Page 15 of Dead Serious Halloween Special
“To be fair, the tape was already ripped,” Harrison adds. “It looked like something had chewed through it.”
“Urgh,” she growls in frustration. “Okay, next question. You didn’t happen to see a little guy around here, did you? About yay high?” She holds out her hand around the height of her thigh. “Hairy. Naked. Drinks a lot of milk.”
“Explodes into glitter?” I reply.
“God damn it, Puck.” She pinches the bridge of her nose as if searching for her patience. “I swear, when I get my hands on you, I’m going to skin you and make a rug out of you for Cerberus to take a nap on,” she mutters.
“Okay, that’s very specific,” I say slowly. “But what’s a puck?”
“His name is Puck, and he’s technically a hobgoblin.” She frowns. “He’s originally from the fairy realms. He hid out in Mercy for decades, living with an old Croatian woman by the name of Marta Varga. She had in her possession a very old and powerful book, which, when opened, causes complete chaos.”
“How do you know all this?” I ask curiously.
“Because we were dumb enough to open it last time.” She sighs.
“Just what is this book?” Harrison asks.
“It’s the Gospodar. The master copy of all fairy tales,” she explains. “When it’s opened, the fairy-talecreatures have a habit of escaping.”
“Fairy-tale creatures?” Aidan gasps. “What, like real characters from real fairy tales, like… I don’t know, Little Red Riding Hood?”
Olivia nods. “And trust me, they’re nothing like they are in the stories. I had to deal with a narcoleptic Sleeping Beauty, an alcoholic Cinderella, and an Ali Baba, complete with forty thieves, who pretty much trashed my friend Jackson’s pub when they got into a fight with Sinbad and his sailors.” She shakes her head. “And don’t even get me started on the giant beanstalk.”
“Well, how did the book end up here?” Harrison scowls. “I thought you were sending me some books on the history and practical application of magic, not a ticking magical time bomb.”
“I am sorry, Harrison, you weren’t meant to have it at all.” Olivia winces apologetically. “We locked it, sealed it, and then hid it away in a secure place.”
Dusty snorts. “Obviously, not that secure.”
“Trust me, it was secure.” Olivia scowls. “It could only be retrieved by magic, which means Puck must have stolen it and tucked it into the shipping crate.”
“But why?” Harrison asks in confusion.
“Because he’s a pain in my ass.” She huffs. “And he gets bored easily. Where is the book now?”
“Upstairs with all the other books we unpacked earlier.”
“Okay, let’s go. The quicker we get them all back in the book, the better.” She takes hold of Harrison’s arm and gives him a little shove to get him moving. Harrison nods and leads her towards the stairs at the back of the shop, which have been sectioned off to stop party guests from venturing to the upper levels. “Oh, and watch out for Pinocchio,” she calls out to us over her shoulder. “He likes to flash people.”
Chan wiggles over. “What’s going on? Where’s Harrison going, and who’s that woman?” Dressed as Elvira, he’s wearing a revealing black gown so tight that it looks like it was painted on.
“Olivia,” I inform him, still trying to process everything.
“What’s going on, Tris? Are you okay, honey?” Chan rubs my shoulder. “You’re wearing your stress frown again.”
“The short, short version”—Dusty draws his attention—“is that the book that opened earlier is apparently a magic book of fairy tales and can end up letting loose a whole menagerie of fairy-tale characters.” She frowns thoughtfully. “I’m just going to check in quickly with Bruce and let him know we may have a situation on our hands… again.”
Chan blinks slowly as Dusty disappears. “Excuse me? Did I just hear that right?”
“Fairy-tale creatures on the loose,” Aidan summarises. “Like inShrek. Whoa, do you think Shrek and Fiona are actually in there?”
“Um, they’re not exactly classic fairy-tale characters.” I wrinkle my nose. “Plus, I’m pretty sure DreamWorks owns the rights to them.”
“Shame. It’d be cool to meet Donkey and Dragon.”
Chan’s eyes widen. “Christ, please tell me there are no actual dragons on the loose in Whitechapel?”
“God, I hope not,” I whisper, and reach into my pocket to pull out my phone, hoping that fairy-tale creatures supposedly on the loose aren’t responsible for the fact that my husband is suddenly MIA.