The Annex
“It’s like looking in a mirror, so!”
Brigid met Bridget as the Librarians reconvened at the Annex, bringing their two new charges with them for safekeeping. Cassandra was struck again by the startling resemblance between the two women, which was all the more obvious now that they were standing across from each other. Only their hair, clothing, and accents differentiated them; Bridget was a modern American, while Brigid still looked like she’d stepped out of Ye Olde Ireland.
The escape route from Mill Ends had led Cassandra, Jenkins, and Brigid to an abandoned stone cabin in Forest Park, a wooded area about ten minutes west of downtown Portland. From there they had simply taken a Lyft back to the Annex, with Brigid gaping wide-eyed at the modern world the whole way. Cassandra figured that Portland was just as exotic to Brigid as Mill Ends had been to her. There weren’t many Starbucks or traffic jams in Otherworld.
“But I don’t understand,” the other Bridget said, noticeably more distraught than her double. She was not on a grand adventure; she was being terrorized by a banshee and would-be abductors. “Who is this woman? How can she look just like me?”
Cassandra let Jenkins explain his theory, which he’d already shared with her and Brigid on the way back to the Annex. She didn’t want to step on his lines.
“I have been developing a possible solution to that mystery,” the caretaker began as Cassandra and her teammates milled about the main office, digging into the card catalog and bookshelves in search of reference material on leprechauns, banshees, and Serpents. “Tell me, Miss O’Neill, are you familiar with the concept of changelings?”
“A little,” Bridget said. “That’s when the fairies supposedly steal a mortal baby and leave a fairy child in its place.”
“Precisely.” Jenkins plucked a book from a shelf and opened it to an old woodcut of a gnomish fairy stealing away from a cradle with a mortal infant in his hands. Another, even creepier illustration showed a fairy baby, with tapered ears and suspiciously pointy teeth, resting in a cradle. “Changelings can be found in the folklore of many nations, including Ireland.”
“Wait,” Ezekiel said. “I thought changelings were shape-shifters?”
“Only in comic books and science fiction,” Jenkins said. “Your classic changeling, from myth and history, is a fairy swapped for a mortal child in infancy, although, admittedly, magic is sometimes employed to make the substitute appear identical to the original child, the better to pull off the switch.”
Bridget stared at him in disbelief. “What are you saying? That we were switched at birth … and that this Brigid is the real one? And that I’m just a changeling, made to look like her?”
“Not quite,” Jenkins assured her. “The chronology argues against that. Granted, time flows differently in Otherworld, but Brigid appears to have resided with the leprechauns for centuries at least, when by all accounts you were born only twenty-plus years ago?”
“That’s right,” Bridget said. “In 1996.”
“Far after Brigid’s time,” Jenkins stressed, “unlike your family’s connection to the leprechauns, which began long before your birth. Furthermore, Miss O’Neill, you give no indication of being a fairy in disguise.”
“Are we sure about that?” Stone asked. “No offense.”
“Close enough for Library work,” Jenkins said. “Still, perhaps Miss Cillian can confirm my assessment?”
Cassandra was still wearing the magic four-leaf clover she had found in Otherworld. She had previously determined that Brigid was fully human, just as she’d claimed. Now Cassandra looked closely at Bridget, on the lookout for any magical shenanigans.
“I’m not seeing any obvious glamours,” she reported after a minute. “If I squint a little, maybe there’s something a teensy bit off about her ears and eyes, but it’s so subtle that it could be just my imagination.”
Bridget nervously fingered an ear. “So what does that mean?”
“My current theory,” Jenkins said, “which I stress is still a work-in-progress, is that you are in fact descended from a changeling, who replaced the real Brigid at some point in the distant past.”
“The fifth century?” Stone wondered aloud. “In Saint Patrick’s time?”
Cassandra suddenly made a connection. “The baby in the old story! The one the leprechaun ran away with.” She looked with excitement at Brigid. “You said the leprechauns took you in because you were an orphan!”
“So they say,” Brigid said. “But refresh me memory. What old story again?”
“I’ll catch you up soon,” Cassandra promised. “What do you think, Jenkins? Could Brigid be the baby that was rescued from the Serpent Brotherhood years ago?”
“Possibly,” Jenkins said, “but only possibly. We should not jump to that conclusion before it is confirmed. The actual identity of the nameless child has yet to be verified.”
“Hang on,” Bridget said. “I’m still trying to sort this out. If I’m not a changeling, why do we look alike?”
“My guess is that magic was employed to make the original changeling—your distant ancestor—a perfect twin of little baby Brigid. And that spell caused the resemblance to be passed down through your family, after the false Brigid grew up, married, had children, and otherwise lived out a mortal life, possibly not ever knowing her true origins.” Jenkins closed the book on changelings. “In short, Miss O’Neill, while you are not a changeling yourself, you may well have one in your family tree.”
Stone nodded. “That would explain why you have a leprechaun looking after your family and sharing his gold with you. A relative from the faerie side of the family, watching out over his mortal descendants?”
“And the banshee?” Bridget asked.
“Still not sure where she fits in,” Stone confessed.
Aside from the fact that Bridget is obviously in jeopardy, Cassandra added silently, for more reasons than one.
“Can we talk about the Serpents now?” Baird said, perhaps worrying about the imminent threat to Bridget as well. “A magical switched-at-birth scenario fifteen hundred years ago is intriguing, but I’m honestly more concerned with what the Serpents are up to at the moment, especially after what happened at the pub.”
The reunited Librarians had already compared notes on their respective expeditions to Chicago and Mill Ends. Cassandra had been surprised to discover that more than a day had passed in the real world while she and Jenkins had been visiting the leprechaun colony. She wished again that there was some sort of reliable mathemagical equation for calculating the time-dilation effect when crossing back and forth between mortal and faerie realms. Maybe something to look into after the current crisis was resolved?
“Well, we know one thing for sure now,” Stone said. “The Brotherhood is definitely after pots of gold again, just like in the olden days. And according to what Jenkins and Cassandra learned down in Otherworld, that business at the pub is only the most recent incident. They’ve been going after leprechauns and their pots in a big way.”
“Bloody-handed gobshites,” Brigid said. “Preying on the Wee Folk for their treasure!”
“I can’t imagine that this is simply about gold.” Jenkins stepped away from his desk, which now held the gold coin from Bridget’s pub. “The Brotherhood has always been more concerned with accumulating power—in particular, magic power—than riches. I suspect there is far more here than meets the eye.”
“For sure,” Ezekiel agreed. “If gold is all you’re after, why run around the world hunting for leprechauns? Just rob Fort Knox like a normal person.”
Bridget blinked. “Come again?”
“Let it go,” Cassandra advised her. “That’s what we usually do.”
Baird kept them focused on the task at hand. “We have any idea who this Max guy is?” She looked to Jenkins, who knew more about the Library’s ancient rivals than the rest of them combined. “Jenkins?”
“Not on my radar, Colonel,” he replied. “And I’m afraid the Serpent Brotherhood guards its membership roster even more zealously than certain politicians hide their tax returns.” He sighed heavily. “Sadly, there have always been ruthless and ambitious individuals prepared to step into any open slots in the Brotherhood’s upper leadership. Evil abhors a vacuum.”
Cassandra wished she had been present to get a look at this “Max” character, if only to commit his face to her eidetic memory. “Any security camera footage from the pub?”
Bridget shook her head. “The only camera was taken out by the banshee’s scream the night before. That was one thing we hadn’t managed to replace yet.”
“What about the stolen gold?” Baird asked. “Follow the money, remember? If the Brotherhood is accumulating large quantities of leprechaun gold, any way we can scour the financials to trace the gold back to them? Maybe look for large, irregular deposits into shady accounts or signs of magical money laundering?”
“Easy peasy.” Ezekiel opened his laptop, cracked his knuckles, and got to work. “Just give me a little time to prowl the Dark Web and work some of my old underworld contacts. No way anyone can move around that much gold without some chatter on the Net.”
Bridget turned to Cassandra and whispered, “Just to be clear, he’s a criminal, right?”
“He’s a Librarian,” Cassandra assured her. “That’s what matters.” She glanced at her own computer, tempted to join in the search, but no, this was Ezekiel’s natural habitat. If anyone could track down the stolen gold, it was Ezekiel Jones. “Let him at it.”
In the interim, Brigid remained fascinated by her double. “So what are we to each other? Twins? Sisters?”
“From the sound of it,” Bridget said, “I’m more like a fifth-generation copy—and something of a defective printing to boot.”
Cassandra assumed that Bridget’s weak heart came from her mortal side, not from the faerie blood way back in her genealogy. The scientist in Cassandra wondered whether the magic behind Bridget’s resemblance to Brigid extended all the way down to her DNA. Would it fool genetic testing?
“You’re not defective,” Cassandra told Bridget. “You have a medical condition, that’s all.”
“And a banshee haunting me and some sort of evil ‘brotherhood’ stalking me.” Bridget slumped down into a chair at the conference table. “I’m sorry if I’m coming off as a buzzkill, and not more excited about meeting you, Brigid, but it’s all too much. It feels like the whole world is out to get me, up to and including my own bum ticker.”
“Och, no need to apologize,” Brigid said. “From what I’ve heard, ye’ve had a fierce hard time of it lately. None can blame ye for not being fully yerself just now.” She sat down beside her twin and patted her hand. “’Twill be time enough for us to get better acquainted, once the danger’s passed.” She eyed Bridget’s hair and clothing. “Perhaps ye can help me fit into this brave new world of yers.”
Bridget managed a smile. “I’d like that.”
Time passed as they left Ezekiel to his work. Jenkins settled in at his desk to do some research, while Baird tried and failed to get ahold of Flynn, who was presumably still unruffling the scales of feuding fish-people somewhere at the bottom of the briny deep. Stone munched on a sandwich as he brushed up on his ancient ogham. Cassandra briefly considered offering their guests a tour of the Library, but realized that Jenkins would never allow that. She chatted with the women, taking part as they briefed each other on where they’d each come from.
“So there’s actually an honest-to-goodness leprechaun colony—underneath Portland, of all places?” Bridget marveled. “Who knew?”
“Just saw it with my own eyes,” Cassandra said. “A bit easier to enter than leave, mind you, but it was still a neat place to visit.”
“Wow,” Bridget said. “I admit I’d like to see that at least once before I…” Her voice trailed off, leaving the final bit unspoken.
“Och, it’s a grand place,” Brigid said. “But I can’t wait to visit this Chicago of yers … and to toast yer health at that fine pub ye speak of. Sure and it must be a grand place at that.”
Cassandra was looking forward to checking out the Pot O’ Gold herself, preferably without any banshees or barroom brawls to spoil the visit. As she understood it, the pub had been closed for business since the kidnapping attempt, although Bridget still wanted to reopen in time for Saint Patrick’s Day tomorrow.
“Flawless victory!” Ezekiel exclaimed, pumping his fist. He leaned back in his chair, looking even more pleased with himself than usual. “I know, I know, you’re blown away by how fast that was, but what can I say? I really am that good.”
“We’ll get you an applause sign later,” Stone said. He and the others hurried over to the conference table to see what Ezekiel had turned up, with only Jenkins waiting patiently for Ezekiel to elaborate. They peered over his shoulders at his laptop. “What have you got?”
Ezekiel beamed as he explained. “I did some poking under some of my favorite rocks. Turns out there’s a new player on the scene, who has been trading in ancient gold coins on a no-questions-asked basis. Old Irish coins, to be exact—and did I mention that the guy goes by the handle ‘Ophidian’?”
“As in Serpent,” Baird said. “Good work, Jones. Always pays to have friends in low places.”
“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call some of them ‘friends’.…”
Cassandra was excited by his breakthrough. “What now? Can we find out where they’re hiding?”
“Way ahead of you,” Ezekiel bragged. “Posing as a fence with big pockets, I managed to get a link to a secure site where people can do business with Ophidian. Once he answers my query, I should be able to track his reply back to a physical address.”
“Ooh,” Cassandra blurted. “I can help you with that!”
Crime was Ezekiel’s bailiwick, but cracking encrypted security measures and tracing a signal through a maze of servers and networks was something Cassandra’s brain could do faster than most computer programs.
“Works for me,” Ezekiel said. “Two hackers are better than one.”
“Way to go, people,” Baird encouraged them. “With any luck, we can get out ahead of this situation instead of playing catch-up. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of the Serpents knowing more than we do.”
“Tell me about it,” Stone agreed. “And when we find out where they’re skulking these days…?”
“Preemptive strike,” Baird said decisively. “We go in hard and fast, we get some answers, and we shut down whatever hostile action the Serpents are cooking up this time.” A determined smile promised trouble for any two-legged snakes that got in her way. “I gotta say, I like the idea of being one step ahead of the bad guys for once.”
“You and me both, Colonel,” Jenkins said.
Cassandra hoped things worked out that way, but she had been tricked by the Serpent Brotherhood before. You never knew when and where they might strike.