by Amy Hopkins
The roar of the blades slowed to a rhythmic thud, and finally, the chopper stopped. Moments later, shouted words filled the void.
Penny tossed the rope to Cisco. “Give me a hand?”
Cisco nodded and planted one foot on the sasquatch. “Red, lift his head.”
By the time the troop of heavily armed intelligence agents thundered into view, the sasquatch was trussed up like a Sunday roast.
Penny looked down approvingly. “Better than a date with Tom Cruise,” she mused.
“You’ve been on a date with Cruise?” Amelia cocked an eyebrow. “Honey, the guy is nearly old enough to be your grandad.”
Penny took a moment to process what Amelia had said. “Roast lamb? Sunday dinner?” At Amelia’s blank—and increasingly worried—expression, Penny gave in. “It’s an old tv ad from back home. A girl wins a date with Tom and passes it up for a roast lamb dinner.”
Amelia just shook her head. “Girl, I never thought I’d say this, but you come from a place that’s even crazier than America.”
“Take him, boys.” Jones stood back, thumbs hooked through his belt loops.
“Excuse me, Professor, but I’m leading this operation.” Dressed in tactical gear yet somehow looking as classy as she had in a skirt and heels, Agent Delouise shot Jones a withering look before addressing her team. “Travis, check the subject’s vitals. Tuck, make sure that rope is secure. Max, question the civilians. Find out what really went down here.”
Jones mumbled an apology and shuffled back toward the trees.
Penny turned her back on him, covering a smirk. She’d bet her Boots that he’d told them he was responsible for the capture.
The agent ducked his head politely and pulled out a notebook and pencil. “Ma’am, my name is Max Townsend. I’d like to ask you a few questions about what happened here today.”
Penny’s smile widened. “Sure, Max. I’ll tell you everything I remember.”
Chapter Eleven
Three weeks flew by in a blink. Penny slipped into the rhythm of academy life, her time between classes usually spent with Boots, Cisco, and Amelia.
The coffee shop Amelia had taken her to on their first outing had become a regular hangout, ever since a young barista had whispered to Penny that she could provide a little cup of milk for her “friend.”
Although dubious at first, Boots had quickly decided she was a fan of hot, frothy milk, to the point of trying to lick it off Penny’s coffee. “What have I done?” Penny pulled Boots away, but the serpent persisted. “You’ve had yours! No coffee. It’s not good for snakes.”
Amelia lifted an eyebrow. “How do you know?”
Pursuing her lips, Penny considered the question seriously. “Because if she keeps stealing mine, I’ll turn her into a handbag.”
Boots hissed and disappeared under the table. A moment later, the tip of a rainbow tail crept up the side, groping its way toward the little pot of plain milk. Penny nudged it over, and the serpent expertly pulled it down without spilling a drop.
“Wow.” Amelia eyed the macaroon on her plate, knowing Boots had enthusiastically tasted the crumbs last time she’d ordered one. “You’re lucky she’s not a klepto, Penn. That’s talent!”
“Don’t give her ideas,” Penny chided. “Did you know she’s been sucking up to Cook for fresh cookie dough?”
Amelia giggled, then sobered as something occurred to her. “Penny, she hasn’t been pooping in our room, has she?”
“Yeah, of course she has. It’s ok, I made sure she doesn’t use your good shoes. Just those blue flats. You don’t wear them often.”
Amelia’s outrage was quickly smothered by Penny’s hysterical laughter. When Boots popped her head up, curious what the commotion was, Amelia started giggling too.
“As if I’d let her use your shoe as a dunny,” Penny wheezed.
Amelia laughed harder. “I don’t even know what you just said, but I love it, you crazy chick.”
When they finally recovered their composure, Penny wiped the tears from her eyes. “Amelia, I can’t thank you enough,” she said seriously. “I mean it.”
Amelia pulled a face. “What for? You paid for the coffee.”
“For...being you.” Penny twisted her coffee cup in circles on the table. “We came here with no idea what to expect. I didn’t know anyone. After that first night, you’d be well within your rights to hold a grudge.”
“Well, you did make me late to my very first class,” Amelia pointed out. “But I suppose I can forgive that. I mean, you have excellent taste in coffee and men.”
“Men?” Penny frowned. At Amelia’s expression, she sighed. “Mate, if you roll your eyes any harder, they’ll fall out of your head.”
“Cisco? Mr. Tall, Dark, and Ripped like a Greek god?” Amelia threw up her hands, exasperated. “I’m not blind, Penny!”
Boots, sensing her friend’s discomfort, climbed up into Penny’s lap and butted her chin.
“See? Even Boots thinks it’s obvious,” Amelia proclaimed.
“Dude, we’re just friends. Mates. Like you and me. There’s nothing sexual going on.” Penny bit the inside of her cheek, trying to will away the heat rising to her cheeks. Then, she leaned closer. “What do you mean, ‘ripped like a god’?”
Amelia almost knocked over her coffee in her excitement. “Oh, I totally forgot—you didn’t see!”
Penny waited, but Amelia was already lost in thought. “Amelia! See what?”
With a sly smile, Amelia explained that after they’d pulled Penny out from beneath the sasquatch, Cisco had stripped his shirt off to clean the mud and hair off her face. Amelia clasped her hands to her bosom, swooning. “Not an ounce of fat on that boy. And his tan is just…” Tipping her head back with a hand on her forehead, Amelia collapsed back in her chair.
Penny watched the theatrics, blushing again when she realized half the busy cafe had their eyes on Amelia too. “What about Red?” she asked.
Amelia smirked. “That beautiful boy is all mine—Cisco’s not my type. Why? Are you jealous that I looked?”
Penny coughed to hide a laugh. “You can look all you want, Amelia. Cisco and I are just mates.”
Amelia gave a very unimpressed nod. “Sure, hon. You keep telling yourself that. Just don’t come crying to me when Kathleen swoops in and takes him off you.”
“What?” Penny snapped. Then, trying to regain her nonchalance, she added, “I didn’t know Kathleen was interested.”
“Does it matter?” Amelia asked coyly.
Penny resolutely shook her head, ignoring a small prickle of jealousy. We’re just friends, she reminded herself. I’m not going to be here much longer, anyway.
For once, that reminder didn’t come with a rush of relief. Instead, a pang of sadness swept over her. She had enjoyed Amelia’s company, teasing notwithstanding. She would miss her new friend if she left.
When I leave, Penny amended. When. Not if.
Amelia screamed. “Penny!”
Penny blinked and looked up from the library desk. “Mmmm?”
“We’re going to see The Dead Adonis!” Amelia waved her phone at Penny, too quickly to be read.
“What? Is that for an assignment?” Penny racked her brain. None of their classes had touched on Greek mythology. That wasn’t due until next year.
“No, you doofus. The band?” Amelia sighed and jerked her phone back. A minute later, a song blared out from the tinny speakers.
Penny snapped her laptop shut and closed her eyes, listening to the tune. Then, she shook her head. “Never heard of them.”
“They’re a local band, but they just signed a contract with one of the big labels. Penny, don’t you pay any attention to the real world?” Amelia perched on a stool. “Ugh, whatever. I’ll just have to make you listen to all their songs before Friday.”
“What’s Friday?” Penny was beginning to think she had missed the first half of the conversation.
“The party.” Amelia held out her phone again, this
time passing it to Penny to hold.
A series of text messages ran down the screen. Penny quickly scanned it.
Tammy: Hey babe! Ger snagged TDA for his bash this wknd!
WHAAAT?!?!?! WHEN?
Tammy: Fri @ 9. U coming? Bring that friend of urs, the one who knows Thor.
Who?
Oh, Penny? The Aussie chick? She’s fab, but I don’t think she knows him.
Tammy: Damn! Oh well, she cool anyway. C U then!
Penny raised an eyebrow. “I know a Hemsworth, but not any of the famous ones,” she clarified.
Amelia brushed off the statement with a flick of her hand. “Doesn’t matter. I’m more of a Momoa girl anyway.”
“Ah. So, we’re going to a party?” Penny rolled her shoulders back and stretched. “I suppose... Midterms will be over by then—by the way, how’d you do on the defense test?”
Amelia groaned, sitting down with a thump. “Terrible. But if I tell you what’s coming, it’s an auto-fail. Just...be careful, ok?”
“Wow.” Penny was confident she had aced the Mythological Items class written exam and felt as prepared as she could be for the Acquisitions practical. So far, though, no one had been able to talk about the secretive Defense test, held in the training room one student at a time.
Amelia leaned over. “Whatcha working on?”
“Database additions.” Penny had exhausted the entire swathe of information the institute had on Rainbow Serpents in about forty-five minutes of reading. “Madera offered me extra credit if I add everything we know about Boots.”
Frowning, Penny tapped out the last paragraph of her addition and clicked Update.
Submission pending.
Madera and the dean would both have to sign off on the added information before it appeared in the listing, part of the vetting process for all new information.
“Ugh, I could do with some of that.” Amelia thumped down next to Penny. “My brain is terrible with dates and figures. It’ll be a miracle if I do anything but scrape by in History.”
Done with the database, Penny clicked around the screen, absentmindedly hitting the ‘latest updates’ tab. She leaned in. “Wow. There’s a ton of vampire info being added this week.”
Amelia leaned over her shoulder. “Boston?” That’s where all the updates were originating. “Weird. Maybe they’re having an outbreak?”
Penny snorted. “They’re Mythers, not chickenpox.”
Amelia punched Penny’s shoulder. “You know what I mean. Your sense of humor has dried up from all that computer work—you wanna come hit some targets?”
The archery range had only been set up the previous week and had proven popular amongst the students. “Sure. There should be some targets free this late in the afternoon.”
Chapter Twelve
Penny knocked on the door of the training room, trying not to fidget as she waited for Professor Jones to open it. The Defense Class professor had barely spoken to her since the camping trip. Penny guessed it was because she had ratted him out.
She had heard—from Cisco, who had heard from his mom, who got it straight from the Dean herself—that Jones was on his last warning.
When Penny expressed surprise that Jones had kept his job at all, Cisco admitted it was only due to a dearth of qualified professors able to teach the subject. Word on the campus grapevine was that if a better candidate came along, Jones’s job might not be all that secure after all.
When the door finally creaked open, she stepped inside, butterflies exploding to life in the pit of her stomach. "Good afternoon, Professor Jones." Penny looked around the room, hoping for a hint of what was to come.
A heavy, locked chest sat alone in the center of the room. The nearby walls held the usual array of practice weapons.
Perhaps the biggest surprise was Professor Jones himself. He was dressed in full combat gear—Kevlar vest, a full-face helmet, and heavy padding on his arms and legs.
"Choose your weapons." The professor tossed Penny a duffel bag. "You can take anything that will fit in this bag. Once the test begins, these will be the only weapons you may touch. If you use anything outside of your initial selection, you fail the class."
"But what am I fighting?" Penny eyed the wide selection of weapons, knowing that any creature she might face would probably have its own specific method of destruction.
No point picking up a gun if your enemy was a vampire. At the same time, a wooden stake would do nothing against an angry zombie.
"If you're out in the field and run into something unexpectedly, do you think it's going to wait for you to run back home and assemble your kit?" the professor asked acerbically. "Choose. Your. Weapons."
Penny took a hesitant step toward the nearest wall, one adorned with a selection of weapons used for vampire slaying.
"You have two minutes."
The sudden sense of urgency was all Penny needed. She ran for the wall, grabbing one of each type of weapon.
Two wooden stakes, an ancient blessed sword, one silver dagger, two water pistols filled with holy water, a bag of salt, knuckle dusters, a hand axe, and a pair of scissors—excellent for cutting off malevolent shadows.
"Set the bag down over there. Arm yourself. You have thirty seconds." Professor Jones pointed to an area about twenty meters away from the chest. Penny dragged the bag over as fast as she could, hesitating before drawing out the blessed sword, strapping the holy water and salt to her belt, and fitting the knuckle-dusters on her left hand.
"Five, four, three..." As he counted down, Professor Jones strode over to the box and slid a key into the large padlock. "Two, one." The padlock slid up and the professor jumped back, stumbling on his heavy attire. The lid to the chest sprang open.
Penny dropped into a defensive stance, gripping the sword with two hands. She waited, nerves twisting tightly in her gut.
A music box chimed the hollow tunes of an ancient lullaby as a thin, childlike voice called, "Play with me!"
Penny's stomach fell to her boots. "No fucking way."
A small creature shot out of the box, flipping in the air and landing in front of it. Patchy ginger hair fell over large, painted eyes and onto white wooden cheeks. The tiny doll wore a red pinafore over striped stockings and held a sharp knife in one hand.
"Is that a haunted doll?" Penny squeaked. She swallowed hard, trying to muster back the confidence she’d walked in with. It didn’t work.
Unable to help himself, Professor Jones confirmed it. "You have no idea how hard she was to find. Do you know what kind of a catch an actual urban mythological creature is? I had to —"
Penny lost whatever else the professor said, his words drowned out as her sword clanged with the psychotic doll’s dagger.
"Hi, I’m Annie.” The doll’s head tilted jerkily to one side. Her frozen, painted eyes bored into Penny’s soul. “Be my best friend?"
"She's terrifying!" Penny spun, trying to keep the fast-moving creature in her sights. Annie, laughing in a high pitch that sent shivers down Penny’s spine, sprinted forward again.
Penny flung her sword up to block her, knocking the little knife out of her hands. Unfortunately, the doll had already attached to her leg. Blunt teeth sank into her calf. Penny shrieked.
“Your mouth is painted on, bitch!” Penny yelled. “How do you have teeth?”
Desperate to dislodge the tiny nightmare, she reached down and grabbed the doll’s hair. She flicked it and tossed it across the room, where it slammed against the wall and crumbled to the floor in a heap, hinged joints askew.
Panting heavily, Penny let the tip of her sword drift toward the floor.
“That wasn't very nice!" Penny's stomach lurched as Annie contorted and jerked, pulling herself back up to her feet and shuffling toward her on a splintered leg. Tiny points of red glowed in her eyes and her vacant smile had contorted into a frown, made all the more surreal for the blood that dripped down the tiny chin.
“I'm gonna get killed by a motherfucking doll," Penny gr
oaned. Although she hoped the idea of legal liability meant the professor would stop the exam before that happened, she had no guarantee that he would. Something about Professor Jones made it seem somewhat unlikely that he cared that much about procedure.
"How do I kill it?" Penny called to her teacher.
"What? Don't kill her! I still haven't fixed my gnome."
"Asshole," Penny muttered. Her back pressed against a row of rope weapons hanging on the wall behind her. "So, how am I meant to stop it?" she yelled, hoping against all odds that her teacher would divulge some actually useful information.
"However you want.” The padded monstrosity that was the professor shrugged. "Just don't damage her, please."
Annie lurched closer, dragging the broken leg behind her. "What, don't you want to play with me?"
"I was more a Pokémon kind of kid," Penny explained.
The red embers glowing in Annie’s eyes flared. "You're saying you don't like dolls?" Her voice dripped with fury.
With a movement too fast to see, Annie lifted her arm and flicked the knife forward. Reacting purely on instinct, Penny dove to one side. A sting in her ear told her how close she had been to losing an eye. "I wouldn't like to be paying the insurance for this place," she mumbled.
Now weaponless, Annie began using her hands to drag herself along the floor faster.
At least she can't reach the knife, Penny consoled herself as she continued edging away.
The doll stopped. She lifted her head, violent red eyes meeting Penny’s. "I don't like people who don't like dolls."
She pounced, wooden body shooting through the air like a bullet. Penny ducked, but not fast enough. The doll connected with the top of her head, a chunk of hair ripping from her scalp as Annie grabbed it to halt her momentum.
Penny screamed; the thought of the creepy little doll touching her was almost scarier than the prospect of death. All such notions were quickly abandoned, however, when a sharp pain bit into her shoulder. Penny shrieked.
