by D. C. Gomez
“One thing at a time,” Katrina told me. “We will cross that bridge when we get there. Airport first.”
Katrina had a point. What was the use in stressing over things we couldn’t figure out now? There was plenty to stress about without that.
The Manhattan airport in Kansas was deserted when we arrived. I was grateful. I hadn’t realized how worried I’d been that our little mercenaries would be here when we showed up.
George and his crew were ready to go when we stepped out of the SUV, which was the blessing of a private jet. They were always ready to go, no matter the time. But after passing a few with loaded rifles, I wondered if they had company. I shrugged it off and kept going.
After Katrina gave the crew instructions, we jumped on the plane and settled in for our flight.
“From the little apple to the big one,” Katrina said.
I chuckled in response, and then the jet took off. A few minutes later, a beautiful flight attendant walked over to us.
“Ms. Isis, you have a call.” Her voice was smooth like velvet as she pointed to a phone by the wall.
Why was I surprised the jet had phones that worked?
I stood and moved to the phone. When I picked it up, I said, “Hello.” And that was all I was able to say before the avalanche of questions bombarded me from the other end.
“Isis, are you guys okay?” Bartholomew asked, concern etched into his tone.
“How did they find you?” Constantine yelled over him.
“What happened?” Bob added, and his voice could barely be heard, as if he stood farther away from the phone.
I felt a little rude having a private conversation in front of Katrina, so I put the phone on speaker mode. Besides, with the amount of questions the boys had, I had a feeling I would need Katrina’s help.
“We are fine,” I told the rambling trio. “We think somebody bugged us. Bart, could you get that checked?” If anyone could figure out what happened, Bartholomew would be the one.
“On it,” Bartholomew said. He sounded distant, so I assumed he had already headed towards his computers.
“Are you going to tell us what happened?” Bob asked, his voice louder and tight with anxiety.
“Nothing major. We were chased and Katrina took care of them.” I really did not want to tell Bob about the 50Cal part, or every vehicle in Reapers would have one installed.
“Big Bertha took care of it,” Katrina added.
I narrowed my eyes at Katrina and jerked my head to the side once. I had to hold myself back from marching right up to her and choking her. She’d opened a can of worms and had no idea she had even done it.
“You had a 50Cal in your car?” Bob asked, his voice tinged with excitement.
I’d known exactly what would happen. It had started. My fears were coming alive.
“Doesn’t everyone?” Katrina answered him.
I shook my head slowly. Normal people did not have automatic weapons for their SUV.
“Big Bertha?” I was finally able to ask when they quieted.
“It was our units name for the 50Cal,” Bob answered for her. I guessed they really did serve together.
“Bob, don’t even think about it,” I told him before he could say anything else. “We are not installing a 50Cal on Ladybug.” I couldn’t have been more serious.
“And stay away from The Camaro with that thing,” Constantine said.
I laughed. That would definitely be a sight: a yellow Camaro with a 50Cal on top
“Who’s Ladybug and The Camaro?” Katrina whispered at me.
I put the phone on mute before talking. “Ladybug is my Mini Cooper and The Camaro, formerly known as Bumblebee, belongs to Constantine.” I told her. Not sure why I bothered with mute since the boys were having their own heated conversation on the other side about the merits of automatic weapons in vehicles. I was afraid to find out who would win.
“I definitely feel a lot better about naming my guns now,” Katrina told me with a smile as she leaned back in her leather seat.
I grinned back at her, then took the phone off mute. “Okay guys, you can continue this discussion at a later time,” I told the boys, which was my way of getting them back on track. “We are headed to New York to meet a bunch of vamps and I don’t think I’m dressed appropriately.” I had no idea how cold it was on the East Coast in late October, but I was sure it would require more than my light jacket.
“Isis, my guy is in the upper East Side near Central Park. I’ll program his directions on your phone under dealer,” Bartholomew told me. “I’ll give him a heads up you’ll be coming. Just tell him Big Papa sent you.” I could almost see Bartholomew’s chest puffing out at that statement.
“Big Papa? Are you serious?” I lost it, I couldn’t help myself. I laughed so hard and for so long that my side hurt when I regained control. “Bart, who are you? Biggie-Smalls?” It was hard not to think of the dead rapper every time people used that phrase.
“You can’t hate the player, just blame it on the game.” Bartholomew replied.
“Ok my wanna-be-thug,” I told him. “You are good, but I’m not calling you that.” No way would I call my twelve-year-old brother Big Papa.
“Please don’t,” Bartholomew said. “We don’t want people knowing my true identity.” Katrina choked at that statement, and I had to bite my tongue not to laugh. Bartholomew had been watching too many Tom Cruise movies.
“We won’t tell a soul, my little spy,” Katrina jumped in. “We do need some wheels, though.”
How had I not thought of that? I was glad to have Katrina with me, especially in that moment. It would have slowed us down not to have a car lined up.
“Taken care of it,” Bartholomew replied, sounding far away again. “A car is already waiting for you at the hangar.”
I pressed my lips together and nodded, completely impressed. I guessed the boys had been busy.
“My guy made sure it was clean and free of tracking devices, so you are good,” Constantine added.
“I got the plates for the group that chased us,” Katrina told the boys.
I was impressed. That was something I hadn’t thought about, and I had no clue how she remembered that after everything that had happened.
“I doubt it would do us any good,” Bob came back on the line, this time a little less giddy. “Bartholomew ran the ones from the first incident and he just found an overseas shell company. He is still working to track it down. Might take a while.” Bob didn’t sound too confident about it.
“Hey, I can do it,” Bartholomew said, clearly offended based on his high-pitched tone. “Whoever hired them is really good at covering their trail. But I got this.”
That was not good news. If our resident boy-genius was having trouble, it meant whoever was trying to slow us down was really good.
“Bart, just keep trying,” I told him. “I’ll send you guys a text when we land.”
“Don’t bother,” Constantine replied. “Focus on getting some answers soon. George will keep us posted on arrivals. You are losing an hour crossing the time zones. We can’t afford for you to lose any more time.” Constantine was right. I’d forgotten all about time zones.
“Got it,” I got out right before the call went dead. Constantine had surely disconnected it. He was notorious for ending calls that way. The crazy cat loved hanging up on people.
“Want to play?” Katrina asked me after I hung up the phone. She pulled a deck of cards from her jacket pocket.
“Do you always carry those with you?” I asked with a smile.
“I’m sure cards are standard issue to every soldier,” she said.
I was pretty sure she was right. Come to think of it, I used to play cards all the time. Although, since I had left the army, I hadn’t played once.
“Besides, it’s a great way to pass the time without worrying about what’s ahead,” she added.
Katrina was right. Not to mention, a distraction might help me relax.
“Sur
e, why not. We’ve got a few hours before we land,” I told Katrina as she cut the cards.
As I relaxed, I realized how grateful I was for having Constantine’s private plane. Our fabulous flight attendant brought us drinks during the flight, and a meal, but I was still full so I skipped it. Katrina, on the other hand, got some vegan pasta and she looked like she was in heaven. Constantine thought of everything for his plane and it was the smoothest flight I’d ever had. The best part was we didn’t have a connecting flight, so when we landed, we went straight to La Guardia.
“Ladies, your car is right outside,” the flight attendant told us. We will be ready to depart as soon as you arrive.
“Thank you, ma’am,” I told her.
She flashed me the biggest smile I had ever seen, and on our way down the stairs, she handed us our bags. The hangar was immaculate, and just like the flight attendant had told us, a black Lexus waited for us right outside the plane. Katrina and I stepped towards the vehicle.
“I’m pretty sure this one doesn’t come with a 50Cal,” I told Katrina with a smirk.
“Probably not, but I still got a few tricks with me.” The gleam in Katrina’s eye scared me more than I wanted to admit.
“Do you mind if I drive?” I asked her before heading to the driver’s side of the vehicle. In theory, she was older than me by at least fifty years. I was all about respecting my elders.
“Isis, you are a beast behind the wheel. You can have it,” Katrina replied, and I could’ve sworn I heard a sense of pride in her voice.
I just smiled. My peeps were so weird.
We got in the luxurious Lexus. I programmed Bartholomew’s instructions into the vehicle’s GPS and headed out of the hangar. I was pretty sure a Lexus would blend in better in NYC than a truck, but did Constantine have to pick the top of the line? That cat had enough money to burn a wet mule, as my godmother use to say.
A comfortable silence settled between us as we drove. Katrina checked each one of her weapons in her backpack, while I stayed lost in my thoughts. An awful feeling had settled in my stomach about this trip, and about being back in the city. I hadn’t been there since I accidently pushed Death’s old Intern Teck from a fire escape, which was the main reason I had become the new Intern. I know it was an accident, but the memory still haunts me. And after it happened, I had fled the city and hadn’t looked back once. I couldn’t shake the butterflies from my stomach that something bad was going to happen. I knew there was no rational explanation why I felt this way, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness.
“Isis, I just need to warn you,” Katrina told me as she put her last gun away in her backpack. “Whatever happens, do not look into the eyes of any of the vampires.”
I raised my eyebrows as I peered over at her. “Okay, why?”
“I don’t know what it is, but every time one of Death’s Interns makes eye contact with a vampire, they go berserk.” Katrina’s serious tone scared me. “They flip out and go on a rampage. Most of them end up dead.”
My eyes found the road again. I had no words, so I pressed my lips together and swallowed the information she’d given me. I wanted to stare at her, but since I was the driver, I couldn’t.
If only she would have told me that story before we landed. Better yet, before we went to the meeting in the first place. Maybe then I wouldn’t have opened my big mouth and gotten myself into this mess.
“Arrive at your destination,” the GPS chimed in before I found the courage to ask any more questions.
“Is she serious?” Katrina asked me.
When I glanced at Katrina, she looked about as confused as I was. Never in a million years did I think I’d be sitting outside a high-end children’s clothing store.
“This is weird, but if Bart says this is the place, then this is it.” If I was wrong about what I just said, I might kill Bartholomew because I definitely didn’t fit in kid’s clothing.
I parallel parked in a spot right in front of the store. I had to thank Bob for my parking training. For the most part, I could never parallel park until he made it his personal mission to show me. We practiced it until he was convinced I could do it with my eyes closed.
Before I chickened out, I climbed out of the Lexus and headed towards the little shop. Katrina followed me quietly.
“Good evening, how can I help you?” an older lady with white hair and a bright pink dress asked me as we walked in.
“Good evening,” I replied in my most professional voice. “Big Papa sent us for a pick-up.” I felt so foolish saying that, but I made sure not to show it—even if I had no idea how I did that.
“We have been expecting you,” the older lady said with a smile. “Please, follow me.” She led us towards the back of the store to an area labeled dressing rooms.
The store was very uptown chic and I could tell everything in there was expensive. We followed the older lady down the hall. I glanced at her feet, noticing she was wearing a pair of four-inch stilettos. I pointed out the shoes to Katrina who arched an eyebrow at me. I smiled back. Maybe things in this little shop were not as they seemed.
We walked to one dressing room with a large curtain in the front and a six-feet-tall mirror on the back wall. The old lady motioned for us to get inside, so we scooted forward. The curtain closed behind us. When everything was securely in place, she walked to the mirror and placed her hand in the center of it. I gasped as the mirror opened down the middle.
I met Katrina’s eyes when the older lady walked into the room and motioned for us to follow her again. She just shrugged at me, and we both followed the stylish, creepy old lady into who knew where. I was going to have to talk to Bartholomew about his dealer selection. Maybe he could use someone who didn’t remind me of a villain in a horror movie.
And then we walked into the best arms room I had ever seen. The place was lined wall to wall with every kind of weapon imaginable. I forgot all about the talk I was planning with Bartholomew as I looked over at Katrina. She wasn’t looking at me, instead her eyes were glued to the weapons as if she had just died and gone to heaven. Trust me, I knew that look. I had seen it a few times.
“Oh my God. I need to talk to Bartholomew,” Katrina told me. “I will call him whatever he wants if he hooks me up with his dealer’s info. This is amazing.”
Well it was official. Bartholomew had a new fan.
“Hi ladies. Welcome.” A man about my size came up to us. He was handsome, with a chocolate complexion that looked almost Spanish, but his name tag read Welch, which couldn’t have been Spanish at all. Perhaps his mother was Spanish and his father Dutch? Either way, it didn’t matter. He had a fantastic smile. “Big Papa called in your order. I believe we have everything you need, if you’ll just follow me please.”
I had no idea what Bartholomew had ordered for us, so we followed Welch to the back of the room. I had to drag Katrina away. She was definitely suffering from what I liked to call “shiny object syndrome.” Every time she saw a new gun, she got distracted. I could imagine Constantine behaving much the same, only not quite as bad.
Welch had two dressing rooms ready for us. I hesitated, but only for a moment. If Bartholomew trusted him, then he was probably the best in this area, so I went in my dressing room and inspected my new gear. Bartholomew had ordered me a pair of black leather pants, a very stylish black tank top, a black trench coat, and a pair of black boots. The size was perfect, and as I inspected myself in the mirror, I realized I finally had muscles on me and didn’t look skinny as hell.
I also had to admit that these clothes would fit in better in the city than my cargo pants.
In less than ten minutes, I was dressed and ready for battle. I stepped outside the dressing room and over to a long mirror on the store floor. Under the brighter lights, I looked more than intimidating. I looked intimidating, and I kind of liked it.
“Perfect fit,” Welch said from beside me, looking me up and down, although I couldn’t tell if he was checking me out or his work.
“Your clothes are made of the same material as your work gear, anti-spells and all that other fun stuff,” Welch told me. “The trench coat will protect you from bullets, and the boots are silver-toe to give you an extra edge.” Oh yeah, now I was really impressed. “Big Papa said you needed another one of these.” He opened a case to show me a silver machete.
“Is that actual silver?” I wanted to make sure I didn’t lose that thing.
“Of course,” Welch replied, puffing out his chest. “You have a slot for it inside your coat.” Welch pointed inside my trench to a pocket I hadn’t realized was there.
“Fashionable and practical. Not bad,” I told him.
“We aim to please,” Welch said as he cranked his smile up to breathtaking. My cheeks heated, and I knew I was blushing, but it couldn’t be helped.
I turned around, if only to break eye contact with Welch, before I embarrassed myself even more. “Katrina are you ready?”
Fortunately, Katrina walked out looking like the badass version of Combat Barbie. She sported the same black leather outfit as I had on, but I was pretty sure she wore it better than me.
“I’m ready to rumble,” Katrina said with a grin.
“Sounds great,” I told Katrina, then turned around to face Welch. “Where do we pay?” I didn’t see a cash register anywhere.
“It’s all taken care of,” Welch said in a soft voice. “Come back soon.” He gave me a wink that sent goosebumps running down my spine. I was always a little awkward around attractive men.
Before I could reply, he walked away. I hadn’t noticed, but two more customers had walked in, so he had gone to help them.
Katrina was still posing in front of the mirror, as if she couldn’t get enough of her new look.
I chuckled under my breath and shook my head. “Time for us to go. We have a long night ahead of us.” Then we left the store.
New York was truly the city that never slept. It was past midnight on a Monday night, or was it Tuesday morning? Either way, the streets were still filled with cars. I hadn’t been in the city in months, so I took my time driving down. New York City had a rhythm like nowhere else. The rush of the people and the flow of the cars was like watching blood pumping through the body. It was almost hypnotic. I was so lost in the drive that I was startled when the GPS made me turn down a residential street in the West Village.
