Do Not Go Gentle by James W. Jorgensen

energy, Cal had to drag his ass out of bed every morning.
Well,
Jamie amended—
at least I
used
to get up that way.
    Cal looked around the living room and kitchen. “Eileen and the girls still here?”
    â€œNah, they left about half an hour ago, why?”
    â€œFuck you and the horse you rode in on, Griffin.” Cal walked over and filled his travel mug with coffee, then added sugar and creamer.
    â€œDamn, Cushing, why do you have to go and ruin good coffee that way?”
    â€œYou must be better if you’re giving me so much shit so early in the day.”
    Jamie shrugged his shoulders and studied the light streaming in through the kitchen windows. “Yeah, I’m a little better. I have more tests tomorrow.”
    Cal put his cup down after making sure he’d gotten the mixture right. “You’re still sick? Sully told me that I couldn’t take you along if you weren’t cleared yet.”
    â€œAh, Christ, the doctor can’t find anything wrong with me, so that means I’m cleared for work, doesn’t it?”
    Cal shook his head. “If something happens to you while we’re out, it’ll be my ass on the line.”
    Jamie made a rude noise. “If this is the worst thing you do all day, Sully will count his blessings. Now get your ass in gear, and let’s head downtown.”
    â€œJust because that’s true doesn’t make it right, Griffin.”
    They got into their dark blue Dodge Charger, Cal driving. “So we’re heading to some place on Newbury Street?” he asked.
    â€œYeah, believe it or not, that’s where this group has their storefront.” Newbury Street, located in Boston’s Back Bay area, was an eclectic mix of shops housed in renovated nineteenth century brownstones. Running roughly east-west from Boston Public Gardens to Massachusetts Avenue, it has been called one of the most expensive streets in the world.
    â€œMan, I hate trying to park on Newbury Street,” groused Cal as they reached their destination.
    â€œNot when we’re on duty, my friend.” Jamie pulled out their Police tag and motioned Cushing to the first open spot that had a No Parking sign.
    â€œTrue. Well, let’s pay these fine folks a visit, shall we?”
    â€œLet’s go.” Jamie opened the car door and exited very carefully, while not showing how much he was holding onto the car.
I just need a moment to get my balance
, he thought. Jamie’s head was still pounding, and he felt like he’d just finished a marathon. At least the vomiting and diarrhea had stopped, and he was no longer running a fever.
All things considered, I call that progress.
    They walked down Newbury Street, which was crowded with tourists, students, and Back Bay residents. Jamie walked slowly, taking care with each step, but not too slowly, lest Cal caught on.
    â€œHow do you want to handle this?” asked Cal.
    â€œLet’s play it by ear,” replied Jamie. “I think we should just get some information about the group first, if possible. Then we can flash our badges and get to someone in charge, show them the picture of the
skandola
, and see what their reaction is.”
    â€œSounds like a plan to me.”
    They walked about a block before arriving at their destination. A tasteful sign proclaimed,
Disciples of Endor
, at the top of a set of stairs that rose above a street level New Age boutique and a Middle Eastern restaurant. Like many of the storefronts on Newbury Street, the building had bay windows extruding out from the front, giving the exterior the effect of an ocean wave, undulating in ripples down the street.
    â€œHere goes nothing,” said Cal, as they trudged up the stairs.
    Jamie had a brief moment of terror as he climbed the stairs. He felt light-headed and off balance. Fortunately, he grasped stair rail and maintained his balance to the top.
    Cal opened the door for Jamie. “Age before