Page 20

Chapter twenty

T he smell of bacon woke Bartholomew from his comatose state. He dragged himself out of bed and went directly to the kitchen to find the culprit and steal some bacon while he was there.

The bright sunlight coming from the glass window of the loft hit him first, and he covered his face to adjust.

“Why is it so bright?” he whined.

“Maybe because it’s close to ten in the morning,” Isis told him from the kitchen.

Bartholomew’s eye snapped open, and he rushed to his sister. “You’re back!”

Isis embraced him tightly and kissed both his cheeks in greeting. Even being at least four inches taller than she was, he felt like a kid around her. Isis made everything better just by being near him.

“Rough night?” She raised his cheeks to inspect his face.

“I hate the Cave, the Devil, and Elves.”

“That’s a very interesting list for a Wednesday morning.” She guided him towards a chair by the table and helped him sit. “Constantine told me you and Eugene were at the Cave. Tell me about it.”

“It was a giant waste of time.” He slouched down in the chair, propping his legs on the table. “We danced our way across for Jake to say he knew nothing. Really?”

“Did you think you were just going to show up in the first place and get all the answers and be done?” Isis loaded a plate with bacon and placed it in front of her brother.

“Yes.” He really wanted to add a ‘duh’ to his statement but refrained as Isis shook her head.

“Why do you think I complained so much when I was the intern?” She placed a glass of orange juice next to the plate and a stack of pancakes.

“How long have you been home?” Bartholomew inspected all the food in front of him.

“A couple of hours.”

“Technically, an hour and forty-three minutes,” Constantine said, marching through the kitty door on the front of the loft. “She got bored waiting for you and Eugene to wake up, so she has been baking. She has already forced three chocolate chip muffins on me.”

“‘Forced?’” Isis laughed from the counter.

“Forced!” Constantine repeated. “I was minding my own business, inspecting my drone upstairs, and she dropped these muffins next to me. It was a bribe so she could tell me all her horrible love problems.”

“You have love problems?” Bartholomew asked in between a mouthful.

“Have I mentioned you are a traitor?” Isis told Constantine. “You are still my trainer and that was supposed to be in confidence.”

“What do I look like, a priest? I’m not required to keep secrets.” Constantine hopped on the table next to Bartholomew. “Besides, I’m prepping you to tell the kid you are leaving again.”

“What?” Crumbs fell from Bartholomew’s mouth.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, and you stop instigating discontent so early in the morning,” Isis chastised both of them. “But since you are so offended by my issues, I guess you don’t want this bacon.”

“Girl!” Constantine stood on all fours. “You are about to lose an eyeball if you don’t bring that here.”

“Now you want to eat my food.” Isis smirked but dropped another plate full of bacon next to Constantine. “I’m glad you are blessing me by eating my food. Bart, please tell Eugene I left his breakfast in the microwave.”

“You are leaving?” Bartholomew put his fork down and looked at his sister with big puppy eyes.

“Don’t make that face.” She told him and took a seat next to the duo with a large cup of coffee. “I’m gone for the night. Genie is throwing a tea party for Hope at the Elven Court to celebrate Halloween. She is planning to be here tomorrow, but her father guilted her into being there this week as well.”

“I told you I hated Elves.” Bartholomew crunched another piece of bacon.

“They are not all bad, but all royals are a pain in my neck,” Isis confessed. “The fact that they have multiple courts is even more annoying.”

“If you marry Iason, are you going to move to California?” Bartholomew held his breath as he waited for the answer.

Isis instead choked on her coffee.

“Marriage?”

Constantine rolled with laughter. “Can you see Isis getting married and becoming a princess in the Elven kingdom? Those stuck-up pricks would die.”

“Why? Isis would make a great princess,” Bartholomew defended his sister.

“Let’s slow down on all that,” Isis informed them once she got her breathing under control. “I’m not planning to get married any time soon. And I’m sure Iason is not either, well at least I hope so. But Constantine is right. His people would never let it happen.”

“Is there a rule that he can’t marry a human, or is it because you are a commoner?” Bartholomew was waving his fork around like a spear.

Isis plucked the fork from his hand and placed it back on the plate. “Put that down before you stab us.”

“You know I can take them,” he informed her.

“So can I, remember?” she said softly. “And there lies the problem. It would be fine if I was just a mortal, as his most trusted advisors informed me. Confidentially, of course.” Isis made air quotes as she spoke. “But as a Reaper it would be a tragedy, because I could never bear him offspring.”

“No!” Constantine fell to his side in laughter. “That’s even better. A pregnant Isis with a little Elven baby. Would they have pointy ears? I can’t wait to tell Death.”

“What side are you on, Constantine?” Isis asked.

“Who cares about sides?” he told her. “It would be the first time in history we would ever have a pregnant Reaper. This would be epic.”

“Can you get pregnant?” Bartholomew joined the conversation with a frown on his face.

Isis covered her face. “This conversation just went downhill, quick.”

“Of course, she can,” Constantine answered for all of them. “And you can get females pregnant as well, so avoid that.”

Both Isis and Bartholomew stared at the cat.

“Did you honestly think Death would be so cruel as to make you both sterile?”

“I never thought about it much,” Isis confessed. “Being a changed and all.”

“The process is still the same as humans when it comes to the creation part, except,” Constantine continued in between bacon bites. “With you being Reapers, you can only mate with another supernatural being for reproduction. And you have to will your eggs, of course, for you Bart, sperm, to actually reproduce.”

“Do we really need to be having the Birds and the Bees talk during breakfast?” Bartholomew asked, dropping the fork again.

“I agree with Bart,” Isis told them. “I also don’t get the whole will it to happen?”

“It means there is no such thing as an accident for you,” Constantine clarified. “If you are compatible with your mate, and you choose to have an offspring, you make it happen. That simple.”

“Do you have any offspring?” Bartholomew leaned forward towards the cat.

“Hell no!” he shouted. “I have enough issues with you lot. Why would I ever create more of me? That sounds like a nightmare.”

“I second that.” Isis raised her hand.

“Well, the baby situation has been solved.” Bartholomew pointed at his sister with another strip of bacon. Constantine took the opportunity to bite it off. “Hey, you have your own plate.”

“Don’t be waving around tasty treats and think they aren’t going down.” Constantine gave Bart a brilliant smile.

“Can I add Constantine to my list of things I don’t like today?”

“Nope.” Isis shook her head. “You missed your chance.”

“Fine.” Bartholomew pulled his plate of bacon away from the cat with a glare. “Are you having breakfast?”

“I had a veggie omelet.” Isis winked at him.

“You know once you transformed you can eat anything you like, and it won’t cause any intestinal pain or make you fat?” Constantine asked.

“Of course, I do,” she replied, shaking her head. “Why do you think I made Bartholomew pancakes? I realized his gluten intolerance was gone.”

“So, why are you still not eating meat?” The cat pushed his point.

“I still don’t like the taste.”

“That’s fair,” Bartholomew conceded. “It also means I can eat all of your bacon and steak.”

“Good, looking out for me.” Isis reached over and combed his hair with her fingers. “Your hair grows so fast. We really need to get it cut.”

“Tell me about it.” The curls were dropping closer to his eyes each day. “Can we get back to our problem? We have no clues about what is going on in Haven and the three dead bodies. Who, by the way, were in perfect health prior to dying.”

“Have you checked with Abuelita?” Isis asked, and both Bartholomew and Constantine stared at her.

“It didn’t even cross my mind.” Bartholomew admitted.

“She is the hub for the entire supernatural community in town. Stop by?” Isis stood from the table. “If you get lucky, Gabriel might be there. You can check if the angelic realm can share some insights.”

“It doesn’t hurt to ask,” Constantine told Bart.

“Where are you going?” Bartholomew asked his sister.

“Heading to New York City to find me a fall dress for this party,” she informed them from the door. “Would you mind getting the dishes for me?”

“Of course, but when are you coming back?”

“I should be home this evening, if not by breakfast tomorrow. What do you need?”

Bartholomew rubbed his hands together. “Since you are heading to NYC, can you bring us back some Cannoli?”

Bartholomew was addicted to the Italian dessert. As soon as he could eat regular pastries, he had gone on a binge of all kinds. The Italian ones were his favorite.

“Anything else?” Isis teased from the door.

“A New York pizza would be amazing,” Constantine added.

“I’m always amazed at beings who technically don’t need food, how much you can put down. You two eat like a small army.” Isis shook her head. “But I will deliver.”

“Thanks.” Bartholomew pushed his pancakes around with his fork.

“What’s on your mind?” Isis came back to the room.

“Would it be okay to dress up for Halloween?”

Isis crossed the room again and hugged him tight. “You will never be too old or grown to dress up.” She kissed his forehead. “I would actually recommend decorating the Station. It’s our holiday, after all.”

Bartholomew beamed at Constantine, but the cat dropped his head.

“This is such a bad idea, Isis,” Constantine told her.

“It would be great,” he replied. “We can have kids come to the Station and trick or treat. It would guarantee it’s safe and everyone can dress up.”

“That’s the spirit,” Isis informed him. “Let me know what you want me to come as.”

“I need to call Pete,” Bartholomew jumped from the table.

“You also need a shower and put some clothes on,” Constantine reminded him.

Bartholomew glanced down and realized for the first time that morning that he was only wearing his boxers. “Good call.”

“Try to behave,” Isis told them as she headed towards her room in the back.

“Where can we get costumes for everyone this late in the month?” Bartholomew asked, focusing on eating again.

“What costumes?” asked Constantine. “We have an entire shifter community. Just have people wear their Sunday best, and they would be perfectly dressed up.”

“Well, that’s easy enough.”

“When are you heading to Abuelita’s?”

“As soon as I shower and get dressed,” Bartholomew replied. “It will give me plenty of time before the lunch crowd gets there.”

“While you are there, pick up some pork tamales.” Constantine licked his lips.

“Those are delicious,” Bartholomew informed him. “Do we want any enchiladas with those?”

“Might as well,” Constantine replied. “Eugene is here, and he actually needs food. Let’s make it a Mexican lunch.”

“I like how you think.”

Bartholomew felt better with a plan in place. It probably helped that his sister was in the building. The conversation about babies had made him uncomfortable, but he was grateful he didn’t have to worry about it for a very long time.

“But how to pay back those stuck-up elves for messing with Isis?” That was the real question Bartholomew would ponder during the day. Nobody made his sister feel less than.