“Constantine, are you suggesting they are taking them to heaven to kill them?”
“Don’t be silly, child. The Big Guy and every angel would have pulverized them. We would have seen a hard-core meteor shower or some other crazy phenomenon. Access to the promised land is guarded very well. No, not heaven, but you’re on the right track.” That was a lovely mental picture. Thanks, Constantine.
“Oh, no. Not hell.” I really didn’t want to go to hell, alive or dead.
“Hell is another one. And your own personal favorite, purgatory.” Constantine sat on another bench, this time in his sphinx pose. We were both silent for a minute.
“Hell or purgatory—those are our options. Great! Why couldn’t they be hiding at the Golden Corral or Walmart? So, what now?” And my day had started so well.
“You want easy? Please! Isis, we work for Death.” OK, so Constantine had a point. “First thing we need to do is narrow down locations. We have less than four days, counting today, to find these witches and stop them before they move on.”
“How do we know they haven’t left yet?” With my luck lately, anything was possible.
“Why waste their time beating you up? Besides, if they’ve left, they’ll need to find another location, and they don’t have enough time. And it would be really hard to travel with kidnapped people without drawing attention.” Constantine was pensive as he spoke. “Isis, you’re going to have to make some house calls. When was the last time you went to church?”
“Church? Like a Catholic church?” Constantine nodded. “I’ve been to Saint Ed a couple of times.”
“That’s a great place to start. On Wednesdays, Father Francis holds confession at eleven in the morning, before the Mass. You should stop by. Tell Father Francis that Constantine says to keep it real.” Why was I surprised that Constantine knew the priest? Why did anything ever surprise me anymore? Oh yeah—because he was still a damn cat.
“Do I want to know how you know the priest?”
He actually smiled at me. I was not getting an answer out of him.
“So I need to go to confession. Great.” I hadn’t been to confession in over a year. It was painful to me.
“Hey, some discussions need to be done under strict parameters. For your protection and Father Francis’s as well. We all know the power and binding laws of confessions.”
Constantine was right. I didn’t want this crazy secret to get out to anyone. Under confession, anything I said to Father Francis could not be discussed with anyone, regardless of who. One of the strongest vows that was ever made. It was the reason people still flocked to confession to clear their conscience and received absolution.
“How is Father Francis going to help us?” I was hoping this would be an easy answer.
“Unlike heaven or hell, purgatory is a transition place. So nobody is actually guarding it from the other side. Normal points of access to it are Catholic churches.” Constantine read the confused look on my face. “Catholics are the only ones who believe in it and created it. Father Francis should be able to tell you if anybody has tried to cross from his gates.”
“The job of a priest always seems so lonely and odd. This is not helping their case.” On top of watching over congregations filled with all sorts of weird people, they were also responsible for the passage to purgatory. That job was awful.
“It is a calling, not a career; remember that. Now let’s discuss your powers. I’m glad you were able to tap into it, but we need you to think lullaby, not suicide.”
“What are you talking about? What suicide?” I had obviously missed something.
“You’re playing last night. It was haunting, full of pain and sorrow. Bartholomew and I had to put on headphones before we killed ourselves. A bit too powerful.” Constantine shook his head like he was trying to clear the memory away.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize I was doing it. I just got carried away when I saw my mother’s old flute.” Last thing I wanted was to hurt either of them.
“Relax, Isis. We were not hurt. But remember, music has power. Your emotions will drive the magic. You need to focus on putting people to sleep, not to death.” I didn’t like the idea of my feelings translating into actions that could affect others. That could get messy.
“OK, so I need to play a lullaby.” I didn’t remember the last time I played a lullaby, if I’d ever played one.
“Yeah, like ‘Rock-a-Bye Baby.’ That kind of stuff.” He flicked his paw as he spoke, in a nonchalant sort of a way.
“You do know that ends with baby and cradle falling from the tree.” Such an odd song to sing to a sleeping child. I was disturbed.
“It was not my idea to put the cradle in the tree to begin with. Besides, you get the idea. Nothing fancy but sleep-inducing.” Constantine was right; I needed something sleep-inducing. I needed to do some research now. “Have you figured out how you are going to use it? I doubt the witches will give you time to pull out your flute, tune it, and then play. It also doesn’t make for a very practical weapon.”
“Baby steps now. Let’s cross that bridge when we get there. Besides I was a paratrooper band member, not that different.” This got more complicated by the minute.
“Yes, my little paratrooper, but you were not jumping out of a plane carrying a musical instrument. If I’m not mistaken—and I know I am not—you dropped down with an M16. Big difference.” I really did not want to know how Constantine knew so much.
“Got it; adding it to my list.” My to-do list was increasing exponentially. It didn’t look like I ever got anything done.
“What time do you have to report to Abuelita’s this week?” Constantine brought me back to reality instead of my never-ending list.
“Oh, I don’t.” I started stretching my arms as
