Beneath the Mall of Madness (A Jaspar Windisle Mystery Book 1) (11 page)

We left half an hour later after I had a chance to shower and change. It was getting colder outside, so I put aside my misgivings and put on the pirate coat. If I’d worn it to the construction site, I wouldn’t feel like a thawing icicle now.

It was dark by the time we made it to Fiona’s house. She didn’t seem surprised by the extra guests, and she had indeed made ham, stuffing and cranberry sauce.

“It’s like Easter dinner,” Theresa said. “Are you trying to fatten him up, Aunt Fiona?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “You’re too thin, Mr. Windisle.”

“This looks fantastic,” I said. I wasn’t about to argue and risk not getting to eat.

“Since I invited you over to talk about a plan to defeat the chupacabras, the cider is nonalcoholic,” she said. “I hope that’s all right.” I could have used a stiff drink at this point, but I told her it was fine. For the next little while, we did nothing but eat. The baby squid sat at the table too. He had a cube of cranberry sauce to himself, and he ate it with a tiny knife and fork.

“What did you find out?” Fiona asked when we’d slowed down.

“Someone has sinister plans for the mall,” Zebulon said. “It’s designed to fit right inside the danger zone.” I nodded.

“The circle marked out is ancient,” I told her, “And there are no corpses that break the pattern until the day before yesterday. The ferns haven’t moved from that spot for thousands of years, at least.”

“Why are you calling them ferns?” Theresa asked. “They look like radishes to me.”

“Because the parts you can see look like a fern,” I told her. She frowned at me.

“There’s a video on YouTube that disagrees with you.”

“He meant the parts that are normally above ground,” Zebulon said, backing me up.

Theresa stuck her tongue out at him.

“So what? The part that kills you is the most important, and it looks like a radish.”

“But the part you can see before it comes after you looks like a fern,” Zebulon countered. “Also, does your dad know you’ve seen that video?”

“Of course. Uninformed children are dead children in our town. And they’re radishes.”

“Whatever,” I said. I don’t have the energy to argue with kids. “I’ll just call them chupacabras like everyone else.”

“That works for me,” Fiona said. “From what you’ve told me Steve was right. If we leave them alone, they pose no danger to anyone except the occasional animal.”

“If you could guarantee that no one would ever mess with it,” I agreed. “There’s that video out now and those deaths are going to attract attention.”

“Just watch,” Theresa said. “Tomorrow one of those hidden animal websites is going to link to that video and we’ll have a whole new wave of visitors lining up to get eaten.”

“That’d be a plus,” Zebulon said.

“I realize the decorations are tacky,” I said. “But why are you so down on tourism? You work in a bar.”

“Some of them are very unsavory people,” Zebulon said. “The rest of them have a tendency to wander into the woods and disappear. You’re doing nicely, but we have an appalling fatality rate. Even with Jeremy’s aggressive ‘go away’ campaign keeping the number of tourists at his place to a minimum, about one in every ten guests doesn’t live long enough to check out of the hotel. I try not to get attached to any of them. After a while, it gets unpleasant to serve people who are about to get eaten by forces they don’t understand.”

“Like whatever’s in Bishop’s Corner?” I asked. There was silence.

“We don’t know what’s down there,” Fiona said, “just that it’s not good. It’s not that we don’t wonder; there just aren’t many rewards for curiosity in this town.” She cleared her throat. “Would you come up to the attic with me?” She asked. “I want your opinion on something.”

“Count me out,” Zebulon said. “I’ve heard stories about your attic.”

“Me too,” Theresa said. “I don’t want to see any more psychic cheese wasps, either.”

Up in the attic Fiona said,

“I knew they wouldn’t come.” She limped to the window and looked down at her yard. “Killer ferns, or radishes, or whatever you want to call them, are nothing compared to some of the things that have appeared up here. Sometimes I think about abandoning this place and leaving the town to fend for itself.”

“So why don’t you?” I asked.

“There are compensations. I’ve got a place here. Since I get paid for defending the town, I don’t have to work very hard at the most boring parts of wizarding. I also wouldn’t feel right leaving Gregory or taking him with me. He might get home someday if he stays here.” I didn’t have anything to say to that. I’d never had roots. Or at least none that I could remember. If someone gave me the opportunity to ‘go home’ I don’t know how I’d react. I’d probably scream and run if it meant going back into the mausoleum.

“So why are you interested in Bishop’s Corner?” Fiona asked.

“Is that why you wanted to talk to me alone?”

“I have a feeling I know, but I want to hear you say it.”

“The entrance to the tunnel is down there,” I admitted. “When the specters showed me Obadiah’s memories I saw how he got there. I thought if I mentioned it in front of Theresa she’d go looking for it.”

“She just might,” Fiona said. “She’s got less sense than most of the girls her age around here. I think living in that hotel has made her dangerously desensitized to magic.”

“As opposed to. . . “

“You won’t see me rushing down there to explore the tunnel.”

“Then why do you want to know?”

“Because somebody’s going to have to,” she said. “With my leg I’d have to be carried across the marsh. Some other magic user is going to have to go down there and see what’s really going on. I can’t believe Obadiah kept it a secret all these years. He was friends with my grandfather and his journals don’t have anything to say about it.”

“Maybe Abner had something on him?” I suggested. “Or he did something
really
bad and hid the evidence there? I didn’t stay long enough to hear every detail of his life.”

“I hope not. He was a nice old man handing out chocolate coins when I was a child.”

“What about Abner? He didn’t go to your church, did he?”

“No, if he had he would have been buried in our cemetery. He was a sleazy old con artist. He was also one of the few locals who liked the tourists. He’s the reason we have those dreadful bat signs, and he was always trying to encourage local businesses to add black or red to their storefronts. I’m not clear on how he expected to make money on it since he wasn’t invested anywhere and didn’t work in the tourist industry himself. He was always running for mayor, but if he ever won it was before I was born.”

“Who is the mayor now?” I asked.

“Mordecai Whateley. He’s Jeremiah’s younger brother. He also owns the self-service laundry. He looks exactly like Zebulon, but taller.” I remembered Zebulon mentioning that earlier. I thought it was odd that she would compare him to Zebulon. After all, if he looked like Zebulon then he also looked exactly like his brother, Jeremiah. And Fiona, for that matter.

“How many identical relatives do you have?” I asked.

“Too many to count. My cousin Clarissa Akeley and I were impossible to tell apart when we were younger. She moved away a few years ago, so for all I know we still do. Most of the others have also moved away. Jeremiah left to go to college and didn’t return until he met Eileen. He had the family business to inherit, though. I don’t expect the others to return. Wherever they are, they don’t have to worry about some distant relative with a similar haircut ruining their reputation.”

“Who’s Eileen?”

“Mrs. Whateley. She’s from out of town. As you’ve seen, she’s adjusted nicely.”

“Even the locals have a hard time telling you apart?” That made me feel better about my difficulty in the dining room earlier.

“Yes. It was better for me when I got my leg brace. I think some of the older people in town were waiting for us to reveal ourselves as an evil clone army. We don’t just have a look, you know. We all look like the original Wizard Whateley, at least as far as you can tell from old paintings.”

“And you’re living in his house?”

“No, that’s a more recent Whateley.” I stared at her. I considered letting it be. In the end, I couldn’t resist.

“And what became of the original Whateley?”

“You don’t have to worry about him coming back,” Fiona said flatly. “His death was quite final. Recent, but final.” As we talked, a few more psychic cheese wasps found their way out of the plaster. I put them back to rest.

“Get to the door!” Fiona suddenly said. “Something’s coming through!” She didn’t have to tell me twice. I could see the portal lighting up and enlarging. She pulled a shotgun from behind the door and pointed it at the portal.

The first thing that came through was a long, hooked beak.

“Should I get Zebulon?” I asked.

“No,” Fiona said. “Just wait.” She relaxed and lowered the shotgun.

The rest of the creature soon followed. It was about three feet tall and covered in fluffy white feathers. It had stubby white wings and a long silky tail. It was wearing a green visor and had a black collar around its neck.

“Okay,” Fiona said. She put down the shotgun. “I’ve seen these before. We just need to shove it back into the portal. Avoid its beak and you’ll be fine.”

That was easy for her to say. The thing focused on me and began waddling forwards, flapping its useless wings and burbling enthusiastically. I put my hands out to ward it off and ended up hugging it. It was like being jumped on by an overenthusiastic dog, except this was an alien life form. It didn’t help that when it jumped it was level with my face. Friendly or not I didn’t want to get an eye put out.

“He likes you,” Fiona observed. “That’s good. You can just pick him up.”

“He’s heavy!” I complained. “What is he?”

“I’ve got no idea,” she admitted. “They come through occasionally, and as long as I don’t let them get out of the attic they don’t cause much trouble.”

“What happens if you let it out of the attic?” I asked as I tried to drag the thing back to the portal.

“They get into everything and end up breaking most of it. They’re like puppies that can climb.” I tried to push the thing into the portal, but it was more interested in me.

“What’s with the visor?” I asked.

“They’re either more intelligent than they let on, in which case they owe me for damages or they’re pets. Come on, the portal won’t stay open all night.” Finally, I got a good grip on the thing and was able to heave it into the portal. For a second or two my hands were on the other side. I felt a jolt as my fingers went through. The other side was cold and clammy. The thing whimpered as I let go. It lunged at my face and snatched at my hair, then fell through.

“That was different,” I said.

“Careful,” Fiona warned me. “As long as the portal is glowing it’s still open.”

“Great,” I said. “So it can try to come back?”

“Yes.”

“How do you have any energy left to cook?”

“Usually I just kill whatever comes through,” she said. “Those things are harmless though, and I’d hate to kill some alien child’s pet. Sometimes people come through, and I try not to kill them either.”

“People?”

“Alien people, but you can kind of tell after a while,” she said. “Most of them are happy to find out that they can go back home immediately. A few of them are guarding their own portals.”

“Could the thing beneath the construction site be another portal?” I asked. “Those monster radishes had to have come from somewhere.”

“Maybe,” she said. “If so, it can’t be very active or something would have opened it up by now, from one side or the other.” She sighed. “I’m going to have to babysit this tonight. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if that little fellow tried to come through again. Would you go downstairs and let Zebulon and Theresa know?”

“Sure,” I said. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Yes, of course. I’ve been doing this all my life. You take care and don’t let anything happen to yourself until you’ve shown someone where that tunnel is.”

I said goodnight to her and left her with the portal. Downstairs, Zebulon and Theresa acted like nothing unusual had happened.

“I guess she won’t be doing much tomorrow,” he said. “So, have you thought about learning to shoot? I’ve got the day off.”

“Fine,” I said. “I don’t think I’ll be doing anything else tomorrow. I don’t know if I’m still employed.”

“The town paid you for today, didn’t they?” Theresa asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I’ve been staying on because Jesticorps hired me as a consultant. I don’t expect that to last if they’re scrapping the mall.”

“Then I’d better teach you while you’re still here,” Zebulon said. “It’ll be fun. We’ll use hearing protection, and afterwards we can go spy on tourists.”

“What?”