Chapter 30: Marina Murders (10)

“Oh, it does.  The rumors all have one thing in common,”  Penelope said gravely, “She’s always looking to deal.”

“Deal?”

“Like what we did.  Exchange favors, information, trinkets.”  The blonde girl’s voice turned to a hushed whisper, while her eyes darted furtively towards the window and doorway, like she was afraid someone might overhear.  “Among others.”

It could’ve been the way she said it.  Or maybe because I had yet to eye-bleach the memories of my encounters with things-under-the-bed.  

I shuddered.

“Ok, that’s actually helpful.”  I wanted to stop the conversation here and move on to the next piece of information.  Definitely not because the mood shifted towards Creepyland.  “I’ll be sure to remember that.”  I couldn’t help one last joke, mostly because I never had therapy and deal with stress with smartassery, “She’s not in the phone book under ‘Creepy Witches’, I suppose?”

“No.  She’s not.  And no, I don’t know how to contact her.”  Penelope finished.

Or I wouldn’t be here, I guess.

I nodded.  “And the next?”

She lifted her hand, holding up two fingers.  “Yesterday, shipments landed from three different places.  One from Japan, another from China, and another from London.  They were all listed under fake companies, but guess who owns these companies?”

“...The Ryus?  The Valentines?”

“Guess again.”  Penelope said smugly.

It took me a second.  “Emyrith.”

“Ding ding ding.”  Lev deadpanned.

Shipments arriving from Japan, China, and London all under Emyrith’s name.  They had to be related to the trial somehow.

“You wouldn’t happen to know what was inside?”  I knew the answer already.

“No.  They were sealed.”

“Goddamit.”  

Those shipments were a clue and knowing whatever was inside would be hell of a lot more helpful than some Witch sunbathing at the Hudson.

“Any chance you can figure out what’s inside?”

“Even if you had anything to offer that was of equivalent value,”  She shook her head, “I don’t have enough pull.  In case you haven’t noticed, Emyrith himself is very powerful.”

I had known that, albeit on a subconscious level.  Knowing is one thing, appreciating is another.

“So that’s everything?”

She folded her arms and leaned back in the cheap plastic chair.  “Yes.”

The Hudson Witch, a mysterious practitioner from New York, who would be one of the judges presiding over the trial.

Emyrith’s mysterious packages, from China, Japan, and London.

I had to say, the information was better than what I expected.  I didn’t know much about what went as ‘good’ information, but they surely felt like they were.  There was one small problem.

They were of no use to me.

It’s like stocks.  Just because you have knowledge about the stock market's future doesn’t necessarily mean that you’ll strike it rich.  For that knowledge to be useful, you have to have money to buy said stocks, a social security number, a bank account…

That’s how the world works.  Knowledge is worth different things in different people’s hands.  Like Penelope said, it was about perspective.

Every brain cell told me that this was as good as I could get without doing more.  Actually, it was a bargain.  The issue wasn’t with Penelope’s quality of information, rather my ability to make full use of it.

The haves and the have-nots.  Billionaires and beggars.  The aristocrats, the bourgeoisie, and the proletariat.

Which brought me right back full circle about what to do with this whole situation regarding me and Society.

I needed more.  They were coming at me with everything they had: money, influence, and underhanded tricks in the practitioner book.  I, on the other hand, had a pocket knife, pink backpack, and half-eaten salami sandwiches.

Sighing, I thumbed down a stray donut crumb and licked it off.  “Ok.  Now what?”

“That’s up to you.”  She shrugged, “If you want out, we could drop you off.  Never see each other again.  That sort of thing.”

I snorted.  We both knew that wasn’t an option.  I played along anyways.  “And you two?”

They looked at each other.  

“We sort of promised a family member we’d take care of this.  I reckon we’ll see the end of it.  With, or without you.”  Penelope stretched.

I was getting a clearer picture here.  “Fine.  I’ll bite.  Let’s say I come along.  What’s going to happen?”

She stood up straight, the ghost of a smile crossing her face.  But it was gone before I could comment.  “Same as before.  You come in as our eyes.  Whatever you see, you tell us.  Got an idea? Recommendation?  Same thing.  We’ll do the rest.”

Again, Penelope made it sound simple enough.  I go in, open up my Third Eye, take a look, and everything’s peachy.

Wrong.  The more I used this Third Eye of mine, I became increasingly aware of the things I saw with it.  Even now, I knew that if I closed my eyes, I could recall every detail, color, and movement of the creatures I saw.  It was some sort of photographic memory, specially designed for nightmare reels.

I also knew that if things went belly-up, I’d be the first one in danger.

This was bringing me back to that whole conundrum.  I was severely ill-equipped to deal with this, making things up on the fly.  I was 99% sure that magic wasn’t supposed to be done like that.  But that’s what I was doing because I had no choice: to become better equipped, I needed more knowledge.  To get more knowledge…

Well, I needed to play ball with this girl in front of me.

She looked confident.  Sure of herself and the situation: that I’d say yes.  And she was right.  She had me and she knew it.

“On two conditions.”

“Shoot, Hallow.”

“First, you tell me what you two are.  No changing the conversation.  No distracting me, no roundabout answers about what you two do.  I want a clear answer, human, spirit, fae, I don’t care.  Without that, I’m taking a cab back home.”

Penelope looked less confident of herself.  “Why does it matter to you?”

“Because you know what I am.”  I said stubbornly, “And does it matter to you why it matters to me?”

“I…”  The blonde girl sunk into her seat, the tension draining out of her, “I suppose it doesn’t.  The other?”

“Second, I want an introduction.  To someone who can give me some tips about being a Practitioner.  Tricks, tips, knowledge, whatever they can give me.”

“That’s tricky.”

“I thought the first one was hard.”

“That one’s personal.  It’s easy enough to do, I just don’t want to.  This one though, it’s the opposite.  I’m inclined to help you, but it might be hard enough to find someone who has what you’re looking for.”

“Is that a no?”

She contemplated a bit.  “Does it have to be a Practitioner?”

I had to think.  “As long as they can point me in the right direction, it doesn’t matter.  Oh, and they can’t eat me either.”

“It’s a deal.”

“Come on, we’re burning daylight.  We can continue this in the car.”  Lev finally said.

The truck had grown cold and we had to let the engine run a bit before being on the road again.  The last glimmer of daylight faded behind the horizon.  Already, night was encroaching and fast.  It didn’t take long for the roads to turn completely dark.  Lev had to turn on his highbeams to see.

There was a weight to the silence.  Penelope had chosen to ride shotgun, instead of in the back with me.  Instead of pressing the issue, I chose to look out the window instead.  It turned out to be a really bad idea, because I kept spooking myself with thoughts of something looking back at me from the forest.

Rather than sleep, I opened up one of my books and read up on the Third Eye.  I was a good while before Penelope spoke.