Black Hollow

Chapter 2 - It's The Little Things

Arden McCarthy stared out at the tellers working the windows at The End of the Rainbow Savings & Trust. Somehow, the bank's paranormal funding was being threatened, and he still had no clue by who, and the woman he had hired to discover the threat had vanished. He stroked the scruff along his jawline as he sat behind his desk wondering which one of his employees was not to be trusted.

The End of the Rainbow had five tellers, all leprechauns like himself—well, one was a cluricaun, much to Arden's regret. Each one stood on a stool so their three-foot frames could help the customers. While a couple chose the traditional green shorts and jacket of the leprechauns, a couple just kept the traditional derby or top hat on their heads and wore clothes that Seraphine had provided to fit their small size. The clothes, of course, were spelled to shrink or stretch as the leprechauns grew or shrunk according to their whims. Most remained true to their small size, but Arden knew there was a time and a place to fit in with the rest of the world.

Nunk, an ogre, worked security by the main door, his grayish bulky size a visual deterrent to anyone thinking of robbing the place while it was open. Two other ogres worked in the security room, and one kept guard during the night. The ogres weren't always the brightest of the bunch, except for Nunk, of course. Arden didn't hire them for their brains, however, but rather because they looked intimidating and deterred trouble.

Besides the ogres and tellers, all of which were male, four leprechauns worked in the back office to process forms and keep the bank records. Most of those were male as well, except for Jane O'Hare, because female leprechauns rarely ventured away from the faerie knoll. None of his employees, however, struck Arden as a thief or someone who would want to risk bringing down the town. He took a deep breath as he shook his head. No, it had to be someone he overlooked, but who? What had Brandie uncovered that caused someone to abduct her? He was sure it was a kidnapping as Brandie Underwood didn't seem the type to walk off a job, no matter what Arden's partner thought. She was a professional, and a determined woman at that.

“I doubt she was any closer to discovering who threatens our cache than we were," Quinn said from the plush leather chair in front of Arden's desk. “Did you uncover anything in her hotel to reveal what she may have found? Any clue at all? A picture? A name? A place? Love notes from a boyfriend? Anything? No. And why is that? Because the woman just left. Simple. Outsiders aren't to be trusted. I told you that before you hired her, but did you listen? Oh, no, not even a little."

“What's the story horse? You seem more bitter now than when I hired her." Arden shook his head, not even glancing over at his friend. Quinn O'Connor had been his best friend for centuries, both taking over the management of the bank and protecting the source of its funding when Seraphine asked them to so many centuries ago. Together, they had created the protections that surrounded the pots of gold below the vault that funded the bank, protections that, up until a few days ago, Arden would have sworn were foolproof. However, someone had triggered his alarms last week, and again just two days ago. How they had even found the pot of gold, Arden couldn't begin to fathom, but obviously, they were close to gaining access. Brandie Underwood was supposed to discover who the thief was and inform him. Now, Arden couldn't even locate her. Who in Black Hollow was no longer to be trusted? Who would even want to cause such destruction to their economy as to steal the gold that helped fund the town? Every paranormal in Black Hollow knew the stakes of the community going bankrupt, so why risk it?

Quinn collapsed back in his chair, blowing out a frustrated breath as he ran his hand through his mop of red hair. “This sucks," he sighed. “I need a drink. Let's scoot over to Fireside Grille for a liquid lunch."

Arden turned to his friend, chuckling. “It's not lunch yet."

Quinn shrugged, unperturbed. “So, let's call it a liquid brunch if that suits ya. I still need a drink. This madness is infuriating. I just can't imagine someone trying to bring down the financial structure of this community. We need this town to stay safe. Otherwise, paranormals will be hunted again for sport. You know damn well someone would want to turn poor Saroj into a yeti rug or wall hanging."

That thought sobered Arden up as he shifted straighter in his chair. “Trust me, I know what the absence of Black Hollow would mean to everyone. That's why I hired the P.I. I want to catch this would-be thief while they're still a would-be one."

“Well, I still need a drink." Quinn sulked as he slumped in his chair, propping his left ankle on his right knee.

Arden sighed. “No drinking, but I'm with you on needing to step out a bit." He stood to his feet and headed for the door, Quinn following behind. “Let's head to Hell's Brew, instead. Maybe the caffeine will jolt my mind awake enough to figure out our next step."

Before passing through the door of his office, Arden grabbed the green derby that hung on a hatrack by the door and slipped it onto his head. As soon as the hat touched his blond hair, he shifted, shrinking back down to his true size, a three-foot tall leprechaun. Quinn grabbed his hat as well and followed suit. While people liked the idea of leprechauns handling their money—the story of the small men with plenty of gold making them feel secure—even in Black Hollow, they preferred the lifesize form of a person to be in charge. The normal size and appearance instilled a sense of trust in someone handing over their money for safekeeping.

They told Nunk they'd be back and stepped out into the bright, morning sun. Already, Arden felt some of the stress slip from his shoulders as he turned toward the coffee shop. Crossing the street, they walked through the roundabout, waving at Cade through the windows of Under Wraps Clothing Store as they passed by before entering Hell's Brew. The aromatic smell of brewing coffee filled Arden's nose as the whirring sound of a grinder making fresh coffee mixed with the idle chatter of the small cluster of patrons.

They both ordered a cup of coffee and an everything bagel before taking a seat by the window, a stack of books on the seat to help them reach the top of the table comfortably. The demons who ran the coffee shop were always considerate of the other paranormals in the town, making sure no one felt slighted or not welcome. Hell's Brew truly was one of Arden's favorite places in all of Black Hollow.

He took a tentative sip of his coffee, his tiny hands wrapped around the ceramic mug, The steam from the coffee snaked around his nose as he breathed in the strong fragrance. He still wasn't sure what his next step should be in finding Brandie, but at least he felt better not staring at the ceramic tile of his bank searching for answers that weren't there. Quinn was useless, only muttering under his breath that Brandie probably ran off with some smooth-talking paranormal. Arden remained baffled at his friend's ridiculous statements and still persisted his theory of foul play.

“Will Sandie let you into the investigator's room again to look around?" Quinn asked as he broke off a chunk of his bagel, the bread appearing huge in his small hands. “Maybe you missed something. Surely, she left notes there we can use to find her and the thief? Did you search the dresser? What about under the bed? She hid things there."

Arden cocked his head as he glanced at his friend. “And just how do ya know she be hiding things under her bed? That seems a wee bit detailed."

Quinn's eyes widened for a moment, but then he shrugged. “She said it in passing one day when she shared some of her investigator tricks. That doesn't matter now. What matters is do you think Sandie will let you back into her room?"

“Are you switching your opinion now?" Arden asked. The fact that Quinn now tried to help him baffled Arden even more than when he was against him having anything to do with Brandie.

Arden shrugged, deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth and to just accept Quinn's help. “I suppose we can try. Although the last time Brandie reported in, she hadn't said she discovered anything. Unless she's been back in her room since I searched it, I highly doubt there's anything new there." He stared back out the window just as a small blond walked by, her brows pinched in confusion as she took in her surroundings, gawking at the sights. Arden couldn't help but admire the way her tight jeans cupped her ass and her top hugged her ample breasts. Her blue eyes held amazement as she gawked at her surroundings, and her full lips looked perfect for… He shook the thought from his head as he watched the woman walk toward the front door of Hell's Brew. He couldn't help but think something seemed familiar about her. Not so much the way her ass sashayed when she walked, but the shape of her eyes and the cute dimple when she smiled, even the way her forehead furrowed as she studied her surroundings.

The pretty blond entered Hell's Brew and stopped as soon as she noticed Quinn and himself, her eyes wide with annoyance. She glanced around the coffee shop before settling her gaze back on to the two tiny men. “Aren't you two a little young to be drinking coffee?" she asked, her tone scolding. “Where are your parents? Are you here alone? That doesn't seem right."

Quinn growled as he turned to the woman, his hands on his hips as he glared at her. “Young? Parents? How rude! I'm old enough to have seen coffee created, Missy!"

Arden stared at the woman, her features holding a familiar quality that made him instantly think of the private investigator. He tilted his head to the side as he asked, “You wouldn't have a sister named Brandie Underwood, would you?"

Her face twisted into a tight knot of anguish. “How do you know my sister?" she demanded. “Where is she?"

“I hoped you could tell me." Arden said as he slid his hat from his head and shifted back to a size more to the woman's comfort level. He should have thought twice before trying to be polite, however. Sometimes, an ill-timed gesture backfired no matter how well-intentioned.

The woman's eyes widened, her whole body tensing up just before she screamed.