Was I missing something, or had Constantine also given me a compliment? “OK, what’s going on? Why are you two being so nice to me?”
“I’m nice,” Bartholomew said, almost offended.
“You’re always nice, Bart. These two, not so much. What’s the deal?” I crossed my arms and faced them. I had my angry face on.
“Nothing’s going on. We’re just glad everything went well.” Constantine was way too quick for that to be the truth.
“I didn’t get much.”
“It’s like science. We’re eliminating everything that is not it so we can find what it is.”
I tilted my head and stared at Constantine. Was he rambling? “We have no time for trial and error now. And thank you for destroying my illusions about science.” Great. Even science was failing me.
“Why do you think they call it practicing? Obviously, doctors have not perfected their craft.” Constantine was on a roll. I was never going to see a doctor the same way again.
“Constantine, stop playing with her. Just tell her. Most people try to outsmart the Devil and end up losing their souls. Why didn’t you try to bargain with him?” Eric was calm as he spoke, but he was curious.
“Bargain with him? Was that even a choice? What could I possibly have that the Devil might want?” The boys were officially losing their minds.
“You could owe him a favor for information.” Eric turned to face the screen again.
“A favor?” I was outraged. “If I had to owe him a favor for the crap he gave me, I probably would have killed him. Besides, it’s not like you could ever beat the Devil at being cunning and deceiving.” I was young, but I was not stupid.
“That’s a very good insight. Not bad at all, Isis.” Constantine spoke with a hint of a smile and pride in his voice. They had not thought I would survive the trip.
“OK, if you were so worried I would lose my soul yesterday, why didn’t you tell me?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“He’s a client. Every intern has to learn how to work with him. You managed pretty well and didn’t blow up the club. This is great for business.” Constantine was definitely proud.
“We need to work on our reputation. People are convinced I’m the plague. Or worse, a crusader.” I really didn’t want to get strip-searched everywhere I went.
“That’s a pretty accurate description. Interns have a tendency for preemptive strikes and overkill.” Eric looked kind of bashful as he spoke.
“Basically, we’re a bunch of homicidal maniacs.” All three nodded in unison. “Great. That is just great. That explains why even the Devil’s people were worried around me.”
“Everyone, let’s start practicing. I think we’ve been going at this all wrong. Instead of trying to fix your weaknesses, we need to maximize your strengths. Let’s skip the punches and make those kicks of yours killer.” Eric was a little too happy about that. I glanced at Constantine and Eric, and they both looked wicked. This was going to be painful.
“I love it. Bartholomew, start warming up. Isis, hit the mat.” All Constantine needed was a cigar, and he could be a mini Hannibal from the A-Team.
Resistance was futile with these boys. A week at this job, and I really missed my old life. Anyone who complained about having a boring life should have taken over mine. I watched Eric do a few warm-up stretches before stepping onto the mat. He was as limber as a gymnast. I had no idea how a person could be so graceful and hit so hard. While Eric was bent into a table pose, I stretched my thighs and calves.
“Is that all you’re stretching?” How did he notice from his side of the mat? Not only was he a contortionist, but now the boy had eyes in the back of his head.
“Yeah. No need to overtire my muscles before starting. Whenever you’re ready.” Besides, I was going to get a beating regardless of how much I stretched. So why delay the inevitable?
At least I was not disappointed in the training. Eric’s sympathy level didn’t last long, and he proceeded to train me like a madman. I informed the overzealous crazy man that I was not training for the Olympics—just survival. I was not very concerned with form but pure effectiveness.
After forty-five minutes of pure hell, my legs were shaky, and I was sure I was going to collapse. I had no grace, and I just limped off the mat. My legs were jelly. Between last night and this morning’s torture session, I was going to need Epsom salts and a bath.
“You look like hell, Isis,” Bartholomew casually said as he handed me a bottle of water on his way to the mat. To add insult to injury, Eric didn’t even look tired. I really hated that boy.
“I love you, too, Bart.” It was hard to be mad at Bartholomew. He was too damn cute. He was at that age right before boys hit puberty, when they still look sweet and innocent. Too bad they grow.
I was stretching on the floor when an idea hit me. “Hey, Bart, is this your computer?”
Bartholomew was stretching his calves and looked over his shoulder. “Yeah. Do you need it?”
“Does it have a recording feature?”
“From Audacity to Wave Horizon are installed. Anything you need should be in there.”
Of course they would be. This was Bartholomew we were talking about.
“Awesome. Do you mind if I borrow it this morning?” I was eyeing his computer like a kid in a candy store.
“Sure thing. Let me know if you like it, and I’ll order you one this afternoon.” The look of shock must have been pretty obvious on my face. “I’m sure it’s in the budget.” He smiled and turned around to face Eric for his lesson.
“What are you thinking about, Isis?” Constantine had walked over to me and was eyeing me very suspiciously.
“Music and how to capture it.” I was
