“I’m out. Going to start checking on people,” Shorty announced.

  “Shorty, be careful,” Bob told him. “We are not dealing with regular people.” His worried gaze scanned the park.

  “Bob, we haven’t been dealing with regular people in years. We just know what they are now,” Shorty replied, giving Bob a fist-bump. “Keep your head up, E. We got this.” He gave Eugene a fist bump as well, then ran back to his truck.

  “Why don’t I feel as confident as Shorty?” Eugene asked.

  “Because you are young and haven’t seen as much crap as he has,” Bob replied with a smile. “Let’s go and get you food. It will help you focus better.” He headed back towards his truck and Eugene followed.

  Fortunately for Eugene, Big Jakes was located right next to the entrance to Beverly Park. Bob made a left before leaving the driveway and parked in front of the restaurant. Isis was addicted to the BBQ joint, which blew Eugene’s mind since Isis didn’t eat meat. She just went crazy for chilly fries and potato salad.

  Eugene was so hungry that he entered the establishment almost in a trance. The place was pretty empty. The lunch crowd was long gone, and the dinner crowd had not arrived yet. It gave the place a quiet, cozy setting.

  After he ordered a plate of brisket with baked beans and potato salad, Eugene slipped into a booth by the window. Bob placed his order, going for the pulled pork sandwich, and joined him. They both stared took in the view as they drank their sweet tea and waited for their food.

  “Here is your meal, boys,” a tall guy in his mid-twenties said as he slid their plates on the table.

  “TJ, hey. What’s going on?” Bob asked the guy.

  “Saw you guys come in and wanted to say hi,” TJ told them with a huge smile. “Eugene, I’m surprised to see you on a Monday.” Everyone knew Eugene’s schedule, and he only came to Big Jakes on Friday nights with the Reaper crew.

  “Long, crazy story, but right now you are my favorite person in town. I’m starving,” Eugene admitted. TJ grinned as Eugene placed a large piece of brisket in his mouth and devoured it.

  “Hey TJ, what do you know about Los Lobos?” Bob asked, taking a small bite of his sandwich.

  “That’s a rough group. They are dangerous and volatile. If possible, I recommend staying away from them.” TJ lowered his voice and looked over his shoulder, like he expected them to be behind him.

  “I wish, but they have something we need,” Bob told him.

  “And they have my friend,” Eugene mumbled between mouthfuls.

  “In that case, you can probably find them on a Monday night at the Cave,” TJ told them.

  “The Cave?” asked Bob, his gaze springing from TJ to Eugene.

  “Do you know another place run by the devil?” TJ questioned Bob.

  “Oh yeah, that’s the one,” Eugene said.

  “You look like such a wholesome, American guy, but I have a feeling there is so much more we don’t know about you. You are always full of info,” Bob told TJ, giving him a careful look.

  Eugene stopped eating and stared at TJ as well. Bob was right, there was something different about him. Almost inhuman.

  “Hey, people just talk to me.” TJ shrugged, then he padded Bob in the shoulder before heading back to the kitchen.

  “There is something different about him that I haven’t noticed before,” Eugene told Bob.

  “I always had that feeling when it came to TJ, but we are all entitled to our secrets,” Bob told Eugene. “Unfortunately, if TJ is right, you know what that means?” He eyed Eugene as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

  “I have never been to the Cave without Isis. I’m not ready,” Eugene mumbled to Bob.

  “Hey Boss, we got a problem,” Bob said, ignoring Eugene. Eugene couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but he had a feeling Bob was talking to Constantine. “No luck on the gang. But we have a lead that they might be at the Cave tonight. What should we do?”

  Bob was quiet for just a few minutes as he nodded his head. The anticipation was killing Eugene, but he waited. Last thing he needed was Constantine mad at him for interrupting.

  “Got it,” Bob replied and disconnected to the call.

  “Just tell me. What did he say?” Eugene asked Bob, trying to rush him.

  “Just like I feared, you are going to the Cave,” Bob told Eugene, a frown on his face. Which made sense. Bob hated the devil, and refused to set foot inside his establishment. Which meant it would be Eugene going in. “The theme tonight is the seventies. We need to get you some clothes, so we better hurry.”

  Both of them finished their meals in record time, then they went shopping.

  Jake, or Jacob, the deceiver commonly known as the devil, ran the hottest club in the world. The Cave was invitation only, and you could only enter if you knew where the door would be. According to Isis and Constantine, doors appeared all over the world, in many different cities. Unfortunately, the doors changed locations each day, even in the same city. Jake enjoyed making things complicated for people.

  Last time Eugene went to the Cave with Isis, the door was located near the entrance to the federal jail. Eugene had freaked, not wanting to be arrested for breaking into a clandestine club. For that occasion, Isis used her magical gifts from Death to keep people away, making their entrance easy and jail free. She was like the walking pied piper, except hotter.

  “We are in luck; the entrance is on the side of Books-A-Million,” Bob told Eugene.

  Eugene wasn’t sure if he agreed with Bob’s definition of luck. Not only did he have to walk outside wearing a white John Travolta suit from Saturday Night Fever, he had to do it in July in Texarkana. Plus, he was a black man in an all-white suit walking around a book store. He looked shady.

  At this rate, Eric was going to have to bail him out of jail.

  “Why are people heading to Books-A-Million on a Monday night?” Eugene asked Bob.

  Bob pulled the truck into the parking lot. “Because it’s July in Texarkana and kids are off school,” he said as he found a parking space near the entrance.

  “I’m going to stick out,” Eugene said, pointing to the crowd of teenagers hanging outside.

  “Of course you are, but at least you’ll look fly doing it,” Bob replied.

  Funnily enough, Eugene didn’t feel “fly” at all.

  “Fine, I’m doing this. You are planning to wait here, right?” Eugene asked before stepping out of the truck.

  “Eugene, go. I’ll be right here. Just hurry up,” Bob said as he waved him away.

  They had no other choice, so Eugene closed the door of the truck with a big sigh. He fixed his hair one more time and checked his jacket. He did look good. Now, he just needed to make sure he didn’t get killed. He channeled his inner Travolta and made his way towards the side of the building with lots of swagger. Like usual, as he got closer to the door, bouncers appeared. He had no idea how they did it, but they always appeared at the last possible moment.

  Eugene knew one of the guys, or at least he thought he did. His name was Adam, but his hair color was different than the last time Eugene had seen him. He’d been blond then, and today jet black. Adam, like every person who worked at the Cave, was disgustingly handsome. The other guy also looked like a model, with brown hair that had some strange highlights. Eugene was sure the ladies loved that stuff, but it made every man extremely self-conscious.

  “Eugene. My man. Looking hot,” Adam told him, giving him a fist-bump. Eugene was grateful he didn’t get a hug.

  “What’s up Adam? I’m here to see your boss. Constantine sent me,” Eugene told Adam. He didn’t have the same relationship Isis had with this crew, which made it harder for him. In fact, he had started fixing his jacket the moment he’d stepped inside.

  “His highness is right inside,” Adam replied.

  “Thanks Adam, I know the drill,” Eugene told Adam as he walked through the magical curtains that led down to the club.

  “Do you think he knows he only had to dress up today?” the brunette asked Adam after Eugene had entered the club.

  “I doubt it. Which means this could be one hell of a show. Watch the door, I’m heading inside,” Adam replied and followed Eugene.

  Eugene didn’t waste any time starting his dance routine after descending the magical stairs and clearing the second set of curtains. On his previous visit, the theme had been Latin music. Isis and he had to dance their way through the floor to get to the devil without getting killed. Latin music was his favorite, but he knew every move from the movie Saturday Night Fever, which meant Eugene was more than prepared for tonight.

  The club looked exactly like a place you would find back in the seventies, including the people smoking. Eugene found Jake leaning on a tall table on the opposite side of the dance floor. Jake, like the rest of his men, was extremely handsome with blond hair. He looked like a young Brad Pitt.

  Eugene adjusted his shirt, loosened the button on his jacket, and stepped on the dance floor.

  While most people were nervous in clubs, Eugene was the opposite. He was a different person on the dance floor. His confidence increased, his rhythm was impeccable, and his moves made people turn and stare. This night was no different. He was a dancing king and he knew it. He had all of Travolta’s moves memorized, starting with his Grease days and including Pulp Fiction. Eugene was on fire. At one point, he was even convinced one of the ladies on the dance floor was coming to attack him. Eugene took her by the hand, gave her a fast spin followed by a dip and sent her on her way. He made his way across the floor, ending with a split and bouncing up in a flash. The crowd went wild.

  “Eugene, like usual, your dancing skills are impressive,” Jake told Eugene, saluting him with his glass.

  “Jake, sir. I’m here on business,” Eugene told the devil as he wiped the sweat from his face with his handkerchief. He had worked a lot harder than he’d expected on that little number.

  “Of course. What do you need?” Jake asked Eugene as he sipped his drink without a care in the world.

  “We are looking for a gang of werewolves that patron your place. They called themselves Los Lobos,” Eugene told Jake, leaning in to whisper so he sounded more serious.

  “What would I get for the information?” Jake asked him.

  “What do you mean? I just danced my way over here for it,” Eugene told him, stomping at the floor.

  “Sorry my boy, dancing doesn’t cover talking to me tonight. What you are asking is betraying the trust of my clients,” Jake told Eugene with a wicked smile. “You need to make it worth my time.”

  “Isis told me I can’t give you my soul. Not to mention, I’m pretty sure the Mistress already has claims on it,” Eugene confessed to Jake.

  “I don’t doubt that,” Jake concurred. “I’m sure we can come up with another arrangement.” As he twirled the straw in his drink, Jake smiled and looked more dangerous than he ever had before.

  Eugene swallowed. Hard. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I need three cases of tear gas for this weekend,” Jake told him.

  “What for? You run a club,” Eugene asked, his gaze roaming said club.

  “I’m the devil. I have my hands in many things,” Jake told him. “If you must know, I’m sponsoring a teacher’s strike in the Caribbean and it’s going to be a wild one.” When he finished, he rubbed his hands together, completing his diabolical look perfectly.

  There was no point in arguing. Eugene knew he’d never beat the devil at his own game. “Fine, I’ll get you three cases. Now, what do you know?”

  “They are right behind you. Three tables down from us,” Jake told Eugene, pointing in the direction he’d just come from. Eugene turned around to find a table with three tall guys and one tough-looking chick.

  “What? You are freaking kidding me. I just paid you for that?” Anger fueled Eugene as he leaned across the table and grabbed the devil by his shirt, considering how he could strangle him.

  “It is not my fault you didn’t pay attention to your surroundings,” Jake answered. “I want my crates this Friday.”

  “Fine,” Eugene muttered in an angry tone. The group looked like they were getting ready to leave, so Eugene readied himself to follow, but Jake stopped him.

  “Where do you think you are going?” Jake asked Eugene as he pulled him back.

  “They are leaving, so I’m going after them,” Eugene answered, trying to jerk away from Jake.

  “How far do you think you will get before they see you? Look at your clothes,” Jake pointed at Eugene’s white suit as he spoke.

  “What do you want me to do? Walk around naked?” Eugene eyed his suit.

  “For a crate of swine flu, I can hook you up with another fabulous outfit,” Jake told Eugene with a wink.

  “How come this doesn’t happen to Isis?” Eugene asked.

  “She comes prepared,” Jake admitted. “Better decide fast; your little pups are leaving.” He smirked at his own joke.

  Eugene threw his hands in the air. “Fine, I’ll bring that too. Now hurry.” This was the last time he’d ever be making a deal with the devil.

  Jake snapped his fingers and Eugene’s white suit was gone. In its place was a fabulous black hoodie, with black cargo pants, and a black cap. Eugene looked down at himself.

  “Are you kidding me? What is this, racial profiling?” Eugene told Jake in a high-pitched tone.

  “You got jokes today, Eugene. It’s called camouflage. You are tracking them at night. I even covered your scent,” Jake told Eugene, smiling.

  “You can do that?” Eugene glared at Jake.

  “Yes I can. You know why? Because I’m the devil. You can sit here and admire me all night but your group is heading out the door.” Jake pointed behind Eugene.

  “Oh damn,” Eugene told Jake and ran after the werewolves.

  “There is something seriously wrong with that child,” Adam told Jake as he walked up next to him.

  “He works for Pestilence, definitely not his fault. But he is one great dresser,” Jake told Adam as he snapped his fingers. Jake was wearing a replica of Eugene’s white suit. He brushed his hands down the smooth fabric and smiled at Adam.

  “Looking good, your highness,” Adam told Jake as he walked around his boss. “By the way, the elven Princess and Vampire heir are waiting for you.” Adam pointed across the dance floor as he came to a stop in front of his boss.

  “I love those two,” Jake told Adam with a smile. “I’m ready to party.” He crossed the floor, doing his own dance moves and making the crowd cheer.

  Eugene ran to the truck and jumped inside. Bob looked him up and down, rubbing his temples.

  “The last four people who left the club were our werewolves. Did you see them?” Eugene asked Bob as he struggled to buckle his seatbelt. Bob took off before Eugene was finished.

  “Way ahead of you. I had Bartholomew run all the license plates for every car in the parking lot and cross reference with our guys. He got them. They are driving a red Toyota pickup,” Bob told Eugene as he headed out of the parking lot of Books-A-Million. “Bartholomew is tracking them now.” He took a right turn on the service road and headed towards Summerhill Road.

  “That’s impressive,” Eugene told Bob. Bob and Bartholomew had been a lot more productive than he had been inside the club.

  “I had to keep myself busy while I waited for you,” Bob told him, not making eye contact.

  “Bob, they are entering Spring Lake.” Bartholomew’s voice came through the speaker system.

  “Not that park again,” Eugene told them. “I think that place is haunted.”

  “Not anymore,” Bartholomew replied. “Isis collected all the wandering souls last May. It’s ghost free.” There was pride in Bartholomew’s tone when he spoke of Isis, and it made Eugene wish someone would speak of him that way one day.

  “In that case, the place is cursed,” Eugene added.

  “That is a good possibility,” Bob told him.

  “Yeah, we don’t deal in curses, just souls,” Bartholomew told him. “Okay Bob, they parked right in front of the baseball fields,” he said, changing the subject back to the matter at hand.

  “Anything going on in the area?” Bob asked Bartholomew.

  “I’m checking now,” Bartholomew told Bob. “Oh no, Bob. You better hurry. The Texarkana Twins are playing a home game tonight. It’s going to be packed.” His voice cracked.

  “Told you. Cursed,” Eugene told Bob.

  “Maybe. Hold on now,” Bob told Eugene as he took the right to enter the park a little too fast. “Eugene, we have EpiPens with us, right?” Bob asked as he found a parking space.

  “Over two hundred,” Eugene replied, reaching for his bag in the back seat.

  “Fill your pockets. I have a feeling we are going to need them,” Bob told Eugene. “Bartholomew, you might want to give Eric a heads up. This could be bad.”

  “Will do. Be careful over there,” Bartholomew told them as he disconnected the call.

  “Are you ready?” Eugene asked Bob.

  “I am, but you might want to change your shirt. You look suspicious with a hoodie in July.” Bob pointed at the back seat.

  “I knew it. Jake set me up,” Eugene told Bob as he grabbed a t-shirt from the back seat. “Do you always carry extra clothes with you?” he asked as he pulled on a gray t-shirt.

  “Isis is accident prone, which means you always have extra clothes when she is around,” Bob told Eugene.

  Eugene couldn’t agree more. Isis had a way of always getting dirty or wet.

  After Eugene changed his top, he stuffed his pockets with EpiPens. He was hoping they wouldn’t need them all, but he had a feeling they would.

  Bob climbed out of the truck and Eugene followed. They inched towards the field where The Twins were playing. Bob paid for tickets and they walked in.

  “Should we split up?” Eugene asked.

  “Won’t be necessary,” Bob told him. “They are over there by the party deck near the bouncy house.” Eugene followed Bob’s gaze and found two of the werewolves from the club talking to a couple of the staff from the event.

 

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