Table of Contents

• Updates
• Editing process
• Chapter One
• Chapter Two
• Feeding the Dragons, Chapter ??
• Zombie Guinea Pig? Where?

Updates

Sun, Nov 3 First published, Chapter 1.

Mon, Nov 4 Chapter 2

Editing process

Current status: -1st Draft. -Minimal editing, -NaNoWriMo styled writing in process.

Chapter One

The searchlight of a helicopter swept past him, missing by less than a foot.

Pete recoiled back, deeper into the shadows of the old fashion gargoyle and gritting his teeth against the pain. For a moment he held his breath, fearing detection.

The helicopter passed without taking in the surroundings, and Pete could breath again. They must have done a more through scan while he was out, and only avoided detection by the shadows and luck.

Pete smiled grimly at the thought that he’d only remained hidden because of the cape Corrina had picked for him to wear. It was showy and a little outdated in person but the dark lining had not only kept him hidden but also snagged on the old gargoyle.

The rough cold concrete of the museum roof decorations made for a horrible thing to crash into face first, but it was better than falling off the roof.

Looking down he could see the swarm of police officers searching the area. Probably with the intent of finding a body, or his body more precisely. They must have thought he’d fallen into the water after being shot.

Pete rolled over to his good side and exhaled with a harsh hiss. His head reeled, probably a combination of blood loss and blunt trauma.

When he came round again, the slight pool of blood and heavy stain suggested the bullet had hit somewhere on his left.

Shrugging out of his cape, Pete took a look at his side. Damn police, his radio was in that pocket. At least it wasn’t his slippers which were hiding in his right pocket, but losing radio contact with his accomplice made things harder for him.

Why had the police firing shots? It really wasn’t like the police force to fire shots at him, especially when he failed to get the goods stolen in the first place.

Pete tugged his scarf off and packed it into the wound. That’d have to do for now, it looked like the bleeding could be stopped. The wind of helicopter blades brought his attention back to return to knowing immediate danger now was being discovered.

The second helicopter passed overhead, casting light into the deep shadows on the other side of the building before joining the first which was sweeping the waterways now, illuminating the throbs of officers wading into the shallows and searching on boats with giant lights.

He leaned his head back against the cold concrete gargoyle and squeezed his eyes shut. Two more moments to catch his breath and gather his wits. Deep exhale. The waterway escape was gone. Time for plan B.

Waiting for the third helicopter to finish it’s own sweep over the roof, and holding onto the gargoyle when the wind threaten to toss him, Pete bid his time until he could make a dash to the air ventilation system.

Pete moved to pry the lid off and hissed when the pain spread over his midsection again. The muscles screamed when the lid got caught on a loose bolt. Damn it. Pete put his back into it, ignoring his side’s protest.

Nothing.

The lid was now jammed in a position of half opened, half closed, and it wouldn’t move in either direction. Any preparation before the heist must have been ruined by neglecting to undo one little bolt. That, or fate decided this was time for him to be caught.

The strain forced him over and he heaved, every gut motion triggering a jolt that caused another.

The moment he could breath again he shoved away from the uncooperative ventilation system and stumbled back to the refuge of the gargoyle’s shadow. It’s stone wings hid him from the next helicopter sweep, but he knew that time was running short and waiting wasn’t an option. He needed to distract the police long enough to find another way into the building’s air ducts.

An idea came to him as he huddled against the cold cement. With the police swarming the waterways, maybe he could work up a frenzy that’d buy him enough time to get in. He ran his hand over the pair of penguin-skin slippers in his pocket, thinking about the risks.

He’d need the helicopters to be drawn away from the rooftop long enough for it to work. Pete looked down at his blood stained outfit. It’d make sense for him to take most of it off if he’d fallen into the water, the cape would really drag him down. It might be just enough bait to keep the police from turning up the search empty handed. Damn it, he liked this cape, it’d proven to be lucky.

Pete shrugged it off and pulled the slippers out of the pocket. The sleek oily feathers felt soft.

Putting them away in the safety of his vest, he rolled the cape into a ball. Now he needed something to weigh it down, just long enough for it to hit the water. A loose brick from the banister where he’d tumbled did the trick.

He studied the sky and smiled when he noticed that all the helicopters had gathered over the water at the moment. There was a small crowd looking at something, must be a false alarm. Well, he could provide them with another.

He hurled his weighted cape over the edge and as far as he could and heard a soft splash some ways out. The brick sunk quickly, leaving the cape to unfurl in the rough currents. Some police officers had already spotted it and called others over. Pete just hoped they didn’t see it fall from the sky.

The police swarmed like ants on a donut crumb, helicopters and boats pitching in to provide search lights while others searched the nearby waters for any more pieces of him.

Now or never, Pete thought, clenching the slippers.

Chapter Two

Corrina pushed the box of charms off to the side and propped her elbows against the counter to go over the ledger again. A stray beam of sunlight bounced off of the sun catchers in the window, painting her face with warm hues of gold and red, autumn colors.

Pete took the moment of quiet to study her face, taking in the sight. He found his eyes being drawn to Corrina’s checks where the colored lights brought out many freckles, sunspots and moles that speckled her forehead and cheekbones. The spots grow ever larger and darker as they crept into her hairline and out of sight, he knew even underneath that soft hair they did not disappear or fade.

She wore her long hair down this morning, It framed her face with it’s long dark-mousy-brown wavy, velvety locks that flowed over her shoulders.

And because there were never any customers during these hours on the weekdays, she’d left her signature oversized floppy sun hat on the hat stand. No longer hidden under the hat her expressive finlike ear fringes, long, and stripped with flashes of orange, white, and brown, were allowed to sway and bob softly as she tilt her head this way and that, reading the shop’s purchase and sale logs. The left one had a habit of twitching whenever she lost count and it seemed the entry Corrina was going over at the moment was a tricky one.

“Pete, would you check the register? I think I forgot my pen over there and I need it to work this math out.” Corrina broke his trailing thoughts with the request, waving a hand in the direction of the old cash register she’d bought off of a retiring antiques salesman shortly after they bought the shop.

He stood up gingerly and walked over to the clunky machine. She bought it ages ago from an antiques store going out of business and loved the dumb thing to death.

First inspection around the counter space revealed no pen. “I don’t see one, maybe you leave it somewhere else?”

“It might have gotten mixed in with the cash while I was counting out change for tomorrow. Check the money drawer,” She said, not looking up from the task at hand.

He clicked the money drawer out and checked amongst the loose notes and coins. Everything was as it should be, but no pen.

“It’s not in here, maybe Prof. Ryder took it.” He called into the back room then turned around to do another, more thorough search.

His eyes were pretty sharp, so he was fairly certain it wasn’t in the area but he was almost as human as any other man… Almost. Being able to hide inside of a penguin skin and the years training himself to be a very successful phantom thief always made things a little more interesting.

“Well if you see her, could you ask about it? I really liked that pen.” Corrina’s voice called out and he could hear her move further… Probably searching the desk in the back room.

Oh, speak of the devil, Pete glanced up in time to see Prof. Ryder climbing out of her car with a brown paper bag. She tapped on the glass door and waved at him before she entered.

“Hey, I brought some supplies. I picked up some stuff I’ll need if you’re going to leave Tressa with me, and here,” She said and then pulled out a box of donuts. “Doctor’s orders. I even got some jelly ones for Corrina.”

Pete couldn’t stop himself from making a sound of mild annoyance. Prof. Ryder was always bringing back donuts whenever he got hurt.

Corrina laughed from the back room when she heard Pete’s groan. “You’re only kidding yourself, Pete. We all know how much you enjoy Ryder’s donut runs.”

“I really do like the donuts, Prof. Ryder, but sometimes I wish you’d just get me pain meds after I’ve been shot.” Pete smirked and gave a half chuckle.

Ryder caught the look in his eye and smiled back. “Nonsense. Here, eat this and be happy,” she laughed, holding out a custard filled one.

Pete accepted it and took a bite to satisfy the old family friend. It was still warm from the rack and tasted wonderful. The carbs and sugar were a nice boost after transforming, especially being wounded. He returned to his rest chair and sat down, wincing at the pain when he accidentally bumped his injury. Prof. Ryder started taking items out of the sack and putting them on the counter.

“Did you borrow Corrina’s pen, by any chance?” He asked, licking the last of the glaze off his fingers.

“No, I haven’t seen it…” Ryder’s voice dropped a little lower, aware of Corrina listening in the other room. “She lost it? That’s so unlike her, you don’t think somethings wrong, or…”

Pete felt his heart drop to a dark place in the pit of his stomach hearing the hope in her voice. Prof. Ryder was always making Corrina’s actions out to mean more then they did. “No, it’s probably nothing. People lose pens all the time.” he said, answering the unspoken question.

Prof. Ryder gave a soft sigh. “Oh… you’re right, sorry.” Before she went back to the task of doing inventory.

Pete leaned back and glanced suspiciously at the shop window. He’d been bothered by it all morning… some unsettling feeling. Nothing looked suspicious, and with the exception of a single, cheap ball-point pen, everything was in it’s place. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. A slight breeze brushed the wind chimes outside and set them off. There was something in the air, his animal instincts told him that much.

Maybe it was nothing, or the weather changing. It was late october, and fall was just barely starting to touch their home and town.

---

CRASH!

Startled awake with his heart racing he jumped out of his chair. A loud racket had came from the back room where Corrina was, and in two heartbeats he was at the door archway, ready to beat someone to the next galaxy.

“Ouch… Ah, sorry Pete, the books… they… fell down.” Corrina brushed her hair back from her face where it’d come loose from her hair clips, and looked at the pile of ledgers scattered around her in confusion. “I must have knocked them all over when I was putting the other one back, I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Pete felt the adrenaline fade from his body with the escaping breath of relief, and immediately remembered why he was suppose to be in bed-rest or at least sitting down. The pain turned his sigh of relief into a hiss of pain as he staggered, catching himself on the door frame. The books fell? Now he knew something was amiss.

“Pete, you’re bleeding!” Corrina gasped. He looked down at his side. The stitches must have torn when he jumped up, for there was a new stain on his shirt. “I’m alright, Corrina,” He straightened and walked over to her, looking over her for any injuries. She almost protested and he knew if it were any other time she’d be insisting that she wanted to check his side first.

There was a slight bruise forming on the side of her cheek, but she looked okay. He felt the rage creep up, but there was no target for him to take it out on, so Pete submitted after he was satisfied that she had no serious injuries.

“Alright, sorry for the fuss. You scared me,” Pete said softly, surrendering to her inspection.

“Come here, let me see you.” Corrina reached over and pulled him by the shirt tail until he was close enough pushed his shirt up. She examined his reopened wound and made a soft pity sound. The bandage was stained, no duh because the shirt was stained too. “I thought so. We’re gonna have to get Prof. Ryder to redo these stitches.”

“The books, your pen… This doesn’t add up to normal. I’ve had a odd feeling that something was off about the place ever since this morning.” Pete explained as his wife called for Prof. Ryder to bring the first aid kit.

“We need check those logs for whatever the person broke in here for. The pen and books suggest they were after some information and needed to jolt it down.” He looked at the books scattered around the floor, wondering what anyone could find of interest in them. They were just inventories and records for the store, nothing involving the thief or myths. Maybe someone could use them as proof for a small case of tax evasion a couple years back but that’s all!

“A list of names maybe? Maybe they think we’re using the shop as a cover for some other business.” Corrina suggested.

Pete nodded. It would make sense, if someone knew who they were. “But why target us? Why go through the shop records?”

Corrina tapped her fingers together and hummed, her habit when she was thinking back on earlier events.

“The only thing I can think that’d connect this shop to mythological type…is… your dads came here the other day. They were just letting me know that the search for Tressa’s family hasn’t gone anywhere, but maybe someone followed them here?”

Prof. Ryder came into the room with the first aid kit with enough time to catch most of the conversation and had a very serious expression. “Corrina’s right. Sounds like your parents’ work has gotten you tangled up in some of their business. Why someone connected… This is serious Pete, if they connected the Phantom Thief to your parents and found this shop, it could mean your secret is on the line. I hope you understand what a two trillion dollar bounty¹ on your head will do.”

“Bah, they don’t have any proof! Look, all I’m concerned about is these pirates. Unfortunately we don’t have any proof either, and it’s not like we could involve the police anyways, most of our kind are like Tressa, completely unsuited for this world covered in humans. If they can’t even accept each other for a slight variation in skin, love, or belief, why would they accept monsters and freaks like us?” Pete said, the burning from the torn stitches giving his tone a sharper edge than he intended.

Ryder’s eyes flashed the dark grey that always reminded Pete of vault doors as she administered the general anesthetic. “There really aren’t many humans like your dads and me…” She gave a sad shake of her head. “Most of them wouldn’t believe the half of it. And then there are those who think it’d be fun to have zoos full of myths, and the ones who want their own piece of mythology, which you know all too well, Corrina.”

“That’s it, I’ll get started with those background checks on Mullings.” Corrina declared, wheeling her chair around. The memory that she’d been kept as a pet by one of those later type of people fueled a sense of urgency. Pete really couldn’t blame her.

“The Prof. will probably let you use her computer, it’d be a good idea to get out of the shop for a while. Take Tressa and go stay with there, if this has anything to do with those… pirates… we don’t want them to find a chance to abduct you two.” Pete said, waiting patiently for Prof. Ryder to finish stitching him up again.

Corrina gave a short nod, understanding what he meant. With her ears and tail ever present, and Tressa’s owl head, there was no way of keeping the guise of normal humans up if someone wanted to expose them. Pete’s human form was easier to hide in, completely human looking and with the exception of his blond streak no one would guess he was shifter that could turn into penguin.

“I’ll be fine here and keep an eye open for more suspicious things, keep the store running smoothly, beat up any fool who tries coming here with anything but sun-catchers and wind-chimes on their mind, announce a heist for the grand re-opening of that old treasure exhibit… you know, the usual.”

“Pete! I know you consider it a pleasant idea to spend the rest of your retired life as a bird, but who’s going to explain how the Phantom Thief escaped high security prison and left nothing behind but a penguin?” She exclaimed as she pinned the last of the gauze around his waist.

Corrina giggled behind a fist and Prof. Ryder paused to consider what she just said to Pete.

“That sounds like the ultimate grand finale for my show, wouldn’t you think so, Prof.?” Pete chuckled, buttoning his shirt up over the bandages.

Ryder shook her head as she put the first aid supplies back into the box. “One of these days, Pete. It’s bad enough they’ve gotten to the point where they’re shooting at you again. Though I must say your fanatics certainly provided quite the riot after that. Being a celebrity is quite the effort. All this talk about Sherlock Holmes, A. Lupin, even Houdini. Ever feel like you’re cheating?”

“What, by being creative with my natural born ability? Nah, a magician never reveals his secrets, it’s part of the fun! and the fans are still calling, what with all these rumors that I’m dead. Maybe I should put on a show again soon.” He got that evil glint in his eye. “I heard there’s a new museum exhibit curtsy of a certain man trying to bribe mayor votes… our friend Mullings.”

Corrina frowned, her ears twitching back. “I don’t think so,” she said and poked his side, making Pete yelp. “Not until you’re better. Now go sit down and don’t pull those stitches again.”

Pete winced and gingerly rubbed his side. “Okay, okay, I surrender. But I’m not going to nap, I want to be working. Ryder, you wouldn’t mind helping me bring my chair into the backroom, would you? I want to go through the files and see what I can find that might be interesting for the sneak.”

“Sure, no problem Pete, besides, your wife would have my head if I dared let you do it yourself.” Ryder laughed and Corrina wiggled a finger at her.

“Well, with you two doing that, I’ll go pack some bags for Tressa and myself.” Corrina turned to Prof. Ryder and directed the next part to her. “You don’t mind if I put them in the trunk of your car, do you?

“You don’t even need to ask, dear.” Ryder called out over her shoulder as she picked up the chair and carried it into the back room.

“Thank you, by the way. For taking them in while we get this situation settled.” Pete said as he gathered up the loose ledgers.

“Huh? Oh, don’t worry about it, Pete. You know I consider you all to be family. Please, Tressa’s like a granddaughter to me. I’ll love having them over, it’ll be a nice change of pace having some life back in that old house.”

Pete put the stack of ledgers on the counter next to his chair and gave the kind older woman a hug.

She returned it lightly, careful not to squeeze his side. “Don’t worry, they’ll be safe with me. Just get these guys and keep that secret identity of yours to yourself.”

He nodded and turned his attention back the the ledgers. If he was going to find anything, it’d be in those.

---

Feeding the Dragons, Chapter ??

DISCLAIMER: Vampire Penguin Pete is a product of late night writing during NaNoWriMo and is not be taken too seriously. The dragons are real though and will eat you.

Pete and Ryder arrived at the secret location a little past noon, their bags full of the Phantom Thief’s stolen treasures they’d collected from the town stash.

Burdened with the gold and other priceless things they climbed out of the van and walked down the rocky shore that surrounded a small inset seasonal lake.

The silver and lime chalk pebbles crunched under their feet as they hiked over the stretch of land still wet from the tide, off to a place where a landslide had brought many large boulders down the surrounding shale and grey stone hills. The lake looked desolate, like some alien planet.

Under the steps of their feet the lake bed released the heavy stench of fish in the shimmering sun of midday.

Pete was confident that no one knew about this place, it was only open to easy access during parts of the year, and there was no reason at all to come all the way out here. It was difficult to reach and frankly unpleasant to spend vacation time at even if you did put in the effort to come out here.

Where they were going was even harder to reach, being covered up in the dark, murky water of most of the year. The tides and dry season had to line up proper like. A dark, gapping pit in the mud and pebbles in the muck of the lake bottom.

Pete adjusted his backpack and crawled down into the pit. His foot splotched into a puddle, the sound bouncing around in a loud dramatic echo that bounced all through the caverns. Once his footing was secure on the slick rocks, Pete looked up at the glowing entrance where Prof. Ryder was waiting with a large bag.

“Come on down,” He called up to her. P rof called down a simple reply and dropped the bag for Pete to catch. Pete caught it and slung it over his other shoulder before turning his attention back to Prof.

She dropped down and nearly slipped on the puddle despite his warnings. Luckily he was there to catch her.

Ryder turned on her high-powered flashlight and looked around. “It looks the same as always,” she muttered, ducking into the cave. Pete grinned as he followed.

“We’d better hurry into the main cavern, these tunnels tend to fill up quickly during the fall,” he said, glancing around the dark place.

Pale moss and other water plants that dwell in underground pathways clung to the rock walls in a slimy, like something gross and slimy. Some dangled down from the ceiling and occasionally he’d forget to dodge some and it’d brush across his face in a gross wet slimy way.

Pete trained his light ahead, down the long tunnel.

They had about a 15 minute walk before it would slant upwards and lead into a very large cavern. The water level limit was there, so if they didn’t want to get stuck in a narrow tunnel with the ever rising tide they’d better hurry.

The only blessing was how still the water was once it was inside. In the times he couldn’t quite beat the tide, he’d only been tossed around a little bit. Most of it was just water rising and filling the tunnel completely.

The rest of the walk was fairly uneventful, by the time he and Ryder had finally climbed up out of the tunnel, the tide only came up to their ankles.

The tunnels would fill slowly over the next four hours and unless he and Ryder wanted to scuba their way out, which they happened to be prepared for, they’d be stuck for the next twelve.

They sat down and took a breather. But something felt off again. Much like that time B.W had broke into the store. Pete wasn’t sure what it was.

“Do you notice anything strange?” he asked, looked around for the source of his discomfort.

“Not really… The tide could have washed anything out of the tunnels though. If there’s any thing to see it’d be after this point.” Ryder pointed out, using her flashlight to check for strange footprints. The ground was a mixture of large clumps of wet damp soil and large stretches of flat stone. If someone wanted to avoid leaving footprints it was easy enough. “Of course, we might find whatever it was in the dragon’s cave. They might have had a snack for Grunt and Whisper.”

Pete gave a harsh laugh. Yeah, that was a good mental image. He could just imagine B.W stepping into the dragon’s cave and the dragons eating him. Maybe that was the reason their contact had fallen flat lately. It’d help him sleep better at the very least.

Feeling anxious to Pete let out a high, sharp whistle following with two others of wavering pitch. Out of the mouth of one of the many tunnels came a twittering soft whistle followed by a deep rumbling hoot.

“They’re expecting us now.” Pete said, mostly for the sake of talking.

He took a roll of sturdy string from his bag and tied one end of it to a stake they’d left behind forever ago.

The dragons were like fickle [insert word: person/thing that moves homes around a lot], always scurrying their treasures into new hiding spots. As they had a habit of making all together new tunnels and collapsing old ones in a impossible to memorize labyrinth, the best course of action was leaving behind a trail.

Ryder took her pack back from him and they tied the safety line between each other. Getting lost was not fun in this place.

Then together they entered the tunnel that the noise had come from, a low opening that almost dipped down into a crawl space. They crawled nearly on their bellies for maybe half an hour, inclining up.

Pete hated every moment and wished the dragons would make spacier tunnels the next time when they remodeled.

When the tunnel ahead of him suddenly narrowed to a very tight squeeze, Pete stopped, his muscles freezing up. “I can’t do this.” He gasped, the claustrophobia gaining hold of him.

Pete turned, glad that the tunnel, while low ceilinged, was wide enough to comfortably turn around in. Ryder exchanged a meaning yet understanding look with him. She reached into her smaller backpack and passed him the slippers.

“Just for a few minutes, Pete. You know the dragons hate it when other strong magical forces are in the room and your penguin form gives off way too much now that it’s got vampire blood mixed in.”

Pete slipped his feet out of the durable boots and put the sleek black feathered slippers on in their place. He leaned his head back against the wall and released a tense breath. He had to calm down and focus to make the shift happen. Ever since that vampire had poisoned his bloodstream the human side of him always shied away from the bond, making the shift harder.

Slowly the change crept over him. His feet started to squeeze together and apart as toes stretched and scaled webbing covered them, some of the matter disappeared, temporally removed so he shrunk in mass. Thus was the magic of the penguin skin.

Soon he was nothing but a penguin in a loose pile of clothes. Ryder scooted closer, collecting up his clothes. “Alright, lets tie you back up,” she said, reaching to reapply the safety rope.

Pete was a feral beast with the vampire’s blood coursing through his veins.

He squawked very loudly and flailed his flipper like wings, charging towards her with a thirst for blood.

Ryder acted quickly and caught him in his own shirt, wrapping him up securely in one of the biggest acts of ‘Nope’ in the town’s history.

“Fine, we’ll do it this way, you big baby.” She muttered, tying the shirt up around Pete’s struggling body.

Penguin secured, she squeezed through the very, very narrow tunnel. Pete wiggled and squirmed, but Ryder pulled him through behind her.

“Okay, Pete, time to change back.” Ryder said, pushing Pete over to a corner. The thin passage way and opened up into a very large, bubble like cave. It was pockmarked with numerous caves and tunnels. Ryder reached back to grab the bags and pull them through.

She needed Pete to get back to normal before they continued.

“Fine. Fine. You know what? I think I’ll leave you here while I run your little errands. You can just wait here and think about what you’ve done.”

So Ryder just left him tied up in his shirt, left his clothes next to him and continued to the dragons. She looked around at the tons of tunnel and whistled. The dragons called back in return and she started alone to the rest of the journey.

About 15 minutes after climbing a looping, winding tunnel she found herself face to face with a shiny dragon. “Grunt, sweetie.” She cooed, patting the dragon’s round snout.

Grunt pulled back away from the tunnel and let Ryder step through.

The hoard room was immaculate as ever, things stacked neatly in overflowing piles.

Gold coins, the dragon’s personal favorites, were scattered about two inches deep around the floor.

Whistle was curled around, a mass of grossest bubbling flesh made of warts and salamander looking skin. It was dry to the touch much like a snake, so smooth that it looked dripping with sickly ooze.

Ryder stretched out her hand to pat the large beast. Whistle cooed and chirped in the soft beautiful voice more suiting for one of Grunt’s appearance.

“I’ve brought you new treasures, my pretties.” She said, unlatching the flap on the largest bag she carried. Inside was the heavy golden frame of a famous painting.

“Here you go, Whistle. Just what you ordered.” She chuckled as she held it out to the large ugly dragon. The dragon gave the most delighted series of whistles and notes that sounded like violins singing in harmony. It stood up on it’s thick hind legs and snuffled the painting ever so gently, getting a sense of the new treasure. Whistle wrapped it’s long gangly skeleton fingers around the frame and lifted it gently from Ryder’s hands.

Grunt came up behind her and bumped her with it’s round nose like an impatient puppy.

“I’ve got something for you too.” Ryder laughed, pulling the [insert shiny stolen thing] from the bottom of the bag and giving it to the impatient dragon. Grunt was very much different from the ever so delicate Whistle.

The dragon wiggled like a dog and eagerly took the shiny thing into it’s mouth, prancing around with the new treasure. Grunt scurried all over the hoard room, searching for the perfect place to put it’s new trinket.

There was a small corner that seemed to be in construction still, the walls weren’t quite polished as smoothly as the rest of the room. Grunt seemed to think this was the perfect place and plopped the shiny down against the wall in a less than ceremonial fashion.

Whistle bristled up at the sight and quickly bound over, making a symphony of intimidating noises. Grunt tucked tail and let out a squabble of grating hiss gargle fart noises as Whistle pushed it aside. Whistle was outraged that Grunt could put the treasure in such a messy place.

Ryder stepped back and let the dragons tussle it out without interfering, she knew while the large bodies and thrashing tails looked worrisome, not a single coin was disturbed and they’d both come out better than before.

“Well I’ll just leave the rest of these–” Her words were cut off when a sudden change came over both dragons.

They whipped their heads around to stare at the tunnel from which she’d just come, both dead silent. Over the sound of her heartbeat she could faintly hear something.

Something coming down the tunnel, racing towards them.

Something with a strange, irregular gait.

Something an awfully like a rabid vampire penguin out for a kill.

Ryder found herself very, very concerned now. Not only was a vampire penguin after her, but she stood between that vampire penguin and two very angry dragons who felt like their home had been invaded. One thing was clear to her, she needed to stop them from killing each other and herself in the process.

The vampire penguin shot in through the opening and slide on it’s belly on the gold coins, flailing and rushing towards Ryder. Behind her the two dragons surged forwards, all intent set on chasing after the bird.

They were doomed.

A narrow escape.

Pete was cornered, the dragon waving back and forth in a threatening manner. His mind trapped by the vampire penguin.

Whistle hissed and lunged to snatch Pete up in his giant gapping maw, full of driller’s teeth in the back.

Suddenly the sense of self preservation was stronger than the blood lust and Pete found control over his mind again. He shifted into a human. The dragons paused, startled at the sudden disappearance of the vampiric energies. Pete gave a huge sigh of relief. “Hello, Whistle my old buddy. You’re not going to eat me, are you?”

“Pete?” Ryder exclaimed in surprise. “You still alive over there?”

“Yeah, the vampire got scared of losing to a dragon and retreated.”

“Just wait right there, I’ll go get your clothes.” Ryder said, tying the end of the string to the empty back on the hoard room’s floor. Then she hurried down the tunnel from were they came.

Pete leaned back, Grunt coming over and coiling it’s big, shiny classical shimmer dragon body around him and rested it’s big round snout on his chest. “I’ve missed you too, Grunt buddy,” Pete said, scratching the shimmer’s chin.

Ryder came back about 20 minutes later, her arms full of Pete’s clothes. Out of habit and manners, she kept her eyes trained looking up and away to respect Pete’s privacy as she tossed him the bundle.

“Thanks.” Pete said, catching the clothes.

Ryder turned her back and Pete quickly got dressed.

“So, what happened?” Ryder asked.

“I just barely had enough time to get my mind back and shift in hopes it’d work,” Pete said as he shrugged the turtle-neck sweater on.

“I’m glad it worked, I wasn’t sure how you’d survive that.”

“Indeed.” Pete agreed. Nearly being eaten… he couldn’t say it’s never happened before, but this was scarier than other times.

He couldn’t control himself, the vampire inside of his penguin form had nearly risked life and limb for nothing but the savage blood lust, that hunger that clawed at every cell of his being. Pete couldn’t even begin to explain how grateful he was that the vampire seemed stuck in his penguin form. It would be a horrible experience, all that hunger, the disregard for friend or foe, just a simple, savage desire.

Zombie Guinea Pig? Where?

Sybil hit the wall with a sledge hammer, knocking in another large chunk of the rotting dry board. A dust cloud filled the whole room, cutting down visibility. Demolition was a messy job, it’s made her glad that she was a pirate full time and only took a days off of her job of nearly 300 years to do her own remodeling. Sybil mused this as she wiped some grime from her forehead where it collected with the sweat.

A knocking came from outside and the door behind her opened to admit a tall man. “Captain, the new shipment has arrived. We’ve got it coming down.” Brandr Waterman said as he came in, holding a handkerchief over his mouth and nose.

Sybil put the hammer down and leaned against it. As most of the dust settled she pulled the dust mask down off her face. “Good, good. Let me know once you get it into the old ware shop and I’ll come take a look.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Brandr replied.

She gestured to the wall in a relaxed, inviting manner, “Care to join me in my little remodeling project?”

“You seem to have everything under control, Captain. I should get back to supervise the transportation, Ma’am.” He said, pointed to the door behind him.

Sybil laughed and pulled the mask back on. “Suit yourself, Mr. Seal.”

Brandr left the room and Sybil turned back to her work. She was dead set on remodeling this room to serve as a bedroom and this wall had to go. She swung the hammer a few more times, knocking the wall away bit by bit.

There was some brick behind the layer of dry wall. That was a surprise, Sybil looked over her shoulder and checked the blueprints that were propped up on the desk.

It looked like there was a bit of room on the other side of this wall before the exterior one. “I wonder what’s hidden behind here”

Crash! Bang! Smash! The brick wall fell to her blows. Sybil reached for a flashlight and shone it into the hole she made.

A grinning face smiled back at her, one she’d thought she’d never see again.

“Arron?!” She screamed in a excited

The mummified corpse smiled, his dried, thin lips drawn back as far as his sunken checks and hollowed eye sockets, revealing the ghastly skeleton grin. She pulled more of the bricks away and laughed. “Arron, it is you!”

His teeth were unmistakably those of her dear old friend, Arron the wanna be lord of smuggling, who build this warehouse for smuggling goods back in the 20s.

Sybil chuckled and worked to uncover the rest of her old friend. As she pulled the rest of the wall away, the story of why he was here became clear. He’d been buried here, and judging by the blood soaked blunt claw marks all over the brinks, he was alive when it’d happened. “Arron my dear old friend, we both always knew this was how you’d go out. Betrayed by your men and left in a dark hole to die screaming and clawing like a wild beast.”

Sybil pushed the bricks aside and reached in to pull her friend out. His arm came loose and clattered to the ground the moment she touched him.

“Whoops, sorry ‘bout that,” she said with a shrug. Maybe she’d just remodel around the body, after all, she needed to get rid of the rest of the wall anyways while she was at it.

The rest of the day passed quickly with the body of Arron keeping her company, time always seemed to fly by when the two of them were together. Sybil cleared the wall away, swept up the rubble, and even got the basic furniture moved in. She’d decorated around Arron so he was comfortable.

Arron always loved being included in every conversation so she arranged the chairs so that he wouldn’t feel left out.

At about dinner time Brandr knocked on the door once more. Sybil tossed a blanket over Arron when her first mate came in to report back, saying the shipment was secured in the warehouse and ready for. She wasn’t done decorating yet, and Arron never liked being walked in on. He’d like to wait on being introduced until after he was presentable.

Sybil followed Brandr out, stopping in to the old fire department’s showers first to wash off all the grime. When she was clean and dressed in fresh, causally professional version of the pirate captain clothes, she rejoined Brandr for the walk down stairs to the smuggling hold of the warehouse.

Sybil looked around the underground warehouse. Safes? Ooh, she called somebody over to open it. She ran her hand over the tumbler. “Arron never did get to show me around here. I escaped to Norway before he had the chance.”

“Would you like us to open the safe, Ma’am?” Brandr asked. Sybil gave a short nod of her head. “Yes. I’d like to see what he left behind.”

Brandr called some of the other crew over and gave instructions to get the safe opened.

She notices the zombie guinea pig. It took a moment for her to recognize what it was. Beyond all dust and slime and tattered, mussed fur, it was Arron’s pet guinea pig Snuffles! Sybil knelt down next to the scrap of century old rotten flesh and held her hand out. The piggy wiggled and squeaked out a greeting. Sybil dropped her handkerchief over the piggy and scooped up as much as she could, cradling the pile of bones, tendons, and rotten fur in her arms. Snuffles seemed ecstatic to have a familiar person back again.

“It’s open!” The shouts of the locksmith made Captain Sybil Howell turn back to the safe where the sallow woman was working. “Move aside, let me open it” She ordered, pushing her way through the small excited crowd. In the crook of her arm perched Snuffles, the zombie guinea pig.

“Lets see what your daddy left behind, shall we?” She cooed to the little creature. It wiggled it’s nose in an excited squeak, a motion that made a portion of it’s face fall off. The skin slipped from behind where the ear use to go, sliding right off the bone.

Sybil put it’s face back on with a gentle, reassuring pat. “I think so too, Snuffles.”

She turned her attention back to the safe. It was large and one of the newer models from it’s time period of the late 20s. Arron always loved the new technology, where ever he could get it.

Sybil used her free hand to swing the safe door open. Inside was full to the brim with important papers of monitory value, checks and real. It’d make a worthy profit when sold to the right collectors.

But what Sybil saw tucked away besides them made every cent nothing more than a dust bunny.

There, tucked besides the checks and gold bars, lay a small wooden box, one that might be used for cigars. Sybil felt her ancient heart start to race. It wasn’t just any box, though to any other viewer it would appear so.

She snatched it out of the safe and held it in front of her.

The sides were intricately engraved with wood burnings of song birds and tiny skeleton rats parading around miniature scenes, locations of his favorite and valuable stashes of wealth and knowledge. Arron always was fond of cryptic and hidden maps.

But what interested Sybil the most was the fact that this box wasn’t on his person when he died. Instead, someone had taken the time to remove it from the breast pocket over his heart and lock it away in this safe.

Had he done it? Sybil wondered, tucking the box away next to her heart. Had Arron finally found a way to beat death? The fact that Snuffles was still running around after nearly a century, and the box had been taken away from him obviously meant something.

“You there, the treasurer… go take stock of everything in the safe.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Sybil turned to Brandr, “I’m retiring to my room now and am not to be disturbed,” she said. Brandr nodded. “What do you want me to do with the hippogriff?”

“Put it in the stables’ largest cage with it’s wings belted and beak muzzled. We’ve already got a dozen buyers for it and I don’t care for noise about mistreatment of the product.”

“And food for it?”

“Get whoever does research to find out what you should feed it, and do it quickly. We’re running a business, not rescue shelter.”

Brandr went off to do as he was told and Sybil hurried, nearly flew, back to her room.

She closed the door and locked it behind her.

All alone with Arron’s decomposed and mummified corpse, and his century old guinea pig.

“Okay now, Snuffles. Let’s see what Arron left in this box that was so important.” Sybil said as she gingerly placed the rotten piggy on the sofa. More fur and flecks of skin fell off onto the upholstery but Sybil didn’t care right now.

Sitting down besides the critter on the couch, and facing Arron, she pulled out the small box from next to her heart. A closer inspection showed a small pressure latch that released with a little help from a bobby pin found in her dark brown hair.

There was a click and the box sprung open.

Inside was a small golden watch fob, something Arron might find a neat little fashion object.

Sybil remembered that these particular watch fobs were made custom as a sort of ID for his clan. This one was different than she remembered though, with a dark crystal embedded in it as if by second thought. Inside the box was also a small yet unremarkable pocket watch and chain.

A old paper was folded underneath them. Sybil dumped the box out onto her palm and picked the paper up. It was fragile and almost crumbled at her touch, but held itself together.

In Arron’s funny handwriting read:

*To whom it might concern, though I bet it’s you, Ms. Captain Sybil Howell. You know I’d only trust this letter to those who I trust. I have succeeded. My studies in the dark arts have come to profit, and I brought my dear little Snuffles back from the dead. Some rival gang had shot my little piggy during a raid. Never before had I worked so hard for something as I did for the secret to revival. After Ms. Sybil , I was already fairly knowledgable of the works. And now, after I have proven myself to have power over death itself, I seek a means of immortality. Should death take me, I shall only need to be close to this watch fob in which I imbued my soul into.

If you’re reading this note, it means my men have taken this box away from my possession. I’m probably buried somewhere, or sealed up behind a brick wall. They always had a preference to such a death. If you could do me the favor of returning this box to it’s proper owner (me), I’d be most grateful. –Arron Porter.*

Sybil looked up at Arron’s hollow sockets in surprise. “You finally did it, hmm?” She said to the dusty pile of skin and bones. Snuffles chattered next to her.

Sybil clenched the watch fob in her fist. How great it would be to really talk to her old friend again. She pushed herself up from the couch and walked over to Arron’s body.

“I’ll return this,” she said, crouching next to him. He stared up with empty sockets and grin. Sybil reached into his coat jacket and tucked the watch fob into his breast pocket. She straightened his coat lapels and brushed a little dust off his shoulder.

A strange creaking sound came from his joints and his bones trembled with a slight glow tainting them. She watched hopefully, almost holding her breath.

Sybil watched as the stiff body flex and slumped forwards. His skull falling into his lap.

… Nothing.

Sybil sighed in disappointment. “You messed up, didn’t you? You dummy.”

Nothing more happened for a few minutes.

Sybil sighed in disappointment. “You messed up, didn’t you? You dummy.”

She stood up and hit the dust off her knees. Snuffles chattered from over on the sofa where it’s poor face had fallen off… again.

Having moved to the sofa to wait some time ago, Sybil looked at the digital clock by her bed and sighed. It was getting late, and Arron wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. She decided to call it a night.

Scooping most of Snuffles up, she made a nice little nest for the piggy in one of the drawers next to her bed. She made sure Snuffles’ face was in back in place and used a safety pin to secure it… the piggy probably couldn’t feel anything. Having situated the guinea pig she put the watch and chain on the top of the dresser and got ready for bed, changing into her comfiest pajamas, and crawled under the sheets.

Sometime later into the Sybil rolled over like she was asleep and felt for the curved blade under her pillow. Someone had gotten into her room. Without letting the intruder. She listened. The intruder sounded like it was searching for something, and extremely clumsy too.

“WHOA!! Easy there, just looking for my head.”

“Wha?”

“Ms. Sybil? Is that you? Oh good, maybe you can help me. I can’t find my head.”

“Arron? Wha…”

“My head! It rolled away or something when I stood up. I was disoriented after being dead for a while, okay? I think my one of my arms is missing too.” Arron grumbled from some unknown part of the room. “Get a light or something, it’s too dark to tell where I am.”

Sybil walked over to the light switch and switched the light on. There, in the middle of the room, stood Arron’s thin, skeleton form, head and arm unattached.

“Ah! I can see you, Sybil! My head’s under something to your left.”

Sybil turned around to look under the dresser on her left.

“Nope, oops, sorry I meant your other left,” Arron corrected himself. Sybil spun around and looked under the sofa.

“Hey there!” Arron’s grinning skull . His body walked over to Sybil and tapped her shoulder. It felt creepy and stiff but light, almost hollow. “Mind putting me back together?” Arron asked.