“Bart, any suggestions on parking?” The boys were monitoring both sound and visuals.
“Safest bet, in front of the TRAHC building at Fourth and Texas Boulevard. Then hike up the next two blocks. Everywhere else, they can see you from the rooftop.”
“Thanks, Bart. TRAHC it is.”
“Be careful, Isis. I haven’t seen any movement from that area, but it doesn’t mean they aren’t using magic. I’m taking care of the cameras.”
“I’ll do my best. Keep me posted.”
I parked the car in the darkest area I could find. Once I got out of the car, my blood started pumping. I wasn’t sure if it was the gear or just having the rifle in my hand, but I was more alert. The first thing the army teaches is this: be a soldier. The marines joked that there was no such thing as a retired marine, just one not serving. I guessed it was the same for the army. For the first time in months, I had a purpose, and I was a soldier. I made my way through downtown Texarkana almost like a ghost in the night. By the time I reached the hotel, I wasn’t even winded.
“Isis, did you know the Grim is haunted?”
I had found a loose board in the back of the building when Bartholomew’s voice came in. I stopped and looked around. “What?” This was not the time for this.
“According to the Internet, seven people died in a fire back in the fifties. So be careful.” Bartholomew sounded worried.
“What do you mean ‘be careful?” I was trying to whisper.
“Isis, there are times when a soul refuses to move on. When that happens, it’s stuck in places haunting it,” Constantine said.
I looked around at the extremely creepy building. “Why doesn’t Death just drag them away?”
“Remember free will. Depending on the way they die, they won’t leave. In those cases, Death leaves them her number to contact her when they’re ready. Isis, some never leave. Watch out!” Constantine had a way of making my day so much better.
“OK, from now on, you two are not allowed to nap before a big mission. Got it! This information could have helped before I left the house.” If I got out of there alive, we were having a come-to-Jesus meeting, as they said in the South.
“Sorry, Isis.” Bartholomew sounded so pitiful.
“Yeah, Isis, sorry. But do not engage them. They could get violent.” Constantine was full of good news now.
“Got it. Anything else before I step into the fifth door of hell now?” They were both silent. “Good. Going in.”
I passed a few signs on the outside of the building that stated a redevelopment plan was in progress for the Grim. Why would anyone name a building Grim? Why would they want to fix it? By the time I slid inside, I realized why the Grim was still standing. Like most of the old buildings downtown, the Grim was beautiful. It was built back in the 1910s and 1920s, when architecture and aesthetics were the key. Yes, the poor thing was falling apart now, but it still held some of that greater elegance. They didn’t build hotels like this anymore. A touch of an era long gone. Now it was being desecrated by those witches.
I was scared but needed to get moving. My boots did not make a sound on the tile floor. The night-vision glasses were amazing as I made my way through the building. I heard voices, and I followed the sound. I was heading to what appeared to be the main lobby when I was pulled back by a pair of hands. It took everything in my power not to scream. I slowly turned my head, afraid of what was holding me.
“Shhh. They’ll see you.” A woman in her thirties dressed in 1950s clothes was standing next to me. She was beautiful, at least the parts of her face that weren’t burned. I didn’t need to touch her skin to know she was dead.
“Holy crap!” Bartholomew screamed for me. “Isis!”
“Hi.” My voice sounded weak, even to me.
“Come this way,” the lady whispered, and she started to move away.
“Isis, don’t go.” Bartholomew was pleading. I took one look over my shoulder and followed the ghost.
“When in Rome, do as the Romans do. It’s a haunted house. Do I have much choice?”
“Isis, at least the souls won’t lie,” Constantine said, but even he sounded worried.
“Got it.”
The woman was moving pretty fast down corridors and passages. We passed a pair of teenage boys, also badly burned. They watched us go, but the woman made them stay quiet.
“Go; keep them busy.”
At her words the boys ran off. I watched them vanish through walls. That was when the wailing started.
We took a few more turns and entered a small room. It looked like the back of the reception area in the lobby. The woman pointed at a broken door. I peeked through the cracks. The witches were there—more than I expected. I counted nine, and two of them looked very familiar. One was the volunteer from Randy Sam’s, and the other the outreach volunteer. It figured. Angelito was standing by a wall, but I couldn’t tell with the glasses what was wrong with him. The place was lit by candles. I took my night-vision glasses off, but it was too dark without them. I put them back on and checked the rest of the room. They had at least five really large guys with them. Horrible odds.
“Get them out,” the woman whispered behind me.
“Trust me; I would love to. But I’m a bit outnumbered. Do they have anyone else here?”
“No. The men are new. Normally it’s just the women. They keep coming and
