The Entirely True Story of the Unbelievable FIB

by Adam Shaughnessy

  “Just like that. But this is what you have to understand. The Worlds of Myth are still out there. And every once upon a while, something from one of those worlds travels here. It doesn’t happen often. Mythics have grown comfortable in their realms, too, and this world of technology and certainty doesn’t much appeal to them. But every so often, something from a World of Myth comes here. When it does, trouble often follows.”

  “So that’s the answer, then, isn’t it?” Pru interrupted. “That’s what ‘THE UNBELIEVABLE FIB’ is. The fib is that magic isn’t real, because the truth is it is real.” Pru raised her chin, a look of triumph on her face.

  “Nope.” Removing his hat, Mister Fox tossed it so it landed neatly on a nearby branch. Then he clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back. “No, ‘THE UNBELIEVABLE FIB’ is the name of my detective agency.”

  “What?” Pru asked.

  “FIB stands for Fantasy Investigation Bureau. That’s what I do. I investigate the mysteries that arise when something fantastic from a World of Myth enters this world. I did tell you that I liked people who went by their initials. Honestly, you two have to start paying attention.”

  “So you are a detective!” Pru exclaimed.

  “I am.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense,” ABE interrupted.

  “You don’t think a person who investigates mythology can be called a detective?” Mister Fox asked. “What are myths, except people’s earliest attempts to solve the mysteries of the world around them? That’s what detectives do, right? They solve mysteries. If you ask me, detectives and mythology go hand in hand.”

  “No,” ABE said, shaking his head in an apparent effort to get the right words out. “Well, yes, I see what you mean about that. But what you said before isn’t right. I mean, the name of your detective agency doesn’t make sense. I get that you investigate fantastic things, but a ‘bureau’ isn’t just one person. It’s a group of people, isn’t it?”

  “Ah, that.” The detective nodded. “You’re right about that, of course. But you’re assuming I work alone. I don’t. Remember, the Henhouse is special. It was built by a witch and it’s drawn to magic. So when a Mythic enters this world from a World of Myth, the Henhouse takes me to wherever the crossing takes place.

  “As soon as I arrive, I recruit some locals to help me out. Unfortunately, as we’ve discussed, very few people can see magic, nowadays. So I send the domovye out to deliver invitations with a question and a clue. Since the invitations come from the Henhouse, they’re magical themselves and can only be seen by the right sort of people. Anyone else has a hard time focusing their vision and their thoughts on them. Magic exists outside their worldview, so to speak, so they get easily distracted.”

  “So me and ABE are the right sort of people?”

  “It would appear so.”

  “About that,” ABE said, looking away. “I didn’t actually get an invitation, exactly.”

  “What?” For the first time since Pru had met him, Mister Fox looked surprised. He leapt from his chair and, crouching to eye level, studied ABE intently, as though trying to see through a disguise. “That’s not possible. No one can find the Henhouse without an invitation.”

  “He saw mine,” Pru said as something occurred to her. “ABE just moved here. Maybe that’s why he didn’t get one.”

  Mister Fox looked from Pru back to ABE, who nodded.

  “I didn’t get into town until Thursday afternoon. I’m new here . . . It’s sort of been an adjustment. My last town didn’t have giants.”

  “That could explain it, I suppose,” the detective said, straightening. “The domovye wouldn’t leave an invitation at a house with nobody in it.”

  “But you still haven’t explained why you send the cards,” Pru said.

  “The Henhouse takes me all over the world to investigate. When I arrive somewhere new, I need to connect with locals who can see Mythics and who know their way around. The Henhouse brought me here because Middleton is in danger. I need people who know the town and can help point out anything unusual or out of place.”

  “You keep saying the town’s in danger,” ABE said. “Because of the giant? But you got rid of the giant, right? How did you do that, anyway?”

  “Tell me,” Mister Fox said, removing the fox-­head looking glass from his pocket and cradling it in his hand. “Do you know that feeling you get when you’re caught being somewhere you don’t belong?”

  “Yes,” Pru said.

  “No,” ABE said. Then he added, thoughtfully, “Well, I didn’t until I met Pru, I guess.”

  The corner of his mouth twitching, Mister Fox said, “Deep down, Mythics know they don’t belong in this world. My looking glass is enchanted. The domovye made it. One of its tricks is the ability to magnify, so to speak, that feeling of not belonging to such a degree that it becomes impossible for any Mythic that sees itself in the mirror to remain here.”

  “So the giant’s gone,” Pru said.

  “That one is, yes, banished back to where he came from.”

  “That one?” ABE asked. Pru noticed that his voice had begun to squeak again. “Are there more?”

  “That’s not the important question,” Mister Fox said.

  “Sorry, but . . . are you sure?” ABE asked. “It seems kind of important to me.”

  “The important question is, why was the frost giant here in the first place?”

  Pru considered a moment. Why would a frost giant come to Middleton?

  “I think I know!” she said, surprising herself almost as much as ABE, who flinched at her sudden exclamation. Mister Fox eyed her but remained silent. Pru spoke slowly, choosing each word with care. “If those giants are really creatures from Norse mythology, then it only makes sense they’d want something Norse mythological.”

  “Interesting phrasing. But go on.”

  “So what does Middleton have that would be valuable to something from the Norse myths?”

  “The Middleton Stone,” ABE said, catching on.

  “Not just the Middleton Stone,” Pru said, “but the treasure it’s supposed to lead to. The Eye of Odin! Because if mythology is true, then the story we heard about the Eye of Odin might be true, too. It must be!”

  “What story?” Mister Fox asked, his nose beginning to twitch.

  Quickly, Pru and ABE told Mister Fox about their encounter with Ratatosk and Old Man Grimnir. Pru finished with the revelation that Old Man Grimnir had just one eye, himself.

  “If what you’ve said about mythology is true, then could Old Man Grimnir really be . . . Odin?”

  “It seems likely. Not many people could have told you that story. I have to admit, that’s a fair bit of detective work you two accomplished. I’m almost impressed. Yes. I think that cinches it. The giant came here for the Middleton Stone. He wanted to use it to find the Eye of Odin. And if one came here looking for the stone, you can be sure others will come, too.”

  “But won’t Mr. Grimnir . . . I mean Odin . . . stop them?” ABE asked.

  “I’m not so sure. I’d heard rumors that Odin had grown reclusive. And he didn’t do anything to stop the giant we met.”

  “What do we do, then?” Pru asked.

  “I’m still working on that. But your question brings us back to ABE’s point. Bureaus aren’t just one person and I don’t work alone. I need your help straightening things out here. You’ve already uncovered a lot without even knowing what you were looking for. So keep looking around. You know this town. Keep your eyes and ears open for anything unusual. You uncovered Odin. Who knows what else you might find. Report anything you discover back to me.”

  “Like Sherlock Holmes’s Irregulars,” Pru said, remembering the stories her father had shared with her. “Sherlock Holmes used London’s street urchins to gather information for him.”

  “Just so. Except I don’t call my assistants Irregulars. I have a different name. Congratulations, Pru and ABE.” The detective grinned, and the lantern light reflected off his teeth a
nd sharp eyes. “You two just became Fibbers.”

  CHAPTER

  15

  ABE WAS PACING OUTSIDE THE FRONT DOORS OF THE school when Pru arrived Wednesday morning. She guessed from his anxious movement and the alarming state of his hair that he was upset about something.

  “Pru! I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Pru’s first thought had been that ABE was simply worked up over all they had learned the day before. Something about the way his eyes kept darting about in every direction suggested it was more than that, though.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I think we’re trapped!”

  Pru looked around. Kids hung about outside the school, enjoying their final moments of freedom before they’d be expected to go inside the gym and line up by class to start the day. Every once in a while, one would cast a nervous look at the ominous sky. Other than that, everything looked normal.

  “I don’t know, ABE. I’m having a hard time feeling intimidated by that group of kindergartners over there.” Pru frowned, reconsidering. “Though some teacher really should wipe that one kid’s nose. Ew.”

  “No, not here at school. I mean the whole town. Pru, I think we’re surrounded.”

  “By what?”

  ABE looked around him. Apparently satisfied no one would overhear, he replied, “Giants.”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “I stopped at the library last night on the way home. Everything Mister Fox said . . . well, it kind of shook me up and I find libraries relaxing. While I was there, I overheard a guy and a girl talking. They’d been at a place called the overlook. Do you know it?”

  “Yeah. It’s a spot along one of the hiking trails. It’s a view of the valley that surrounds the town. Not that there’s much to see,” Pru said, shrugging. “Just a bunch of trees and the road that eventually goes to the highway.”

  ABE nodded. “That’s kind of what I figured from the way the two were talking. Anyway, they’d been at the overlook, and they said the whole valley was filled with fog. I’ve been thinking. Mister Fox said the giant was a frost giant, right? Well, it’s been pretty warm lately, except when the giant was around. Remember how cold it was the two times we saw him? It’s like he radiated cold, which would make sense if he’s a frost giant. Well, fog can form when warm air and cold air mix.”

  Pru didn’t like where ABE was going with this. If fog formed around a frost giant, and the valley all around the town was filled with fog, it could really only mean one thing.

  “Mister Fox was right,” she said. “More giants have come looking for the Middleton Stone and the Eye of Odin.”

  “Pru, what are we going to do? Who knows how many giants are out there? Can Mister Fox get rid of them all with that looking glass of his? And why are they in the valley? Why haven’t they tried to take the Middleton Stone?”

  ABE’s voice rose with every question, finally reaching a pitch that left Pru worried for the windows of the school.

  “ABE, relax! It’s going to be okay.”

  “It is?”

  “Yes, it is. And do you know why?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Because,” Pru said, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin, “I have an idea.”

  ABE had to wait until recess to hear Pru’s plan. She almost didn’t tell him even then. She hadn’t appreciated how doubtful ABE had looked that morning when she’d first revealed that she had an idea for what they should do. He was going to have to learn to trust her. When had she ever led him astray?

  Well, except for the time she’d led him into the woods and they’d been attacked by a giant. And the time she accidentally made him an accomplice to breaking and entering at Winterhaven House. And the time he’d followed her to the Fort of the Fallen only to get attacked by a giant.

  Again.

  Still. The point was he was going to have to learn to trust her.

  And she did have a plan. It had come to her in the early hours of the morning.

  “See,” she began to explain at recess, “I was thinking about the same question you asked earlier. How come the giants haven’t gone after the Middleton Stone? Mister Fox said that Odin wouldn’t do anything to stop them. If Mister Fox knows that, the giants must know it, too. So I asked myself what they could be afraid of.”

  “And you came up with an answer?”

  “Yeah! And it was so obvious. It’s been right under our noses the whole time. Well, not exactly under our noses. More like over them.”

  “I’m not quite following.”

  “Do you remember that story we had to read for Mrs. Edleman? The one about Loki and Asgard’s wall? Remember who the giant was afraid of in the story?”

  ABE looked thoughtful for a moment. Then his eyes widened and he lifted his head to the sky—the sky that was filled with dark clouds and thunder.

  “They were afraid of Thor,” he said.

  “Right! Thor . . . the thunder god. Think about it. Do you remember the first day we saw the giant? We were in the woods and he chased us. We didn’t know what he was then, but he chased us into that clearing and you fell. I thought we were goners. But then, KA-­BOOM!” Pru clapped, then immediately lowered her voice when a couple of nearby kids looked in her direction. “There was that big boom of thunder. I bet that’s what spooked the giant off. The giants are scared of Thor. It said so in the story. And we’ve had all these thunderheads and all this thunder for days! I bet it’s Thor. It’s got to be!”

  “That actually makes a lot of sense,” ABE said. Pru did her best to ignore the surprise in ABE’s voice. “But where is he?”

  ABE looked around, as if he hoped to catch the thunder god hiding around a corner.

  “That’s the only part I haven’t figured out yet. I mean, he’s got to be nearby. He’s in town somewhere, I just know it. All we have to do is find him.”

  Pru would have liked to begin her search for the absent god of thunder that day, but she had a dentist appointment after school.

  Driving home after the appointment (the dreaded, grainy texture of the dentist’s ultramint toothpaste still in Pru’s mouth), Pru’s mother informed her that they had to stop by the police station to drop off the cans her office had collected for the station’s food drive.

  “Can’t you go another time?” Pru said, fidgeting.

  “I already took the afternoon off from work for your appointment, Pru. You know how busy I am these days. Look, sweetie, I know you don’t like going to the station. You can wait in the car if you really don’t want to go inside. But I really think it might be good for you to visit.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll wait outside.”

  Once they pulled into the parking lot, however, Pru found she couldn’t resist the building’s call. Taking her mother’s cue and lifting a box of cans from the trunk, she walked through the front doors of the Middleton Police Department.

  It didn’t take long for Roger Lyons, who had been her dad’s best friend, to find them once they went inside.

  “I think you’ll want to see this,” Roger said to Pru as he led her and her mother through the busy squad room. Cheerful greetings met them at every step, and Pru had to dodge more than one attempt to ruffle her hair before they arrived at their destination, a quiet corner apparently reserved for old files and folders and things-­not-­quite-­forgotten. There, half buried beneath mounds of paper, she saw it.

  “Dad’s desk,” Pru said. Her mother and Roger hung back.

  “They had it down in storage,” Roger said. “I made them move it. It belongs up here where the action is.”

  Pru approached the desk. Behind her, she heard Roger say in an undertone to her mother, “How’s she doing?”

  “Okay.” Her mother answered in a voice soft enough that Pru could barely hear. “She’s still so angry, though. And she won’t talk to me about anything.”

  Pru tuned the voices out and sat in the familiar seat that once belonged to her father. She wrapped her arms around the
arms of his chair, safe for just that moment in its embrace. Then she reached out and read the scratches along the metal ridges of the desk with her fingertips.

  Pru lived for such rare, stolen moments.

  In moments like those, the world reset itself and felt the way it had before. Pru could almost convince herself that she had returned to another time as the familiar sensations conjured memories of sitting in that very chair, swinging her legs as she waited for her dad to get off duty. She could almost see him lean over a nearby desk, telephone receiver nestled on his shoulder as he jotted down notes from an incoming call.

  “Pru,” her mother interrupted in a soft voice, “Roger and I are going to chat in his office. Come join us when you’re ready. Take as much time as you like.”

  Pru nodded and allowed herself the luxury of living in that other time for a few heartbeats longer. Then, closing her eyes, she let the moment slip away.

  Her mother thought Pru avoided the station because it made her sad.

  It did. But that wasn’t why she avoided it. Sadness didn’t keep her away, memories did. Memories lived in the station now, locked within walls of stone behind bars of steel. They weren’t locked away from her, though. That’s what her mother didn’t understand. They were locked away for her, safe and untouched. Pru hated the cemetery because it reminded her of death. The station reminded her of life.

  Pru avoided the station because moments like these had to be rationed. Right now, the desk and chair belonged to another time and had the power to return her to that time, however briefly. If she lingered too long, they’d become a fixture in this world without a dad and they’d lose that power.

  Best to move on.

  Pru rose and returned to the present, though she allowed her fingertips to linger on the back of the chair for as long as possible as she stepped away. Her one arm reached back to the past, yearning to hold on.

  When she finally did let go, Pru made a beeline for the water fountain. The light spray from the nozzle hit her face as the cold water ran down her throat. She stood up, free to bury her face for a moment in the sleeve of her coat to wipe the excess moisture away.