Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Wait---since when did bees stay in one place? He rolled back over to slap the snooze button on the travel alarm but he misjudged the distance between bed and nightstand and landed painfully hard on his rear end, jarring his already bruised and sore body parts.

Bzzz---

Joe MacKensey knocked the travel alarm to the floor, vaguely wondering why he'd set it in the first place, then slowly got to his feet, his muscles aching, his joints creaking like an old man. What a hell of a way to wake up. Why did the bedrooms have stone floors?

"You must be hell on clocks," remarked Ethan, poking his head in the crack of the door.

"G'way," mumbled Joe, rubbing his sore rear end. He climbed back into bed. He wanted to finish that dream, he didn't remember much except it had been good and Casi had been in it.

"No can do. You gotta be fitted for your tux. Come on."

"Said g'way. Ain't wearin' no monkey suit." Now how did that dream go?

Ethan sat down on the edge of the bed and yanked the covers off Joe's head. "You're my best man."

Joe just grunted into his pillow.

"Aw, pard, come on. The fitting's at nine-thirty."

"Not wearin' monkey suit."

"I knew it. I should never have picked you. Carl is a much better candidate." Ethan got up and started for the door.

Joe sat up and instantly regretted it. "Like hell."

Ethan gave him an innocent look from the door. "You have something against Carl?"

Joe got out of bed, slowly. "No. He's an excellent manager but Casi already did the bulletins. I'm your best man."

Ethan was paying more attention to what Joe was wearing. "Nice. Maybe you should be the stripper."

Joe didn't even bother glancing down at the glaring orange briefs. "Go weird on me and you can have Carl."

"What happened to my toolbelt boxers?"

"They were yours?" Joe reached for a faded pair of jeans. "So are you Tim Taylor in disguise? When did this transformation take place? Has anything blown up yet?"

"Lay off the jokes. Where are they?"

"Over there." Joe gestured to the corner by the door. "I spilled rootbeer on them last night."

Ethan frowned. "You were sleeping when I left you."

"Well, obviously I must have woke up." Joe pulled on the jeans and buttoned them up, then grabbed a T-shirt. "I was hungry. Me and Casi had a midnight snack last night."

"Joe, do you think that's such a good idea?"

Joe slipped on a pair of tennis shoes he kept loosely tied so he could get them on quicker, then shot a glare at Ethan. "Back off, pard."

Ethan grunted, deciding not to tell Joe Casi had told him the exact same thing. "Well, I can see you're back to your old annoying self."

"Yeah, well, you're no Prince Charming either." Joe muttered, and went to brush his teeth.

"Cathy seems to think so."

Ignoring Ethan, Joe rinsed out his mouth and dragged a brush through his hair, wincing as the bristles raked over the lump on the back of his head. He noticed he had a purple and blue bruise on his forehead from when he'd rammed the door frame and another on his chin. "She's never been a good judge of character."

"Insults like that will land your butt in a sling."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Seen Casi?"

"Can't say I have."

"Ethan---"

"Damn it, I haven't seen her."

Suddenly, Marcus burst into the room, his long hair looking rather wild. "Where's Casi?"

Ethan sighed. "I don't know."

"All right. Where's Cat? I finally figured it out. Two people would have had to rig it."

Joe looked at him. "Rig what?"

"The damn prank. Kept me awake most of the night."

"And you think Cathy---?" began Ethan.

"And Casi rigged the prank?" asked Joe, fighting not to smile.

"Sure as hell ain't Donovan. I already found the extension cord going to Casi's room."

Joe and Ethan shared an amused look. Ethan led Marc to the chaise lounge. "Why don't you explain?"

Marc sighed and sat down. "Went to bed about one o'clock. I just get to sleep when I hear music."

"I wouldn't think that would be a problem..." At Marc's glare, Joe let his voice trail off. "Go on."

"It was country music."

"What's wrong with country music?" asked Ethan.

Joe gave his partner a hard look. "Never knew you actually liked that stuff."

"I hate it," muttered Marc. "I'd get up to look for the source and it would fade away, then when I'd lay back down..."

"You'd hear it again," guessed Ethan.

Marc nodded. "Yeah. Drove me crazy."

"It was probably a pillow with speakers inside," said Joe.

Marc shot him another glare. "Duh. I said I'd figured it out. Now I want to find the culprits."

"Haven't seen Cathy," said Ethan. He caught Joe's expression and added, "Or Casi."

"Well, there aren't that many places to hide." Marc stood up and started for the door. "I'll find 'em."

Joe and Ethan waited nearly a minute after Marc had left, then Ethan glanced up and down the corridor. "I'd better go warn Cathy."

"I'll go find Casi."

"Good luck."

Joe smiled and left the room. He knew the perfect place to start looking.

***

The early morning sun washed over the ruins of the old homestead like gold water. Seated in the loft, gazing up at the azure blue sky, Casi felt as if she was the only person in the world. Here, she could imagine the distant past--or even the medieval times of another planet. If she listened closely, she fancied she could hear the clank of swords, the clink of chain mail, a horse snorting. This place had been her inspiration to investigate her grandmother's fairytales ever deeper.

The crunch of footsteps on pebbles made her turn. She looked down to see him making his way up rickety stairs, his hair sparkling gold in the sunshine. "Morning, lazybones."

"How long have you been up here."

"Since sunrise."

Joe settled down beside her. "Marc's on the rampage. Something about country music and an extension cord?"

Casi giggled, then frowned. "Now how could all that involve me?" she asked, haughtily.

Joe grinned. "I think the giggle gave you away."

Casi laughed. "Oh well, Marc will cool off eventually."

"Maybe you ought to hide the evidence?"

Casi looked over at him, puzzled. "Why would I do that?"

"Drive him really crazy if he can't prove it." Joe had been gazing up at the sky while he spoke, then looked over at her with a sly grin and raised his eyebrows.

Casi's goldbrown eyes lit up. "You are so devious. That is so perfect I could---" Instead of finishing her thought out aloud, she kissed him.

For a split second, Joe thought about moving away, of breaking the kiss but his arms wrapped around Casi's shoulders and he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. It was Casi who pulled back, just enough to look at hm and catch a breath. She lifted her hand to trace the bruise on his forehead with delicate fingers, then touched his eyebrows. "What's the frown for?" she asked quietly.

Joe slowly let go of her and gazed around the ruins. "I like it here. You have so much history."

Casi studied him for a moment. "Yes, thousands of years worth." She was cold and it wasn't because of the spring breeze. She'd been cold last night....Lilith killed Bryce.... He'd blamed himself when he thought Jon was dead all those years ago, he'd blamed himself for Bryce's death. Was she being paranoid, assuming he was walking out? Or was her brain seeing a pattern her heart didn't want to believe existed? "You're going after Lilith, aren't you," she stated in that same quiet tone.

Joe didn't look at her. He'd been a coward leaving while she was at work, last July, and now he knew why. With her this close, it was hard to remember why leaving was for the best. "Alone."

"You'll stay for the wedding, I presume. After all, you are the best man."

There was a tightness in her voice now. And Joe knew a lame joke about Carl taking his place wouldn't go over too well. "Of course."

Casi stood up, Marc's comments running through her head. He's not going to propose, Marc,she said silently, hating the sadness that washed over her. He's going to leave. The question was would she let him go without a fight? "Good."

Joe scrambled to his feet with a grimace. It was always the day after that you really hurt from an accident. "Casi---"

Casi looked over at him. "What?"

"I---" What was he supposed to say? Joe swallowed hard.

"Don't." Casi started for the stairs. "Don't lie to me. I want my sister to have a wonderful wedding. After she and Ethan leave, you can go to hell for all I care."

Joe stared at her, startled by the sudden anger. "Casi."

"What, damn it?"

"I have to do this." It sounded lame even to him. "She killed Bryce, Casi." He found he had to clear his throat. "I can't....let her come after you." He took a deep breath. "Not after last year."

Casi stopped on the stairs, her hand clenched on the pipe rail Marc had welded a long time ago for a handhold on the stairs. It wasn't that she had forgotten what happened last year, but the very fact she survived it meant she could take care of herself. She looked up at Joe. "That won't happen again. I won't let it happen again. I can take care of myself."

Joe looked away. "I know."

She'd expected him to argue. The fact that he didn't bothered her. "Why are you really leaving?"

Joe gave her another startled look. "I'm going after Lilith, Casi. I'm still on assignment."

Casi searched his face for a long moment, told herself not to notice the bruises or the bandaged hand, told herself that it didn't matter and knew she was lying. "Where will you go?"

"The Hadad Corporation has reinstated their headquarters in Marra---" Joe's voice trailed off. "Wherever Lilith goes." Damn it, he couldn't afford to have Casi on his tail. "But the headquarters are extremely mobile. They could be anywhere."

Yeah, and pigs fly, thought Casi. Marra---as in Marrakech? She turned to continue down the stairs. "You will be careful. You'll be solo this time."

"Yes." Joe watched her uneasily. He had a very bad feeling about this. She was too calm, too accepting.

"Are you coming?"

She was up to something, he just knew it. "Where?"

Breakfast. Aren't you hungry?"

"Starved." God, she wasn't going to follow him, was she? He felt the blood drain from his face. She had a job, prior commitments, right? He hurried down the stairs after her, hoping--praying--she wouldn't follow him once he left.

Casi grunted, glanced over her shoulder. "Ethan was right. You're back to your old annoying self."

"Aha. I knew it." Marcus strode through the doorway. He folded his arms across his chest. "I will now hear confession," he intoned.

Casi frowned. "What confession? Move."

Joe arched an eyebrow. "What are you? A new-age priest?"

Marc grunted and glared at Casi. "Why?"

"Because of your big mouth."

"Badgering the witness," said Joe, making brother and sister both jump.

Marc looked at him. "You shut up." He swung his gaze back to Casi. "My big mouth?"

"Yeah, all that babble about---" Casi shook her head, realizing she did not want Joe knowing and taking his cue, she said, "I plead the Fifth."

Marc just stared at her. "Been watching too much CourtTV?"

"Leading the witness," said Joe, fighting not to grin.

"Oh and you're her elected counsel?"

"Unelected, actually," muttered Casi.

"I volunteered."

"Hey, Marc," came Ian's shout. "Rehearsal."

Marc sighed. "I'll deal with you later."

As he left, Joe sighed. "Saved by the bell."

"Don't you mean cymbal?"

Joe groaned. "Let's go eat before we both lose what little energy we have."

"Ha. I'll race you to the door."

Joe grinned at her and gestured to the door. "By all means. Now how does the story go? Who won? The tortoise or the hare?"

Casi heaved a world-weary sigh. "Come on, tortoise, I'll be gracious today."

"That's not how it goes."

"Oh shut up."

***

Erick looked up from the table. "Sleep does do wonders, doesn't it."

Joe arched an eyebrow. "Aren't you supposed to be at rehearsal?"

"Nope. I'm playing the Wedding March, remember?" Erick stuffed another forkful of syrup-saturated griddlecakes in his mouth.

Casi grunted. "Unfortunately."

Unable to respond, Erick just glared at her. He washed down his food with the last of his black coffee. "Due to unavoidable coercion, it'll be on piano."

Casi raised her hands in the air, closed her eyes as if in prayer. "Thank you."

Joe looked from Casi to Erick. "Well, what else would you play it on?"

Erick grunted. "Guitar."

Joe's eyes widened. "The Wedding March? Da-dum, da-dum...? On guitar?"

Casi grabbed a plate off the sideboard and began filling it with scrambled eggs and sausage. "Consider yourself lucky you didn't hear him practicing."

Erick snorted. "Fine. Don't expect me to play at your wedding." He got to his feet. "No more special requests for me," he added, heading out the door, almost knocking down Donovan.

"What's with him?" asked Donovan, watching him leave.

"Oh, I insulted his honor," muttered Casi, sitting down at the table.

"Ahh," said Donovan, knowingly. "My eardrums still hurt. Have you seen Brittani?"

"She's with Mom. They went shopping," said Catherine, coming into the room from the patio. "Tomorrow's Kari's birthday."

Casi dropped her fork with a clatter. "Oh man, I forgot all about it. I need to get her something."

"Me too. Want to head into town after breakfast?"

"Sure."

Joe sat down across from Casi with his plate of food and began to eat. "Mind if I hitch a ride? I need to get another car."

Donovan turned from the sideboard. "Heard about that. You don't look too banged up."

"Just lucky I guess."

"There you are. It's nine-twenty-five."

Joe just grunted, his mouth full of sausage.

Catherine arched an eyebrow. "And good morning to you too."

"Oh, hey, Cathy," said Ethan. "Oh, Cathy, Marc's on the prowl---"

"I know. He found me. I told him it was all Casi's idea." Cat grinned at Casi who was glaring at her, her mouth full.

"What?" asked Donovan.

Ethan grinned. "Seems Marc really hates country music."

Donovan shrugged. "Everyone knows that."

"So we rigged it where he'd hear it whenever his head touched the pillow," said Catherine, her grin widening.

Donovan glanced at her, then blinked, startled. "Do you realize Britt's been looking everywhere for that pillow?"

Catherine looked over at him. "Brittani's?" She glanced at her sister who just shrugged and kept eating.

"She can't sleep with earphones," explained Donovan, as he sat down with his breakfast.

Joe nodded. "I can sympathize there. Those things kill my ears."

Ethan made a show of checking his watch. "Come on, pard. It's nine-thirty."

"I'm eating."

"Hurry up."

Casi shot her sister one more hard look, then sighed. "Thanks, Cat. I owe you one. Ethan, what the hell is the rush?"

"Hey, it got Marc off my butt."

"Fiona's on a schedule," answered Ethan.

"And your point is?"

"Come on, Joe."

"Don't rush me." Joe finished eating and drank the last of his coffee. "There. Happy? I'll probably suffer indigestion the rest of the day."

"Oh you poor thing you," muttered Ethan. "I have an old family remedy for that, you know," he added as they left.

Casi heard Joe grunt. "What, a swift kick in the rear?"

"Okay, who spilled the beans?"

Donovan shook his head. "Okay, Casi, Joe looks fine to me. Why did Doc O'Reilly come out last night?"

"Head injuries aren't something to dismiss lightly. It was safer for O'Reilly to check him out."

Donovan sat back in his chair. "Sounds like a pat answer."

Casi was in no mood for his prying. "Did you forget the game yesterday? The deal was if I won, you'd quit pestering me."

"That was yesterday."

Casi got to her feet. "Oh shove it, Donovan," she snapped and left the room. She took a deep breath and headed to the tower room. In the last several years, since she'd started writing, the tower room had become her private sanctuary when she was visiting her grandparents. No one bothered to come up here, so--like the secret room at home---she could really be alone.

She sat down on the old divan and looked around, not really paying attention to the old trunks, dusty boxes. In one corner was the dollhouse her grandfather had made for her and Cat for their third birthday. There were memories stored here and for some reason just knowing that always seemed to inspire her. Not for the first time did she wonder about where her grandmother got her fairytales. Unheard-of fairytales that Casi had taken and rewritten as a series of fantasy novels.

She picked at the loose threads on the divan and felt her thoughts shift. She loved him. Was it wrong to hold on tightly, never let him go? If you love somebody, set them free.... She didn't know if she could do that. Her thoughts shifted again. Marrakech. He was going to Morocco when he left here. And he would be alone, his partner off on the honeymoon. He'd be furious if she followed him, she knew. But it scared her to think of letting him out of her sight. Something was wrong.

"Cassandra?"

Casi raised her head, startled to see her grandmother in the doorway. "Gran! You shouldn't have climbed all those stairs."

"Shush, girl. I have my cane." Charlotte MacFairlaigne waved the cane in front of her granddaughter's nose.

Casi shot to her feet and helped her grandmother to the divan. "Why did you come up here?"

"What brought Kent out here last night, girl?"

It took Casi a heartbeat to remember that was the doctor's name. "Joe had an accident and I thought it was a good idea for Doctor O'Reilly to come out."

Charlotte studied her for a long moment, her dark eyes undimmed despite her age. "You don't believe it was an accident, do you?"

"No."

Charlotte settled herself deeper into the old divan, then she pulled a box from under one arm. "Remember this?"

Casi paled. "Gran, no."

"Melinda wanted you to have the pearl, child."

"No." Casi shook her head. "Gran, I can't. Last time...." Casi's voice trailed off, remembering the last time she'd held the creamy round pearl hanging from the silver chain. According to everyone around her at the time, she'd blanked out. Completely. Casi only remembered the overwhelming sensation of liquid bouyance, of swimming deep underwater, prying open clamshells and retrieving pearls. It had registered then---and even now--that she had never felt the heavy weight of air tanks or the lungs burning from lack of oxygen. "I can't."

Charlotte sighed. "Did it scare you so badly, girl?"

Casi slanted a look at her grandmother. "It wasn't.....natural."

"Not much is these days, child. Synthetic food, synthetic clothes. Ha. Too unnatural, if you ask me."

Casi heaved a soft sigh. "Did it happen to you?"

Charlotte took a slow deep breath and let it out. "Ah, no. I'm not bloodkin to the MacFairlaignes or the Stewarts."

Casi stood up slowly began to pace across the room. "I....don't understand how..."

"How what, girl?"

Casi went back to the divan and sat down. "You'll think I'm crazy, Gran."

"Try me, child," Charlotte replied, her eyes narrowed.

"I felt something when I touched the pearl last time. It felt as if I was underwater, harvesting pearls."

Charlotte placed the square handcarved box on Casi's lap, put her granddaughter's hands flat on the lid, then patted the backs of her hands, reassuringly. "It means it is for you, girl." Using the cane, she levered herself to her feet. "It's yours now."

Casi stared down at the flower etched in the wood, felt a shudder pass through her. "What do you mean?" Something about that flower struck a chord.

Charlotte tapped her cane on the flagstone floor. "Do you really wish to know, child?" she asked quietly.

Casi traced the flower etched into the wood. It had broad cupped petals, curling in at the tip.In a sudden flash of memory, she recalled her other grandmother always had these flowers planted outside, scattered in vases inside. "Yes."

Charlotte lifted her cane, jabbed it in the direction of where several dusty trunks sat. "Then look there."

Casi glanced at where she pointed. "But, Gran, those trunks are locked." She didn't add out loud, that as a kid, she'd honestly tried to pick those locks.

"Not anymore," said Charlotte heavily and left.

Casi sat there, listening to the tap-tap of her grandmother's cane as the older woman went down the stairs, felt a moment's guilt when she realized she should have helped her down. The tapping faded into silence and still she sat. Slowly, she turned her head to look at the trunk Charlotte had pointed to. In less than a second, the old curiousity was back. She set the box on the divan, then went over to the trunk. Sure enough, the old padlock was gone. After all these years, why?

Casi took a deep breath and raised the lid. The interior was scented with the odor of musty paper and she saw the only thing in the trunk was a book. It was a large book, larger than the family Bible that was displayed on a stand in the parlor. It's cover looked to be leather with strange symbols burned into it. It took Casi a moment to remember that one was the zodiacal sign for Virgo, another was the symbol for the planet Saturn. The other two were unfamiliar.

Carefully, Casi lifted the book out, closed the trunk lid with her elbow, then sat the book on top of the trunk. She took a deep breath and almost sneezed. A moment's hesitation made her question if she should open it. She banished that thought and raised the cover. The first page had the same symbols as on the cover with unfamiliar words by each symbol.

She narrowed her eyes. It looked to be Gaelic. She recognized the look of the words but couldn't read it. Carefully, she turned to the next page. Written in a tiny hand, lines of Irish Gaelic filling the page. Casi glanced at the opposite page, feeling a spurt of frustration. What good was this if she couldn't read it? She turned the page, then the next. On about the seventh page, the Gaelic just stopped. Beneath it was a language as almost as incomprehensible--old English. But this she could read, continually reminding herself that what looked like a cursive F was actually an S.

She frowned, reading of a genealogy, that amazingly traced itself back to none other than Nimue, protege according to Arthurian legend of Merlin, the Magician. Casi snorted, then sighed. She herself believed that King Arthur had existed but that Merlin was no real magician, more of an illusionist or something. She read on, torn between derision and fascination. She turned another page, kept reading, only to gasp "Oh my God", she whispered just as her sister's voice drifted up to her, reminding her of their plans. Casi grabbed a sheet of cardstock off her desk and tucked it in the spot she'd been reading, closed the book and put it back in the trunk. After all this time...."Oh my God, I've finally found them."

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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.