It takes a little longer to navigate the aurora borealis without Flash, but I make it to H-Town just fine on my own.
Next, I set about the task of finding a rainbow in the night sky. Impossible to have a rainbow at night? Not in H-Town. There’s always a rainbow leading out of the city somewhere. It’s just a matter of knowing how to find it.
Good thing I’m a detective.
Who benefits? Another way of phrasing that question is to ask, ‘Where does the money lead?’
And when it comes to bankrolling a kidnapping on the scale of Pop’s, no Holiday folk would be more equipped to do so than the leprechauns of the St. Patrick’s Day realm—especially a certain leprechaun named Mickey O’Shaunessey, an infamous money launderer who just so happens to be at the top of the my list of Larry Talbot’s known associates. And since it’s a leprechaun I’m hunting for, then a rainbow I’ll need.
I rummage in a city trash can until I find a clear glass bottle. Still bent over the can, I feel someone tap me on the back of my shoulder. I rise up and gasp to see a fed leering down at me.
“Move it along, you,” he says. “Get down to the homeless shelter with the rest of the rabble. They’ll feed you and give you a place to sleep.”
I sigh with relief. The glamour is still working. When the fed saw someone rummaging in the garbage, he expected it to be a transient, so that’s who he sees.
“Yes sir, officer,” I reply as I hide the bottle behind my back. “Certainly.”
I walk down the rain-puddled street, putting distance between myself and the fed. When I’m out of eye-shot, I duck down a graffiti-covered alleyway that has the last of the three things I need to come up with a rainbow.
I take the bottle and dip it into a rain puddle, letting it fill half full. Then I hold it out and tilt it back and forth, allowing the light from one of the lamps along the outer street to play against the bottle’s surface.
In no time, a small scale prism effect occurs between the light, the bottle, and the water inside it. The effect builds and becomes self-sustaining until before I know it, there’s a full-sized rainbow arcing up from the alley floor into the night sky above.
“Saints’ begorrah,” I say with a wry smile. Then I begin walking up the rainbow.
What seems like hours later, the rainbow forks. One branch of it rises even higher to the Norse god realm of Asgard. I know this because there’s a kaleidoscopic road sign sticking out of the rainbow saying so.
The other branch bends Earthward. I double check the road sign and, sure enough, it labels the downward branch as the route to the Emerald Isle. That’s the one I want.
I start down it and, before long, I can see its end at a small island of rolling green hills amid a sea of crashing waves. Once on the island, I walk inland until I come to a modest stone tavern with a thatched roof. Young leprechauns in green frock coats and bowler hats stand outside, eyeing me wearily over their pints of ale.
“I’m here to see Mickey,” I say.
“Well, Mickey’s not taking visitors today,” one of the leprechaun’s says, his Irish brogue high and thick. “Try your luck tomorrow.”
The other leprechauns laugh and toast.
“He’ll want to see me,” I say.
The laughter halts immediately.
The talker puts down his pint and gets in my face, obviously not pleased I didn’t walk away when I had the chance.
“And just why would Mickey want to see you?” he asks.
“That’s for Mickey to know,” I say. “But you can tell him a friend of Larry Talbot’s has come to call.”
The talker’s eyes narrow at the mention of Talbot’s name. Without another word, he turns and goes into the tavern. A minute later, he reappears and motions for me to join him inside.
I feel the other leprechauns sizing me up as I pass them by and head into the tavern. They’re spoiling for one of the only five things a leprechaun cares about. Of the five, it’s the one I hate the most.
The tavern is deserted save for the talker, a barkeep, and one older leprechaun sitting by himself at a table in the far corner.
He motions me over. “Come! Sit.”
I do.
The older leprechaun is dressed in a green frock coat and bowler hat like the others. His face is wrinkled and his red sideburns are threaded with gray. He twiddles a pipe between his teeth. One of them is capped with brilliant gold. He’s short like the others, but thick and burly, with a mischievous gleam in his eye.
He reminds me of a leprechaun who visited the Pole once when I was a boy. He helped himself to our eggnog and got squirrely. It took ten of Alfie’s blue caps to bring him down and every one of them was black and blue when it was all over.
I wonder who the glamour makes him see me as. Probably a Halloweenian as I came asking for Talbot.
“Drink?” he asks, his brogue so deep and thick that it takes me a minute to realize I’m being offered refreshment.
“Egg—uh—blood wine?”
“Horrid stuff.” He gestures to the bar keep. “Bring us a pint.”
The leprechaun shifts in his seat and empties the tobacco from his pipe.
“So, lad. It appears you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I’m afraid I don’t know yours.”
“Call me Larry. Like your friend. Have you seen Talbot lately?”
The barkeep sits the drinks down between us.
“Not one to beat around the bush, are ye?” the leprechaun, now revealed as Mickey, says.
“I don’t have the luxury of small talk, right now.”
“Oh lad, pleasant conversation in the company of others is not a luxury, but an Irishman’s right. But, have it your way.”
“Is Talbot here?”
He drinks a long swig of ale and then wipes the foam from his chin.
“Do ye like riddles, lad?”
“I like them solved.”
“Good, good. I’ll tell ye what: I’ll answer your question if ye can answer one of mine. But fail in the answering and ye become my servant for a century.”
Great. Dealing with fairies, I’ve always dreaded being put in a position where I have to make this kind of cornball choice. But I never thought I’d actually have to. Live and Learn.
“I really don’t have time for games and riddles.”
“Take it or leave it, laddie.”
I sigh. “Alright. Shoot.”
He grins, pleased to no end. “Riddle me this,” he says,
I never was, am always to be,
No one ever saw me, nor ever will,
And yet I am the confidence of all
Who live and breathe on this terrestrial ball!
Nutcrackers. I don’t have a clue. Give me facts to solve a case, not some silly word-play.
Frustrated, I mumble under my breath. “If I don’t solve this and find Pop, there’s not going to be a tomorrow ever again.”
Suddenly, Mickey slams the pint of ale he’d been holding to his mouth down on the table.
“Well played, lad,” he says, “and solved in no time at all. Tell me, what exactly was it that tipped ye off to tomorrow being the answer?”
My eyes briefly widen with realization.
“Uh,” I say, fumbling for an answer, “that old riddle? Everyone knows that. But I’ve done what you asked. Now answer my question.”
Mickey sighs deeply. “Very well. I believe the question you asked was, ‘is Talbot here?’”
Mickey leans back and crosses his arms, a smug smile spreading over his face. “Aye. He was, lad. But not anymore!” Mickey leans forward and slaps the table as he guffaws with laughter.”
“Where did he go?” I ask.
“Oh!” Mickey says, his eyes refilling with excitement. “That’s another question ye want answered lad. One that will be costing ye!”
I roll my eyes. “Another riddle then?”
“No, no, lad,” Mickey says, shaking his head. “Truth be told I’m no fan of riddles, me self. They hurt me head!
“But I am of faerie after all, and so felt obligated to at least take a pass at such where ye was concerned.”
Mickey takes off his jacket and begins rolling up his sleeves, the gleam in his eye growing, his pipe dancing between his teeth.
“For ye next test, I had something a bit more hands on in mind.”
I don’t like the sound of this and I’m right not to.
Remember that one of five things I mentioned leprechauns love for that I hate—the thing the younger ones were spoiling for? Apparently, Mickey is spoiling for it, too.
Moments later, he and I are out front circling one another, our dukes up, the other leprechauns surrounding us, booing me and cheering for him.
“Rules?” he asks.
“Uh,” I say, “no magic?”
With no harsh winter to pull from, I wouldn’t stand a chance against him in a magical battle here on his home turf.
Mickey grins. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, lad!”
He stomps my foot and serves me three quick knuckle sandwiches before I even know what’s on the menu.
He releases my foot and I go stumbling backward into a mass of shouting leprechauns. They just as quickly shove me back toward Mickey.
I duck just in time to miss a haymaker and manage to connect with one of my own that leaves Mickey dazed.
He shakes it off and smiles from ear to ear, as happy as I’ve ever seen anyone.
Did I mention that leprechauns are insane?
To describe the rest of the fight would be pointless other than to say we both fought long and hard.
When at last I wake up, I see Mickey smiling as he stands over me, one eye blackened and his gold tooth missing, his hand held out to lift me up.
“Laddie, that was the most fun I’ve had in centuries!” Mickey says as he helps me to my feet. “A finer bout of fisticuffs, I cannot remember.”
“Yeah,” I say, wincing in pain. “Big fun.”
It hurts to talk. In fact, at the moment, it hurts to do anything. I struggle, but manage to raise my fists.
“Well, come on. Let’s go. Round two.”
Mickey and the other leprechauns guffaw as he jovially slaps my shoulder.
“We’ll make a leprechaun out of ye yet! But no, lad, it’s over.”
“Not until you tell me where Talbot went to. Not by a long shot.”
“Easy, lad. Relax. The object wasn’t to beat me. No one can do that! Not here on the Emerald Isle. You just had to take me for a dance and show me a good time, and that you did and more.”
I lower my fists as Mickey puts his arm around my shoulder.
“I’ll be happy to tell a fighting man like yourself where that no-good wolf got to,” he says. “Twas me who sent him packing there in the first place, and good riddance to him!”
I sigh with relief. If we’d gone another round, there would’ve only been two more hits: Mickey hitting me and then me hitting the ground. For good.
“Where did you send him, Mickey?”
He grins at the other leprechauns, preparing them for the joke about to leave his mouth.
“Well, it so happens, Mr. Talbot owes me a large sum of money. It also just so happens, he’s had some, shall we say, unseemly dealings with the Cottontails that didn’t leave him on the best of terms with them.
“In fact, the Cottontails were so terribly out of sorts about it, they offered a hefty sum of gold for anyone who could, shall we say, reconnect them with Mr. Talbot.”
Mickey grins, ready to drop the joke.
“Now, there’s nothing more than a leprechaun likes than gold. And wouldn’t you know it? By the luck of the Irish, the sum of money the Cottontails were offering was equal to and beyond what our Mr. Talbot owed yours truly.
“So, when Talbot had the nerve to ask for sanctuary when still unable to pay off his debt, there was only one viable option left to me.”
Mickey puts his fingers to his bowler hat, mimicking bunny ears as he begins hopping around.
Did I mention leprechauns are insane?
“Here comes Peter Cottontail,” he sings, “Hopping down on Talbot’s tail. Hippity-hoppity, Talbot’s taken away!”
The leprechauns slap their knees and let loose with gut-busting laughter. I’d find it funny, too, if not for the fact that the Cottontails are the most vicious, brutal gang in all the Holiday worlds and I was about to have to walk smack down in the middle of them.