Chapter 1
The train came to a halt in Grand Central Station with a puff of steam.
Warren Alexander unlocked the compartment door and opened it, allowing him and his companion, Michael Wellan, to step onto the platform.
The station was packed, but with its vaulted, high ceiling, it didn’t feel as crowded as many of the smaller ones did despite having so many more people in it.
There was barely room to move. Warren felt like a sardine in a tin can when the press of people closed around him.
Daunting as being in the midst of all these people was now, it was interesting to remember that this had once been home for him.
This was once comfortable ground for him, even if he’d always felt a little like he didn’t fit in here.
Warren had been here many times in his life, always with his family when they were taking trips, which never strayed too far from Manhattan.
“There should be a driver waiting for us,” Warren said, searching the crowd.
Thankfully, he was tall and could see over many of the heads around him.
“Mr. Davis was quite specific about it. He should have a sign.” Despite standing on his tiptoes, he still couldn’t seem to spot the driver they’d been told would be waiting for them.
“Great,” Michael said, looking left and right, also trying to spot the man. “We can head straight to the firm’s office and maybe make some headway with Mr. McGregor today. I’m looking forward to seeing him. I wonder if he’ll remember me.”
“He’s one of your father’s friends, isn’t he?”
“It’s hard to say who my father is friends with and who he simply tolerates,” Michael answered wryly. Having met Michael’s father once, Warren was inclined to agree that the man was inscrutable.
“Well, I have found Mr. Davis, Mr. McGregor’s personal secretary, to be most efficient.
All his correspondence has been consistent and timely.
” Corresponding with the man had become so easy, in fact, that Warren had almost come to think of him as a friend.
A pen pal of sorts. Mr. Davis was eloquent, efficient, and altogether someone Warren had come to admire even though they’d never met in person.
“I think with his aid, we should be successful.”
“Good, because without Kyle here to charm people, we’re going to have to rely on your wits and my determination,” Michael said with a rueful smile.
He hoped his wits were up to the task. They tended to do best when numbers were involved. “I wonder where that driver is.”
They scanned the crowd.
Suddenly, something came charging out of the press of bodies.
It was short, and moving at an alarming speed.
Its arms flapped in a strange, frightening manner and in one hand it held a knife.
Transfixed by the horror, Warren found a terrible visage with exaggerated features and a ghoulish face glaring at him as the creature singled him out of the crowd and raced forward.
It hooted and growled in a most unnerving way, setting his teeth on edge.
Warren’s heart began to thud in his chest as he tried to inch away from this horrific specter. Dear Lord, what is this? he prayed. Protect us all!
Behind the fearsome apparition, another two green-faced goblins ran, brandishing what looked like wooden swords in the air and yelling in loud, high voices. Their screams were bloodcurdling and yet oddly familiar. Were there actual words in the gibberish?
It was such an unearthly sight, coupled with the unnerving sound, that Warren jumped, recoiling in disgust and fright. Several women screamed, shooing the creatures away with handbags swinging at them. But the specters were adept at dodging the bags and kept coming.
“What is going on?” Michael asked with a chuckle. “Why are those children wearing masks and costumes?”
“What?” Warren asked, his heart still pounding so hard he almost didn’t hear his friend.
“Didn’t you notice?” Michael asked. “The children in masks. Look, their mother found them. Oh, they’re in trouble now.”
Masks? Slowly, understanding dawned on Warren and, along with it, a sense of sheepishness as a woman pushed through the crowd and grabbed one of the goblins by his arm.
The ogre had taken its mask off and stood, looking rather sheepish at the trouble it had caused.
The other goblin was valiantly trying to save his companion, but it was no use.
The mother was not impressed, and the children were swiftly reprimanded.
“You would think that parents would have more control,” a nearby woman snapped waspishly. “It’s bad enough those dreadful posters are all over town, but allowing one’s children to dress up in such a manner in public is positively heathen?—”
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Michael said, walking over to the angry lady. “We’ve just arrived in town. What posters were you referring to?”
“It’s a rendition of Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream,” she said with a disapproving sniff.
“There’s a theater troupe putting it on.
They’ve plastered all of New York with their posters of donkeys, fairies, and goblins.
It’s driven the children half mad with excitement already.
Heaven knows what chaos will ensue when the performances actually start!
” She flounced off, muttering about bringing children up right and avoiding such influences.
“Oh, is that all it is?” Michael asked. He turned back to Warren. “It’s Shakespeare,” he said lightly. Clearly he found it all terribly funny. He laughed heartily, earning himself an angry look from the mother standing nearby, who was still giving her little goblins an earful.
Warren shook his head, amused but also annoyed at himself for so immediately panicking. Of course ghouls weren’t suddenly walking the earth. There were already plenty of foul beings, namely dressed up as bandits, and no need for imaginary creatures from books to be added to life’s daily chaos.
“Alexander, Wellan, and Marks?” a man in a dark suit and peaked cap asked, pushing his way through the crowd that had gathered to gawk at the costumed children.
“Yes,” Warren said. “Well, not Marks. He has other business to attend to.”
Kyle was actually in Pennsylvania, helping the family of the woman he’d recently fallen in love with.
Helpful as Kyle always was, he was also somehow always a magnet for trouble, so Warren hoped no more problems had found his friend of late.
They’d only just rescued his new fiancée and her sister from a terrible situation.
“So there’s just the two of you?” the man nodded. “Okay, I’m Chance, your driver,” he said. “I’m here to take you to the offices of McGregor, Harding, and Devlin. Can I take your bags?”
“No, we can manage,” Michael said. “We’re traveling light.”
“As you say, sir,” Chance said. He was a tall fellow, lithe, with a large smile.
He led them expertly through the crowd and out into the city.
A carriage waited for them just outside and soon Warren and Michael were trundling through the streets.
Looking out the carriage window, Warren spotted the posters on walls and lampposts advertising the Puck Theater Company’s performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
It was set to open in December. The lead actors were some quite famous names, people who routinely popped up in newspaper stories pertaining to arts and entertainment.
It took a moment for Warren to realize he’d been able to read every word on the poster because they’d been sitting waiting to move for such a long time.
“Oh look, traffic,” he said with a snort. “And my mother wonders why Texas is so appealing. We never have traffic.”
“That is true,” Michael said. “Although we might soon enough if we keep getting more people to come and live in our little town.”
“Also true,” Warren conceded. “I wonder how things are going back home.”
“Last I heard, El Aguila was mostly behaving himself,” Michael said. “Hopefully, our luck will continue.”
“Yes,” Warren agreed, although he wasn’t sure if that was a reasonable hope.
El Aguila, the bandit captain who had been harassing their town for what felt like years, was mercurial, and he could decide to attack at any time.
Still, there was nothing they could do from New York, except complete their mission to ask for help.
The journey to the offices of McGregor, Harding, and Devlin took somewhat longer than it needed to. At times, as they waited for some problem in the traffic to be solved, Warren wondered if it wouldn’t be faster to get out and walk.
Soon, they arrived. The building was a tall rectangular thing that rose for about six or seven stories, Warren guessed, counting the rows of windows.
“Here you are, sirs,” Chance said with a smile. “You can leave your bags in the carriage. I’ll take good care of them.” He nodded curtly.
“Thank you,” Warren said as he and Michael stepped out.
It was an overcast day and the wind was blowing. Warren was glad to spend as little time as possible in the weather. As he approached the building’s large glass doors, they were opened by a man in a uniform similar to Chance’s.
“Good afternoon,” the man said.
“Afternoon,” Michael said.
The reception area of the firm was not particularly grand, given the building’s ostentatious exterior.
Still, the space was big enough to accommodate a large counter and behind it, two elevators standing side by side.
On either side of them were two arms of a staircase that led up to the next floor.
A young man sat behind the counter and smiled when they approached.
“Can I help you?”
“We’re here to see Mr. McGregor,” Michael said.
“Oh? Do you have an appointment?” the receptionist asked, frowning as he looked down at a ledger. “There’s nothing in the book.”
“We were supposed to be here about three weeks ago,” Warren said. “There was a train accident.”