I don't own Myka, Pete, Artie, the Warehouse, Leena and her house, the state of South Dakota, the Statue of Liberty or a pet.

Leena's Bed and Breakfast, South Dakota

"Pete." The knocking was incessant.

Groan.

"Pete!" More knocking.

Pete rolled over. "Make it stop!"

"Latimer! Wake up!" Myka shouted. She pounded on the door trying to rouse the sleeping log inside the room. A thump resounded from the other side of the door as if a shoe had been thrown. Myka rolled her eyes and hurried down the stairs to grab breakfast.

Pete struggled out of bed. After chasing down Dorothy's red slippers Pete was exhausted and wanted to stay in bed but now Myka was pounding on his door. Listening to Artie was the last thing he wanted to do at 8 in the morning. Stumbling from his bed, Pete left the refuge of his bed in the hopes that Leena had brewed coffee.

By the time Pete made it to the table Artie had spread out numerous important looking files across the space. Myka looked at Pete over a cup of coffee and quirked an eyebrow.

"Good morning Sunshine."

"Hmph, funny Myka." He tossed a sugar cube at her and slid into his chair. Leena placed a plate of eggs and French toast in front of Pete as he dodged a returning missile. Leena snagged the sugar cube midair as Artie roused from his study of the files.

"When you two are through with World War Three, I have a new case for you."

"Aw, Artie, we just got back from Oz. Do we have to head down the rabbit hole now?" Pete complained around a mouthful of eggs.

Artie chuckled, "Hopefully not Pete. I need you two to investigate the matters of the heart. I have three different cases," he shifted the files on the table, "each man here died of a broken heart. Quite literally, their hearts exploded."

Myka put down her coffee and pulled a file over to her, "It says here that the victims were in perfect health before they died and that none of them had pre-existing heart conditions."

"So you think an artifact killed them? A super secret spoon? Some magical watch?" Pete started in on his toast.

"To be honest, I don't know. It could be…"

"Anything. Of that we are well aware." Myka said as she finished her coffee and rose from the table.

Houston, Texas

Pete and Myka walked into the hotel and gave the place a cursory glance. Walking up to the concierge desk Myka pulled out her badge, "I'm Agent Bering and this is Agent Latimer; we're with the Secret Service."

The concierge looked mildly alarmed for a moment. "Oh, are you here about the death?"

Myka nodded, "Yes, is there a place we can talk?"

The concierge scanned the near-empty lobby, "I suppose I can spare a couple moments. We can sit at the bar." Silently he nodded to a hotel worker to take over his post.

The three sat down. What can you tell us about the victim, Samuel Drees?"

They sat down, "I can't tell you much. He checked in with a few other coworkers, I think they were in town for some conference. They got in late Friday night and weren't planning to leave for another two days."

Myka jotted a few things down in a notepad she produced from her jacket, "Did Mr. Drees act strangely or do anything disruptive during his stay? Complaints from neighbors, anything like that?"

The concierge seemed to think for a moment, "He was down in the bar for a long time on Monday night."

"The night he died?" The concierge nodded. "Alright, thank you for your time." The concierge stood and left the bar.

While Myka scribbled more in the notepad Pete walked to the far end of the bar where the bartender was cleaning glasses. He looked at Pete, "Questions for me too?"

Pete smiled, "You betcha. You heard our conversation, anything to add?"

The bartender continued to hold the glass he had been drying. "Only that he was getting real flirty with a blonde. They left together and I saw her at breakfast this morning, but not him."

Pete nodded, "Any idea the blonde's name?"

"Nope, but I've got her number here. She's a regular." The bartender fished out a napkin with a number and red lipstick and handed it to Pete.

"Thanks." Pete tucked the napkin into his jacket and he and Myka left the bar.

Myka began to walk towards the rooms, "C'mon, the concierge gave me the key to Samuel's room." Once on the third floor, they located room 327 and let themselves in. The room had not been disturbed since the victim's passing, but armed with purple gloves they cautiously explored the room. Pete walked to the dresser and picked up the leather wallet and flipped through the credit cards and I.D. badges. Myka was across the room looking through the contents of the bedside table.

"There's nothing unusual here Pete." Turning she passed her hand over the mussed sheets. With a violent crackle, the purple gloves she wore reacted with the sheets. Pete hurried to her side.

"What is that?" Pete passed his own gloved hand over the sheets. A display of lightning ensued across the bedspread. Quickly they pulled back the sheets and mattress. "Nothing." A buzzing came from Myka's jacket and she pulled out the Farnsworth.

"Hey Artie."

"How's Texas treating you?"

Pete peeked over Myka's shoulder, "Umm, It's a little sparky down here." Artie looked confused until Myka turned the screen of the Farnsworth to face the bed. Myka tossed a purple neutralizer glove onto the bed and started up the light show again.

"Wow, Myka. That's a strong residual energy. It'll be a strong artifact causing it, probably something very old. Have you found it yet?"

"No luck Artie, any idea what we're looking for?"

Artie pushed his rounded glasses further up his nose. "Still researching. Whatever it may be is very strong and deadly, so be careful." And with that he disappeared from the screen.

Sighing, Pete pulled out the napkin the bartender had handed him. "I guess it's time to find our mystery blonde."

So there's the end of Chapter 2. Still hoping to beat the deadline of Season 2! Reviews help me know what to write, so please share!