Wickerman Cove

Part 36: Cabin in the Woods

One benefit of doing this with Maksym (who Penny kept calling 'Zaichik' for some reason, which drove him crazy) was a quick, professional and unemotional conversation on the subject of ditching Steph's stolen car. Like any good occult-black-ops agent, he had a few spare cans of gas lying around for 'disposal emergencies.'

He was also a surprisingly good host, considering the baggage of their last few meetings. After yelling at Penny to turn the inside of his mobile home back to normal, he provided a meal of hot, sweet tea, bread, fruit and sausages, which Steph hadn't realised she'd needed.

"Alright," Mak said, throwing on an M65 jacket that doubtlessly covered a lot of weapon-based sins, "I found a good place to burn things, even in the rain. I will be back very soon. In the meantime, eat and plot our journey."

He vanished into the night with a blast of cold, wet air.

Without whatever interdimensional weirdness Penny had been performing, the inside of the Jetstream looked pretty normal – a bedroom at the back, a living space at the front, and a sort of kitchen area in the middle. Steph resisted the urge to scratch at the surface of the dinette to check if it was real marble or plastic. Whatever it was, someone had spared no expense to provide Mak with a place he could do all his spook stuff from. Although, it had less surveillance equipment than she'd expected.

Then again, if he spent most of his time dealing with the supernatural, there was probably a limit to the value of satellite tracking and wiretaps.

"Do you think he lives in this thing?" Steph asked, looking around. "I mean, live-live, not just being here right now. It looks really... homey for something he just grabbed in Bangor."

There are a LOT of things in the bathroom. Plus, nobody buys this many cleaning products if they don't live somewhere, Penny signed, gesturing at a bucket full of gummed up and cruddy bottles of stuff like detergent and floor cleaner.

"That's kinda sad," Steph said. "I mean, not as sad as the whole movie thing of a soulless black ops dude living out of hotel rooms, but... I mean... just driving around in his Jetstream, shooting monsters?"

At least it's a classic, Penny said. Besides, did you see the plasma screen? It could be worse. Your grandparents lived in a place half this size, and they didn't even have a carpet.

"Yeah," Steph said, helping herself to a second cup of tea from Mak's battered chrome pot. "I mean, I can't say much. I lived from base to base for seven years, and at the end, it all went into three bags."

It might not be over yet, Penny signed. Besides, it would be nice to have a place of your own. You like driving – you could drive around, helping people and living in beautiful locations. He even has Wi-Fi.

Since whatever change had happened inside her, either at the factory or just before, it took an effort to see Penny the way she'd looked when they'd first met: the cute goth with the curly hair. It had been useful being able to read her facial expressions – Giant-Skull-Penny didn't have a face, but even without, it didn't take magical senses to get the subtext in her almost pleadingly bright signing.

Steph raised an eyebrow. Renard appeared at her elbow and muscled his way up onto the seat, poking her in the side of the face with one of his four horns.

"So," she asked as she gently shoved Renard's head out of her face. "Are you trying to set me up with Mak, or with a job?"

Despite having no face, Penny immediately radiated innocence. I do not know this thing you humans call love, she signed, still managing to be the worst liar Steph had ever seen. I was just thinking that you didn't want to live with Carole. I mean, your mother isn't a bad person, but you haven't lived together since you were twenty and I give the whole thing approximately a week.