Page 8

Chapter eight

B artholomew eased the silver Lexus LFA in front of a one-family brick house on Myrtle Springs Road. Music blasted from the radio, but Bartholomew didn’t pay any attention to it. His eyes were glued to the house, and his knuckles were white from holding tight to the steering wheel.

Unlike many guys his age, driving was not the peaceful or even exciting event they all enjoyed. At the time of his death, he didn’t even have a driver’s permit. He had a dirt bike that he enjoyed driving around the back roads, even if he was illegal. But the excitement of owning his first car never came. Once he became a Reaper, he gained the power to teleport to any location within a blink of an eye. That was exhilarating. Bending all the laws of gravity and reality had a way of making your blood flow like nothing else.

Isis still loved driving her Mini-Cooper around town. Everyone at Reapers had a vehicle, even Constantine, and he couldn’t even drive. Bob had several trucks. With the way his vehicles had a tendency to explode, it had become a precaution for the team to have several trucks on standby. Bob stopped naming them. It was becoming morbid every time a new truck died a traumatic death, and they had to refer to the poor thing in the past tense.

Bartholomew unclenched his fingers slowly from the steering wheel and leaned his head back. The interior of Lexi was beautiful; black-and-red leather that glowed in the light. Lexi was the name he had picked for his ride. It had become a whole family affair when he finally decided to get a car. Isis was thrilled and Constantine had too many recommendations for him to keep up with. Bartholomew went with a Lexus. He had stocks in Toyota who owned the brand, so investing in them made sense. Ever since he started making his own money at the age of nine, Constantine had insisted he started investing. Now it was a habit to purchase from the companies he already owned stocks from.

“Enough,” Bartholomew ordered himself. “Time to do the thing. Bob does it all the time. Even Isis can do it. This is part of your responsibilities.”

That was one of the new rules for Haven. The interns were the ones responsible for notifying families of the death of a loved one. If they weren’t available, one of the Reapers would step in. Not the fun part of the job, but a necessity. Every family needed closure in their lives. Bartholomew turned off Lexi and put on his tinted glasses.

Death had mentioned that as his powers grew, he could control the color of his eyes. In the last few years, he still hadn’t mastered the art. Isis never cared to hide her silver irises. Bartholomew had found the whole thing too time consuming. Instead, he designed a pair of tinted glasses that masked the color. A much easier solution to the problem.

Outside the vehicle, he glanced at his reflection in the driver's side mirror. Bob had insisted that they all had to be dressed appropriately for these occasions. Bartholomew had black slacks, and a button-down blue shirt. With the glasses in place, he probably could pass for an insurance agent or a bill collector. At least his hair was spunky, unlike the rest of his clothes.

He took another deep breath, then froze. The wave of energy hit him like a hot wind in the desert. Bartholomew stood straighter and scanned the area for the culprit. He recognized her signature anywhere. A quarter mile away at an intersection he found her running. Her strawberry-blonde hair tied in a ponytail bounced with each step. The distance made negligible difference to his enhanced vision. He could see every detail of her face, as if she was standing next to him. The energy rippled around her, and his breath stopped. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself, but it was too late. She had sensed him and stopped running.

Oh god. What should I do?

He was staring. Slowly, he raised a hand and waved. Faster and more graceful than he was, Magdalena waved back. He liked her full name better than her nickname, Maddie. Sweat ran down his back, even though the weather was cool with a soft breeze. Bartholomew realized he hadn’t lowered his hand and quickly dropped it. Magdalena grinned, and Bartholomew noticed her eyes shifting colors from a sky blue to her normal purple.

Impressive, he told himself, jealous.

She waved again and took off down the road. Glancing behind her once, she leaped, and Bartholomew’s mouth dropped. In less than three heartbeats, she had shifted. The athletic built young lady with the perfect complexion was now a dragon. Bartholomew glanced around the place, making sure nobody else had seen the shift, but the area was deserted. Fortunately for everyone, Magdalena was still considered a baby in dragon years. Pretty small that she could go unnoticed, even by human standards.

Bartholomew was also sure she had shifted just to show off.

“Mission accomplished,” Bartholomew said to the wind. “You are impressive.” He watched her for several minutes before she disappeared into the sky.

It took him another several minutes to realize his heart rate had increased, and that his pants were now featuring a very distinct bulge.

“Damn! This is not good.”

Bartholomew adjusted his pants, and even bounced up and down several times, but nothing helped.

“Bad news, dead kid, depressed parents.”

That did it. The reason for being in front of this house hit him, and everything, including his erection, dropped to the sole of his feet. Gorgeous girls were only a momentary distraction. He had a job to do, and this family deserved his full attention.

Focusing on his duty, he walked towards the door. Taking long deep breaths, Bartholomew rang the doorbell. It took a few long minutes before the door was opened. A young man, maybe in his late twenties with black hair, medium build, and under six feet tall, was standing in front of Bartholomew.

“Good morning,” said Bartholomew. “Is this the Leary residence?”

“It is. How can I help you, Reaper?” the young man replied.

“Have we met?”

“No, we haven’t,” the young man told him. “But everyone in Haven knows who the Reapers are.”

“So, basically, my glasses are not fooling anyone?” Bartholomew took off the glasses and placed them in his front pocket.

“No, they weren’t, but they definitely minimize the intensity of your stare.” The young man couldn’t make eye contact with Bartholomew.

“In that case, I’ll keep them on.” Without waiting for a reply, Bartholomew placed the glasses back on his face and the young man visibly relaxed.

“Thank you,” said the young man.

“Bartholomew.” He extended his hand to the young man.

“Scott.” He shook hands with Bartholomew.

“Can I come in?” Bartholomew asked.

“This can’t be good. Please.”

Scott moved out of the doorway and escorted Bartholomew inside. It was a modest living room, even though the house was in the more affluent part of town. The house was clean, but the furniture was definitely old. Bartholomew took a seat on the loveseat and waited for his host to do the same.

“Are your parents in?” Bartholomew finally asked.

“Father is dead, and mother is working.”

“Does anyone else live with you guys?” Bartholomew asked softly, calming his own nerves.

“My younger sister, she is a sophomore at PG high,” Scott replied. “Our brother Billy is at Texas A&M, but he stays in the dorm. What is this about?”

“I’m so sorry to inform you, but we found the body of your brother at Bringle lake,” Bartholomew informed him.

Scott stood still. Bartholomew could read the dozens of emotions flashing on his face but held his breath. He waited for the young man to gather his thoughts.

“How?” Scott finally asked.

“We are not sure,” Bartholomew admitted. “We would like to request permission to do an autopsy on the body.”

Scott nodded, but his eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “My mother is going to die.”

“I’m really sorry for your loss.”

“Billy was the favorite,” Scott spoke like he never heard Bartholomew speak. “Mom had placed all her hopes on him. He was the good one in the family. After dad died, she sold everything to give us a better life here. She feared for us.”

“Why?”

“Mom is human. Dad was a were,” Scott explained. “When he died, she took it really hard. His pack had issues with him marrying someone outside the species, but he didn’t care. Once he was gone, there wasn’t any protection.”

“That sounds awful,” Bartholomew added, not sure what else to say.

“I wasn’t much help.” Scott dropped his head. “All I ever wanted to do was to be part of the pack. But they wanted me to choose between them and my mom. I couldn’t. Things happened.”

“Do you need me to come back and tell your mother?” Bartholomew sat still.

“No, I can do it.” Scott stood and paced the room. “I just don’t know what we are going to do. When dad died, mom was in shock for weeks. I have a record and getting work here is hard. She barely got a job working in the kitchen at the school system. I enrolled in the nursing program at the college, but I still have at least a year and an internship before I qualify for anything.”

“Did you say nursing program?” Bartholomew interrupted Scott.

“Yeah, but I’m far from being done.” Scott stopped pacing.

“It really doesn’t matter.” Bartholomew stood to face the young man. “While having a degree pays more, and I would recommend finishing it, I know we are always looking for help in our hospital at the Station. Well, more like the morgue and it would be night shift.”

“Seriously?”

“It takes a special kind of skill to work with the supernatural community,” Bartholomew explained. “It helps if you are part of it. Besides, we pay really well. Our benefits would cover your mother and your sister. Also, we can cover the burial for your brother.”

“Please tell me you are not feeling sorry for us.” Scott squeezed his fingers together.

“My parents died when I was only five. The last thing my mother did before she passed was beg Death to take care of me. I can’t remember much of that day, but she made an impression on Death who took me in as her ward.” Bartholomew stood straighter and focused all his intensity on Scott. “The loss of a loved one is something I take seriously. I know the soul of your bother was well taken care of by Death herself and has transitioned to their next destination. But I do not offer you a job out of pity.”

Scott took a step back from Bartholomew’s power that radiated through the whole room.

“The one responsible for the hiring is Pete,” Bartholomew continued. “You can stop by the Station and ask for an application. If you are qualified, you have the job.”

“Pete? Does he have a last name?”

“Pete the Pixie does not need a last name.” Bartholomew chuckled. “Trust me, everyone knows who he is. You also should not have a problem qualifying. Last time I checked, nobody wants to work the night shift in the EMT department. Crazy things happen in Haven at night.”

“I’ll take it.” Scott’s eyes held a desperate measure to them. “If I can at least give some good news to my mother, I’ll scrub toilets if that’s available.”

“That crew is definitely filled,” Bartholomew informed him. “But I’m sure we have work.”

“When can I stop by?”

“Anytime.”

“Thank you.” Scott extended his hand. “Nobody has been willing to help without asking for something in return. The world has become a cruel place.”

“Not everyone,” Bartholomew replied. “Let Pete know I sent you. Please give my condolences to your mother. She can call the Station whenever she is ready to see your brother.”

“Will do.”

Scott escorted Bartholomew to the door. They shook hands one last time. Bartholomew marched towards Lexi as Scott shut the door. This was not his favorite thing to do, but if he could help this family, it wasn’t a total waste.

He climbed in, started the sports car, and dropped his head. The digital clock on the dash read eight thirty.

“It’s not even nine,” Bartholomew told himself. “From now on, we are not delivering bad news before noon.”

Grabbing his cell phone from the dashboard, he pressed the speed dial for TJ. The call barely rang when TJ answered.

“How did it go?”

“That was the worst thing anyone should ever do,” Bartholomew replied.

“That’s why you get paid the big bucks,” TJ informed him.

“Nobody gets paid for this part,” Bartholomew fired back. “But at least something good came out of it. Do you still need help in the morgue?”

“Are you kidding me? We are dying. No pun intended.”

Bartholomew smirked, knowing his friend would never make a reference like that as a joke.

“Well, you are in luck,” Bartholomew informed him. “The brother of the deceased is actually studying to be a nurse. Might have a slight record with the humans but could be a great fit.”

“At this point, I’ll take the boat-man if he wanted a job,” said TJ.

“You actually want DJ Bag-of-bones to work in the morgue with you?” Bartholomew was very familiar with the boat-man. He was the reason humans thought Death looked like a giant skeleton with a hood. The being was terrifying, with a great sense of music, but still not one to mess with.

“If he can work, I won't hate.” It was official. Bartholomew knew it. TJ was desperate.

“In that case, keep an eye out for Scott Leary,” Bartholomew said, but didn’t disconnect the call as it was a typical Reapers custom.

The silence dragged, and finally TJ spoke. “Okay, what’s bothering you?”

“What?”

“We are sitting on the phone not saying a thing,” TJ pointed out. “What happened? I know it couldn’t have been that bad.”

“I saw her,” Bartholomew blurted out.

“Saw who?”

“Who else? The most gorgeous girl I know with the enchanting purple eyes.”

“Ahh, you saw Goldilocks again.” TJ laughed from the other side. “Where?”

“Down the street from the victim’s house.” Bartholomew glanced at the rear-view mirror just in case Magdalena was back running.

“Are you still there?” TJ asked cautiously. “Please drive away now before you look like a stalker.”

“Damn, you are so right.” Bartholomew sat up, put the car in drive, and took off.

“Good. Now tell me, what did she say?”

“Nothing.” Bartholomew glared at the dashboard with his best friend’s name. “She was like blocks away. I waved.”

“You saw a girl blocks away and you are sure it was her?”

“Please, of course, I’m sure. I’m a Reaper.” Bartholomew rolled his eyes.

“Did she see you or do anything?”

“She waved back.”

“Did she recognize you?” TJ pressed the conversation, then stopped himself. “What am I asking? Never mind. If you have better eyesight than me, and I’m a shifter. That girl could probably see the moles on your ass from a mile away being a dragon.”

“That is a very traumatizing thought, thanks.”

“My pleasure.” TJ laughed from his end. “When are you going to ask her out?”

“Me?” Bartholomew took a hard right turn and almost lost control of the car. “When are you going to ask Abby for coffee?”

“Why are you turning this around on me?”

“Exactly!” Bartholomew stuck his tongue out at the dashboard. Not the most mature thing to do, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t like TJ was watching him. “When you stop stuttering every time Abby is around, then I can build the nerve to ask Magdalena out. Besides, it’s not like I see her all the time.”

“Didn’t you tell me Death knows where she lives?”

“Yes, but she is like an infant to her family.” Bartholomew tried to defend himself. “How would they like if some strange guy stopped by their house to ask her out?”

“If I’m not mistaken, dragons consider their offspring kids for like a hundred years,” TJ added. “Are you seriously planning to wait that long to ask? I know you two are almost immortal, but I will be long dead before you go on your first date.”

“I really hate you.”

“Whatever! Don’t make me get your sister involved.”

Bartholomew’s mouth dropped. “Ouch! Low blow. Here I was going to invite you to lunch.”

“I’m in. But I don’t get my first check till Friday, so you are paying,” TJ informed him. “And this is not a replacement for a date. See you back at the Station.”

TJ disconnected the call, and Bartholomew frowned. He was normally the one that disconnected first. He was losing his touch. Taking long breaths, he focused on driving.

Please don’t be crazy or a criminal, Bartholomew pleaded. He really wasn’t interested in taking Eric’s mantra of dating the crazy girls. He really was hoping for a nice one. But who was he kidding? He knew Magdalena was super-hot and had the inclinations of a drunken Loki for causing trouble. This was a bad idea.