Reapers had the same security system for vehicles in the back as it did for pedestrians in the front. Eugene parked the hearse behind Reapers, then jumped in Storm with Bob to get inside. After clearing all the securities, they rushed upstairs to the loft.

  When they entered the loft, Bartholomew sat at his computer station like usual. On the other hand, Constantine paced the length of the kitchen island, and Eugene had to do a double take. Constantine looked way bigger than normal.

  “Genocides is Pestilence’s policy on ransoms and blackmail. Are you kidding me?” Constantine hissed at Eugene. “Do I want to know how many times she has done this?” He grew larger with every word, which made fear penetrate Eugene’s gut. He didn’t want to go near that angry cat.

  “Probably not,” Eugene answered in a soft voice.

  “Boss, it’s not Eugene’s fault,” Bob said to Constantine.

  “Technically it is. He lost the stupid drugs.” Constantine stopped pacing. “Explain yourself. How did those sad excuses for wolves find you anyway? How often do you go to the field?” Constantine somehow stared down at Eugene, and he had no idea how the cat did it.

  “I stop by the field every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at seven a.m. on my way to the club. Then I stop again on my way back to the lab,” Eugene confessed.

  “Please tell me you take a different route each time?” Bob asked.

  “Am I supposed to?” Eugene asked, looking at Bob.

  “Of course you are, silly,” Constantine answered, covering his eyes with his paw. “They pretty much followed you and found your weak spot. You might as well have just handed them the drugs yourself because that’s how easy you made it. Bob, you need to teach this child some combat skills or he might get himself killed.” He went back to pacing, but this time he shook his head while he did.

  “What are we going to do?” Eugene did not want to spend the next year locked away in the lab. Also, he’d grown rather fond of Texarkana, so he really didn’t want to see it wiped off the map.

  “First, we need to find your new fans and get your buddy back,” Constantine told him.

  Before Eugene could ask any more questions, Eric burst through the door. Eric was Reapers martial arts trainer, witch on call, and town cop. He was also tall, good looking, and smooth. It impressed Eugene how secure he always appeared.

  “Oh no, I was hoping it was all a coincidence,” Eric said in greeting.

  “This can’t be good,” Constantine said as he looked Eric up and down.

  “We got three kids in the ER. Drug overdose,” Eric told them. “One managed to say he got a new packet of the Mistress Special. I only know one person capable of creating high dosage drugs that calls herself the Mistress,” he finished, and his eyes fell on Eugene.

  “You sell the stuff as well?” Constantine asked, yelling at Eugene.

  Eugene threw his hands out in front of him and waved them back and forth. “No, no. It isn’t like that. We only sell at the club and it’s closed this early in the morning.” When he finished, he let his arms fall to his side as he looked at the floor. It didn’t matter what he said. He’d never be able to talk his way out of this one.

  “Do I want to know what club you are talking about?” Eric asked.

  “Not at all. I would hate to accessorize you with compromising info. Just know it wasn’t us,” Eugene told Eric.

  “Not exactly, at least,” Bob jumped in.

  “What Bob is trying to say is this: Pestilence and her team did not sell those drugs to those kids. However, the drugs do belong to her,” Constantine clarified for Eric.

  “If you guys are not selling them, who is?” Eric’s cop-mode interrogation skills were coming out as he questioned Eugene.

  “A gang of werewolves stole a hundred pounds from me this morning,” Eugene said, dropping his head.

  “By the stars,” Eric said. “The kid said he took less than a teaspoon and that thing almost killed him. We are going to have bodies piling high if we don’t find them.” He moaned, then started pacing.

  There was way too much pacing going on today. Eugene didn’t like it one bit.

  “Oh, it gets worse. If we don’t find them in the next twenty-four hours, Pestilence’s team will kill the whole town,” Constantine told Eric.

  “Over the drugs? She didn’t try that with the zombie apocalypse.” Eric’s eyes flicked from Bob to Eugene and finally landed on Constantine.

  “They have Fourth and they are asking for a ransom,” Eugene added, taking a seat at the dining table. He was getting the Monday morning blues and his head hurt.

  “Please tell me you have a plan.” Eric focused on Constantine. “Is Isis already looking for the gang?”

  “Isis is in Jefferson working on her own mission. We are not going to tell her about this small incident,” Constantine told Eric.

  “Small incident? They are threatening to wipe out the city.” Eric’s voice got louder with each word he spoke.

  “Eric, we are not telling Isis. Got it?” Constantine posed his last words as a question, but it wasn’t a question that had any other answer than “yes.”

  “Fine,” Eric replied. It made Eugene feel better to see the fabulous Eric looking flustered. He always envied how Isis acted around him.

  “Bartholomew, please tell me you found something,” Constantine shouted in the direction of Bartholomew.

  “Sorry Constantine, I’m still looking,” Bartholomew yelled, headphones on his head and his eyes on the computer screen.

  “We are in trouble if Bart can’t even look in our direction when he speaks,” Eugene told them.

  “He is trying to cross reference every surveillance camera the city has for this potential gang,” Constantine explained.

  “Information I really did not want to know,” Eric told him. “In the meantime, what can I do? I really don’t need a bunch of dead kids in Texarkana.”

  “That’s a really good point. If Death finds out, we are all toast,” Constantine told them. “Eugene, we need an antidote for your super-drug.” He left no room for argument.

  “Not again,” Eugene whined. “You know our policy on cures. We don’t do them.” He threw his hands in the air.

  “Do you want Death tracking down Pestilence because of your little drug issue?” Constantine asked.

  “That would be awful. The Mistress would skin me alive,” Eugene said, his tone defeated.

  “I have a feeling she actually would do that, too,” Bob told him.

  “Fine, but I’m going to need supplies. Lots and lots of supplies,” Eugene said, pouting. He was the only one of Pestilence’s Interns that ever had to make cures for his experiments, which gave him a horrible track record.

  “Just make up a list and I got you,” Bob told him.

  “You will probably need to go to the lab to get most of the stuff,” Eugene told him, biting his lips.

  Before Bob could reply, Shorty ran through the door.

  “We really need a better security system. Too many people just keep bashing in,” Constantine told Bob.

  “Boss, I think you gave them access,” Bob told him.

  “It must have been a lapse in my thinking. I was probably suffering from a food coma or something,” Constantine said with an evil smirk on his face.

  “Hey Eric, what’s up?” Shorty greeted Eric.

  “Looking good, Shorty,” Eric replied.

  “Been working out.” Shorty flexed his muscles. The words he’d spoken had Eugene doing a double take, but nothing had changed. Shorty looked as scrawny as ever.

  “Glad we are all acquainted with each other. Now, maybe we can get back to business,” Constantine told the group. “Shorty, this better be good.”

  “Sorry boss, got distracted,” Shorty apologized.

  “And people have the audacity to make fun of cats for paying attention to shiny objects. The nerve,” Constantine said in a mocking tone. “Spill it, we are losing time. What did you find out so fast?”

  “That’s the problem, Boss Man. Nobody knows anything,” Shorty said.

  “What do you mean?” Bob asked.

  “I texted all my top people and nobody has seen any of that gang. It’s like they disappeared from the earth.” Shorty shrugged in resignation.

  “How is that possible? You have eyes and ears everywhere,” Eugene said.

  “That’s the point. After they left the Electric Cowboy, none of my people have been able to find them. We have no idea where they go, but they are definitely not in town,” Shorty said, shaking his head.

  “Please tell me we are not looking for Los Lobos?” Eric asked.

  “You know them?” Bob asked.

  “They are the only werewolf gang in town,” Eric answered.

  “We also know they won’t be getting a prize for creativity,” Constantine said.

  “What do you mean by that, Boss?” Shorty asked, scratching his head.

  “Because Los Lobos means The Wolves in Spanish,” Eugene answered. “Eric, what do you know about them?” he added, trying to get everyone back to business.

  “Besides being dangerous, highly trained, and heavily weapon? Their recruitment strategies are vicious, but they have a big following,” Eric said in a flat tone.

  “How come I’m the only one scared to death that we are dealing with werewolves?” Eugene asked.

  “You are not the only one, E,” Shorty told Eugene.

  “That fear will keep you alive. Don’t lose it,” Constantine told both Shorty and Eugene. “Bartholomew, cross reference gang Los Lobos with anything in your database.”

  “That actually helps, thanks,” Bartholomew yelled back.

  “Wouldn’t it be easier if we just make him take the headphones off so he can hear us?” Eric asked Constantine as he ran his fingers through his hair.

  “Maybe, but he is the only one working here. The headphones cancel the noise and help him focus,” Constantine told Eric. “Speaking of work, sounds like the rest of you need to get busy.” Somehow he managed to stare at everyone all at once. Eugene had no idea how he did it, but he wished he had that kind of power.

  “I’ll check the police database for anything suspicious on Los Lobos,” Eric told them right before he headed out the door.

  “Shorty, we need you to mobilize the underground and warn them about the new drug on the streets. It’s deadly and doesn’t take much to kill,” Bob told him.

  “We might also need their help,” Constantine told both men. “Eugene will be working on an antidote. We are going to need able bodies ready to help those overdosing.” His gaze fell on Eugene.

  “That’s a great idea, Boss,” Bob told Constantine. “Eugene, whenever you are ready with the list, I’ll take off,” Bob told Eugene as he pointed towards the door.

  “I got a better plan. I’ll text the list to Seventh. That way he will have everything ready when you get there,” Eugene told Bob as he pulled his phone out. “Besides, I don’t have a clue if he told anyone else. I don’t need Fifth calling the Mistress and turning us in.” His fingers were typing at the same time he was speaking, which made it a little difficult for him.

  “It’s about time you started acting like our mad-scientist.” Constantine sounded proud, then turned his attention to Bob and Shorty. “Well, you two better get going now.”

  Both of them ran out the door.

  “Do you need my help up here?” Eugene asked Constantine.

  “Nope, Bartholomew and I got it covered,” Constantine answered.

  “In that case, I’m going to get the lab ready. We are going to need a lot of antidote,” Eugene told Constantine, and then he headed out the door.

  Constantine watched Eugene leave the room. The loft was finally quiet. The only sound was from Bartholomew typing at his control station.

  “That boy is going to be the death of me, and he is not even my Intern,” Constantine said to himself as he started grooming his face.

  It had taken Eugene almost five hours to get enough antidote ready to cover the amount of drugs the werewolves were carrying. He was exhausted, and he could only imagine how tired Bob was. Bob had done at least five trips to the lab in Hope to pick up the supplies Eugene needed. At this point, he regretted not telling Isis. She always made a great assistant when he needed one. Now they just had to deliver the vaccine to all of Shorty’s people, which posed a bit of a problem. The underground did not have a centralized location, so they were going to have to drive all over Texarkana to drop it off.

  Bob and Shorty decided it would be faster to start making deliveries Downtown. Texarkana and the surrounding cities might feel like small towns, but in fact they covered a very large terrain. Matching their location with the time Shorty’s people were on duty was vital. The team needed to match their locations with the times Shorty’s people were on duty. Eugene was in charge of demonstrating how to administer the antidote and he developed a modified EpiPen for the occasion. It was the fastest and cleanest way to carry it around. Not to mention, one person could carry ten pens without attracting too much attention. They still didn’t want to create a panic in the city, unless people started dying.

  It took the team over two hours driving around to find most of the informants and the active members of Shorty’s crew. Eugene was amazed that Shorty had people covering the entire town.

  “Last stop is Beverly’s Park,” Bob told Eugene.

  “Where is that at?” Eugene asked as they were driving back from Liberty-Eylau.

  “Right next to Big Jakes,” Bob told him.

  “Why didn’t we start there? We have passed that place at least three times.” Eugene couldn’t figure out the actual distribution plan, especially since he was sure they had been driving in circles for hours.

  “Unfortunately, the park crew doesn’t start work until five. Hence the reason we are here now,” Bob told him with a smile. “Besides the food I gave you, have you had anything to eat?” He looked at Eugene like a concern dad.

  Eugene shrugged. “I was a little busy.”

  “You and Isis are so much alike. You run around nonstop and then are shocked when you’re exhausted and moody,” Bob told Eugene. “It’s called being malnourished. We are stopping by Big Jakes when we are done.” His tone left no room for arguments.

  “Okay,” Eugene replied as his stomach grumbled at the mention of food, which in his book made his stomach a traitor.

  “I think your stomach agrees with me,” Bob told Eugene with a smirk.

  “Those sounds could be deceiving,” Eugene said, but his stomach chose that moment to growl so loud he was sure there was no way Bob hadn’t heard it.

  Darn traitorous stomach, he thought.

  Bob pulled into the park’s main entrance and followed the path to the back. Shorty was right on their heels the whole way, but Eugene kind of wondered if Bob had taken the lead so Shorty would have to slow down. That way, no pedestrians would be scared away.

  Bob parked next to a picnic bench where two young ladies sat. With their purple and blue hair, their ripped clothes, and the amount of make-up plastered on their face, one might confuse them for teenagers.

  With a shake of his head, Eugene followed Bob out of the truck and grabbed his bag of EpiPens.

  “Good afternoon ladies,” Bob said.

  “Hi, Big-Bob,” the one with purple hair said.

  “What’s the huge emergency?” the blue-haired lady asked.

  Eugene realized the ladies were at least mid-twenties and in great shape. Both of them looked like they would easily win a fight. . Any fight, for that matter.

  “Melissa. Natalie. Meet Eugene. He is our resident scientist,” Bob said to the ladies. Melissa had the purple hair, and Natalie the blue. “These ladies are our residence martial arts trainers and the toughest members of the underground.”

  Eugene nodded. He could believe that.

  “Thanks, Big-Bob,” Melissa replied, her chest puffing out with pride. Her sweet smile lit up her beautiful brown eyes.

  “We have to be. We work the truck stops and sleazy motels,” Natalie told Eugene in a serious tone. She had to be the leader of the two. She’d barely let out a smile, and when she looked Eugene up and down, it made him feel like some kind of lowly animal.

  “What’s your target?” Eugene asked. He had learned each team had a group they watched or assisted.

  “We try to help the girls that have lost their way,” Melissa replied.

  Eugene was impressed. If these two women were in charge of helping the street walkers, that meant they dealt with a lot of angry customers.

  “That is amazing. I don’t know how you do it,” Eugene said, and he meant every word.

  Natalie smiled. “Some girls are forced into that life, and others feel they have no choice.”

  “They are like the Underground Railroad. Moving girls from one city to the other to keep them safe,” Shorty jumped in. “Huge mission.” Shorty saluted the ladies and Eugene bowed his head to them.

  “Thanks. But I’m sure you are not here to sing our praises today.” Natalie was back to business.

  “We got serious problems, ladies,” Bob said. “A deadly drug is being sold. We need your help to warn people.” He pointed to Eugene.

  “We have an antidote to slow the reaction if you find somebody overdosing,” Eugene told the ladies as he pulled his demonstration pen out. “They will still need to be taken to the hospital, but this will give them time to get there. It’s pretty simple to use. Pull the cap off and stab them in the leg. Press the top button and done.” He had done the same demonstration so many times that day, he could do it with his eyes closed. Instead, he faced forward and finished showing them what to do, then he passed out pens.

  “We heard about a major drug deal going on this evening,” Melissa told them.

  “Where?” Bob asked.

  “We didn’t ask.” Natalie shrugged. “Anytime you start asking questions, people get suspicious and avoid you,” she explained as she put some pens in her pockets.

  “Makes sense, but start warning people,” Bob told them. “This is one deal they will die for.” Bob was serious, but Eugene giggled at the phrase.

  “Will do,” both ladies replied, then they took off.

 

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