Constantine glanced at the computer and then back at me. “Your gift.” He raised an eyebrow, or whatever the equivalent was for cats, and gave me an evil grin.
“You’re right, Constantine. I can’t walk around with a flute and ask people to wait while I play. I need something readily available.” I needed to start thinking like a soldier—working smarter and not harder. Trial and error was going to get me killed if I wasn’t careful. “Do you think it would work?”
“Musical recordings have been causing people to kill themselves for years. I’m sure you can put a few to sleep without a problem.”
“How long does the gift normally last?” I needed a time frame to work with.
“It depends on the intern and the strength of your desire.” Constantine had his philosophical teacher face on.
“Perfect.” Maybe things were finally looking up for us.
“Perfect? What does that mean?” Constantine did not enjoy being puzzled.
“I only need to pour my soul into it for two minutes, tops. Then I can create a loop of it. As long as it plays, the people will sleep.” I loved technology.
“Not bad, Isis. You’re finally thinking like an intern.” Constantine was actually smiling. “You’re going to be like the Pussycat Dolls in their video with Timbaland. ‘Wait a Minute, Girl.’” How did he do that? Constantine’s imitation skills were amazing. I shook my head.
“Imagine you liking a group named Pussycat.” Constantine smiled. “I’m going to finish my workout and then head upstairs. I still need to check out Sacred Heart today.” Constantine agreed and headed back to watch Bartholomew, shaking his tail. I was amazed he was still singing to himself. He even moved in sync. Unbelievable.
I wasn’t sure how long it was going to take me to do the recording and then the editing. The sooner I started, the safer I would feel. I also needed a few disposable players—I wasn’t planning to leave my phone everywhere. This whole business made me nervous. I wasn’t that crazy about a soundtrack, especially one that was going to knock people out.
Chapter 26
The next time I decide to pass out my business cards to people, I really should ask for names. I got a text from an Ana, who claimed to have info. First of all, who was Ana, and why didn’t Ana have a last name? I had enough issues with no-last-name Bob; I really didn’t want to add another to that list. Ana was an early riser, since the message had been left at 7:00 a.m. By the time I finished trying to track down Ana, it was almost 10:00 a.m. Ana was scared and irrational. After lots of pleading, she agreed to meet.
I felt as if I were back in the army. I was doing a lot of “hurry up and wait.” I rushed my shower to meet Ana at the Salvation Army by 10:30 a.m. I was praying nobody would stop me. Bumblebee was packed like a small military convoy. After my last adventure, I was not taking any chances. I really didn’t want to kill anyone, but I had no issue seriously injuring people. Thoughts like that were probably the reason interns had such a bad reputation.
Downtown was pretty slow. I wasn’t sure where I was supposed to meet this Ana. She hadn’t stated whether this meeting was on the street, inside the Salvation Army, or at a nearby building. Her directions were sketchy at best. I parked Bumblebee on the opposite side of the street and walked over. My stomach was growling so loud, I was sure the dogs could hear it. I had forgotten to grab food again. I walked slowly toward the entrance; hopefully, the scary volunteer wasn’t on duty today.
“Pssst—over here.”
Anytime you hear a pssst, you know it’s not a good sign. I stopped short of the door and turned around.
The mystery Ana with no last name was the girl from Randy Sam’s with the missing boyfriend. She was looking really rough. She was wearing the same clothes I had seen her in, but they were dirtier and ripped. Her hair looked as if she’d gotten hit by a weed eater. I was starting to think I would be safer with the crazy volunteer. This was how being stuck on a horrible blind date felt. It was the moment after you realize you’re stuck and can’t run away.
“Hi, Ana. Are you OK?” That was the understatement of the century. But what else could I say? Hey there, you look like shit.
“There is a door. We need to avoid it.”
Oh, wow. This was going from bad to worse very quickly. What in the world was she talking about?
“I’m sorry; what door?” This was nuts, but at least I sounded really sweet and nice.
Ana was looking over her shoulder. “The ghosts—they told me. Avoid the door. They’re coming for me.” OK, at least that explained why she looked like hell. I would look like death rolled over if ghosts were talking to me and Constantine wasn’t there to explain it. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“Oh no, sweetie. Trust me. After the week I’m having, I totally believe ghosts are talking to you. But there are a lot of doors around here. You might need to be more specific.” It would be really nice if they could give exact locations or better descriptions now. If they were going to get involved, the least they could do was be helpful and not just annoying.
“The golden door is coming at the lines crossing.” It was official: ghosts sucked.
“What does that mean?” I had a horrible feeling this was as much as I was going to get from little Ana.
“Oh, no. They’re here.” Ana was staring over my shoulder as if Death were walking behind me. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I slowly turned around. The last thing I needed was to get jumped again. There was nobody there, and by the time I looked back, Ana was