Page 9

Chapter nine

“ Y ou good for nothing, germ-infested ho!”

The shout came from somewhere in the back of the large assembly room that doubled as the judicial chamber at Union Station. The place could easily hold over two hundred people in neatly organized chairs. That was if those were the size of humans. In a room full of supernatural, the limitation on bodies varied. With the family of trolls, two clans of shifters all the size of professional football players, and twenty witches, the place felt crowded.

“Burn her ass!” someone else shouted back.

Bob and Shorty sat behind the judges' bench at the back of the room, watching the new Jerry Springer show unfolding in their midst. Shorty leaned over towards Bob, who was holding his face with both hands.

“Do you think we are paying for some sins we committed in our other lives?” Shorty whispered.

“What other lives?” Bob replied. “We are paying for the hours we made fun of all those dysfunctional families that went on TV to air their dirty laundry. We are there now.”

“Oh, yeah.” Shorty nodded in agreement. “I forgot about that. This is only fitting.”

“Bitch!” Bob did not know who shouted that for the tenth time.

A shoe went flying and Bob only closed his eyes. It was the beginning of the end. Witches took sides and spells were summoned.

“This is going to end badly for everyone,” Shorty announced and sat back and tapped the bench like a drum roll.

Bob shook his head, and using the microphone on the podium, announced, “I would recommend not doing magic in the courtroom.”

Nobody listened. Trolls dove to one side to avoid being hit, while shifters all started to transform. Instead of the explosion, chaos, and panic that a magical attack should have created, a torrent of water dropped onto the groups. The security team on the edge all popped open their umbrellas and waited as far from the flood as possible. Alarms followed the small hurricane, and three squads of fully armed pixie SWAT busted in on the scene.

Screams overtook the crowd.

“Everyone on the ground or you will be pixied,” a loud voice announced from the intercom.

“We will resume court after lunch,” Bob announced and stood from the bench, completely dry.

He left the court and the screaming attendees to be handled by his team. Shorty followed behind, humming along. The passageway behind the court was mercifully quiet. Bob leaned against a wall and waited.

“What are we missing?” he asked Shorty.

“Are you asking why everyone is losing their minds?”

“Yes!” Bob was running his hands through his hair, making it stand up in a mess.

“Life is happening, boys,” Constantine said from behind them.

“Boss, I didn’t you know were here,” Bob told the feline as he turned around.

Constantine seldom made appearances at the Station. If Death was feared, Constantine was worshipped in some circles. Something that made the feline very uncomfortable. He wasn’t shy, if anything, nobody would ever deny Constantine wasn’t vain. But constant nagging put even the self-proclaimed extraordinaire on edge.

“The new drones that Bartholomew ordered me just arrived, but they were delivered here,” Constantine explained. “Instead of having them moved, I stopped by. The Triplets were at Reapers and gave me a ride.”

“Can you explain what is happening?” Bob asked.

“Too many alphas wanting to be in charge,” Constantine said calmly. “Haven is a brand-new thing, so everyone is migrating to claim a piece of the pie.”

“But aren’t we in charge?” Shorty asked, looking between Bob and back at the cat.

“Are we?” Constantine teased.

“If we are, it doesn’t feel like it,” said Bob.

“I know you all want to be nice and liked,” Constantine continued. “But you will need to set a new order in the community. Everyone needs to know that crime, vandalism, and madness will not be tolerated. In a way, they should fear you more than each other.”

“This is what Isis was trying to avoid,” Bob said.

“Maybe.” Constantine strolled down the passageway. Bob and Shorty followed closely behind. “Isis wanted to have a place that everyone felt safe. Now you have clans competing for dominance and terrain. Whatever you decide to do, you better do it fast.”

“Fast, why?” Bob asked, as they entered the break room.

“With All Hallows-Eve right around the corner, the supernatural energy in the area is going to be at its peak,” Constantine explained. “The last thing we need is a magical war taking place during that time.”

“I really hate Halloween,” Shorty muttered.

One of the courtroom’s guards marched to their table. “Good morning, Mr. Constantine.”

“I love these guys.” Constantine pointed a paw at the young man in uniform.

“Boss, we have secured the courtroom again, and the team is draining the water. What should we do with all the attendees?” the young man asked.

“Reschedule that entire group for tomorrow,” Bob ordered. “Anyone gives you any lip or trouble, lock them in the dungeons.”

Shorty raised an eyebrow and Constantine nodded in approval with a smirk on his face. The guard glanced back at Bob, not sure if he understood.

“But, boss, what should we do if they try to disagree?”

“Nicolas, you have been supplied with enough ammo to tranquilize an elephant,” Bob reminded him. “I do not expect a single person or being to lay a hand on you or the team. If anyone gets wild with you, knock them out. Then carry their asses to the dungeon.”

“Yes, sir.” Nicolas saluted and took off at a run.

“Are you sure about this?” Shorty asked.

“Constantine is right,” Bob acknowledged. “We have been too nice for too long. How many fights did we have this morning alone?”

“Six,” Shorty confessed.

“We are the only ones getting hurt,” Bob added. “I’m not saying we go crazy and start hurting people, but we do need to show that they shouldn’t mess with us.”

Out of the corner of the room, a flash of sprinkles and light came straight at the group. Pixie dust hit everyone as Pete stopped in front of everyone. He was wearing a full tuxedo, the tails of the coat also floated behind him. Shorty cautiously reached up to touch the tails, but Pete slapped his hand away with his cane. Pete wasn’t even a foot long, but he had the presence of a six-foot-tall man.

“Please tell me it’s true, and you finally approved using full force on the masses?” Pete asked, floating inches from Bob’s face.

“Back up, Pete, and stop spreading dust everywhere,” Bob ordered.

“This is amazing!” Pete shouted with both hands raised in the air as he walked in circles around Bob’s head. “It’s about time we show people who is truly in charge. We can have the machine guns ready, as well as the rocket launchers.”

“What machine guns?” Bob took a hold of Pete by the coattails of his suit. “What are you talking about?”

“We are going to claim the city from the humans!” Pete shouted.

“Help us, God!” Shorty shouted. “The Pixie man has gone mad.”

“Now that’s not what I had in mind when I said show them who is in control,” Constantine told Bob. “A bit too drastic.”

“Pete, we are not declaring war on the humans or anyone else.” Bob stared at the pixie. “You have full authority to use whatever force is necessary to take control of the Station. We will start by enforcing harsher penalties to keep control in the community. But we are not going to war.”

“What about all the shifter clans trying to take over?” Pete asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Please send a message to all clans, packs, and anyone else interested in claiming a territory in Haven, or trying to show their signs of power, that they will need to plead their case in front of the Reaper and Constantine,” Bob announced.

“Wait, what?” Constantine muttered. “Why me and Isis?”

“Simple boss, those not afraid of Isis are terrified of you,” Bob clarified. “Everyone knows you do not get involved in the affairs of Haven. Maybe it’s time you do. If I’m the sheriff of this circus, you are about to be the mayor.”

“That is not what I had in mind,” Constantine corrected him as he dropped on his back paws.

“You are always the one reminding me I should take advantage of all my resources. We are doing it now.”

“I’m not a resource.” The cat glared.

“No, but you are the most powerful being next to Death.” Bob tapped his fingers on the table. “I’m not interested in a full-scale war. But scaring the crap out of a few arrogant beings, I’m in.”

“Who are you?” Shorty asked, leaning over the table. “What have you done with my Bob?”

“What are you talking about?” Bob asked.

“Where did this pity side come from?” Shorty asked.

“I really want to know the same thing,” Constantine agreed.

“This is more my liking,” Pete joined in, sitting on Bob’s shoulder.

“It’s call improvising,” Bob announced. “Pete, let the waiting crowd know I will resume court in ten minutes. Please warn them, if anyone gets out of line, this includes shouting or fighting, they will spend the next forty-eight hours in the dungeons.”

“I’m on it.” Pete flew from Bob’s shoulder, slammed his feet together, executed an about face in the air before flying away.

“Do we have enough open cells down there?” Shorty asked, more to himself.

“You might want to check, because they are about to get filled soon,” Bob told his friend.

“Damn!” Shorty jumped and ran out of the break area, looking for a guard.

“Are you sure about this?” Constantine asked, now that they were alone.

“I hope it works,” said Bob softly. “Thank you for coming, Boss, and playing along.”

“Your text sounded urgent,” Constantine admitted. “I did not want to diminish your authority here. But if you think my presence will help bring order, I don’t mind playing.”

“At this point in time, we need a show of force. What better than the infamous Constantine claiming Haven?”

“That is a crazy card, my boy.” Constantine patted Bob’s arm. “I like it.”

“Do you think the big-boss would mind?”

Constantine shook his head. “As long as we are not dragging Death to the center of this mess, they truly won’t care what we do. We just need to keep order and run a safe city.”

“Boss, here you are.” Abby rushed into the room, carrying a stack of folders. “Hi, Mr. Constantine.”

The girl forgot all about Bob and dropped to one knee to by eye level with Constantine, who had made himself comfortable on a table. She was scratching his ear before Bob could stop her.

“Mr. Constantine, you are the most handsome of all the cats,” she told him.

“I know, Abby, I know.”

Abby giggled in delight, and Bob dropped his head on the table.

“Are you hungry? I have homemade ice cream that I can bring you,” Abby told the feline, who was acting more like a regular cat than ever Bob had seen.

“Abby, did you have something for me?” Bob raised his hand to get her attention.

“Sorry, boss,” said Abby, struggling to pull away from the cat. “I think cats are adorable.”

“I thought you were allergic to cats?” Bob asked.

“Some species of feline, yes, but who can be allergic to Mr. Constantine?” Abby replied, offended.

“Do you have cats?” Bob continued his interrogation.

“No.” Abby’s face fell. “Most apartments I stay in don’t allow pets. I have always moved too often to drag the poor things around. But isn’t he precious?”

Bob shook his head one more time and pulled the folders from Abby. “How about if I take these?”

“Sure,” Abby muttered, not looking at her boss. “The dispatcher on duty brought them after you left for court. I heard over the intercom that you were on recess for lunch and figured you would like to review them, as you normally do.”

“Good call, Abby,” said Bob as he read over the subject for each report. “Missing shifter?”

“What?” Constantine asked.

“This report says the Rodriguez clan came to report a missing member.” Bob looked back at the cat. “Have you heard anything about this?”

“I haven’t,” Constantine replied. “But that clan is recruiting from the new arrivals into the city. No longer are clans and packs just family members. It’s going to be tough keeping all the last names that belong to each pack straight.”

“Is that important?” Abby asked, pulling herself away from Constantine.

“I’m not sure. I’m hoping it isn’t,” Bob answered, distracted. “A lot of kids go off into the woods to hunt when it’s close to a full moon.”

“Boss, the full moon was two weeks ago,” Abby informed him.

“Interesting.” Bob placed the folders on the table. “Abby, have the officer who took this report meet me in my office after court. I have a few questions for him.”

“Yes, boss.” Abby gave Constantine one more scratch. “Goodbye, Don Constantine.”

Abby gave the cat a very off salute and took off giggling. Bob stared at the usually composed young lady turned five-year-old kid.

“What did you do to my secretary?” Bob turned on his boss and friend.

“Don’t be jealous, old boy,” Constantine said, licking his paw to fix the fur on his head. “It’s not my fault that the girl has good taste. She is seriously the sweetest person in this building.”

“I’m questioning her judgment.” Bob stood from his chair as Shorty ran back into the break room.

“Okay, Bob,” Shorty announced. “We are all set.”

“For?”

“We can lock up roughly fifty people without violating the security spells,” said Shorty. “Try not to go too rough on this crowd ‘cause it will be bad.”

“Fine,” Bob told him. “Start keeping count of how many we lock up. Once we hit fifty, we stop court for the day.”

“Deal.”

Shorty gave Bob a fist bump, and the two walked back to their battle zone, leaving Constantine to lick himself in peace.