by Amy Hopkins
“Pass?” Crenel frowned at her. “You mean, did she place?”
“Did she die? You said she only had minutes left.” Penny winced at her mangled words and cringed even harder when Crenel burst out laughing.
Even Dean March couldn’t smother a smile.
“I’m sure she wished she was dead by the end of it,” he wheezed. “Penny, she was running a marathon. Not dying!”
“What?” The dots connected with lightning speed, and a wave of embarrassment crashed over Penny. “Oh, for crying out loud. I’m such an idiot!”
“No, dear. Professor Madera made an inquiry along similar lines.” Dean March shook her head. “Knowing the way rumors spread at this Academy, I should have known better than to leave without a full and comprehensive explanation as to where I was going and why.”
“How old is she?” Penny blurted without thinking. Crenel himself was as old as the hills, she was sure. How old must his mother be?
“Eighty-six,” Crenel said proudly. “She only started running a decade ago. This is her third full marathon. I missed the last two because of work, and she’s been dying to show off her new running prowess.”
“That makes so much more sense.” She eyed the agent. “I was beginning to think you were either a cold-hearted bastard or your mother was just awful.”
“Well, you weren’t entirely wrong on the first part,” Crenel admitted. “But I wouldn’t go so far as to celebrate the eventual passing of my mother, no matter how eccentric she’s getting in her old age.”
“His mother is a saint, purely by virtue of putting up with her son,” Dean March stated primly. “Now, I’m sure you’re eager to get started on your search, Penny. I have some contacts who may have some information as well. I’ll be sure to let you know if I find anything.”
“Thank you, Dean March.” Penny left, letting the door swing shut behind her. “Looks like I have a busy few days ahead.”
Penny leaned over Red’s shoulder, squinting at the screen. “Are you sure it’s them?”
She had spent the last hour pacing the Academy library while Red delved into the shell company’s history. They found little information. Penny’s frustration grew as their search turned up nothing except that the company was cloaked in a tight web of secrecy. Until, that was, Red found an address.
“I’m sure they say it’s them. This is the address they gave the postal service when they registered the game machine business, but it could easily be fake.” Red tapped a few keys. “Here’s where it… Oh.”
The map browser he had tabbed to showed “address invalid.” Penny hissed a sigh of frustration. “Is it even a real street?”
Red tried again, this time leaving a building address off the query. The map popped up, a labeled satellite image showing the region the arcade distributor claimed to operate from. The area looked promising, it was full of oversized industrial buildings and warehouses. “There it is.” Penny ran her finger along one of the lines crossing the screen. “Forty-two, forty-eight, fifty-six, sixty. It just…ends. Where’s number sixty-four?”
Red pushed his chair back, almost rolling over Penny’s toes. “Like I warned you, it’s probably just a made-up location.”
“What’s this?” Penny pointed at a vacant lot at the end of the road, nestled behind two warehouses at the end of a driveway squeezed between them.
“Empty land?” Red shrugged. “Even if that lot had a number, it’s not the sort of place you’d hide a clandestine operation. It backs right onto here—” He scrolled the screen to the left and poked a finger at a cluster of small buildings. “That’s a cluster of yoga studios, organic cafes, and spiritual counselors. Do you really think a massive pseudo-government agency would plant themselves there?”
Penny narrowed her eyes at the new map section. She saw streets and buildings, but no business names. “How do you know what those buildings are?”
He gave a self-conscious laugh and pointed to a small, red-roofed row of structures at an intersection. “Me and Amelia do that sweaty sauna yoga thing there.” He moved his finger over. “Then after, we grab a fresh-squeezed organic juice over here.”
Penny looked at him in surprise. “You? Hot yoga? I can see Amelia getting into something like that, but Red?” She stopped, unsure how to put into words how utterly un-yoga-like Red was.
He laughed. “I’d do anything for Milly. Even twist meself into a pretzel twice a week in a box full of sweaty girls, and drink cucumber, quinoa, and goat’s piss smoothies.”
“They don’t put goat’s piss in it. Do they?” Penny had seen enough weird crazes since moving to Portland that she couldn’t quite discount the suggestion completely.
Red shook his head. “Nah. It’s that cilantro rubbish, I think, but it tastes like piss. It’s good for your chakra or something.”
“Right.” Penny slid the mouse over, scrolling back to the road that should have shown the company involved with the gaming machines. “I might take a look anyway.”
Red grabbed her arm. “Not alone.”
“You said the address is made up.” Penny faltered at the concern in his eyes. “But fine. I’ll take Cisco.”
“Nah. Yoga is tonight, so come with Milly and me.” Red straightened and beamed a smile. “I look damn fine in those tight pants, I’ll tell you now.”
Wincing, Penny shook her head. “No. Please. Anything but yoga pants.”
Red linked his arm through hers, dragging her away from the computer. “Now, don’t go getting all flustered, like. Your man Cisco is a good one, even if he’s not hung like a very-well-hung werewolf.”
“I’m going to be sick.” Penny allowed him to lead her away, though.
“I’m very happy with me girl, Amelia,” he assured her. “But, it’s okay to be a wee bit jealous.”
Penny pulled free when they reached the hallway. “What time?” she asked. There were a few more things she could do while she waited, one of them being to call Josh and tell him she wouldn’t make it in to work tonight.
“Around five. That’ll give us time to investigate your missing address and still be in time for the armpit bending session.” Red waved at her. “Make sure you dress for the occasion!”
Chapter Thirteen
With two hours to kill before she was due to meet Red, Penny decided to head to Paddy’s. She could ask around and talk to Josh at the same time. She gave Cisco a quick buzz to let him know.
“I’ve found two other places that had the machines so far,” Cisco told her. “A dive bar not far from Paddy’s, and a local pool. They’ve been removed, though.”
“Shit,” Penny cursed. “That doesn’t help us!”
“Yes, it does,” Cisco countered. “Because that’s not all they said. Both locations mentioned that they had a regular patron who played the machines go missing. And here’s the weird thing. They both turned up three weeks later, dazed and with memory loss. And both times, the machines went missing that night.”
“Trevor’s note said to come looking if he’s not back in three weeks. He must know about those disappearances.” Penny chewed her lips. “One thing. How do a random bar owner and a swimming pool attendee know so much about their customers?”
“It’s a bit hard not to when the cops have grilled you about it twice,” Cisco answered. She could hear the excitement in his voice. “The M.O. was the same in both cases. Both times, the victim went out to the venue—the one at the pool was last seen by a lifeguard, the other had sent a text message to his girlfriend saying he’d meet her at the bar. She was late, though, and an attendant remembered seeing her man at the arcade, no one remembered him leaving. Then, nothing for a couple of days. Family and friends called in the police, who showed photos around, jogging a few memories.”
“Where did they turn up?” Penny asked, half expecting them to have been dropped by the side of the road, hogtied and beat up.
“Where they vanished from.” Cisco sounded triumphant. “Early morning, prior to opening. No one saw how the
y got there.”
“Are they okay?” Penny asked, alarmed. “Were they hurt?”
“Amnesia. At first, neither remembered who they were. It came back to them over the course of an hour or so, as they recognized faces and surroundings.” Cisco paused. “The pool had their guy’s face on a flyer, so they figured him out pretty fast. The other one almost got carted off as a crazy homeless trespasser, but his girlfriend happened to be driving past on her way to work, and was keeping an eye out.”
“Why didn’t we know about this?” Penny groaned. “We could have warned Trevor off his crazy plan!”
Cisco sighed. “It’s just…not that weird. A drunk wandering off and coming back looking like he’d been on a two-day bender?”
“At a pool?” Penny asked dryly.
“That guy was only eighteen. His parents thought maybe he’d run off like he had once before.” Cisco paused. “Do you think the cops will let us talk to them?”
“I’ll get Crenel on it.” Penny quickly rattled off her own plan to hit the bar. “If this thing is out of the Veil, surely someone at Paddy’s knows about it.”
“Let’s hope that hunch pays off.”
Cisco ended the call and Penny grabbed her purse. She headed out the door only to catch Agent Crenel on his way down before her.
“I need to speak to you,” she called after him.
He spun and waited for her. “That’s good because I need to speak to you too. Did you email me that account information?”
Penny nodded. The scant details Tony had been able to share included the bank details where he was to deposit a small amount to cover damage to the machines while in his care. “A couple of hours ago. You didn’t get it?”
Crenel grimaced, digging out his phone. “I’ve been too busy to check. But, one of my buddies on the Nigerian Myth task force agreed to take a look for us.”
“That’s the new department opened to deal with all the princes and lawyers popping up?” Penny asked.
“The one and only.” Crenel stared at the glowing screen in his hand, his thumb scrolling for a moment before he grunted. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”
He went to leave, but Penny grabbed his arm. “My turn,” she reminded him. She rattled off the information Cisco had given her. “I know it’s a long shot if their memories have been wiped, but can we track them down and ask them some questions?”
“I’ll make it happen.” Without saying goodbye, he stabbed at his phone again and put it to his ear. “Karen? I need you to track down a couple of kidnap vics for me. Yeah, we need them back in for questioning.” His voice trailed off as he strode away.
Buoyed by the feeling that progress was being made, Penny went on her way to Paddy’s bar. Once there, she accepted a shot of whiskey from the leprechaun gratefully.
“Wee lass, ye look like ye’ve had a day.” Paddy raised his own glass and clinked it against Penny’s.
“I have.” Penny sighed, dreading the thought of going through her story a dozen times over again as Mythers filtered in and out of the bar. “Look, I’m not here for a social visit. I need information.”
“Paddy has a finger on the pulse of Portland, to be sure. What it is yer wantin’ to know?” He waved absently at a trio of fairies that flitted past.
“Back before you crossed over, did you ever hear about any secret government organizations?”
Paddy rubbed his chin as he thought. “Well. If they be secret organizations, wouldn’t Paddy knowin’ about them make them not so secret?”
Penny groaned. “This isn’t the time for jokes, Paddy. What about a computer game or an arcade machine?”
Paddy took another moment, sipping his drink, brow creased in a wrinkled frown. “Nope,” he told her at last. “Can’t say that I have.”
“Can you ask around?” Penny asked. “The game is called Polybius, it’s been popping up in cafes and bars and other places around Portland. Some kind of shady organization is behind it—and they’ve taken a friend of mine.”
Paddy brightened. “Was it just in Portland?”
Penny nodded. “We can’t find reports anywhere else, but that makes sense as it was an old local legend from thirty or forty years ago. Does that change anything?”
Paddy nodded eagerly. “I’m what ye call a world-wisely leprechaun. Ye see, I wasn’t actually from Portland to begin with. I wouldn’t have heard about such things unless one of me crew has mentioned it since bein’ here.”
“You’re not from Portland?” Penny asked. She had assumed the small, green man had been conceived on his side of the veil from the ancient bar’s logo.
"No, lass. Wee Paddy came from an old family farm near Hobsonville. Brought the stories over from the home country, they did."
Penny sat back, examining him. "Why did you leave?"
"I'm Irish." Paddy elaborated when he saw Penny's look of bewilderment. "We love ourselves a bit of adventure, lass. Not much to be found on a wheat farm that was bought out by some prick of an Englishman a whole generation ago."
Penny let the matter drop, resolving to ask him more at a later date. "Who can I ask about the local legends then?"
"Have you spoke to Tilly?" Paddy drained his glass and slid it across the table.
Penny frowned. "Who's Tilly?"
"Oh, right. The poor lass doesn't have a corporeal body. Well, you might need some assistance to be talking to her, but she will be the lass to see. She knows everything about this old city." Paddy stood up and made to leave.
"You can't just leave me with that!" Penny grabbed him by the collar and hauled him back to the table. "Who is Tilly? And how do I find her?"
"You found her already, lass, you just didn't know it at the time." Paddy gave her a mischievous wink. "She's a kitchen hand at the Baghdad. I believe the two of you met briefly around this time last year?"
Penny stared at him, stunned. Then, she picked up her glass and drink her whiskey in a single gulp. "Thanks!"
It wasn't long until her rendezvous with Red and Amelia. Tilly would have to wait. Still, Penny tapped off a quick message to Agent Crenel.
I need to get into the Bagdad kitchen. While they’re closed, preferably. Can you help with that?
Crenel messaged back almost instantly.
Is this even related to your case?
Penny rolled her eyes as she typed her reply.
I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t.
Crenel’s reply was short.
Fine. I’ll see if DeLouise still has the owner’s number.
From what Paddy had said, Tilly was one of the friendly, protective ghosts who had helped to fight off a malicious entity the previous year. Unlike the grotesque specter that had been summoned in the downstairs bathroom, the kitchen ghosts adhered closer to the presentation of a poltergeist. They couldn't be seen or heard. They could manipulate objects, though.
"I wonder if she could use a pen and paper?" Penny mused. Pushing the thought aside, she glanced around the bar. It was too early for the evening rush to have started, but Esmeralda sat at the bar, swinging her stumpy legs and buttoned boots under her barstool.
Penny approached her carefully. When she had first started working at Paddy's, she had had to evict Esmeralda a grand total of four times for inciting unrest and for just plain being a bitch. Recently, however, they had come to an understanding. Esmeralda kept her gripes about the less-accepted Mythers that frequented the bar to herself, and Penny made sure the fairy godmother made it safely to a cab each night without face planting in the gutter in a drunken stupor.
"Esmeralda?" Penny slid onto the barstool next to the cantankerous fairy.
"Yes?" The old woman's voice was cold, and the thin eyebrow that arched at Penny made her feel like she was getting in trouble at school.
Thankfully, months of dealing with the old hag had taught Penny exactly how to deal with her. “I need your help. Before you refuse, you should know what’s at stake.” Penny paused dramatically. “A young man, right this very moment, is wishing for
a miracle.”
Esmerelda blinked. “A miracle?”
Penny nodded gravely. “A miracle. He’s praying…I mean, dreaming for a powerful being, one who can protect him”. Careful girl, you don’t want her to brush this off as Gabriel’s problem.
“And what is this young man’s name?” As hard as she might try to feign disinterest, Esmerelda was practically twitching in her seat.
“Trevor,” Penny told her. “Trevor White.”
Esmerelda’s lips pressed into a light line as she warred between her deep loathing of the pretentious girl who insisted on putting the Fairy Godmother in her place over and over again and fulfilling the very duty she was created for. “He’s not one of mine,” Esmerelda told her at last. “I can’t interfere directly.”
Penny smiled sweetly. “Of course. All I need is some information.” She quickly asked about Polybius and the shady group behind it.
Esmerelda pursed her lips. “I don’t know of it, but I shall ask around.” Her eyes narrowed and her chin lifted. Looking down her nose at Penny, she added, “For the boy, of course.”
“Thank you.” Not willing to push her luck, Penny left the woman sipping her scotch and glaring at the other patrons through wire-rimmed spectacles.
Chapter Fourteen
The abandoned house at the end of Robinson Road loomed over the empty concrete lot like an aging matriarch. Penny scrutinized it, noting the soft flutter of a torn curtain through one smashed window, and the gentle tap of a shutter in the afternoon breeze.
“Why would they advertise they’re here?” Amelia asked, gesturing at a sign on the wire fence that read Stay Out, Mythological Activity On-Site
Penny considered it. It certainly didn’t fit with the MO of a secret facility. “Maybe it’s reverse psychology?” The explanation felt as weak as it sounded, but she had come this far. Her gut wouldn’t let her rest until she’d checked out this lead.
“This looks like a really bad idea,” Red put in. “Look at that place! It’s full of busted boards and rusty nails.” He tugged at the forest green tights covering his legs. “I’m going to snag me nice pants!”