Judgement Day (The Intern Diaries Book 5), page 18
After wasting seven out of my fifteen minutes analyzing my new body, I rushed down the stairs. Grace was not something that I’d inherited with this new transformation. I was not accustomed to my new speed and crashed into Shorty’s truck when I tried to stop on the first floor. The side door of the truck now had two huge dents in the shape of my hands. If I wanted to make an entrance, I had accomplished that as well.
“Sorry about that,” I said to the group of people staring at me.
The horsemen were all sitting on thrones made of precious jewels and metals. In front of each horsemen an Intern was kneeling, except for Death. I motioned to her, and she shook her head. Death crossed her legs and focused on her siblings. Shorty, Bob, and Ninth were standing back watching the horsemen. Constantine sat on a chair on his back facing the ceiling. I walked instead of running towards Bob and Shorty to make sure I was able to stop. I didn’t want a head-on-collision with them.
“Welcome back Boss Lady.” Shorty gave me a fist bump and I returned it.
“Thanks Shorty, sorry about the dent in your truck,” I told him.
“That is the least of our worries,” he replied with an evil grin.
“Looking good Isis.” Bob and I gave each other a high five.
“It’s about time,” Constantine told me instead.
“What did I miss?” I asked the boys.
“Long or short version?” Constantine asked from the chair.
“Short,” I replied as the horsemen adjusted their capes. “Are they wearing capes?”
“That’s part of the long version that you don’t get,” Constantine explained.
“Fair enough. I said short, after all.” I probably did not care to know why they were wearing capes anyway.
“The other three got jealous when they learned Death had made a Reaper,” Constantine stated. “They cannot be outdone in this war, so they are here to make it right.”
“Short version wasn’t too bad,” I told him.
Constantine rolled over to watch the horsemen. War cleared his throat and the rest of us focused on his announcement.
“Colonel, as a faithful and the most trustworthy of my Interns, and with the power granted to me by the universe, I hereby promote you.” War stood from his throne.
“I thought he only had one Intern?” Shorty asked in a loud whisper.
“Do not confuse the madness with facts,” Constantine hissed, and I had to hold back a giggle.
“I promote you to the rank of General.” War snapped his finger and Katrina was wearing her army fatigues. Six Stars appeared on War’s hand.
“Wow,” I said louder than I intended. “Is that even a real rank?”
“That is actually the rank of the General of the Armies of the United States and only two other men have ever held the title, General John Jay Pershing and General George Washington,” Constantine lectured us in his most diplomatic voice. “It appears War is repurposing the rank as the General of the World.”
“That is great, but not impressive,” Shorty announced, and we all turned around. “Isis is immortal, so what are those little Stars going to do?”
War glared in our direction before continuing his speech. “You have command over all the forces in this world, and every military person is at your disposal. General, you are the ultimate warrior.”
War placed the rank on Katrina’s chest and the building trembled. Katrina rose and saluted War as his new ultimate General. We all clapped for Katrina.
“Now that part was impressive,” Shorty shouted. “Go General.”
“You are going to get us killed,” I told Shorty, slapping his chest.
“You mean Bob and I are going to get killed. You are now Immortal Boss Lady, after all.” Shorty did a little dance that resembled the Hokey Pokey.
War returned to his throne as Pestilence stepped down. Pestilence tossed her golden hair to one side, and her mane had sparkles in it. Did it always have sparkles and I just never noticed because of my human vision?
“Eugene,” Pestilence announced, and we all stopped moving.
“Wow,” Constantine gasped. “Pestilence knows the names of her Interns. That is a first.”
“Like I was saying, Eugene,” Pestilence spoke even louder. “As my devoted and faithful Intern, today I promote you to the rank of Enforcer.”
“Hooray Rookie,” Ninth clapped.
“What’s an enforcer?” Bob asked me, and I shrugged. We turned to Constantine, who did the same.
“If you all will just let me finish you’ll find out,” Pestilence scorned us.
“Sorry,” I apologized for the group.
“As my enforcer, you will carry my torch and powers.” Pestilence kissed Eugene’s forehead and green smoke covered his body.
“What is the deal with the kissing and all this smoke?” Shorty asked the same thing I was thinking.
“No clue Shorty. But is his transformation going to hurt?” I asked Constantine.
“Doesn’t look like it. He is still mortal.” Constantine tilted his head to the side to examine Eugene.
“Rise, my enforcer,” Pestilence commanded.
The smoke soaked into Eugene. He slowly rose from the ground, appearing a bit taller wearing a Prada suit. Pestilence paced around Eugene and inspected her work.
“Give it a try,” Pestilence told him.
Eugene rubbed his hands together and green fireballs erupted in both of his hands.
“Marvelous,” exclaimed Pestilence.
“Now that is impressive,” Shorty cheered.
“Hey Isis, I think I can handle more than one now,” Eugene told me, juggling the balls.
“It’s about time,” I replied as I clapped for him.
Pestilence flipped her hair over her shoulder and strolled back to her throne. She looked over at Famine and told them, “Beat that.”
“This family needs therapy,” Bob told me.
“We are well past the point of therapy and have moved to needing medication,” I added.
“I second that,” Shorty said from his side.
Famine adjusted their suit before stepping down, making the process even more dramatic. I looked at my watch and we had less than six hours. The horsemen really needed to hurry this demonstration up.
Famine didn’t have any fancy speeches for us. Instead, they reached for Junior and ran their hand down his face. A light mist covered Junior from head to toe as he fell to the ground. Famine raised Junior to his feet. With a snap of Famine’s finger, Junior was wearing a brand-new Oscar de la Renta Suit.
“I introduce you to my Shadow,” Famine announced. “Do me proud, little one.”
Tendrils of smoke rolled off Junior’s fingers. Shorty, Bob, and I backed away from the smoke, knowing from experience those little things would suck the life out of us. With a snap of Junior’s fingers, the smoke curled around his feet.
“Damn!” Shorty busted out. “Off the chart.”
“Thank you,” Famine told Shorty, heading back to their seat.
“That was good,” Shorty told Junior.
“It appears like I won this round,” Famine told Pestilence, sticking out their tongue at her.
“Punk,” Pestilence replied and disappeared.
“I won.” Famine adjusted their jacket and vanished as well.
“Children,” Death told her siblings, covering her face with her hand.
“Do us proud,” War told us. “You have until eight, so anything you don’t finish we will destroy.” With those last words, War was gone.
Death stepped down from her throne shaking her head.
“Basically, in order to get the other horsemen to help, we had to make them jealous?” I asked Death.
“Competition is a strange motivator for some,” Death answered. “In this case, it works great for my siblings.”
“Did you know this was going to happen if you made me a Reaper?” I inched closer to Death, searching for the truth.
“Me, of course not.” Before I could ask any more questions, Death was gone.
“She did that on purpose,” I told the group.
“I would put money on that one,” Constantine agreed. “We have less than six hours, so what’s the plan?”
“I need everyone to rally your forces,” I told the team. “We are leaving Reapers at five. We have to be downtown at TRAHC by six pm and we can’t be late. Gather anyone you can because we need all the help we can get.”
“Where are you going?” Katrina asked me.
“I have a prisoner I want to visit,” I replied. “Bob, Shorty, with me.”
“Don’t start a war without us,” Eugene told us.
“Us? Never,” I replied, copying Pestilence’s hair toss. “To the station Shorty, and make it quick.”
Whoever had decided letting Shorty park inside Reapers was a good idea was regretting it now. He almost ran over every person, including Constantine. With my enhanced hearing, I could hear the cursing from outside the truck. Shorty just waved at everyone and headed for the exit. I enjoyed the feel of the car and realized Shorty was right. It was fun riding around in a fast-moving vehicle.
Telling Shorty to hurry was a dangerous thing to do, even for an immortal. Thank God for Ninth and locking down Texarkana, or the amount of injured people would have tripled on our short ride to Union Station. Shorty did not stop for traffic lights, emergency signs, or run-away shopping carts in the middle of the road. The only people out were part of the Underground and they knew better than to be in the way of their boss.
“Shorty, make sure to call everyone back to the station when we start,” I told him from the back seat. “We don’t need any more hostages.”
“You are giving those vamps too much credit,” Shorty replied. “You are assuming they consider any of our people a threat. That is going to be their downfall.”
Shorty was right. Most affluent people in this country underestimated the transient population. If they only knew the power they had here in Haven, they would be terrified.
Security at Union Station had been tripled. Guards patrolled both the outside and the roof. Every member of the staff had a crucifix around their neck, as well as full-body gear complete with rifles and ballistics suits.
“How are they not burning up in this heat with all that gear?” According to the trucks thermometer, the temperature was over one-hundred degrees.
“Your Godmother’s minions stopped by. They were feeling a bit useless,” answered Bob. “They added a temperature regulating spell to all the gear. Cool in the summer and warm in the winter.”
“Smooth.” I climbed out of the truck. “I might need to be nice to Harry Potter.”
“Nah, that one is still an ass,” Shorty announced. “Boss Lady, it’s going to cost you to get those dents off my truck.”
“Those are pretty bad.” I examined my handprints on the door panels. “Send the bill to Constantine for that one.”
“I’ll wait until I put a few more in there so he can front the bill.” Shorty grinned and climbed the steps.
“He is hopeless,” I told Bob.
“You know Shorty is a hustler,” he said. “What are we doing back here?”
“I have an idea,” I replied, following Shorty inside the building. “Shorty, get the two prisoners in the interrogation cells together.”
“But Pete has been working on both non-stop and still hasn’t been able to get anything else,” Shorty argued.
“Now,” I ordered, and Shorty took off.
“You are a bit intimidating when you make demands,” Bob said from behind.
“That bad?” The hallway was cleared, which finally gave me room to breathe.
“Different,” Bob told me. “It’s the same essence Death has. Not bad, just intense. It’s going to take us a while to adjust to you having it.”
“If we make it through tonight, we will have plenty of time,” I replied and headed towards the interrogation rooms.
Pete was in the doorway waiting for us. His wings were pumping a mile a minute.
“Breathe Pete or you’re going to pass out,” I told him, trying to duck around him.
“You don’t trust my skills?” Pete asked, blocking my way. “By the Gods, what happened to you?”
“Long story Pete. Let’s get one thing done. And your skills are not in question,” I explained. “Those two spent some time in hell. I don’t think we are using the right motivators to get them to talk. I do hope you join me.”
Pete dropped to my shoulder and exhaled. “You do?”
“You are the best Pete. I need you here,” I reminded him.
“We will break them Boss Lady,” Pete saluted. “By the way, your powers are radiating like a sun beacon. What are you now?”
“A Reaper.” I pulled out one of the chairs and made myself comfortable in the room.
“By the Gods.” Pete flew in front of my face and stared at my eyes. “I live to serve you, Boss Lady.”
“Well maybe it was a shorter story than I imagined. Pete, relax, you already work here,” I told him, moving my head back as he flew closer to my face.
“I’m the first Pixie who has ever worked for a Reaper.” Pete made circles over my head. “I will go down in history.”
“You will go down to the dungeons if you don’t stop spraying dust all over the place.” I grabbed the flying little maniac by the toes.
“Wow.” Pete glanced at his feet and then back at my face. “You are quick. I never saw your hands move. That is amazing.”
“Pete, focus or you are heading home,” I ordered the little pixie.
“Yes, Boss Lady.” Pete sat on my shoulder taking deep breaths. I could still feel the energy coursing through his body as he calmed himself down.
Two guards escorted the shifters from hell back into the interrogation room.
“What do you want?” the first shifter we interviewed asked. “We told you everything we know.”
“Have a seat,” I told them.
Neither one moved, but the guards assisted them in sitting down.
“Thank you,” I told the guard. “You can leave us.”
“Boss Lady, they are extremely dangerous,” the guards argued.
“So am I,” I replied, winking at them.
They both gasped when they saw my eyes and left the room in a hurry.
“Parlor tricks won’t scare us,” the second shifter told me.
“That is good to know since I don’t have time for tricks,” I informed them and leaned my chair back. “Are your parents alive?”
The shifter exchanged a quick look and closed their mouths.
“Boss Lady, can I help?” Pete asked, flying off my shoulder.
“Be my guest,” I told him.
Pete sprinkled both men with green pixie dust. The men shook their heads trying to avoid Pete’s dust, but it was too late. He had covered them both completely.
“We are going to play a game, and you will answer yes or no.” Pete marched back and forth on the table between the prisoners and me.
“Prisoner one, that’s you on the right.” Pete pointed at the prisoner with his hand. “Is your mom alive?”
“Drop dead you traitor,” prisoner number one replied.
“Yes or no, dumbass,” Pete corrected him. “Is your mom alive?”
“Yes,” he finally replied.
“Prisoner two, is your mom alive?” Pete made his way to that side of the table.
“Of course, you fool,” replied number two.
“Number two, is your dad alive?” Pete made right turns as he marched the perimeter.
“Yes, he is alive as well,” he replied.
“Prisoner one, is your dad alive?” Pete never slowed in his marching.
“No, and I hope he is burning in hell,” prisoner one answered.
“Both of their moms are dead, but their fathers are alive,” Pete announced and both prisoners gasped.
“Nice job Pete. See how I always need you,” I told him. “Eventually you will need to explain how you pulled that off.”
“Lie detecting dust,” Pete explained. “Now, how is that going to help?”
“Give me a minute and I will show you.” I stood from my chair and moseyed around the prisoners. “Relax gentlemen, this is not going to hurt … much.”
I placed my hands on their heads. My grip was stronger than both werewolves combined. If they tried to move, they would decapitate themselves. There was no way for either one to escape my grip. I took a deep breath and contacted the spirit world.
I’m searching for the mothers of these two werewolves. Your children are in trouble, please help me.
I flashed the images of the two shifters through my mind and waited. If I had an idea of who their mothers were maybe it would help. But this was the best I could do with very little practice using my new skills. The room turned cold. Fog covered the floor, and both shifters moved nervously on their chairs.
“We are here.” I opened my eyes and two very stern older shifters were facing us.
“Ladies, thank you for coming,” I told them.
“Mom,” prisoner one whimpered.
“Momma,” prisoner two cried.
“Why have you called us?” the souls asked me.
“Your sons have made a pact with some demons and will be losing these souls soon,” I informed the mothers. “I figured you might want to have one last chat with them since you won’t see them in the afterlife.”
“You did what?” prisoner one’s mom screamed in his face. “What were you thinking?”
Prisoner two’s mom grew in size and her sweet, calm shape turned savage and feral. “I gave up everything for you, and you gave your soul to a demon,” she growled. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Momma, when the antichrist comes, he will spare us,” prisoner two pleaded with his momma.
“Spare you?” Momma number two slapped her son across his face, leaving claw marks. “You idiot. You will be spared to serve as his slave.”
“Did you believe those lies as well?” Mom number one shouted at her son as she held his face down with her claws. “Did I raise a fool?”
