Two Birds, One Stone

Before

All it took was one trip, and Clara was out of the game, stumbling over her own feet, taken out by her own toes. Jacob was next, landing in the pile of cardboard boxes beside her, except his demise was not of his own doing. All that remained was Cassandra and Ezekiel, the former crouching down behind some crates, the latter shrouding himself in shadow, his gaze falling upon the distant exit sign. At the sight of it, Ezekiel's face lit up, and before Cassandra could blink, he was gone, throwing her to the lions.

But as he bailed, he too was trounced, flung to the floor, the thud of his body making Cassandra's jaw drop dramatically. She was the last sprig of hope, the only one left to save the world. She could do this, she would do this. But as she sat there, imagination aflame with visions of her being wreathed and feted, she heard the click of coming doom, hell in high heels crossing the floor towards her. Panicking, Cassandra scuttled forwards, only to freeze at the feet of her foe. Eve threw back her hood, before folding her arms across her chest, rolling her eyes as Cassandra tried to get up, only to smack her head off the shelf above her.

"Typical, just typical," Eve muttered, exhaling sharply. As they then all made their way back to the Annex, Eve began her usual lecture, Clara and Jacob exchanging their usual eye-rolls. "It took me two minutes to disable you two," she began, gesturing impatiently at Ezekiel and Jacob, "whilst Cassandra was flattened by a piece of flatpack furniture. As for you, Clara, I don't even know where to begin" -

- "Then don't," Clara muttered, walking on ahead.

"You've got an IQ of 290," Eve argued, "yet you can't even walk in a straight line without almost breaking your neck."

"Sue me, then!" Clara flung over her shoulder. "See you in court!"

"Hey, you don't need to tell me you're every lawyer's dream," Eve flung back, "a compensation cash-cow ready to milked" -

- "What an alluring analogy," Ezekiel said thoughtfully, making Eve glare at him.

"You bailed on your team," she pointed out to him.

"These are the hands of a world class thief," Ezekiel pointed out in return, showing her his palms, "I don't do punching."

"Like me," Jacob interjected, puffing out his chest.

"You can't solve everything with brute force," Eve said tiredly, "you need to fight smarter, not harder."

"Well, I'm only here to do science and math, maybe occasionally hallucinate," Cassandra said firmly. "I'm definitely not here to do battle with bookcases."

~*~

"This is all Eve's fault," Jenkins said pettishly, wringing his hands. "She's supposed to be training you for this kind of thing, yet look what's happened! We're practically paralysed by pink, crippled by shame and humiliation!"

"She is training us," Clara said impatiently, "everything just goes... a little pear-shaped now and again."

"Pear-shaped?" Jenkins exclaimed in disbelief. "You're a bit past that stage! I'd say you've evolved into avocados by now!"

"Anyone fancy an apple?" Flynn said flippantly, brandishing a Belle de Boskoop.

"That'll be you by the time this mess is sorted out," Jenkins said to Clara, "mark my words, you'll be a mere Malus pumila with a bad perm" -

– "We've done the drills," Jacob interjected, striking a super-hero pose, wielding the wand like a sword, "and now we're playing with the big boys."

"I thought you were supposed to be removing that wand from his possession," Jenkins said acerbically to Flynn, as Ezekiel stumbled around the Annex, walloping various inanimate objects with his walking stick.

"And you're supposed to be showing us this back door, sunshine," Archie said just as acerbically to Jenkins.

Jenkins pursed his lips priggishly, before turning on his bare heel and leaving, the others trailing after him like lost souls. He knew he was being harsh, but that was the way things were. It was something he often said: Librarians exist to keep magic out of the wrong hands; their job is to be in harm's way. But with these new Librarians, he was always jumping ship and sides, and now he was being punished for it. And what a punishment it was, his dignity torn from him, inflicting his medieval middle-aged spread upon an innocent and unsuspecting world. He couldn't even put on a coat to counter it, since it would disappear the second the fabric touched his skin.

As Jenkins led the way past the clippings book, Clara slowed to a stop, her attention unexpectedly caught, momentarily distracting her. The rest stumbled to a halt behind her, crashing into one another, Ezekiel now attempting to climb a bookcase like it was Everest.

"What is this?" Clara called over to Jenkins, making him turn around. He came over, brow furrowing as he cast his eye over the various clippings, names jumping out at him, names that meant nothing, Henry Birch, yadayadayada.

"Nothing," he said abruptly, turning away.

"Nothing?" Clara echoed in disbelief. "Eight people are missing, probably dead, and that's nothing!?"

"It's nothing to do with us," Jenkins reiterated, "we have our hands full as it is."

"Henry Birch, 21, on a full scholarship in Chemical Engineering at Boston University," Flynn read over his shoulder, "he went missing two days ago." He glanced at Clara, something passing between them. "He might still be alive," he said to her in an undertone, "he could still be saved."

"Then let's save him," Jacob said, tossing his head back, taking the words right out of Clara's mouth.

"Hold your horses," Jenkins began -

- "And your goats," Archimedes interjected.

"We have a Minotaur to deal with," Jenkins snapped, "and a lot of pink as well, not to mention a hell-demon and Circe. I think that's enough to be getting on with" -

- "Surely we can kill two birds with one stone?" Flynn said with a shrug of his shoulder.

"Think again, Flynn," Jacob said dangerously, flexing his muscles.

Flynn rolled his eyes. "Maybe the Minotaur has something to do with these missing people," he said impatiently, as though addressing imbeciles, "since people tend to go missing around the Minotaur. I mean, you shared an apartment with him, Archie," he said, turning to the goat, "surely some of the neighbours disappeared after coming round to borrow some sugar?"

"Umm," Archie said shiftily, "we did misplace a few mail-men. Plus the chick down the hall did a disappearing act, though it turned out she turned herself into a tree. Zeus was a bit keen on her and she wasn't keen on the idea of him being keen, so she went a little ligneous."

"Well, there you go," Flynn said with a flourish of his hand, "problem solved."

"Where is this back door you keep banging on about?" Clara said, turning to Jenkins, feeling like her head was about to do a Fourth of July.

"This way," Jenkins said dourly.

~*~

"This is the broom closet," Clara said, folding her arms across her chest.

"No, it is the door behind which presently exists," Jenkins corrected her, confusing Clara even further.

"Let's go to Cornwall," Ezekiel said randomly, elbowing Jacob in the side.

"I have a better idea," Jacob said, his face lighting up, "let's go surfing!"

"I'll be using that buff body of yours as a board," Archimedes said archly, waggling his bushy brows.

"And anyhoo," Flynn said, stepping forwards, "magic exists in similarities, symbolic resonance, like a voodoo doll is symbolic of a person, and led can be transformed into gold because it's already" -

- "Quit gassin'," Jacob said, barging him aside. "We wanna hit those waves, man!"

Flynn barged him back, making Jacob stagger, Flynn swiftly snatching the wand from his fingers as he did, before tapping the broom closet with its tip, turning it hot pink, the sight almost scorching the surface of Clara's eyeballs.

"Is nothing sacred anymore!?" Jenkins bellowed, clutching the roots of his racoon hair.

"So with a little magic," Flynn said, taking a step back, ignoring Jenkins's outburst, "that broom closet door can become a symbolic representation of any other door."

"Okay, Existentialist Eric," Clara said, finally reaching the end of her tether, "where the hell are we heading then!?"

"Boston maybe," Flynn said simply, looking at her as though she was mad, "the missing people where all interns at Golden Axe Foods."

Clara didn't even want to know what that was. "And how do you know this?" she said, contradicting herself.

Flynn just shrugged his shoulders, infuriating her.

"The Minotaur is in Manhattan!" she bellowed, stomping her satin covered foot. "As in Kansas!"

"Keep your red slippers on, Dorothy," Archimedes said, frowning. "I'm sure this tornado will take us there."

"Are we going to Boston!?" Clara exclaimed, unaware of Ezekiel creeping up behind her with his walking stick. "Or blinking Manhattan!? We are in a quandary, people!"

"Golden Axe Foods exists under different subsidiaries and Shell companies and the like," Flynn said, dragging her out of danger's way, "based in umpteen different states, Manhattan and more. If Circe is behind this, she really will be spreading herself thin, which makes me think she has back-up."

"The Serpent Brotherhood?" Jenkins suggested sarcastically, echoing Clara's earlier observation.

"Possibly," Flynn said, shrugging his shoulders again. "We won't know unless we go."

"Go where though!?"

"Wherever the wind takes us," Flynn said distantly, "wherever, whenever, even over the rainbow" -

And with that, Clara shoved him through the door.

Thereover, hereunder
You'll never have to wonder
We can always play by ear
But that's the deal my dear...