by Daley, Lysa
“Still.” I shook my head.
“I insist you take it,” he said, “You don’t have to use the gun, but if you need one, you’ll have it.”
He was right. Just because I had it with me, didn’t mean I would ever actually need to fire a gun.
“Okay.” I slid the gun into the inside pocket of my leather jacket. I was surprised by how light the little weapon felt.
Mr. Stroud then said, “Let me see your wand. As a licensed operation in the state of California, I’ll have to register it with the State Board.”
When I didn’t move, he scowled. “Don’t tell me you don’t have your wand?”
“It’s at my father’s house.”
“Doesn’t your father live in London?”
I nodded.
“How inconvenient.” He sighed. “What kind of witch doesn’t have her wand?”
“One that doesn’t practice witchcraft anymore.”
I wondered if he was having second thoughts about hiring me
“Unfortunately, it’s mandatory for this job that you carry your wand with you at all times,” he said firmly. “All my seeker agents carry one, or they don’t work here. You need to tell me now, are you interested in the job or not?”
I hesitated.
“Believe me, Miss McCray, plenty of people would love this opportunity.”
This seemed like an odd thing to say for a man whose office sat in the basement of a decrepit old building. Still, he was probably right about that. And I needed the money.
“Okay.” I nodded. “I’ll give it a try.”
“That’s all I’m asking.” Mr. Stroud smiled broadly. He moved to a different door. After rummaging around inside it, he pulled out a long ivory-colored wand. “Take this one.”
It was delicately carved with a long narrow body. By the radiating energy, I could tell it had belonged to a witch, not a wizard. It literally crackled with strong female energy.
“I can’t take someone else’s wand.” I put up my hands in protest. It was very bad luck to use another witch’s wand.
“It’s okay. Its history has been cleared. It’s ready for a new owner.” A flash of something, perhaps regret, briefly crossed his face. “And I know the previous owner would approve of you.”
“Who was the previous owner?” I gave in and carefully took the wand, holding it like you would cradle a baby bird.
“She won’t be needing it,” he replied cryptically. Obviously, there was some history behind this wand that he wasn’t going to share with me. He changed the subject. “Also, let’s get you some troll repellent. Do you prefer a cologne or a spray perfume?”
“How can you possibly capture a troll?” Ellie’s jaw dropped. She was sitting cross-legged on my bedroom floor.
“I don’t have to capture him,” I explained. “I just have to find his lair then retrieve some necklace he stole.”
“Oh, gotcha. Piece of cake,” she said like I was totally crazy. “And he said that is a simple case? I’d hate to hear what he thinks is difficult.”
“I’m more worried about trying to figure out where this troll lives,” I said.
“They don’t know?”
“No. That’s part of my job.”
“Aren’t trolls super strong man-eaters?”
“Good news, bad news on that front,” I began. “The North American troll is generally smaller and weaker than a Scandinavian troll, but they’re also supposed to be smarter.”
“And what about the man-eating part?”
I hesitated. “Yeah, they both do that.”
“How are you going to find this jewel thief of a troll?”
“Trolls live under bridges and in tunnels,” I said, talking it through. “So I need to figure out if there’s been any unusual activity near any of those.”
“What’s so special about this stolen necklace?”
“Apparently, this troll stole a necklace that belongs to some lady in Beverly Hills. And the lady wants it back.”
“What sort of necklace? Like some crazy diamond choker?”
I picked up the file Mr. Stroud gave me. There wasn’t a whole lot of information in it. Just a description of the missing necklace and a map of potential troll sightings. They think the thief was a troll named Grog, who’s been seen in the L.A. area over the last few months.
“No, nothing that fancy. It says it’s a necklace of ‘particular value to the owner,’ described as a simple gold chain with a single enchanted charm attached.”
“What kind of charm?”
“Doesn’t say. Could be a lot of things.”
A charmed object could be any non-magical item that has been imbued with a specific blessing or enchantment. Some items held a charm better than others—like a rabbit’s foot or a four leaf clover. If correctly charmed, the items really could be lucky for the owner.
On the other hand, things like diamonds and pearls — things traditionally considered to be more valuable — didn’t hold a charm very well. Therefore, it was quite possible, the necklace may have been a chain with a simple charmed crystal or a gold locket.
When I looked back at Ellie, she was staring at something sitting on my dresser. “Is that a—”
“Yes, it is.”
“You, Lacey McCray, are in possession of a wand?”
“It’s only a loaner. Mr. Stroud made me take it,” I admitted, feeling a little embarrassed. Ellie knew that I’d sworn off magic. Now I felt like a big, fat hypocrite. “The guy wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“But don’t you have your own wand?” Ellie asked, knowing that all witches get their wand at the age of fifteen.
“No,” I said flatly. “I mean, I do. I did. But it’s back at my dad’s house in a box in the attic someplace. I probably couldn’t find it if I tried.”
Ellie bounced up off my bed and grabbed her purse. “Well, you have fun with that. I have a hot date with a centaur.”
“No you don’t.”
“No, I don’t,” she confessed, as she swept out. “But a girl can dream, can’t she?”
“Do I need to remind you that you’re engaged?”
“Please, Jim is great, but I’d throw him over for a centaur in a heartbeat.”
“No you wouldn’t.”
She shrugged and smiled. “No. I wouldn’t.”
After Ellie left, I hopped on the Internet. Mr. Stroud said this was a simple job. But for the life of me, how was I supposed to find a troll?
Bright and early the next morning, I sat down on my couch with my laptop to continue the troll research I started last night.
I was good at research. It was my thing. And I felt like I was going to figure out this stolen necklace mystery. I had to. School started in less than a week, which meant I needed to get the reward money by then to ensure that I could re-enroll in my grad classes.
I’d already found numerous tales about trolls frequently described as being extremely old, very strong, but slow and dim-witted. At times, they’re described as vicious man-eaters. If you could draw them outside, they would turn to stone upon contact with sunlight.
They prefer to live under bridges, but in our modern world, they’ve often taken to living in sewers, drainage pipes, and in tunnels in order to avoid conflict with humans.
The largest concentration of both bridges and tunnels in Los Angeles was deep in the heart of downtown or way out in the valley.
Since those were the two most logical locations for a troll to hide, I scanned the police reports for those areas. Nothing unusual popped up in the downtown area.
Then I got lucky and stumbled upon several incidents of church bells being stolen or destroyed way up in the valley, in the San Fernando and Sunland areas.
Trolls hated the sound of tolling bells, especially church bells.
I cross-referenced the location of the church bells with a map of the freeway and the L.A. River, which wasn’t a real river. Instead, it was a series of concrete channels built to drain rainwater away from populated areas out to the
ocean. Over fifty miles of concrete river spidered out across Los Angeles.
As luck would have it, two different river channels intersected right in the middle of the area where the church bells had been vandalized.
Bingo! Looked like I was driving out to San Fernando.
The air felt like rain as I snaked my way up the 5 Freeway, toward the little town of San Fernando—most famous for being the home of one of California’s oldest missions. A working class town surrounded this simple yet lovely old church and mission.
But I wasn’t headed to the mission.
From what I could tell from the maps, the most likely place to start my search would be an industrial area behind a massive school bus depot that sat under a tangle of freeway interchanges and right next to the concrete river basin. There were three massive drainage tunnels within half a mile of the bus depot.
I parked on a lonely two-lane road behind the bus depot in this highly industrial area. Sitting in the driver’s seat, I grabbed my backpack that I’d stuffed with basic supplies: flashlight, rope, first-aid kit, and snacks. I unzipped the main pocket and pulled out the magic wand.
It felt odd in my hands. Unfamiliar.
I set the backpack and the wand down on the passenger seat and checked my phone. Just in case there was a text from Mr. Stroud telling me to abandon the troll hunt.
No such luck.
I got out of the car and hiked down the dusty dry embankment to a chain-link fence that divided the river from the crumbling blacktopped pathway.
Luckily, there was no razor wire at the top of the fence so I easily climbed over.
A small city of warehouses existed under the raised freeways. Between the city bus depot and a handful of abandoned looking warehouses, the L.A. River ran.
The first tunnel was only about fifty yards long from one end to the other. Even from the embankment above the river, I could see straight through it. It was perfectly clear.
No troll here.
I turned around and headed the other way. Even before I got close to tunnel #2, I was pretty sure I’d arrived at the right place.
From a distance, I saw a large mound of garbage, broken furniture, and rotting food piled outside the mouth of the tunnel.
Trolls were natural hoarders and not known for being neat about it.
The first hurdle to get over was figuring out how to get from the embankment above the river down onto the flat concrete base. I walked nearly a quarter of a mile farther up the river to find a maintenance stairway that allowed me access down to the concrete floor.
I was definitely breaking the law by trespassing down here.
My feet slapped on the floor of the river. At the moment, it was perfectly safe and almost completely dry. Nothing but a small trickle of water ran down a gully in the center.
But in a rainstorm, you wouldn’t have a chance.
As I approached the second tunnel, it wasn’t only the mounds of garbage or the random pieces of broken furniture that let me know I was probably in the right spot. It was the smell.
Trolls stunk.
Combine the aroma of skunk, wet dog, and a litter box, then multiply it by 100.
I pulled a red bandanna that I used for hiking from my backpack and covered my nose and mouth, hoping to block the smell.
Crouched low, I stopped twenty feet from the opening of the tunnel. It was dark inside, and I couldn’t see anything. I listened, but didn't hear anything other than the sound of the narrow trickle of water that drained down the center of the tunnel.
I had a flashlight with me, but didn’t want to use it in case it alerted the troll to my presence. Of course, it was possible he was already watching me from the inside, and I was walking right into a trap.
I slowly snuck into the tunnel, pressing my back against the smooth wall. A low repetitive rumble came from the mouth of the tunnel.
Snoring.
I’d found the troll. And he was asleep.
Slowly, I inched farther in, slowly my eyes adjusted to the low light, and I saw a huge hairy lump of flesh sprawled across a pile of junk.
This troll was even uglier in person than I expected.
His rotund body was covered in dirty brown fur. His face was wrinkled with a swollen nose, all misshapen and bulbous. Even lying on his back, it looked like he was at least ten to fifteen feet tall.
Cold mud from the filthy tunnel floor oozed into my shoes as I crept forward and looked around. With all the debris and garbage everywhere, I had no idea how I would ever possibly locate one little necklace.
Was that why Stroud had given me this job? Because it was impossible? Or maybe to get me killed by a man-eating troll? Had I totally lost my mind? I was actually wandering through a troll’s lair looking for a delicate piece of jewelry. It would take hours to search through the mess.
This whole situation was ridiculous.
I turned to go and accidentally bumped the pile of bones, knocking one to the ground. A loud clatter filled the cave.
The troll jerked awake, lifting his groggy, pointed head and opening his beady eyes. He didn't look around for an intruder. Instead, he sniffed the air. It only took a couple sniffs before he caught my scent.
“Um, delicious!”
I ducked low behind the pile of fresh animal bones. When I spotted what I was sure were human skulls, I had to stifle a scream.
The troll pulled himself to his feet, slouching around. “Who’s there?”
I spun toward the mouth of the tunnel and wondered if I could make a break for it before he could catch me.
“I said who's there?” He bellowed, stomping in my direction.
I ducked even lower. Maybe if I waited it out, he’d give up and go back to sleep.
Trying to make myself as small as possible, I crouched lower. From where I was, a glint of light caught my eye.
The little flash of light was coming from something dangling from the troll’s wrist. He was wearing the necklace as a bracelet around his left wrist.
When I realized I’d found what I came looking for, I let out a little gasp of surprise.
The troll’s head snapped in my direction. “There you is!”
Panicked, I searched for an escape route. But all I could make out in the faint light were more mounds of garbage and dark walls closing in on me.
“I sees you, pretty!” the troll snarled, lumbering toward me. “You look yummy.”
At this point, I really had only one option. Still, I hesitated, because even in the direst of situations, I didn’t want to do it.
It was against everything I stood for.
Nearly out of time, I reached into the backpack for the wand. I could stop him with a simple spell. I shoved my hand in and fished around. But it wasn’t there.
I’d left the stupid magic wand on the passenger seat of my car.
Chapter Five
His thick sausage fingers snapped like alligator jaws, only seconds away from grabbing me.
Without the wand, there was only one thing left to do.
“Here goes nothing…” I closed my eyes to concentrate.
In my mind, I rifled through animals that I’d already shifted into and could do again. Squirrel flashed through my mind. Too big. Then rabbits and cats. No, not right for this situation.
With a spark of inspiration, I instantly knew what the correct choice should be. Ew. This wasn’t going to be pretty.
Focusing all my mental powers inward, I silently cast the spell and began to shrink. My cells transfigured quickly, like getting thrown into the eye of a violent storm but floating peacefully in the center of it then getting pulled back out into the storm.
As always, I experienced the momentary sensation of falling before I landed squarely on four paws.
I was a rat.
Not a moment too soon, either.
Thundering toward me, the troll kicked the stack of bones, sending them flying in every direction. I scurried into the shadows under a nearby broken dresser, barely avoiding being squ
ashed by what looked like the flying buffalo skull.
“Where is you?!” he yelled, looking wildly around. “I know yous is still here.
I backed up as far as I possibly could. His hairy bare feet stood in the spot where I’d just been. He turned a circle, searching the tunnel for me.
When he dropped to his knees with an echoing boom, I knew he was going to look under the dresser.
Shoot!
I had no choice but to back my way into a totally disgusting pile of garbage.
So this is what it’s come to? Hiding from a monster in a pile of garbage. Not to mention that this was the first time I had shifted in several years and I’d chosen a rat. Yuck.
I really needed to sit down and reevaluate my life’s direction.
Frozen amid rotting food and empty food containers, I had a moment to experience the entirety of my ratness. Every animal I had ever shifted into felt completely different. It wasn’t only the physical body, either. Of course that's part of it. My four sets of little claws clung to the concrete floor. And my strong tail helped me balance and maneuver. My sense of smell was much keener, yet I wasn’t disgusted by the smell of trash as might be expected.
Rats probably didn’t mind a nice juicy pile of garbage.
My eyesight was a little dull, but my hearing was also a lot sharper. So sharp, in fact, that I heard a tiny squeak behind me. Whirling around on my four furry legs, I was met by a pair of dark beady eyes staring back at me.
It was another rat. A much bigger male rat.
A flash of fear surged through me. Animals could be highly territorial. The last thing I needed was to get into a rat fight. I hunkered down, making myself smaller in an attempt to be submissive to the other rat. Perhaps that would be enough to appease him.
But as he tentatively crept closer, I sensed that he wasn’t in an aggressive state. Rather, I think he liked me.
Meanwhile, out in the tunnel, the troll stomped around trying to find me.
Fantastic. An amorous rat coming over to make friends while I was trying to get away from an angry troll.
The male rat inched closer, softly cooing. Hoping to discourage my would-be Romeo, I arched my back and growled.
