by Amy Hopkins
A hard knock at her door made Penny jump again. Get a grip, girl! She opened it, realizing too late she probably shouldn’t have, to find a pair of sunglasses staring back at her.
“Surprise, surprise.” She eyed the street, wondering if anyone had noticed his return. “I know you’ve been asking around about me. What do you want?”
“Sorry.” He shrugged. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Just figured you might have some questions. Most do.”
Could this day get any weirder? “Who does?” Penny folded her arms and scowled.
The man didn’t seem perturbed. He leaned a shoulder against the wall and pulled out a cigarette, putting it between his lips unlit while he answered. “The applicants. Or in your case, recruits. I’ve been watching you, Penny Hingston.”
“Oh, That doesn’t make you sound like a stalker at all. What the fuck is going on?” Penny plucked the lighter away as soon as it appeared. “And no smoking on my goddamn verandah.”
Pulsing muscles wrapped around Penny’s leg, working their way up until the reassuring pressure of a snake’s head rested on her shoulder. A forked tongue tickled her ear. Boots was a curious little thing, and protective.
The man sighed and put away the cigarette. “I’m Special Agent Stuart Crenel, Federal Bureau of Investigation.” He stuck out his hand, and Penny reluctantly shook it. “The letter I gave you is bullshit. Some suit in an office wrote it up, but it doesn’t explain anything.”
Penny eyed him for a moment. “I assume that’s your job, then?” she asked.
Crenel nodded. “You’re aware of the sudden increase in sightings of mythological creatures?”
“You mean the apocalypse?” Penny asked dryly.
“Is that what they’re calling it this week?” Crenel shrugged. “Whatever you want to name it, the American government has finally recognized the threat it presents. The world is changing, Miss Hingston, and we need people who can keep up.”
Slack-jawed, Penny stared at him for a moment, finally stepping aside to let the agent in. “I’m going to need a drink, aren’t I?”
By the time Penny had opened her second beer, she was beginning to understand. The school was a response to the appearance of the strange creatures. Students would learn to study, protect, and even fight the beings from myth and legend, and work to keep the public safe.
“So, the FBI started this school to…what, exactly?” Penny asked, trying to sort out her thoughts.
Agent Crenel winced. “It’s…not a FBI school. Not yet. We do have a training organization to assemble a team to deal with this, but it’s not enough—we need more people.” He eyed Penny appreciatively. “You would have made the cut for that if I’d found you a week earlier.”
“So, why are you involved?” Penny watched him closely, sure a hint of color had touched his cheeks at the question.
“As a favor for Jessica—Dean March. I’m helping her get this Academy up and running, and my bureau has convinced her to let me act as a liaison. I’m trying to convince Jessica to sign a formal agreement with the Bureau. She hasn’t folded yet, but she will.” His confident smirk suggested he believed his words. “We need the Academy, but they need us too.”
“Tell me more about the classes,” Penny demanded.
“Well, they’ll teach you to identify the creatures first. Each one so far has been based on a myth or story that’s been around for a helluva long time, so we have info and details about them.” Crenel pursed his lips.
“Like Boots. She’s a rainbow serpent, I know that much. An old Dreamtime story.” Penny stroked the snake, who’d looked up at the mention of the Dreamtime.
Crenel nodded. “Right, so those myths can tell us what we’re dealing with. Not all the Mythers are bad. There are at least a half-dozen leprechauns hanging around in Irish bars at last count, and for the most part, they just drink a lot of booze and mouth off a little.”
“Next question.” She tipped the bottle up and took a couple of swallows while she assembled her thoughts. “Why me? I’m not exactly fresh out of high school. Don’t you think if I’d wanted to go to uni, I’d be there already?”
“Eventually, we want to expand the Academy internationally. Having an Aussie kid graduate with this first batch of students would help that goal.” He was already swirling the last drops of his third drink around the bottom of the bottle. “It’s not exactly easy to attract applicants when the very nature of the course offerings is… Well, this unusual. We’re hand-selecting students, some young, some a little older. Otherwise, there’s too much risk of drawing the wrong kinds of people.”
“And I’m the right kind, huh?” Penny saw Crenel eyeing the last beer, and quickly cracked it open to take a gulp before he could ask for it. “I don’t know who you think I am, mate, but this?” Penny tapped the brochure. “This isn’t me.”
Crenel leaned over to hold his hand in front of Boots’ nose. “She’s an incredible creature,” he murmured. Boots nuzzled his wrist and darted her tongue out to lick the condensation from his now-empty beer bottle. His eyes met Penny’s. “I’ve seen the two of you together. You don’t think they’ll come for her eventually? This is your chance to keep her safe, and to make the world better for Boots and others like her.”
Penny scowled. “Guilt trips don’t work, bud. No one is coming for Boots. I wouldn’t let them. Besides, she wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Crenel raised an eyebrow and Penny flushed, realizing that as a F-B-freaking-I agent, he probably already knew about Jerry’s sore finger.
“Not unprovoked, anyway,” she amended.
“It wasn’t a threat, Hingston.” Crenel looked down the neck of his bottle, then set it on the table. “It’s God’s honest truth. I’ve seen creatures like Boots, who don’t mean us any harm. The people who make the rules, though? They just see a bunch of scared constituents who are gonna vote for the politician with the biggest weapon against them.”
“And what, the Academy will stop that happening?” Penny gave a skeptical snort.
“The Academy will give the public reassurance that if something big does go down, we’re ready. As a student, you—and Boots—will have a certain level of protection if laws come down prohibiting the existence of Mythers.” He leaned forward, serious. “It’s not a game, Penny. We will teach you to fight. To kill, if need be. Not all the Mythers are bad...but not all of them are good, either.”
“You’re preparing for something.” Penny downed the last of her drink, wishing she had something a little harder. “What is it?”
“We don’t know what else is coming.” Crenel pulled a phone out of his pocket and typed something in. After a moment, he placed it flat on the table and slid it over to her. “That was just last week.”
Penny scanned the online article on Crenel’s phone. It said a group at a New Jersey rave had somehow captured a Chupacabra, which had subsequently escaped and killed and mutilated the animals at a local shelter.
“God. That’s gruesome.” Penny passed the phone back and pressed a hand to her swirling stomach. “Lucky I didn’t eat before—oh shit, I forgot about dinner!”
She darted to the door, grabbed the now-lukewarm bag of Chinese, and dumped it on the table. She fished out the containers and tipped the food into bowls.
“I don’t suppose you’ve got enough for two?” Crenel asked.
Penny snorted. “How’d I know you were gonna ask that?”
She grabbed a couple of forks and threw ice into two glasses for the Cokes, a plan brewing in her mind.
The money would come in handy. And the protection a student—even a former student—would receive could help guard Boots. She’d have the chance to learn more about her new friend, and have inside information about what was coming in case Boots needed her protection.
Sign up, learn what I can and get the hell outta dodge. If all else failed, there was a place she could go, an old miner’s shack deep in the bush that was all but forgotten. Penny could keep Boots safe there, as long as she k
new what she was keeping her safe from.
Once dinner was plated up, she sat back down at the table and stuffed a bit of lemon chicken in her mouth. Still warm, at least. “Tell you what,” she said, muffled by the mouthful of food she was still chewing. “I’ll give you one semester. Just one. If you can convince me it’s worth staying, I will.”
Chapter Two
Six weeks, two plane flights, and a couple of annoying phone calls later, Penny stood nervously outside the open doorway of her first class.
She rubbed her eyes, wishing that a passport holdup hadn’t delayed her arrival until the evening before. Jet lag and not enough sleep had left her ill-prepared for her first day at a new school on the other side of the world.
In America.
“Best get on with it,” Penny muttered. She put her head down and walked into the room, briefly nodding at the scatter of students who had already taken their desks. It’s just for four months, she reminded herself. After that, I’ll never see these people again.
The students were quite the mix. A girl in flowing boho cotton dress sat beside a blonde girl wearing a revealing red blouse. The rebels, two boys and a girl with various piercings and tattoos, sat on top of their desks in the middle of the room.
She spotted the jock—a dark-skinned young man with a varsity jacket and a smug grin—and the smart kid, who was already typing on his MacBook with one hand, his other tapping calculations on his phone.
Penny slid behind a desk in the back row, quickly setting up her pens and notepad. She glanced over as someone took the spot next to her.
“Hey. You got a pen?” The guy gave her a hopeful grin, gesturing at his empty desk. He pushed black hair out of his eyes and waited expectantly. “And...maybe some paper, too?”
Penny frowned. “Dude. Do I look like a stationery shop?”
The guy stared back for a minute, then nodded. “Kinda.”
Penny glanced at the fat, rainbow pencil case on her desk beside three carefully stacked notebooks and an open planner. “You’ve got a point. Here—but if you lose it, I’ll come after you with the vengeance of a thousand drop bears. What’s your name?”
“Cisco.” He took the offered notebook and matching pen, chuckling as he did. “I love pink!”
She made a face. “Damn, here I thought hot pink stationery would be less likely to be stolen,” Penny shook her head before laughing with him. “I’m Penny.”
“You sound like you’re a long way from home?” Cisco flipped the book open and scrawled the date at the top of a new page.
“Yeah. I just—“
“Welcome, students!” Clicking heels punctuated the words as a woman marched into the room, her face puckered into a disapproving look as she looked down her nose at the class. Or along her nose, at least. Even with her modest heels, she was barely taller than the seated students. “I am Professor Madera. I expect you are all ready to begin?”
The professor’s eyes roamed over the students before she snorted at the resounding silence she got in reply. “I’ll assume that is a yes.” She turned and wrote her name at the top of the board, her tight, gray bun bobbing as she worked.
“Welcome to the March-Blaisey Academy of Historical Re-Emergence.”
Madera folded her hands in front of her. “You, and your colleagues who should be commencing their first class this afternoon hold the honor of being the first students to—”
Movement caught Penny’s eye, and she turned toward the door.
“Sorry! Sorry, I’ll just sneak in here. Whoops! Sorry!” A blonde girl appeared at the door and began picking her way past tightly-packed desks.
She stumbled twice before finally plonking herself down at a desk in front of Penny.
“Nice of you to join us.” Professor Madera didn’t turn around. “In this class, I expect punctuality and silent attention. We are here to study the history of recent events. Yes, it is history, however recent.” Madera finished writing the class topic—Complete History of Mythological Invasion—on the board, then turned to pick up a stack of papers.
“Gonna be a short class, then.” The voice from the front set off a snigger of laughter through the class.
“Ohhh,” Cisco whispered just loud enough for Penny to hear. “That guy is gonna get his ass handed to him.”
“If your knowledge of the subject is complete, please, enlighten us.” Madera stalked over to the offending student and tossed her chalk on his desk. “Mister…”
“Clive. My name’s Clive.” Clive shrank in his seat, apparently reluctant to capitalize on the attention he’d gained.
“Well, Clive, seeing as you’re so much taller than me, you can write the timeline. Start at the top of the board. I want all two-hundred and twenty-seven incidents listed in order of occurrence, interspersed with the evolution of theories that predominated at the time. Oh, and please include the increasing levels of involvement of government agencies.” Madera folded her arms and tapped her foot, waiting for her student to comply.
“Uhh…” Clive stood and shuffled to the whiteboard. After a few seconds of hesitation, he wrote 2017 at the top of the board.
“Clive, you haven’t left enough room for the previous year.” Madera spoke calmly but didn’t make any move to relieve the red-faced student’s embarrassment.
Clive slumped. “I have no idea what I’m doing. I know the first sighting that went viral was in 2017, but…” He shrugged to indicate his ignorance.
Madera motioned for him to resume his seat. “The first corroborated sighting of a mythological creature was, in fact, a year prior to the broadcast of the Times Square event. It occurred on the ninth of September.” She paused, then barked, “If you aren’t writing this down, you’d better hope your memory is accurate enough to recall this information during the exams.”
Penny quickly opened her notebook, smoothing the fresh page and scrawling the current date. She jotted the heading Timeline, and under it, the date Madera had mentioned.
Someone tapped her elbow, and she looked up. Cisco jutted his chin at the girl who’d come in late.
“Oh, my God, kill me now!” she muttered, pawing through a tasseled handbag. “I swear I put a pen in here!”
Penny stifled a sigh. Stationery shop, indeed. She leaned forward and tapped the girl’s back with the tip of a pen. The girl jerked her head around, then grabbed it with a groan of relief. “Thanks!” she whispered. “You saved my ass!”
The rest of the class went smoothly. Penny furiously scribbled notes about what was believed to be “Incident Zero,” the appearance of a leprechaun at a Boston bar. At first believed to be a promotional event, no one had reported it—at least, no one sober enough to be believed. It wasn’t until a video surfaced eight months later, well after the video of a six-foot-tall rabbit crapping foil-covered chocolates in Manhattan went viral, that the bar owner finally denied all knowledge of the small green man encouraging patrons to drink themselves to oblivion.
“And why do you think this particular being was conjured in this place?” Madera asked.
The boho girl in the front row raised her hand, bracelets jingling. “Someone held a seance?”
“Your name, please?” Madera asked.
“Kathy.”
Madera shook her head. “In this particular case, it seems to have been a spontaneous appearance. The advertising material or the bar all used the leprechaun’s image. It was on their promotional material, and they often had costumed mascots in the bar during sporting events. We believe that the event coincided with the video.”
She scanned the class, but no one interrupted.
“The video reached peak virality during a televised local football match. While the sports fans were cheering for their favorite team, four hundred thousand people watched a video.” She waited.
“You mean the Ultimate Truth video?” The nerdy kid looked up, then ducked his head when he realized all eyes were on him.
“Yes...Trevor?” Madera guessed. The boy nodded. “As th
ose who watched said the words ‘Belief makes truth, and faith makes reality,’ a Lucky Charms commercial aired. The bar’s mascot, who had been drinking, began to jokingly threaten a class-action suit on behalf of ‘underpaid leprechauns’ and entered into the persona of an angry mythological creature.”
“So, the mascot turned into a real leprechaun?” Clive asked.
Madera shook her head. “He was attacked by one. The visitor tackled the mascot to the ground, yelling that impersonation was a breach of his rights, and proceeded to beat his victim over the head with a tiny cauldron.”
“How did we never hear about this?” another classmate asked.
“The patrons were drunk. It was assumed to be a promotional stunt, and they lapped it up. When the bar’s records were later subpoenaed over the incident, it was revealed they exceeded normal alcohol sales that night by nine hundred percent.” Madera folded her hands neatly in front of her, glancing quickly at Cisco. “What am I missing?”
“The bar owner bribed the mascot to avoid charges,” he explained. “And kept his mouth shut, blaming booze on any claims of something unusual going on.”
Penny kept scribbling notes, ignoring the cramp in her hand. On the floor at her feet, her bag wriggled briefly. She jumped, glanced around, then nudged it with her toe. The bag stilled.
When the lesson was over and class had been dismissed, Penny quickly packed up her things.
“Can I keep the book for today?” Cisco asked. “I’ll copy my notes tonight and hand it back tomorrow.”
“You can keep the book,” Penny told him. “You were right—I’m a walking supply shop. I’ve got enough to spare you one.”
Cisco grinned. “Pink notebook.” He waved it. “It’ll be my thing!”
As they exited the classroom, the blonde girl snagged Penny’s elbow, walking with them to the next class. “Penny, right? I’m Amelia. Thank you so much for the loaner!” She spoke quickly, barely taking a breath. “I can’t believe I was late on my first day! I overslept; my new roommate got in at midnight. That was ok, except halfway through the night she started hissing! I didn’t get a wink of sleep. I thought she was gonna bite me!”
