"Just why am I doing this?" Circe breathlessly wondered to herself as she followed Morgan up a slope of suburban houses. At any other time during the day, the houses would glow with their fresh paint looks but currently stood dull, even unwelcoming, beneath the winter gloom. The gray clouds that completely shrouded the sky above were a permanent fixture of the season and came with the sound of soft whistling of wind even more chilly than the actual temperature.
They were on their way to Roger's house. It was Morgan's belief that they may be able to find clues to his whereabouts there and possibly expand her list of places he could have gone. She insisted that Circe accompany her and help her with her amateur detective work, going as far as to call her, "Watson," which Circe really did not appreciate since it made clear she was being viewed as the sidekick of this story.
She continued to grumble as she trudged behind Morgan. "I should be at home playing games on my computer. Not out here on a freezing cold Saturday!" Although she loved wintertime, there was only so much of it that she could take. Besides, she was way behind on a limited time event going on right now.
According to Morgan, Roger's father ran a successful company, which it had to be for the Nettles family to live in a neighborhood like this. She didn't know what sort of company Mr. Nettles owned and neither, apparently, did his own son. Morgan had never met Mr. and Mrs. Nettles before, but she had met Benjamin, Roger's older brother, many times. Circe found it weird that Morgan had never seen her boyfriend's parents before but decided it was none of her business and asked no questions.
Not soon enough, they arrived at the Nettles' residence. The house was a cluster of three structures with the main structure in the middle being the tallest and widest at three floors high (not counting the attic). They were uniformly painted dark gray with the windows framed white. A white driveway was paved at the left side of the property and led up to the single-floor garage which, like the main middle was topped by a close-to-flat pyramid. From the driveway through the front of the house and around the property's right was a wide ring of grass, which was overlooked by the remaining structure where, according to Morgan, the kitchen and patio were contained. The patio opened up to both the side and back yards which, except for right now, were usually lush green.
"The patio's also closed up for the winter," Morgan told Circe as they approached the white picket fence that surrounded the premises. "Even though the doors are those wood-framed window types, they're pretty good at keeping out the cold. Oh, did I mention that the roof above the kitchen is also a second patio? That's why it's all flat with railings."
"Why are you acting like you're showing off when it's not even your own house?" Circe asked.
Morgan behaved like she didn't hear.
Typical, Circe thought. She turned to gaze at the house and admire it. Suburban homes were rare to see in person for a city girl like Circe, especially ones so grand in design, so she couldn't help but be curious about it. Her eyes roamed from the patio/kitchen section, passed over the taller mid-section and then stopped on the car parked in the driveway in front of the garage. It was an older model black sedan, well cared for, but clearly used often. Its red rear lights were still on, and its engine still softly rumbled, indicating that it had either just arrived or it was about to depart.
She paused, frowned, and wondered aloud, "Now where have I seen that car before?"
It didn't take long for her to remember. And when she did, she was struck by panic. "Oh shoot! Quick! We need to hide!"
"Huh? Why?" Morgan asked. She didn't get an answer. Instead, she was pulled behind a pair of garbage bins left outside by their owner who'd rather stay inside than go out into the cold to collect them. They ducked down just as the engine finally ceased its purring and its red lights blinked off and peaked out from behind in time to see the two front seat doors swing open.
Circe swore. "I knew it," she muttered beneath her breath.
Out from the driver's seat was Arnold Willis, Jackie's stepdad, a police officer. The car was his. Circe had seen it many times whenever Jackie got dropped off and picked up at school, but it's been a while since the last time she had seem it, so she nearly forgot what it looked like.
What's he doing here? Circe wondered as she peaked out from behind the blue recycle bin. Could he be here to find clues to Roger's whereabouts like we are? Morgan did say she tipped off the police, after all. That theory, however, was soon dismissed when Circe laid eyes on the man at the front passenger side of the car. It was Tom Waller, accountant by day, monster-slash-wizard-buster by night (Jackie's words, not Circe's). "What is HE doing here?"
Morgan said clearly, she said nothing about Roger's transformation, so there's no reason for the police's expert in all things weird to be out and about. Not unless they've known all along what Roger really was. No, that can't be it, either. Something else must be going on. Something really, really bad.
"Psst!" Morgan hissed from behind the green general garbage bin. "Hey! Isn't that Jackie's chauffeur?"
"Shush!" Circe irritably hissed back. But then she frowned. "Chauffeur?"
"You know," Morgan whispered. "A private driver. That's Jackie's right? I used to see Jackie get dropped off by that guy all the time. I always wondered how Jackie could afford one. He never looked all that rich."
Circe rolled her eyes and decided correcting Morgan was not worth the trouble. Finding out what Mr. Willis and Mr. Waller were doing at the Nettles house was more important. She watched Arnold jab the doorbell button, but she could not hear what the two men were saying to each other as they waited for their summons to be answered. They were just too far away.
"Could he be here to drive Benjamin somewhere?" Morgan wondered. "Actually, why are we even hiding?"
"Will you shut up?"
Morgan was more shocked dumb than offended by Circe's snap. Mainly because the way Circe snapped was close to how Granny Tsing snapped. Without knowing it, more and more of her great-aunt's nature was rubbing off on her.
Before long, the white front door opened to an incredibly tall, slender man dressed in a dark blue sweater over a collared shirt and a pair of tight, tan-brown slacks. The clothes beneath the hastily thrown on winter coat and the thick, black frame glasses gave him a bookish look. A shadow covered the lower half of his face, what was left over from this morning's shave. His red hair grazed the top of the doorway as he looked from one visitor to the other. Arnold did most of the talking while Tom stood back and listened. The two visitors were dwarves in comparison to the man they had come to see.
That man, Circe presumed, was Benjamin Nettles, Roger's brother that Morgan mentioned.
Circe could see the homeowner's mouth move, but she had no way of knowing what he was saying. Lip reading was more Jackie's thing that hers. But whatever he talked about with Arnold and Tom, it was clear by the way he deeply frowned, the topic was a serious and unhappy one.
Whether bored or impatient, Morgan could not keep silent for very long and asked, "Mind telling me now why we're hiding?"
"Shut up!"
Morgan was offended. But she spoke no more because when Circe snapped at her, there was a gust of wind that kicked up her hair. It was really just natural wind that happened to pass by at the same time, but Morgan thought she was at risk of being flung to the sky.
Honestly, Circe wasn't sure why she made herself and Morgan hide either. It was just one of those inexplicable impulses brought about by panic at an unexpected encounter. And it was too late now for her and Morgan to show themselves, not with the grownups now deep in discussion.
A few, but long and chilling, minutes later, the chat between the three men ended. The shivering girls heard the sound of doors hastily slamming shut and peaked out to see the car slowly backing out of the driveway. Once it was out of sight along with its riders, Circe finally stood up. She did a twist one way and felt several back bones popped. More popped when she twisted another way.
"W-w-what was th-that all about?" Morgan asked sourly while shivering.
"S-s-sorry," Circe replied shakily. She was also chilled to the bone.
It was not the answer that Morgan was looking for, but she was too cold to care. "Let's just hurry up and get inside so we can finally get to work and find clues to find Roger!"
She would get no arguments from Circe and raced over to the front door via diagonally across the yard. Seeing no other choice, Circe followed.
Morgan pushed the glowing orange oval nestled in coiling brass and a bell chined twice from within the house. The white front door opened a split second later and out poked the head of Benjamin Nettles with an irritated frown on his face. But his annoyance turned into surprise when, instead of the police officers from earlier with some abrupt last-minute needs like he expected, he had two teenage girls shivering in front of him, one of whom he instantly recognized.
"Morgan? What are you doing here?"
"H-hey, Ben!" Morgan flashed a smile. "Any news about Roger?"
Benjamin's face softened and he slowly shook his head.
Morgan's face fell with disappointment, but then she remembered that asking questions was not what she was here for. Taking action was.
"Do you mind if we come inside?" she asked.
"Sure, I guess it's okay," Benjamin said rather hesitantly. "But who's your friend?"
Friend was not a word Circe would use to describe what she was to Morgan and what Morgan was to her. But she certainly didn't expect to be introduced this way:
"This is Circe, Master Detective Circe."
Surprised, Circe turned and cried out, "Huh?"
Benjamin looked at her with eyebrows raised in bemusement. "A bit young for a detective, don't you think?"
Circe wanted to make a retort, but Morgan gave no room for her to speak up.
"Well, yeah," Morgan said. "But she's the best of the best."
She looked to her right. And then she looked to her left. Benjamin and Circe followed her example, seeing no one out and about. Finally, she leaned in, hand cupped over one side of her mouth and she whispered, "She's actually the one who solved that big case a few months back. You know, the one about all those people disappearing?"
"You don't mean to say she's the one who rescued all those kids that Donatello Putts kidnapped, are you?" an astonished Benjamin asked in a hushed voice.
Morgan nodded. "That's right. She's like a lady Sherlock Holmes."
Oh, so now I'm Sherlock Holmes to you? Circe thought sourly. Didn't you just call me Watson this morning? And it wasn't me who rescued those guys from Putts' harebrained scheme. It was Jackie!
She kept quiet, knowing correcting Morgan would not do her any good. And more importantly, it would not do Jackie any good. Morgan continued to lie uninterrupted.
"I thought that if anyone could help find Roger, she can. I brought her over here because she wanted to see if maybe she could find clues in Roger's room."
"Well, I didn't find any clues myself," Benjamin said. "But if it'll help find my brother, his room's all yours, Miss Detective."
It stunned Circe to see someone believe such a ridiculous lie. But Benjamin didn't seem to show any doubts and didn't hesitate to step aside to allow the girls through.
"Gee," she said awkwardly. "Thanks."
Morgan stepped in first. "Come on! I know where it is. I'll show you the way."
She went charging up the stairs without waiting. Not exactly good visitor behavior.
After watching her thunder on up, Benjamin gestured towards the staircase. Circe sighed and took a step, but then hesitated.
A thought had crossed her mind. Daisy had said that Roger may have werewolf ancestry and didn't know about it. That would mean the rest of the Nettles family could be werewolves too. The thought brought her dread.
She looked at Benjamin who flashed her a friendly smile.
Bracing herself, Circe once more stepped into a possible den of beasts. Hopefully, she prayed, she and Morgan will be able to step out of it in one piece.
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