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Beth. They are all gone. We are coming in.”
    I keep my sentences short and soothing in case she is hiding. Mostly because I can’t remember if I set the safety on the pistol she has hidden and nothing really says “thank you” like a near miss with your own loaned gun. The only answer I hear returned is a low growl from behind the door. Good to know Mintzy is still alive. I guess.
    Slowly I pull open the stone door of her ancient crypt. The flames from the many lit candles cause shadows to dance along the walls. They leap and shrink with the breeze from our entrance and the circulation of the air when I close the door. The room is heavy from the different perfumed waxes burning around me and I feel as if I have stepped into a bad vampire movie with so many glowing candelabras. I almost expect one of the coffins to open and a male with a terribly over done widow’s peak to sit up, reaching for me with long, pale, boney fingers.
    “Ginjer?” My voice echoes in the room, caged by the walls around me. Genny is walking slowly behind me, her nerves fraying with the woman’s silence. Only Mintzy’s low growl is giving us a hint as to where they may be.
    Mintzy is growling from the furthest corner of the crypt. It is closed off in darker shadows with most of the burning candles situated towards the entrance. Ginjer, similar to ourselves, has situated her “room” hidden behind a wall of coffins. The floor is marred with the marks of their movement, giving testimony to the strength one can posses when your safety is the motivation. I pass an alcove once meant to hold urns with its many stone shelves that have been transformed into a closet. Folded piles of pastels are nestled neatly into each pocket of space. The lower area holds shoes of various styles and for a moment, I am almost ashamed of my own “home”.
    “Is it really you?” A fragmented whisper escapes from the darkness ahead of me.
    “Who else would it be?” My relief upon hearing her voice is quickly fading. Perhaps I am just jealous of her shoes.
    “It’s us, Mrs. Ginjer,” Genny coaxes from behind me. “You can come out now.”
    “You both could be one of those things!” Sensing its master’s distress, Mintzy’s growl deepens.
    “From what I remember, they aren’t very chatty.” I say and Genny places her hand on my arm with my frustrations mounting. Genny has the patience of a saint, but for myself I really just want to wash and go back to my not snuggly comforter, not thick mattress and not fluffy pillow that I left to save this woman.
    “What is my middle name?” The woman is serious? Is the first thought that comes to my mind with her demand. It robs me of any politeness I may have been able to grasp.
    “The things don’t talk. So they wouldn’t know your middle name or even your first name which we have both been calling out like you’re a small child and not a grown ass woman. Now get your grown ass out here before I come over there and drag you and your over-bred mutt out here.” A part of me may feel guilty for this tone later, but probably not.
    My rebuttal is met with the sounds of movement and slowly the Goddess appears. Her strawberry blonde hair is ruffled as if many hands have run through it. Her eye make-up is smeared, spreading the colors wider than she normally applies them. Soft pink lips show signs of chewing with red welts forming in their corners. Even with all of this, she is gorgeous. Sometimes life just isn’t fair.
    “You don’t have to take that vulgar tone with me. You can’t blame me for being apprehensive these days!” She adjusts her spoiled pooch under her arm with its blue-bow tied hair. “Why are you so gross? Did you track that in here?”
    “Apprehensive, no. I guess you just can’t help being-”
    “-being careful,” Genny over talks my sentence, seeking to ease the foul mood brewing.
    “Yes, careful,” I force a smile to Genny letting her know that I am on to her. “How did they find you