by Amy Hopkins
“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!”
Amelia groaned. “When I asked him to come to yoga with me, I thought he’d say no. I never expected it to make him this…precious.”
“I’m just doing what I need to support me lass, lass.” Red grinned. “If you want me to follow Penny into the bowels of the creepy, haunted house, I will. Just remember, if an evil splinter rips a hole in me duds and you see my crack, it’s not my fault.”
“Why did I ever agree to bring him?” Penny asked Amelia.
Amelia shrugged. “Beats me, I would have left him at home. In fact, I’d take a dead goldfish over him.” Red grunted but she ignored it. “Anyway, you’re stuck with him now, so are we going in?”
The house sat at the approximate location of sixty-six Robinson road. It was still quite a bit short of the listed address they wanted, but it was as close as they were going to get.
“Let’s do it.” Penny tugged the strap of her backpack, adjusting the weight. She’d already taken out a flashlight and her handgun, and clipped some specialty magazines to her belt—silver bullets, exploding holy water cartridges, and one containing a single drop of eitr, a substance from Norse m
ythology strong enough to kill a god. Unfortunately, it probably wouldn’t work on much else.
It felt strange to be missing her other bag, but Boots had given her a brisk hiss and shoved Penny toward the dorm room door before diving into a pile of blankets. It’s not like we’re joined at the hip, Penny reassured herself. She probably just wants to nap.
Penny squeezed through the loosely chained gates, holding the gap open when she was through so Amelia and Red could follow. She waited patiently as Amelia helped Red untangle a thread of polyester that caught on a loose wire, threatening to unravel the flimsy fabric covering his backside.
“Sorry,” Red grumbled.
“It’s fine,” Penny assured him, grabbing his arm. “I really am glad you’re here.”
“Yeah,” Amelia affirmed, kissing his cheek. “If nothing else, the sight of your holey yoga pants will scare off any vampires.”
Snorting, Red forged ahead, traipsing up the long gravel drive toward the house.
Amelia pulled back as they reached the rotting porch, tugging Penny and Red behind the empty husk of a dead tree trunk. “We need to go over some rules,” she told them.
“Rules?” Red asked. “Shoot the bad guys, not ourselves. Find Trevor, and run.”
“We don’t know if this is even the right place,” Amelia insisted. “Look, this dump has all the trappings of a haunted house. Or a possessed one. Or…remember that mansion that popped up in New York with the dolls on a murder rampage?”
Penny shook her head. “How the hell did I miss that one?”
Brushing it off, Amelia continued. “What I’m saying is, we could be walking into anything. We have to promise to stick together in there, no matter what. No going after creepy noises in the basement or following sweet little girls down random hallways. Got it?”
“Got it.” Red saluted her. “But when did you become an expert on this sort of thing?”
Amelia flicked her hair and gave him a cheeky smirk. “I started a blog as part of my course. It’s an offshoot from my local witch-hunting site. ‘The Haunting: Where to find the best haunted houses and how to survive them.’ It’s getting quite popular.”
“Really?” Penny knew Amelia had always been into the online blogging thing. She had started fashion blogs, study blogs, and one, apparently, chronicling the journey of sharing a dorm room with an Aussie girl and a snake. She hadn’t mentioned this new venture, though.
“Really. Now, any questions?” Amelia waited, then nodded after a moment of silence. “Let’s go.”
The front door had swollen with age. Red leaned against it but shook his head. “I can give it a shove, but it’ll be noisy. Milly?”
Amelia had already thrown a leg through a nearby window that was missing its glass. “Quiet as mice, guys.”
Penny slipped through next, and the two girls each grabbed one of Red’s arms as he awkwardly stuffed his tall frame through the small opening. One of his feet caught the windowsill on the way through, but Penny hauled him up before he thudded on the floorboards.
Panting, Red found his balance and gave her a thumbs-up before slipping a flashlight from his belt. He shone the narrow beam around the room.
The long sitting room might have been beautiful once. Heavy wooden chairs sat by boarded-up windows, coated in thick layers of dust. A side table held a tarnished silver tea set, and a half-complete tapestry lay on the floor, loose threads still attached to a rusted needle.
“This place must be full of bugs,” Amelia whispered. She pointed at a moth-eaten cushion. “Gods, I hope we don’t find any spiders in here.”
Penny chuckled lightly. “Mate, the spiders here have nothing on the ones back home. If we find any, just leave them to me.”
“Aye, but what if it’s an eight-foot-tall arachnid with a million babies, that eats human heads for breakfast?” Red asked. Amelia slapped him in the chest and he gasped. “Well, it might happen!”
“Asshole.” Amelia nodded to the door on the other side of the room. “Just don’t touch anything, okay?”
Murmuring agreement, Penny placed a hand on the old brass knob. It turned easily and the door swung open, as smooth as if it had been oiled yesterday.
“Which way?” Penny asked. The narrow corridor ahead led to a staircase. Two closed doors lined the left side, and a niche behind the stairs glowed with a soft light.
“If it’s a haunted house, the bogeyman will be in the attic or basement, most likely.” Amelia gestured to the nearest door. “But we’re hoping it’s something else, right? We need to be thorough.”
The door, however, was locked. Penny eyed it, then pulled her gun out and attached the silencer. “Stand back.”
“Don’t shoot it!” Red snapped. “You know that doesn’t work in real life!”
Kneeling, Penny gave him a withering glare. “I’m picking the lock, you numpty. The gun is for whatever is on the other side.” She set it on the floor, safety engaged, and drew a lock-picking set from her belt. A minute later, she put the set away, picked up her gun, and pointed it at the door. “Careful,” she whispered.
The brass knob turned smoothly. This door wasn’t as quiet as the previous one. It squeaked open loudly, thudding to a stop only halfway. “It looks like it’s been tossed,” Red remarked. His light was trained on the floor, where piles of moldering books were strewn in a pile.
“Uh-huh.” Penny edged around the door to see why it wouldn’t open properly. She kicked away a fallen chair and pushed the door back, latching it open. “Or a fight broke out.”
Dust plumed as Amelia pulled the long, heavy curtains back to reveal ancient, crackling oil paintings lined with cobwebs. “Ugh. I told you there would be spiders.”
Penny scanned the room. “That chair is broken.” She pointed to the one that had blocked the door. “Where is its missing leg? And whatever tipped over that desk must be strong.”
The ornate desk had landed crookedly, one corner propped up by an old book wedged underneath. Red walked over and gripped the bottom edge with his fingers. He grunted, then let go. “It’s a heavy bastard, all right. Can I ask you ladies for some assistance?”
Penny reluctantly tucked her weapon back into her belt. Between them, they managed to tip the desk back up, though one drawer clattered to the floor in the process. “So much for being quiet,” Penny grumbled. “Why are we tidying up this mess, exactly?”
Red pointed at the drawer that had dislodged. “Clues.” He picked up some papers that had fallen out and held them up to the light from the windows. “Huh. Just some old letters. Too old to be our goons.”
He grabbed the now-empty drawer and slid it into the desk. Then, frowning, he slid it back out. He knocked on the bottom.
“Hidden compartment?” Amelia asked.
“Aye.” Red set it on top of the desk and pulled out a knife. He slid it carefully into the drawer base.
A page fluttered in the breeze.
Hold up. Penny turned to look for the source. There is no breeze.
A book flew across the room, aimed at Red’s back. It thudded between his shoulder blades, knocking him toward the desk. “Ow! Who bloody threw that?”
“Ghosts!” Penny yelled as she dropped into a defensive stance. “Get that thing open so we can get out of here!” A second book launched into the air, and she knocked it off its path with a well-placed kick. The book fell to the ground, inanimate.
A third book rustled. Penny hit this one with the flat of her hand, taking another one out with her foot seconds later. Grabbing the chair, Penny yelled to Amelia. “Get behind the desk!”
The projectile books were all coming from one corner of the room. Backhanding one, Penny lunged with the broken chair. The momentary distraction let a small hardback past, and Red yelped as it slammed into the back of his head. “Pointy little prick!”
Swinging the chair, Penny took out two more, eyeing a third that hung suspended in midair. “Go on,” she hissed at it. “Try me.”
It did. The book plunged f
orward, swooping left to avoid the chair back Penny lifted as a shield. It wasn’t quick enough to avoid the kick that followed, though.
“Take that, poltergeist prick.” Penny regretted her words when twenty books slowly lifted into the air. “Um, Red? You’re not done, are you? Because—”
“Got it!” Red hollered.
“Duck!” Penny yelled. The books flew at them, and Penny tossed the chair blindly into their path as she dove to the side. Amelia squealed and Red grunted as they clattered to the ground.
“Run!” Red yelled.
A large atlas slammed into the door, flinging it shut. The door bounced back, a tiny, leather-bound novel caught in the jam. Penny slipped through first and wedged her body between the door and its frame to hold their exit open.
Red dove under Penny’s arms as Amelia wielded a lump of wood like a baseball bat. She slammed one book, then another, edging back toward the door.
“You show ‘em, princess!” Red yelled.
Amelia roared as she hit another missile, ricocheting it to take out three others that had lifted off the floor. She dove for Penny, who yanked her out of the room moments before the door slammed closed. A rumbling clatter sounded on the other side as books pelted into it.
Then, silence.
“That was a blast,” Amelia commented, panting. “I used to hate softball as a kid, but then I never thought it’d come in handy like that.”
“You saved my ass!” Red kissed her. “Thanks, love.”
Amelia hugged him. “Did you get what you were after?”
Red held up the proceeds of his search. He passed three sheets of paper to Penny and dangled a long gold chain with a black stone pendant in front of Amelia. “Is that suitably creepy, love?”
Amelia reached out, then pulled back. “Yeah. We probably don’t want to touch that.”
Red slipped the prize into a plastic bag and tucked it away. “What does the letter say?”
Penny pressed the paper against the wall while Red pointed his flashlight at it. Penny skimmed the first page.
