Plagium (Keepers Book 1)

Chapter 18 -In Which We Return to Shrimp Renegald

"...no," she finally said. "But I can show you to him. Please follow me." The woman whisked past them to a small door in the back of the space. Tracey and Mittie followed suit. "So many people come for Reggie, I begin to wonder if anyone comes here for the food anymore," the woman mournfully said as they turned another corner and opened another door. "No one ever comes in and says, 'Louise, can you seat me?' No, it's always 'Where's Reggie?', 'Show me where Reggie is!' 'I've got business with Reggie!'"

Mittie cast a side glance to Tracey, who grimaced in return. They entered yet another set of doors.

"Here we are," the woman sighed. "Please wait here."

"Thank you, ehrm...," Tracey started.

"Just Louise is fine," she mournfully supplied.

"Yes, thank you, Louise."

Louise entered a thick set of doors, slamming it shut behind her. Tracey glanced about at the dark and cramped space.

"This place is bigger than I thought it'd be!" Mittie said, kicking a stray piece of paper into a corner. A dark object darted from the corner and into a hole in the baseboard. "Well I'm ready to leave," she squeaked, shuffling away from the walls. "How 'bout you?"

"The sooner we get into this Marketplace and get a lead on who bought this paper, the better," Tracey said, carefully patting her pocket, where she had earlier stowed the unopened combustible note.

After what felt to be a few minutes too long, Louise ducked back into the space. "You can leave," she said unceremoniously.

"What?" Tracey asked in dismay. "Why?"

"He isn't taking any customers. Terribly sorry."

"Why not?" Mittie said.

"He didn't say."

"Can we go in to see him?" Tracey asked, stepping forward.

"No," Louise responded, stepping out and closing the door behind herself. "You're welcome to have a late lunch at ShirmpRenegald, however—,"

"No," Mittie and Tracey said at the same time.

Louise sighed. "Well, I can't help you."

"Will Reggie take a message?" Mittie said.

"I guess," she replied with a shrug. "But I doubt he'll listen. I've never seen him this adamant before."

"Can he direct us," Tracey slowly started, encouraged by a supportive nod from Mittie, "to The Mirrored Funhouse?"

Louise paused, her eyes darting between the two. "The...Mirrored Funhouse, you say?"

"That's right," Mittie confirmed.

"I see..." she slowly said. "Just one moment, please." Louise entered once more behind the large wooden doors.

"I was hoping she would let us in," Mittie sighed.

No sooner did she say this before the doors swung open once more. "You may enter," Louise said as she pushed the door wider and gestured in.

Tracey hesitated, trying her best to catch a glimpse of what laid beyond the entry.

"Come on, Trace!" Mittie said stepping forward. "What're we waitin' for?"

"It's quite safe, miss," Louise nonchalantly said. "Then again, if you made it this far into The Undertown, the funhouse should be the least of your worries."

"Well...," Tracey hesitantly said. She paused. If she were to get any closer to finding Mr. Porter and Charlie, now was not the time for her to hesitate. And this message, she thought, once again patting her pocket. I need to find who's sending these. "Well," she started again, more decidedly, "let's go. Standing around won't get us anywhere."

The two walked into the room, each squinting as their eyes adjusted to the darker atmosphere. On the back wall were a couple of small candles, hardly large enough to illuminate the space around themselves, let alone the room. Between them hung a large portrait, the subject's face unfortunately obscured in the gloom. Other than these simple furnishings stood a desk and stately chair, absent of the said Reggie. "Where's Reggie?" Mittie asked, turning back to Louise.

"He told me to lead you there himself," she replied. "Rather strange, if you ask me. He's never done that before. Reggie's always the one to lead customers to The Mirrored Funhouse. Say," she said as she carefully closed the door, "do you two know him? That'd make sense to why he was acting the way he was..."

"I wouldn't know," Tracey quickly said. "We know many people, and this is our first coming here. Could you describe him?"

"Well...he looks a lot like him over there," she said, pointing to the painting. "I'm not very good at describing people, sorry."

"I can't even see what color his hair is," Mittie muttered, squinting and leaning forward. "Can we walk closer?"

"No," Louise said, shaking her head. "Reggie says no one can go behind the desk except for him."

"Can you at least tell us how tall he is? Eye color? Hair color?" Tracey asked, exasperated.

"Anything?" Mittie added.

"Hm...," Louise tilted her head in thought. "I guess you could say he's blond...or is he a brunet?"

"Okay...," Tracey said, slowly nodding.

"Ehrm," she continued, "his eyes are blue—no—gray. Wait, no...black? Huh, I never paid attention to his eye color before."

"I see..." Mittie said with a sigh.

"And I'd say he's around this tall." Louise vaguely waved in the air.

"I don't think I could tell anyone from that description," Tracey said dejectedly.

"Me either," Mittie agreed.

"Oh well, I tried," Louise said with a carefree shrug. "Let's get going to that funhouse, no?"

"Will we get an opportunity to talk to him later?" Tracey asked.

"Doubt it. Unless you catch him in the funhouse. He said he had to do some runs in there before you arrive...or something like that. Anyways, follow me!"

Louise walked past the two of them to one of the candles. With a pull of its base, the entire wall pivoted outward, revealing a well-lit hallway. Tracey and Mittie exchanged surprised glances before following her down the mirrorless hallway.