Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Desiree Seymour laid the card down. She slowly flipped it over to reveal the three of pentacles upright. Shakira relaxed. That was a good card, she knew.

Desiree nodded, her long dark hair spreading around her shoulders like a veil. "This signifies a job well done, beneficial use of talents...This is a good card..."

Shakira glanced at the other cards laid out. The basic spread had been unsettling and negative, warning of upsetting news. "Keep going," she said just above a whisper, the old fear of someone finding out what she was doing settling in on her once again.

Desiree's blue eyes narrowed and she laid down a second clarification card, then turned it over. Shakira frowned. "The Hanged Man. Reversed."

"Signifies suspension, re-evaluation of goals and attitudes." Desiree looked at the slender woman opposite her. Shakira's long black hair hung straight to her waist, a simple silver headband kept it off her face. Today, she was wearing loose linen pants and a matching tunic, both the color of sand. " 'Kira, now would be a good time to make a clean break."

Shakira shook her head. "And do what, Desiree? I live in isolation--" She flashed back to the four of cups card in the spread and winced. "--already. What kind of life is it being on the run, with two young children?"

Seven years ago, it had been a lark, an adventure. Proving to her brother she was worthy of the task despite her gender. The business had even brought her her beloved husband, Byron. Although he had been from another country, even another faith other than Islam, she had then defied her family to marry him and had gained two children for that defiance, only to lose Byron to a devastating car crash. Shakira stared down at her hands, bare of any jewelry. "Kamal is so much like his father," she murmurred.

Desiree began gathering up the stiff oversized cards. "Someone needs to take a strap to that boy."

Shakira's head shot up. "No one is touching him," she said in a sudden harsh whisper.

Desiree's hands stilled on the scattered cards. "I didn't mean---"

"I don't want him back in Morocco. We're all safer where he's at." Shakira gestured to the cards. "The upsetting news, by Allah, I hope he's not coming."

Desiree frowned and started to reply when the tall arched doors to Shakira's private quarters banged open, making both women jump. "Really, Shakira, I thought I told you to get rid of her."

Desiree moved to get up but Shakira's arm shot out, her hand resting on Desiree's. When the woman looked at her, Shakira gave her a warning glance. "She's no harm to you."

"Isn't she now? Even the weak are strong in their innocence."

Shakira stood up. "What would you know of innocence?"

"I know enough. Your children's behavior, by the way, is abominable."

"I've told you before. You scare them."

"So? You must make them face their fears."

Desiree shot to her feet. "They are just children."

"The sooner the better."

"No one touches my children," said Shakira, stalking towards the newcomer.

Whether the woman was just placating her or was genuinely scared, Shakira didn't care. She only cared that the woman backed up a step. "No one touches my children. Not you, not him or I swear I'll kill you." Shakira pointed a finger at the doors. "Get out of my room and my house, Lilith Raven. Now."

***

Cassandra picked at her food. It was decided going out to eat was too public. Now she was eating in her hotel room, Joe seated across from her, not saying a word but looking sullen. She put her fork down. "I'm not made of china, you know." she said finally, tired of the silence.

"I agreed to let you stay, didn't I."

Casi stared down at her half-empty plate. "I never thought she'd send the clothes so quickly."

Joe pushed away from the nightstand they were using for a table. "Damn it, Casi, you like to scare the shit out of me, don't you," he said hoarsely.

"No. Joe, I didn't want to scare you. That's why I came here when I realized what---"

"Which nearly frightened me worse. Casi, I can't---"

"Stop it." Casi stood up. "Just stop talking."

Joe looked at her as she skirted the nightstand. She had shed the cardigan, revealing the thin short-sleeved sweater. His eyes rested on the pearl. "I can't believe you'd wear the real stuff here. Someone could-"

"Shh." Casi leaned down and touched her forefinger to his lips, then ran her free hand through his hair. She stared into his eyes, searching for a heartbeat, then she kissed him.

Joe felt his whole world settle back into place. Carefully, he stood up and pulled her close, kissing her breathless. She smelled of citrus and sand, tasted of lemon and spices. He gently loosened her hair from it's French braid, letting the apple scent of her shampoo fill his nostrils. Slowly, reluctantly, he broke the kiss. "Casi," he said softly, framing her face with his hands. "What would I do if I lost you? Who would I turn to then?"

Casi swallowed hard, her eyes filling with tears. "Joe, I--" She couldn't bring herself to tell him that she'd go home, like a docile little kitten. She couldn't shake the feeling if she walked away now, she'd never see him again. "I promise I'll be careful."

The hopeful look in his eyes faded slightly and he lowered his hands from her face. "Of course. It is what we agreed on," he said, finally.

Casi didn't like the sadness in his eyes but refused to take back what she said. She just nodded.

Joe tapped the chain around her neck. "Is it real?"

Casi nodded again. "It belonged to Granny Melinda, my mother's mother," she added for clarification.

"She gave it to you?"

"A long time ago."

Joe slipped his fingers under the chain, running his hand down until the pearl rested in his palm. "It's perfect." He cocked his head to one side. "That's funny."

Casi frowned. "What?"

"I....hadn't thought of that in years."

"What?"

"The MacKensey brooch. Dad gave it to Mom when they got married."

Casi blinked. "She wore it--"

"To Jody's wedding." Joe stared at the pearl, then let go of it suddenly. "Mom said Gail didn't want it. That she'd said she wasn't into antique jewelry."

Casi remembered the brooch. The background of the brooch had been a sterling silver circle with two silver quadrifoils stacked in such a way to form an eight-pointed star and in the center nestled a faceted diamond. It had looked antique but suddenly Casi was pretty certain it was genuine. "It's beautiful. If Gail knew it was real--"

"She'd never wear it."

Casi bit her tongue before she said that she'd wear it gladly. She looked down at the pearl. Retains memories....A chill snaked down her spine, making her shiver.

Joe rubbed her arms. "You okay?"

Casi took a deep breath. "Do you believe in magic?"

Joe gave her a crooked grin. "In a young girl's heart?" He squeezed her arms gently. "I believe in you."

"I'm serious. I think the pearl retains memories."

"Retains?" Joe gave her a puzzled look. "Do you mean stores? How?"

Casi shook her head. "I'm not certain. But when I touch the pearl like this." She wrapped her left hand completely around the pearl to demonstrate. "I--"

Joe frowned as her eyes went wide and blank, like she was staring at something only she could see. "Casi?" He reached out and pried the pearl out of her hand and slipped the chain over her head in one smooth motion." "Casi."

"A'teth'uban, see? There. There's the dragon's eye...a'teth'uban, Avram calls it..." Joe blinked and stared down at the pearl resting in his left hand. He tossed it on the bed and took her by the shoulders. "Casi."

She blinked, still not focusing on him. "Thuban was the pole star thousands of years ago."

Joe shook his head. "Thuban?"

"Alpha Draconis. The dragon. At least eight thousand years ago, Draco the Dragon was the in Ursa Minor's position somehow."

Joe gently shook her. "Casi, you're babbling. Casi, honey..."

She frowned at him. "What do you mean I'm babbling? I was a cosmology major in college. Thuban, Alpha Draconis, was the pole star. Even the shaft to the queen's chamber in the Great Pyramid is aligned with Thuban. Twelve thousand years ago, the pole star was Vega, Alpha Lyrae. Some say it will be the pole star again twelve thousand years from now."

Joe nodded, as if placating her. "Okay, okay, I believe you. I'm still not sure of how it all fits but--"

"I had a dream."

"Of course."

"Joe." Casi said, feeling a bit of exasperation. His sense of humor was reasserting itself apparently.

He held up his hands in surrender and sat down on the bed. "Okay, okay, I'll shut up."

"I've had it many times in the last two decades. The same one. I'm in a castle but it's not Castle MacFairlaigne or the one in Scotland because this castle has a corridor running along the outter wall. I look outside the windows to my left and see the star Thuban. Only I know it's called a'teth'uban. I have this urge to go home, back to my old life. But someone holds me there."

"You're a....captive?" Joe asked in an odd tone of voice.

"Of love. But he doesn't know everything about me. There's something I'm not telling him."

"Some dream."

"There's something else."

Joe wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Oh?"

Casi took a deep breath. I was six or seven the first time I dreamed it. It ended with the gardens below the windows being on fire. Two days later, the gatehouse my maternal grandparents had just moved out of, caught fire. I dreamed it again right before I ended helping my friend Dee. The play she was in was being sabotaged."

Joe nodded, remembering what she'd told him a year ago. "The dangling off the catwalk incident. Yes, I remember."

Something in his tone both unnerved her and thrilled her. He sounded like he would have liked to have grabbed the saboteur and throw him off the catwalk. She cleared her throat. "I dreamed it again right before my great-grandfather passed away."

"So it's a warning of trouble to come."

"Yes."

"Well, I knew that. And I didn't even dream last night."

"Joe."

He stood up. "No, wait, I did. I had a dream about a beautiful Amazon who came to the real world. She wore this fashionplate red, white and blue swimsuit, nifty boots---"

"You dreamed about Wonder Woman?"

"That's funny." He pulled Casi close. "Didn't look a thing like Lynda Carter--or Cathy Lee Crosby. She had long red hair, tawny eyes...." Joe looked down at her, startled. "My God, she looked like you. Or you look like her. Whatever, but I swear you two could be twins."

Casi couldn't help but laugh. "Joe, stop."

"Don't you want to hear about the dream?"

"Do you think I could listen without blushing?"

"You? Modest? Don't make me laugh."

"I'll make you sing like a soprano for a while."

"Should I take that as a no?"

"Shut up..." Casi's grin widened. "And kiss me."

"That I can do." And he did.

***

The stars glittered in the dark sky close enough to touch. Just above the gently swaying fronds of the date palms, she could see the constellation Centaurus. She knew she was treading on dangerous ground in more ways than one. Such mystic things as Tarot cards and astrology weren't accepted by her religion but that wasn't what was really bothering her at the moment. It was cool now with the sun gone. She tugged the old black shawl tighter around her shoulders. What if he didn't come?

" 'Kira," came a soft gentle whisper.

She spun around as he stepped closer and gathered her into his embrace. her thoughts tumbled over each other, fighting for the first to be spoken. He didn't believe in the cards, how could she explain he'd nevertheless been in the spread--the ace of cups, the king of cups. "I was afraid you'd forgotten."

"Never." He smoothed her black hair back behind her ears, experiencing a frisson of deja vu. Damn his brother. "What's wrong?"

"She was here again."

He didn't have to ask who. He just held her as she continued talking. "I hate her, I hate her. She scares me, Jonah. She scares Kam and Evie...I wish she were gone. Back to the hell that spawned her."

He tightened his arms around her, cradling her close. "Let's go then, just run away." He leaned back to look down into her dark eyes shadowed by the night. "You, me, Kamal, Evelyn."

She shuddered. "Don't tempt me."

"Who scares you more?"

She pulled away. "That he's alive. That he was always alive, all this time."

He reached for her but stopped himself. "Your....husband?"

"No. I buried Byron in his family plot in Paris. No, Jonah, I was never fearful of Byron. I was talking about my father."

He willed himself to show no reaction. "What makes you think that?"

"That witch is working for someone. She was my father's right hand."

He had an absurd flashback to an old scifi movie trilogy. "He's dead," he said with sudden ferocity. "He's dead."

"I wish I could be so certain."

"What have you heard?" He cursed himself. He had to rein in his temper and his tongue. "Kira..."

She shook her head. "Please, Jonah, just hold me."

Carefully, he held her as if she were made of delicate porcelain. As she rested her head on his shoulder, guilt washed over him, blurring the line he'd already stepped over too long ago. How had it gotten so damn complicated?

***

"Excuse me? You want me to do what?'

"Are you even awake?" asked the voice, coming over the wire loud and clear.

"Hell, are you?"

"Look, all I said," continued the voice loud enough to almost echo in the corridor.

"All you said. Shit, you're asking me---What?" Marc turned away from the payphone to look at his manager. "What?"

"Let me talk to him."

"Why?"

"Because you're grumpy."

"Hell, yes. Try doing back to back sets in less than twenty-four hours...." Marc's voice trailed off as he headed for the backstage lounge.

Carl shook his head and put the receiver to his ear. "Hello, you still there?....Yeah...they're all tired. Part of the glory, et cetera...Huh? No. They don't go for it, so, no, hadn't been there....Don' see how.....Uh-uh, can't be done. Not on our schedule...Okay. Sorry. All right, adios." Carl Dixon hung up and went on to the backstage lounge. He zeroed in on Marc. "What the hell's with your brother anyway? Or are you double-oh-seven in disguise?"

"You're askin' me? Donovan's the weird one. Sometimes I think he was adopted."

"Uh-uh." Ian shook his head and yawned. He still hadn't caught up on his sleep. "In Ireland where legends of fairies abound not to mention the ubiquitous leprechaun---"

"My God," said Erick. "He's been reading the dictionary again."

"--there are stories of changelings," continued Ian, punching Erick in the shoulder.

"Shit, ouch---"

"You're saying Donovan's a changeling?" asked Kari, trying hard not to smile.

"Actually that makes perfect sense." Marc nodded his head enthusiastically, then groaned. "Oh man, head rush. Not good."

"Have you been imbibing again?"

"Now who's been reading the dictionary again?"

"Nothing stronger than a diet soda, I swear."

"No, wait, you had a pina colada," said Ian, snapping his fingers.

Marc glared at him. "That was a yogurt, dimwit."

"Oh. You mean, it's just flavored? No wonder I never---"

"Shut up, Ian," said Erick.

Adrian jumped and opened his eyes. "Wha---? Where am I?"

Erick rolled his eyes. "Where were you when you went to sleep?"

"The sultan's harem, full of hundreds of scantily clad buxom---"

"No, no, no. I mean the real world."

"Idiot," muttered Ian. "What'd you stop him for?"

Carl shook his head. "Why am I here?" He groaned. "Why do I bother?"

"Do you want me to answer that?"

"Shut up, Ian."

***

Donovan was very tempted to slam the receiver down, but forced himself to hang up quietly. It wasn't that he was mad at Carl, but at the world in general. Why the hell had his father let her go? Of all the stupid---

His interoffice system buzzed, cutting off his thought. He jabbed the flashing button with his forefinger. "What is it, Sandra?"

"Overseas call on line three, sir."

"Thanks." Donovan sighed. Probably Marc calling back to curse him out. He piced up the receiver and punched the small square button marked line three. "Hello?" The voice wasn't his brother's, he realized and nearly dropped the receiver. "Hello....Chad." He took a deep breath. "No bother, Chad. Have you tried her house?"

Donovan fiddled with the phone cord, angry with himself for being nervous. This was ridiculous. Maybe he should just tell the man, let him go after her. "Really? I didn't know. I left soon after the wedding." He mentally crossed himself for lying. "Maybe she took a mini-vacation. Weddings tend to stress her out."

He groaned silently. Of course she wouldn't have said anything to you, he thought, considering where she was going and why. "Probably hit her after the reception, after Cat and Ethan left......Well, Kyra caught the bouquet and Jareth caught the garter. Quite a mismatch there.....Good-bye." Donovan hung up the phone and sighed, his hand resting on the receiver, debating with himself on what to do next. The thought crossed his mind to call a private investigator. But he knew where she was, he just wanted her home. Anyway, he knew Casi would do worse than blow that damn whistle. But, conversely, he didn't want her getting killed playing Jane Bond. He heaved another sigh and picked up the receiver....

***

"It's beautiful."

He ran his hands down her bare arms. "It's beauty pales in comparison with yours." He brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck. "I love you."

Catherine turned around in the circle of his arms. The sunset gilded the whitewashed walls of their hotel and the blanket wrapped around them a mixture of pink, lavender and soft orange. "I love you," she said, tilting her head back, letting the evening breeze ruffle her hair.

Ethan kissed her. "Can it get anymore perfect?" he whispered.

Catherine snuggled closer, glanced over her shoulder at the sun sinking into the calm waters of the Pacific Ocean. "So much for sunblock."

Ethan grinned. "I told you you wouldn't need it."

Catherine chuckled. "But we will see the sights at least once before we leave...Right?"

"Oh, yea. We've got two weeks. Once around the city, yeah."

"Ethan, behave."

"Oh, but I shall, madame. I shall be on my best behavior."

"Sure," said Catherine, sounding very unconvinced.

"Oh come now. I apologized profusely about spilling the ice cream." His dark hazel eyes took on a wicked gleam.

"What about the honey this morning?"

"I gave fair warning." Ethan's grin turned into a gentle smile. "I have this idea..."

"As long as it's not honey or ice cream," she said with a slight shiver. "Too cold and too sticky."

"There's a song by Def Leppard. It's something I've always wanted to try."

Catherine laughed. "You naughty naughty boy." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. "I'm all ears."

"Actually, thank God, you're not."

"Ethan."

He laughed and whispered something in her ear. His grin widened as she blushed. "You want to?"

"Trying to make me a naughty woman?"

"At least you'll be legal."

"Ethan!"

"Come on, woman. Let's have some fun." He moved to pick her up and the blanket slipped. "Oops. Do you want to moon Acapulco while we're at it."

"Don't you dare."

"Chicken."

"No thanks, just a salad please."Catherine said with a grin.

Ethan shook his head. "God, I love you."

Catherine wrapped her arms around his neck. "Not as much as I love you."

***

"How did it go?"

"Not that good. Now that he knows...He blames me."

"Are you really surprised? Guilt by association is still guilt in his eyes."

"He blames you too."

"He's still hurting. Damn, I don't know why Simmons recruited him all those years ago."

"You do too. It was either that or make the family disappear."

The man looked over at him, then ran a hand over his short black hair. "You've been watching X-Files again, haven't you."

"I'm not joking."

"Neither am I."

Grant Peters shoved the mug of beer away. "Damn it, Jack. We both know it happens."

"Not in my jurisdiction."

"Your jurisdiction is international terrorism, not stateside conspiracies." Grant sat back against the wooden chair with a grunt.

"If they existed, this country would be in a sorrier state than it already is." Jackson Wilder finished off his brandy snifter. "Look, Grant, I know your big thing is anti-drugs. But you don't tell your constituents the bald-faced truth, now do you?"

"And risk a major panic? Hell no."

Jack nodded. "You say he left Ireland yesterday?" he asked in his slight Southern accent.

Grant Peters grunted again. "Yes."

"Good, good."

"I don't like it."

"They're used to functioning on a need-to-know basis."

"This is different. They could end up on opposite sides during the coming firestorm."

"Nonsense. I trust him completely."

"I wasn't talking about Mack."

Jack got to his feet and adjusted his suitcoat. "Neither was I. Goodnight, Grant. Try to get a good night's sleep."

"What about McConnaughhay?"

"What about him?"

"Do you want him to investigate the Galway connection?"

Jack shook his head. "I have someone on it."

"Who?"

"Don't fret. It's taken care of." Jack started to turn away.

"Don't you dare brush me off."

Jack sighed, turned around and sat back down. "Deagan investigated. The man claiming to be ben Tarik isn't of Arabic descent. In fact, take away the beard and mustache and you have someone else entirely. But he's Ireland's problem."

"Who's Deagan?"

Jack snapped his fingers. "That's right. I forgot. You know him by his real name: Roy Connelly."

"My God," said Grant. "You set him up." It was a concentrated effort for him not to speak above a whisper.

"Don't be ridiculous, Grant. I didn't set him up." Jack stood up again. "I set Lilith Raven up. Go home and get some rest now."

Stunned, Grant watched hm leave the dimly lit, smoke-hazed bar. Then he grabbed his beer and drank it down, ignoring the stale flat taste. He thunked the heavy mug back on the formica-topped table. "Shit," he muttered. "It's gone from bad to worse...."

***

The phone rang in the dark room.

With the surity of familiarity, Logan reached for the receiver and picked it up. "Hello?...Yes, I am. Can I help you?...Where?....That will cost extra. I don't usually go out of the country....Yes." Logan thought for a moment, curious. "If you know where she is, why do you need me?....I don't do kidnapping....Very well. Can you fax me a photo?....Good." Logan hung up the phone and sat back in the desk chair, waiting. A few minutes later, the fax machine spit out an eight by ten photo reproduced in black and white on plain white paper, followed by another sheet, listing specifics.

Logan arched a black eyebrow. Shouldn't be too difficult finding a redhead in Morocco. Cassandra MacFairlaigne, hmmm. Why did that name sound so familiar? Logan picked up the phone and dialed an overseas number before thinking of the time difference. "Oh shit."

"This'd better be bloody good," came a slurred British voice loudly over the wire.

Logan decided to switch to speaker phone to avoid future deafness. "It's Les. Forgot the time difference again."

"What is it?"

"Does the name Cassandra MacFairlaigne sound familiar?"

"Of course it doesn't. She's just Chandler's girlfriend."

"Does he know she's in Morocco?" Logan decided it would be best to ignore the sarcasm for now.

"Morocco? Why the bloody hell is she there?"

"That's what I'm going to find out."

"There's something not quite right here. Les, be careful."

"Aren't I always." Logan punched the button for the speakerphone, hanging up, then stood up to gaze out the French doors to the ocean beyond. Emerson was right. This whole situation wasn't kosher. Something was dreadfully wrong.

Let the author know what you think of this story

Home Library Authors Rogue's Gallery Vehicles Chums Message Board Rap Sheet Links Contact

Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.