not yet,” Bob replied, glancing at Death and Constantine. “I’m afraid it might happen soon, though.” He pointed at the TV with his spoon.
“In that case, I’m glad I made it back in time,” I joked, trying to entice a grin, but I failed. So, I gave up the humor and focused on the important issue—food. “What are you making? It smells amazing and I’m famished.”
Just like that, Bob’s shoulders relaxed and a smile brightened his face. “I got a cheese casserole with sautéed onions and peppers. The veggie quiche is in the oven with the extra bacon for Constantine and Bartholomew.” He was a pro and made sure he addressed everyone’s preference from my non-meat-eating to poor Bartholomew’s gluten intolerance.
“Do you think anyone would care if I eat now?” I pouted my lips and tried to bat my eyes, hoping to inspire a bit of sympathy.
“I doubt it,” Bob said. “However, you smell like road-kill, so you might want to take a shower first.” The way he spoke told me his suggestion wasn’t really a suggestion. No matter. He was right, and I had sweat dripping from my head down to my toes to prove it.
“I get no love around here,” I told him with a glare. Bob ignored me as he pulled fresh fruits from the fridge. I grabbed a piece before he could complain, then stuck out my tongue as my victory salute.
“So mature,” Bob teased as he tossed me a few more pieces of fruit.
I caught them all. “By the way, what is going on with Eric?”
“I’m not sure,” Bob replied as he looked out the glass window towards Eric. “From what I gather, his girlfriend wants to move their relationship to the next stage. Whatever that means.” Bob shrugged a shoulder. I did the same, since I really had no clue what that meant.
“Constantine, I don’t have time to deal with War’s little feud,” Death shouted from the other side of the room. Bob and I looked at each other, confused.
“That’s my cue to hit the shower,” I told Bob as I headed towards my room.
“Catch.” Bob threw me a bottle of water and I barely turned in time to catch it. “Hurry before your food gets cold.” My stomach growled in response to the word “food.”
I gave him a quick salute and proceeded out the door. I had mixed feelings about the situation because I wanted to know what could ever make Death aggravated like that, but I also had a horrible feeling this wouldn’t end well for me. If something bad was happening, it was the Intern’s job to do the dirty work and investigate, after all.
My curiosity won in the end and I took the fastest shower of my life, then rushed back to the loft in less than fifteen minutes. Death sat on a chair, drinking coffee with Bob. Bartholomew was gone, and Constantine was laying on top of the leather couch. Nobody was saying anything. It was like the calm before the storm.
“Hi Isis. Sorry for not greeting you earlier,” Death told me as she put down her cup. “How was your run? I see you are getting faster.” She smiled at me when she finished. Death had a way of being soothing and strong all at once.
“Relaxing,” I replied as I grabbed the plate of food Bob had left for me on the kitchen island. I took a seat next to Death and Bob. “By the way, did we get our trees cut for some reason?” I asked the room.
“What?” Constantine asked from across the room.
“The really tall trees around Reapers are gone,” I told them in between bites. It might have made me look a bit rude to be chomping on food and talking at the same time, but I was too hungry to care.
“Are you sure?” Death asked, her brows etched with concern.
“Hard to miss. I used to lean on one to stretch every day.” I took another bite before talking. “It’s weird, though. I couldn’t even find a hole for the trunk or the roots. I’m pretty sure ours are not the only ones missing. The whole area looks emptier.” That was saying a lot. Texarkana was located in the piney woods of Texas, so we were packed with trees. Especially tall pines.
“Constantine, I guess it’s time to talk to my brother.” Death let out a deep sigh.
“What’s going on?” I aimed my question at Death, who stood up and started walking towards Constantine.
“I have a feeling we are about to find out,” Death said as she smoothed her shirt. “Constantine, do me the honor and call your favorite General,” she said, not even a hint of humor in her tone.
“I’m going to do some laundry,” Bob said as he sprang up out of his chair. Come to think of it, his face looked rather pale.
“Are you okay?” I asked him. I’d never really understood what had happened to him yesterday.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I couldn’t tell if he was lying to me. “Eugene left early this morning, so I’m going to organize his room.” Bob took Death’s empty cup to the sink as he spoke.
“Did something happen to him?” I asked, my voice a little high. Eugene had a military schedule at the lab, so on Sundays when he was over, he slept in. I figured he was still sleeping. He had parked around the back, so I didn’t notice the Hearse missin
g.
“Relax Isis, nothing major,” Bob told me with a tight smile. “Pestilence just wanted her plant as soon as possible. Now, finish your food and make sure Bartholomew finishes his.” Bob was out the door before I could ask any more questions.
“Are you sure about this?” I heard Constantine ask Death from across the room.
“Just call him before I change my mind,” Death snapped.
Since I had no intention of moving any closer, I leaned in for a better view. Anyone that made Death that miserable deserved my undivided attention. Constantine did his magic and in less than a minute the teleconference system was ringing. I expected there would be a long wait, but that didn’t happen.
“Muerte! Have you been avoiding me?” War asked from the other side of the screen.
“Yes, I’ve been avoiding you, War,” Death replied. I was impressed. I didn’t think Death would admit to that. “Every time you call, some horrible catastrophe is happening. What is it this time?” Death shifted and placed her hands on her hips.
“I have nothing to do with this one,” War replied, sounding like a mischievous little boy. “The elves and the vampires are planning to go to war without my consent.” He narrowed his eyes. Of course he’d be mad. How could any being have the nerve to go to war without his permission? I almost burst out laughing at his outrage.
“I don’t get it. What’s the problem here?” Death moved her hands from her hips and crossed her arms over her chest.
“I’m in the middle of planning a huge conflict between the world and Korea.” War’s voice was getting louder as he spoke, and he’s almost reached the point of shouting. “I don’t have time for petty family feuds over star-crossed lovers.”
“I still don’t see how this applies to me,” Death told her brother with an intense glare. This time, War impressed me because he didn’t flinch.
“Simple. Vampires are your expertise.” War flashed Death a brilliant smile and she looked like she was going to punch the screen. “If the elves and vamps go to war, you know the vamps are going to start recruiting again. Only way to beat those shady-trees, no pun intended. I would hate for the treaty to be broken and for us to have another dark age.”
I had no idea what War was talking about, but Death started pacing and it looked like steam might fly out of her ears. Obviously, she must know exactly what he’d meant.
Constantine jumped off the computer area, not stopping until he made himself comfortable beside me. Nobody said a word for a few minutes.
“Fine. I’m listening,” Death told War as she took several deep breaths to settle herself.
“What just happened?” I angled my head towards Constantine.
“War is good,” Constantine said, shaking his head. “He found all the right buttons and pressed them. Did you know he invented psychological operations?”
I heard of psychological operations, or PsyOps as the Army called it. I had a few friends that did that job when I was in the military. Their training was to discover the enemy’s psychological and emotional weaknesses and exploit them.
“Oh, don’t look so mad. I promise it is no big deal.” War’s lips stretched into a big grin. “It’s not like the zombie apocalypse you had to clean up for Pestilence. You helped that violent nut, so why can’t you do your brother one little favorite?” War actually batted his eyelashes, looking as innocent as he could, while he waited for Death’s response.
“War, get to the point now,” Death demanded in a harsh tone. “What do you want?”
“The elves and the vamps are having negotiations that the witches are facilitating. I want your people to attend and make sure all goes well,” War said in a nonchalant way, as if he had just asked us to pick up a gallon of milk from Walmart.
“You want my Intern to attend a treaty? Isn’t that your Intern’s specialty?” Death gaped at War as if he’d grown horns and turned red. “Aren’t treaty talks and peace summits your areas of expertise? What exactly are my people supposed to do there?” Death threw her arms up in the air and started pacing again.
“Katrina is under a lot of stress lately,” War shot out. “We just need a third party to make sure the witches don’t screw this up. You know, someone from the outside. It won’t take more than three hours. What do you have to lose?” War asked with another brilliant smile.
“You do know this is a horrible idea. The vampires don’t trust us, and the elves avoid us at all cost,” Death told War. “I don’t like this.”
“Three hours. That’s all. You help Pestilence and Famine all the time,” War said in a whiney tone. “Please.” He stretched the word out for a solid twenty seconds. He was definitely whining.
“Fine,” Death agreed, stopping in front of the screen. “When is this treaty?” Her words came out in a growl. She was definitely not happy.
“This afternoon, and it’s here in Kansas,” War replied.
Death held her hands in front of the screen in a strangling motion.
“Send the details to Constantine and you better be quick,” Death told War, and before he could respond, she turned the system off.
“This is going to suck,” Constantine whispered to me.
“Isis, you heard my brother. He needs your help on this,” Death told me. “I don’t like it, either, so be careful.” She turned to Constantine with a glare. “You are taking everyone. Brief them on the plane, and don’t forget to take some overnight clothes. Everything takes longer than War expects.”
I had no clue what had just happened, but the bottom line was, we were all headed to Kansas.
Talk about change of pace. We went from a slow Sunday morning to full combat mode. According to War’s instructions, the negotiations were taking place at 2:30 p.m. near Manhattan, Kansas. That meant we had less than five hours to make our way there. I was wondering why the elves and vampires would have their negotiations so close to a military installation. Fort Riley was less than twenty minutes from Manhattan. It was a post I always wanted to visit because the Big Red One was stationed there.
It was probably a blessing we were used to short notices and preparing in a hurry. In less than an hour, we had Bob’s baby blue Ram 2500 Heavy Duty work truck, Storm, fully packed with our gear, clothes, and weapons. We were all silent on the way to the tiny Texarkana Airport located on the Arkansas side. I had no idea how we were going to find a flight at this time. The airport only had three departing and arriving flights each day. Even if we could get a flight, I had a bad feeling TSA was not going to let us board with all our weapons, especially since Bob had added extras just for this trip.
“It might be a little late to ask, but how are we going to get all of our stuff through security,” I finally asked as we were pulling into the airport entrance.
“We are not,” Constantine replied from the front passenger seat. Yeah, that was right, Constantine always rode shot-gun. Go figure.
“What do you mean?” I asked, meeting Bartholomew’s eyes. He sat next to me in the backseat, but only shrugged his shoulders at me. I guessed he didn’t know the answer either.
“We don’t have time to lose today. We are taking my private plane,” Constantine replied, directing Bob towards the executive terminal of the airport. The separate terminal was away from the commercial area.
“Huh?” My mouth fell open. Had I heard him correctly? “You have a plane?”
“Of course I do,” Constantine said in a tone that depicted his words explained everything, when in fact, they explained nothing.
I’d been all over the country this past year, and he had never mentioned he owned a private plane. The thought made me say, “Wait, if you have a private plane, why am I always flying commercial?”
“Simple. You are supposed to blend in. You can’t blend in with a private plane landing everywhere,” Constantine told me. “Besides, you are flying first class, so why are you complaining? If I travel commercial, they want to shove me in the cargo area. Is that even fair?” Constantine peered around the seat to
look at me as he spoke.
“Good point.” I couldn’t argue with his facts.
“Besides, I thought you like to people watch,” Constantine said with a smirk.
“That is true. I wouldn’t get to see anyone from a private plane.” I did enjoy watching the strange things people did and airports were the best places to watch. “I take it back. I’m sticking to first class,” I told him with a smile.
“Oh wow. The horror of first class,” Constantine mocked.
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide my smile. He was right. The job had spoiled me, and it was the first job I’d ever had that paid me really well. I received a paycheck every month, but I also had a clothing allowance and every other expense was covered as well. We joked that Death paid really well since the life span of Interns was really short. Normally, you had to die to be replaced, which made the person that killed you the next potential Intern. We needed to work on our recruitment process.
Bob drove around the executive terminal and went straight onto the runway. I was expecting a small plane with enough seats for maybe five to seven people, but boy were my thoughts wrong. I hadn’t prepared myself for Constantine’s plane. It was bigger than the American Eagle planes that normally flew into Texarkana, which had three rows of seats and only held about thirty people. So not only was Constantine’s plane bigger than American Eagle Airlines, it was also stylish, painted black with gothic red letters that read Reaper 1. The man had a sense of humor.
“Constantine, do you really own that plane?” I asked him before getting out of the truck.
“It’s a little dated now. It was brand new when I got it,” Constantine told me with a shrug, and it sounded like he was thinking of trading it in for a new one. “It’s the Embraer Lineage 1000 Private Jet. Wait until you see the inside. It’s customized. Only reason I haven’t gotten a new one.” Constantine jumped out of the truck as soon as Bob opened the door.
