by Amy Hopkins
"Apparently." Penny stared at her phone. "Wait a minute. Coordinates?"
"It's the FBI," Cisco said dryly. "They have everyone's coordinates."
Penny's phone vibrated in her hand, startling her into dropping it. She fished it back out of the fallen leaves, brushed it off, and answered, "Here I was, thinking you'd abandoned the four of us in the dark. And the cold. Holy fuck, is it cold here." As the adrenaline had worn off, the cold had seeped back into her bones, making her teeth chatter.
"Abandon you?" Crenel barked through crackling static. "My wife would have my balls for breakfast if I even thought about it."
Penny heard the tsk of the irritated dean nearby. "So, do you always track our location?" she asked, not bothering to hide her irritation.
Crenel laughed. "Of course, I do. There's a team on their way. Now, find some damn cell reception and call me back so you can tell me exactly what happened."
Chapter Eight
Penny couldn't deny feeling a sense of relief when the team Crenel sent arrived in five shiny black SUVs instead of a helicopter.
Apart from the wind and the noise, she didn't want to draw attention to their little adventure if she could help it. Not that any of the partygoers back at the bonfire were sober enough to notice a Black Hawk landing in the middle of their party.
Agent Delouise led the operation, instructing the four biggest members of the team to secure the werewolf and load it into one of the cars. "You'll have to fold down the seats," she said. "Make sure you lay down some plastic. Carney will have my head if you get blood on the upholstery."
"We found this." Amelia held out the evidence bag. "By the altar. It's got blood on it."
Agent Delouise gingerly took it from her."You didn't touch it, did you?"
"I picked it up by the edges,” Penny admitted. “But I didn’t get any blood on my hands.”
"Make sure you sanitize the hell out of yourself. I think I’ve got some rubbing alcohol in the car if you need it. Anything else?" The agent's eyes pierced into Penny's soul.
"No. Not really." She bit the inside of her cheek, wondering what exactly she could say.
"Bullshit."
Penny's eyebrows skyrocketed. "Excuse me?"
"Bullshit. There's something you're not telling me." Agent Delouise leaned closer to her. "Spill it."
Penny sidestepped. "There's nothing, really. Just… I dunno. It feels like we're missing something."
Delouise narrowed her eyes, then jerked her head down in a nod. "Trust your gut. I'll have my guys go over this whole place with a fine toothcomb—twice. As soon as your gut starts talking to your brain, let me know."
Relief washed through Penny. She could trust these Agents, she knew she could. They had the training that she didn't, and equipment to boot. Whatever was going on at that creepy makeshift altar, they were sure to figure it out.
"Thanks," she said. "Will you tell us if you find anything?"
The agent winked. "Depends if they let me."
Penny couldn't argue with that. "You need us for anything else?" she asked.
"You can go. Keep your phone on you, though."
With a grateful grin, Penny said goodbye, then she and her friends trudged back toward the road.
"Where's Boots?" Amelia whispered. "I'm guessing you already know. It’s not like you'd leave her behind."
With a tired sigh, Penny jerked her thumb sideways. "I think she was trying to avoid all the fuss back there. She was hiding up a tree."
"Aww, the poor thing was scared?" Amelia crooned.
Penny snorted. "The 'poor thing' was hanging off a branch, making faces behind Delouise’s back."
"Oh." Amelia darted a glance into the bushes. "Yeah, that does sound like Boots."
By the time they made it back to the bonfire, sleepy students were scattered around the dying fire. A guy strummed the guitar while he chatted with a pretty girl wrapped in a blanket, and a couple slow-danced nearby.
"I'm bushed." Penny sank down into the spot she had claimed earlier. She kicked off her shoes, unzipped her sleeping bag, and tucked her feet in, sandy socks and all.
Boots darted in beside her, wriggled around, and poked her nose out the top.
Within minutes, the gentle music had lulled Penny to sleep.
Crenel sat behind his tiny desk in his office at the Academy. One finger tapped the polished wood, a steady and unbroken rhythm that clawed at Penny's brain like nails down the chalkboard. "I know I don't have anything to go on," she protested. "But isn't your number one rule ‘trust your gut?’"
"No, it's ‘trust your team.’ And my team tells me they didn't find anything." Finally, Crenel leaned back in his seat and ceased the infernal tapping. "Delouise said they scoured down to the bones. She’s a good agent, and I trust her to do the job right. What would you have me do?"
Penny opened her mouth to answer but stopped. She growled, "I don't know," she admitted. "You're the expert, so think of something!"
"I have thought of something," Crenel said dryly. "Closing the case. We caught the werewolf. The wounds on the victims we’ve found so far are likely consistent with a werewolf attack."
Penny threw her hands up. "Okay. How many werewolf attacks have you seen?"
"No less than you had a few days ago," he pointed out. "Look, I know this is new. I know there’s no precedent, there aren't any records we can match wounds and bite marks to. The guy we found had no DNA, and neither did the mess on that piece of linen.”
“No DNA?” That made Penny pause.
Crenel sighed patiently. “You haven’t gone over that in class yet? Mythers don’t have any. Nothing, nada, blank slate. Makes it easy to tell one from a human or animal, but it’s a bastard when we need to compare one to the other.”
Penny’s brain struggled with the reality of that. “Is that even possible?”
“Possible?” Crenel shrugged. “It’s real. Think about it, kid. These creatures are made from human belief. Most of them were created in a time when they thought the common cold was caused by too much snot in your blood. Medicine was basically a bag of leeches and a hit of cocaine. You think those people considered the nuclear basis of their myths?” He shook his head bemusedly.
Penny’s cheeks flushed. Of course, he’s right. I should have been able to figure that out myself. “Look, all that proves is that the werewolf and the blood were both from Mythers,” Penny pointed out.
Crenel shrugged. “I’ll be the first to admit it's a guess, but it's our best guess, and the evidence that we found supports it.” He placed both hands flat on his desk. "I know you're frustrated, and I know that there's a lot out there that we don't understand yet. But that doesn't mean everything has to have an extra layer to it. Sometimes, you just find the bad guy."
"It's not just that it was too easy," Penny protested. "What about the altar? Someone was there.”
“Could have been the wolf. Maybe he did it before the moon came out.” He held up a hand to forestall Penny’s next question. “We looked, we really did. Delouise ran the plates of every car in that lot. All of them matched the beachgoers, and all of them agreed that no one went missing for long without an alibi. A couple of people mentioned an itinerant in the area, but their description matched our perp.”
“There is something else. Something I can't put my finger on." Penny scowled, her frustration directed more at herself than the agent before her.
"That brings me back to my question, what the fuck do you want me to do about it?" Crenel asked. Irritation was showing in his voice now, the harsh scratch that tugged Penny's confidence down a notch. If nothing else, the agent had been incredibly patient with her.
"Fine." Penny threw herself out of the chair and toward the door. "I'll drop it. But promise me…promise me that if anyone else is attacked, you'll send a team up there to investigate again."
"I promise." Crenel waited until she had yanked the door open before speaking again. "Penny, you'll make a good agent one day. You do have to tru
st your gut, to a degree. You also have to accept that sometimes, we're looking for an answer that doesn't exist."
Penny shut the door behind her without responding.
She stalked down the hallway, fists clenched and cheeks hot. Why can't I let this go? I have nothing to go on.
If only she could put her finger on what was bothering her.
If she had something concrete to go to Agent Crenel with, she had absolutely no doubt that he would listen. Until then, without some kind of evidence, she couldn't justify the manpower to him, and that meant he couldn't justify it to his superiors. She knew that, so why couldn't she let go of the itch at the back of her brain?
Penny drew in a deep breath and held it for a count of five. When she was done, she let it out in a slow hiss. She pulled the trigger.
Ping!
Through the scope, a black hole appeared in the middle of her target.
Ping! Ping! Two more shots, and two more holes mere inches away from the first.
"You're good," a voice said behind her.
Startled, Penny's trigger finger convulsively pulled back on the trigger, releasing her final round. The shot didn't even hit the target.
"When you're concentrating, anyway." Quaid patted her shoulder. "You need to learn how to focus under stress."
"Easy for you to say," Penny muttered. She engaged the safety and set the gun down on the table in front of her.
"Weapons down!" Quaid yelled.
"Down!" Penny called.
Quaid waited until the other three shooters lined up had confirmed before sending them to collect their targets.
Each student quickly totaled up their points. Thankful that their worst rounds didn't count—the round where Penny had received a big fat zero—she handed her slip into the teacher.
She stepped to the back room to join the rest of the waiting students.
"Amelia, Mara, Clive… Who've I missed?" Quaid squinted at the list of names in front of him.
"That's everyone, Professor," Mara confirmed. She grinned at Penny on the way past. "What score do we have to beat?"
A smirk twitched at Quaid's lips. "Perfect thirty."
Groaning, Mara stalked toward the shooting range.
Penny collapsed into a plastic chair. Across from her, Cisco gave her a hesitant grin.
"You okay, Penny?" he asked.
"Of course, I am," she snapped. She winced. "Sorry. Maybe. It’s just, something is still bugging me."
Cisco didn't respond. They had been over it a hundred times already, much to Penny’s growing frustration.
She knew if she couldn't even convince Cisco that something else was lurking out near the beach, she had no hope of convincing anyone else.
Eventually, she slumped. "It's not just that," she admitted. "I’m such a klutz. I dropped a whole magazine that night. Maybe if I'd reloaded my weapon faster, things would have gone more smoothly."
"It wasn't just you out there, remember." Cisco quickly swapped seats so that he was sitting next to her. He lowered his voice. "Look, three of us got rounds into that bastard. Amelia did a bang-up job of distracting it. No one got killed, and that's a good thing, right?"
"We might not be so lucky next time," Penny insisted. "What if I really cock-up? What if someone gets hurt because I dropped the ball?"
"Then train harder," Cisco said, shrugging. "Look, we all know you can shoot. You’re top of the class. You just need to practice getting the bullets into the guns. It's a skill – like everything else. Just practice."
"Just practice!" Penny muttered. She ducked her head away from Cisco's skeptical gaze. "Fine. You've got a point, I guess. Practice."
With a satisfied smile, Cisco leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "How about you repay my invaluable advice with a coffee," he suggested.
It had become their ritual to escape to the local coffee shop every Monday afternoon, just the two of them, while Amelia took psychology, and Red waited for his afternoon research class.
It was the last thing Penny felt like doing. She looked at Cisco, knowing that his hopeful expression would drop into dismay if she refused. "Okay," she said at last. "But it's your turn to buy."
"Sure," Cisco agreed happily. "If you ask nicely, I'll even buy you cake."
Chapter Nine
Penny hunched further over her notebook as she scratched out three more job listings. She placed a pen on the next one, then her irritation bubbled over. She turned first to Boots, who hovered over her right shoulder, tongue flicking at Penny's ears, then to the left, where Cisco hovered.
"Can neither of you give a girl some space?" she snapped.
Cisco sank back into his chair, chagrined. "Sorry. Still having no luck with the job hunt?"
Penny shook her head. "I'm sorry too. I've been jumping around like a cat on a hot tin roof lately."
Cisco plucked the notebook out of her hands. "Well, here is your problem. You couldn’t pay me enough to work at any of these places."
Penny gave him a wry smile. "I'm quickly coming to that realization. I've put in about forty applications, and the half-dozen interviews I've managed to get were all with complete idiots. Seriously, how are these people in charge of anything?"
The clink of china made Penny look up, and she gratefully accepted the coffee handed to her. "Thanks, Tony," she said.
Instead of returning to the machines, the barista snatched a chair from a nearby table and sat next to her.
"You're looking for a job?" Tony asked.
Penny shot a confused glance at Cisco. "Yeah. Why?"
"Do you know how to pull a coffee?"
Understanding dawned. Penny gave an apologetic shrug. "I only ever drank instant at home."
"Ugh, you poor thing. Never mind, you'll learn." He stuck a hand out for Penny to shake. "You’re Penny, right? I own the cafe. Two of my girls quit last week, and my cook handed in his notice in this morning. Not because of me, I swear." He gave a nervous laugh. "Just… Portland's changed in the last few months, you know?" He glanced at Boots pointedly.
"Yeah," Penny agreed. She couldn't speak for Portland, but her own life had certainly turned upside down in the last six months.
"Well, half the people are bailing out to go somewhere a little quieter. At the same time, there is an influx of people looking for weird and wonderful things." Tony winked. "You can bring the snake to work with you. Who knows, maybe she could pull in a few customers of her own."
"But I just told you, I don't even know how to make a real coffee," Penny protested.
"It's not that hard," Cisco interjected. "You'll pick it up in no time. I mean, it can't be any harder than assembling a sniper rifle, right?"
A look of worry crossed Tony's face. "Uhh, right. What are you studying again?"
Hope thumped in Penny's chest. "I'm a fast learner," she assured Tony. "I work hard. I don't mind cleaning, and I'm really good at doing dishes."
He smiled. "Look, at the very least, come in for a trial. I'll show you how to use the machines, and you can get a feel for the place. When are you free?"
"What about Friday afternoon?" Penny suggested. "I've got an early class that finishes at eleven. Would that be okay?"
Tony nodded. "Sit tight. I'll grab your application form, and you can fill out your available times."
He sauntered back to the counter, pausing to take an order for a customer who hovered by the register.
"See?" Cisco said. "I told you it would work itself out."
"No, you didn't." Penny dumped a packet of sugar into her coffee and stirred it. "Wow. I finally made some progress on my job hunt, and now I'm crapping my pants."
"You'll do fine." Cisco laughed. "You'll have Boots there to help you. Do you know how to pull a coffee, Boots?"
Boots gave a cheerful hiss, then proceeded to dunk her entire face into Penny's drink.
"Ew! Boots, that's disgusting." Penny unfolded a paper napkin and held it out for Boots to rub her head on.
"She's just getting a
taste for the merchandise," Cisco said. He picked up his own coffee—now cold, Penny was sure—and drizzled some of it on the saucer. Boots pushed herself along the tabletop and flicked her tongue in the dish.
"Not too much," Penny warned. "You won't be able to sleep tonight."
Boots lifted her head and looked Penny in the eye. She made a coughing sound from the back of her throat, one that Penny was sure signified a laugh.
"Fine, you don't sleep anyway. Smartass."
Penny eyed her coffee. Then, figuring she ate with the snake, slept with the snake, and occasionally got licked by the snake, decided a few more germs couldn't hurt. Maybe Mythers are germ proof as well as DNA-free. She took a sip.
"And you say I'm disgusting." Cisco punctuated his remark by wiping the cake crumbs from his mouth with his shirt.
"That's because you are," Penny said.
"Ha-ha." He leaned back and rested a hand on his bloated stomach. "I solved one of your big problems. What else can I help you with?"
"You solved it?" Penny asked in mock outrage. "That was all me, thank you very much."
"You wouldn't even be here if I hadn't insisted," he pointed out. “If I wasn’t so annoying, you wouldn’t have complained about it loud enough for Tony to hear.”
Penny relented. "Fine. Maybe you helped…a little."
Penny crouched, waiting for Jason to strike. She tried to shut out the buzz in her mind, tried to focus.
I sent a team out, Crenel had told her earlier. We scoured the area. There was nothing.
Jason lunged. Penny blocked, but clumsily. Her foot snapped up and kicked his hip, and he spun away.
Sometimes your gut’s just wrong.
A fist flew past her face, missing by inches.
Sometimes your gut’s just wrong.
Jason shifted. Penny’s instincts warred. Was it a feint? She twisted to block a blow that never came. Instead, an elbow connected with her cheekbone. Pain blossomed across her face, and she cried out.
“Oh, shit. Sorry.” Jason pulled back immediately as Penny fell to her knees, clutching her face. “I didn’t think you’d actually fall for that.”