Which for some strange reason started yesterday. LOL
So here's the last (I swear!) sample chapter of War in White Chocolate!
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“He’s not possessed!” Wila crouched on the other side of Father McAvoy. “What happened?”
“He was sitting on the chaise, icing his knee, and we were talking,” Father Mbaye said. “He started slurring his words, and I teased him about stealing some of the sacramental wine. Then he slid off the lounge, and I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. It was like he was speaking in tongues.”
Drool oozed down the left corner of Father McAvoy’s mouth. His right eye seemed to focus on her, but not the other eye. She took his right hand in hers. “Father McAvoy, can you squeeze my hand?”
He did. For a seventy-something man, he had a surprisingly strong grip.
She looked up at the younger priest. “Father Perez, call 9-1-1. Tell the dispatcher there’s an off-duty paramedic on site. Have them patch you through to the rig they dispatch, and place your phone on speaker.” She glared at the others gathered around Father McAvoy. “The rest of you? Get out!”
Father Perez stepped away from the surge of hunters leaving the sunroom. Wila caught a glimpse of her reflection in a window. Sometimes, War’s red eyes came in handy. She inhaled deeply and released it before she looked at Father McAvoy again. “I’m going to check your pulse, and then I’ll ask you a series of questions, Padre. Squeeze my hand once for yes. Twice for no. Got me?”
He squeezed once.
Wila placed her index and third fingers against his left carotid artery. She counted heartbeats against the ticking of the second hand of her watch and repeated the same evaluation with his breathing. Checking the right side of his neck was worrisome. No heartbeat at all.
“Are you feeling dizzy?”
One squeeze of his hand.
“Can you see out of your left eye?”
Two squeezes.
“Wila?” Father Perez crouched next to her. “The other paramedics are on the phone.”
“Ardale? What’s the situation?” Dick asked.
Relief filled her. The older man knew his stuff. She wasn’t looking forward to his retirement.
Assuming she and her sisters found a way to stop the Apocalypse.
Wila rattled off Father McAvoy’s vitals. “Strong pulse in the left carotid. None detectable in the right. No vision in the left eye.”
“Keep running through the symptom checks,” Dick said. “I’ll call Oakfield’s ER and let them knew they’ve got a stroke victim incoming. We’re five minutes out.”
“Roger that.” Wila winced as the words slipped from her tongue. Dick and Ramon would be giving her a ton of shit for at least a month for slipping into military vernacular.
Father McAvoy squeezed her hand three times.
“Are you asking if you are having a stroke?”
One squeeze.
“Don’t worry, Padre.” She smiled at him. “Meds today can ensure a full recovery if the docs can get them in you soon enough. Luckily, this happened when you were surrounded by your friends, so we caught this in plenty of time. Do you understand?”
One squeeze.
“Good. Can I finish my questions so the ER docs know what’s going on?”
One squeeze.
By the time Wila finished the stroke checklist, she heard the approaching siren of Dick and Ramon’s rig. She was going to be late to work for the first time ever, but the Soccer Moms needed Father McAvoy more than she needed a job.
##
Apparently, word about Saint Mike’s had spread through the station before Wila arrived for work. She got a round of applause from everyone when she strode into the station. Everyone except Captain Miller.
He shook his head and tugged on his belt. “You’re late, Ardale.”
She made a face. “Technically, I started my shift an hour early.”
“In my office. Now.” He turned and strode into his office without waiting for an answer.
Crap. What was going on? Her attendance record was perfect. Even with all the Soccer Moms stuff happening, she was always on time. She followed Captain Miller into his office and closed the door behind her. She didn’t need the jackals to eavesdrop on this conversation.
The captain sat down and waved at the visitor chair. “Have a seat, Wila.”
He never called her by her given name. He never called any of the paramedics by their given names.
She perched on the edge of the chair.
“Are you okay?” His rheumy eyes shone with concern. Between his silver hair and craggy features, he looked ten years older than Dick. In reality, he was ten years younger.
“I’m fine,” she said uncertainly.
“Was Father McAvoy possessed?”
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?” He couldn’t know who she was. The other Soccer Moms had bent over backwards to keep her identity secret after they’d been outed. During the demon attack on the resurrected at the high school three weeks ago, she’d worn goggles and a scarf to cover her face.
Captain Miller leaned back in his chair. “Dick put everything together after Francine Astin—”
“Coy-Astin,” Wila automatically corrected.
“Coy-Astin,” he repeated. “After she was caught on video. It hasn’t gone beyond me and Dick, but to warn you, the identity of War has been a major topic of discussion at City Hall. I just want to know the truth if I need to cover for you. Was the priest possessed?”
Too many thoughts ran through her brain. However, Captain Miller had always done right by her despite the crap she got from a lot of other city personnel.
“No, the priest wasn’t possessed,” she said. “He’s in his seventies, and he had a stroke. Now, tell me exactly what Dick said to you.”
The captain ticked off the points on his fingers. “If Ms. Coy-Astin is Famine per the news video, then Penny at Java’s Palace would be Pestilence since she was the only person in the building who didn’t have an exotic disease. And all of you were at your house when Chuck Hernandez’s daughter flatlined for no reason. She would be Death, right?” He smiled. “So logically, you would be War.”
“Because of my military background?”
He chuckled. “If past or present jobs were the criteria, I think Penny would have been Famine, but I heard through the grapevine her daughter had cancer when she was in kindergarten.”
“It was first grade.” Wila twined her fingers together. Derek was so confused and scared when his friend Justine stopped coming to school. Deion told her to lie to her son, but she couldn’t do that. If she’d only realized then how easily lying came to her former husband at the time, maybe she wouldn’t have wasted another three years with him.
“Wila, I’m not trying to poke my nose in your personal business.” Captain Miller leaned forward and rested his forearms on his desk. “I just want you to know you have the backing of everyone in the department. If you need emergency time off, let me know as early as you can. I’ll make sure your shifts are covered.”
“Thank you” She blinked. “I think.”
“And one last warning, Miles Pence has been reinstated.”
She slumped in the captain’s visitor “Good grief. What’s it going to take before the city does something about him?” “The shrink the city called in cleared him for duty.” Captain Miller shrugged. “Between the Eastwood brothers not remembering what happened at Pence’s house, no evidence of trauma on Mrs. Pence’s body, and what the Soccer Moms reported to the detectives on scene, Chief Wright doesn’t have cause to dismiss him.”
“You mean my ex did some fancy lawyer steps and got Internal Affairs to drop any potential charges against him.”
A wry smile filled the captain’s face. “His firm represents all the first responder unions in Oakfield. Including us.”
“I know. It’s just—” Well, damn. Now, she knew why Deion had waltzed into her house last night. What the hell had Pence told him?
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