She had spent a—mostly—sleepless night. Sabrina had stared at her ceiling for what seemed like hours. During this time, she had tossed around possibilities of how to cope with the whole thing.
Sabrina Spellman was an active person. It had never occurred to her to deal with problems any other way than by being direct. Unless, of course, the situation called for a little discreet magic. This situation was entirely different, however. There was no spell in either realm that could make Harvey fall in love with her, and nothing to make Val lose interest in Harvey.
What could she do? In the end, she would eventually have to return to school, keeping a happy, smiling façade, as if she had never suspected anything to be different at all. At some point, uncomfortable at Sabrina's hopeful romantic overtures, Harvey or Val would gently take her aside and 'break the news' to her. Then, perhaps, she would be expected to take up the role that Val had discarded, as 'dateless best friend/third wheel.'
And she wanted to postpone that as long as possible.
Thus was the reason why Sabrina Spellman was sitting in Drell's office at 8:32 on a Saturday morning, when she should have been blissfully asleep until her usual rousing time of noon.
Drell was garbed in his usual floral brocade dressing gown, tied over a fancy linen shirt with enormous lace sleeves. His frizzy, wild brown hair exploded around his face in a curly tangle. One hand played with the lace cravat at his neck, as his other hand tapped on the desk.
Employee and employer stared at each other for a long moment. "I'm not going to ask why you requested another mission so soon," Drell said finally, "but I won't deny your request. Given yesterday's...well...conflict, I'm just glad that you're taking this seriously."
Sabrina nodded; she didn't feel like explaining her change in attitude to Drell anyway, since she had a feeling he wouldn't understand.
The Head of the Witches' Council snapped his fingers, and a side door opened. Skippy, clad in his usual dark suit and bowler hat, entered, carrying a manila folder. His ever-present grin brightened upon seeing the teenage witch, and he waggled the fingers of his free hand in greeting.
Sabrina smiled, waving at the diminutive warlock.
At least someone around here's a morning person.
Skippy wordlessly handed the folder to Drell, tipped his hat to Sabrina, and skipped out of the office.
Well, now we know why he's called 'Skippy.'
She turned her attention back to Drell, who was reviewing the contents of the folder. He pushed his round wire-rimmed glasses further up his nose, nodded in satisfaction, and slid the folder across the desk to Sabrina. "Your next case."
She gingerly took the folder. One never knew what to expect with Drell…
A large, black-and-white photograph was clipped to the first paper. Sabrina unclipped it, and held it up. The picture was of a large building, jutting into the skyline, quietly massive against a setting of clear sky and lush vegetation. A neon marquee on the front of the building read, in bold script, 'The Hollywood Tower Hotel.'
She raised an eyebrow. "A hotel?"
"Well, yes, but there's a bit more to it than that," Drell corrected. He folded his hands on the desk, looking his detective in the eye. "The story behind it is quite…fantastical, I suppose."
Sabrina straightened up in her chair, clutching at the folder. Excitement prickled at her scalp, as curiosity got the best of her. "Well, let's hear it, then."
He picked up a pen, and examined it for a moment, as if delaying on purpose to heighten her anticipation. "The Hollywood Tower Hotel was, in its glory days, a mecca for the show business elite," Drell began finally. "One of the most posh resorts in all of Hollywood."
Wow…a hangout for movie stars! Cool.
"The hotel was built in 1917, and managed to last through the American Great Depression," he continued lecturing. "It closed in the glory days of Hollywood filmmaking, in the late thirties."
"But why?" Sabrina frowned, reaching for the folder again to re-study the picture. "You said it did well, even during the Depression. That doesn't add up. So why…?"
"It has to do more with the…disturbance that occurred there," the warlock responded gravely. He folded his hands, the perfect picture of quiet nonchalance.
Sabrina's eyebrow twitched. "Are you being vague on purpose, or did you just not bother to read the file?"
"Touchy, touchy. But it is quite unusual. You see, one night, five people got on an elevator at the hotel, to get to a party on the top floor."
Sabrina leaned forward, caught between begging for the next part of the story, or conking Drell on the head with a chair.
"Mysteriously, they never got off."
"They…they just disappeared?" Sabrina repeated. "How do you know they just didn't get off at another floor?"
Drell winced, as if wounded by her obtuseness. "Just doesn't get it," he mumbled under his breath. "Look, we have a tape made by intelligence agents." Here, he held up an innocent-looking black videotape. "Take it home, and watch it. It should explain the whole scenario, perhaps a little better than I can."
"I didn't know that the Other Realm had video technology back in the thirties," Sabrina remarked, reaching out for the tape. "I thought that came much later."
"Pfft," Drell shrugged. "Where do you think the humans got it from?"
As she exited the linen closet, Sabrina heard Drell's final words booming in her ears, instead of the requisite lightning. "The coordinates for your drop-off point are listed in the folder. Finish up any business you might have in the Mortal Realm, and then go ahead. Your partner will be briefed, and sent to meet you. All arrangements are taken care of. I want this finished as quickly as possible; if you complete this mission by Halloween, then you might avoid displeasing me..."
"Only a week to finish this, huh?" Sabrina scratched the back of her neck. "That's ambitious, considering there might not even be any clues to help us solve the case." She bit her lip, considering another piece of information he'd imparted.
A partner?" she murmured. This is going to be weird. Having another person around who isn't Salem…yes, there was Leota, but she was a guide. I wonder what this new person will be like?
Shrugging, she started down the steps, videocassette in hand, the folder left on the floor of her room. She looked at the cassette, Drell's words still ringing in her ears: "It should explain it, perhaps a little better than I can…"
"For all he knows, they could have just gotten off at another floor, and left the building," Sabrina mumbled. "But I suppose I don't have any other choice, now do I?"
"Are you talking to yourself rhetorically, again?"
She jumped at the sudden voice, shrieking in surprise and fumbling with the videocassette. Once she'd managed to press it firmly against her body, so as not to drop it, she whirled around, glaring and searching for the perpetrator. Glancing around the hallway, it took her only a few moments to figure out just where the snarky commentator could be.
Sabrina pivoted to face the laundry basket placed next to the linen closet door, placing her free hand on her hip. "Salem, come out. It's no good hiding, you know."
"Salem's not here," was the muffled response.
"Yes, you are! Every time you go to hide, you hide in the laundry basket. You're not fooling anybody, you know."
The top of the hamper opened fractionally, and a pair of glowing amber eyes peered at her from under a pair of pantyhose. "I'd like to think I am."
Sabrina snorted.
"So, watcha got?" Salem's eyes brightened at the videocassette. "Did you rent something? I've felt like watching Rush Hour lately. I need excitement in my life, especially being stuck in the house all day."
"No, it's not a video I rented," Sabrina sighed and started down the staircase. "It's my next assignment from Drell."
Salem snickered. "Good luck. He's probably sent you to another haunted dump, knowing him."
Sabrina leaned against the staircase. "Actually," she remarked while casually studying the cassette, "I believe it's an abandoned hotel in Hollywood. And, of course, you're not required to come this time, since I have a part-"
The cat dashed down the stairs with the speed of an Indy 500 racecar and screeched to a halt in front of the television. "Play the tape," he demanded. "Play it now! Hollywood, here I come! They won't know what hit them; my talent and charm will overwhelm every agent there. I'll be a star!" Salem sprawled himself on a pillow below the sofa, lost in a starry-eyed reverie of (per usual) himself being treated with the luxury awarded to animal actors—like Morris, the 9 Lives spokescat.
Sabrina rolled her eyes, still standing on the stairs and clutching the cassette. "I don't think that'll be happening anytime soon."
Salem was either too lost in his reverie to answer…or had just chosen, once again, not to listen.
The teenage witch made her way to the couch, popped the cassette in the VCR, and sat back. "Hopefully, this should be helpful," she remarked to herself, as she zapped up a bowl of popcorn.
The tape caused a lot of static at first, typical black-and-white fuzz filling the screen. Thankfully, it cleared to black, and then displayed the Witches' Council logo—designed very similarly to a certain famous movie studio. A pompous, smug-looking cartoon bust of Drell was firmly sandwiched between the sides of the design, chest puffed out with pride.
"Heh, Drell just can't resist showing off, can he?" Salem commented, finally snapping out of dreamland and into reality. Takes one to know one, Sabrina thought, but she had to agree. As she chuckled in response, he leapt onto her lap, and curled up. She began stroking his fur, as the logo screen faded, and the first strains of music began to fill the room.
The detective blinked. "Not to sound ditzy or anything, mind you," she said slowly.
Salem snorted. "Of course not."
"…but isn't that the Twilight Zone theme playing now?"
They stopped, blinked, looked at each other, and then turned back to the tape simultaneously. Indeed, the familiar sci-fi television show theme song was playing, but the show's trademark opening sequence was nowhere to be seen.
"Where's Rod Serling?" Salem wailed. "It just isn't the same!"
"Oh, hush, you," Sabrina grumbled, swatting at him. "Just watch the tape, and stop talking." Salem muttered under his breath as he hunkered down on her lap.
The music quieted as the image of an office materialized on the screen. The room itself could have been taken from a turn-of-the-century library, with wall-to-wall shelves crammed with books and small curios. The desk at the center of the screen was placed before a large window, the drapes closed. Seated at the desk was a dark-haired warlock wearing a dark suit, a strange insignia displayed on his jacket pocket.
"It's all in black-and-white," Sabrina sighed. "Pity."
"It was before color was invented," Salem yawned. He raised an eyebrow at Sabrina's stunned expression. "Seriously."
"But…how…" she sputtered. This is one of those points where you can't tell if he's lying and being an ass on purpose, or telling the truth, no matter how far-out it is. Just forget it. I'm not gonna win here. Wisely, the teenage witch decided to change the subject. "What's the badge on his chest?" she asked, pausing the video and leaning in closer.
"He's an intelligence officer," Salem yawned again, obviously not impressed with the video. "Given that particular design, I'd say he works in Human/Magical Affairs."
"And what do they do, pray tell?" Sabrina asked dryly. Despite her brushes with the magical law, she'd never come to fully understand the workings of it.
"They're a subsection of the Other Realm's Department of Intelligence. Human/Magical Afffairs agents gather info about magic in the Mortal Realm, mostly. They're the ones responsible for locating warpholes, finding creatures or witches that cross the barrier, keeping tabs about how we magical beings are relating with humans—that sort of thing."
"I'm not going to even ask how you know all this…especially about an intelligence agency," Sabrina shook her head.
The cat smirked, and she glared. "I thought not." She leaned back and pushed the 'Play' button on the remote control again.
The intelligence officer on the tape looked at the camera, sliding a manila folder out from a drawer on the desk. "Hollywood, 1939," he began, much like Drell, "Amid the glitz and the glitter of a bustling, young movie town at the height of its golden age, the Hollywood Tower Hotel was a star in its own right; a beacon for the show business elite. Now, something is about to happen that will change all that."
The scene zoomed to focus onto the doors of an elevator, presumably in a hotel. This must be the Hollywood Tower Hotel, Sabrina realized. But what…
"This, ladies and gentlemen, is our best guess of what happened that fateful night."
Five people began to come from off camera, walking towards the elevator, which opened. Sabrina paused the tape again, to scrutinize the figures: a well-dressed couple in evening wear, a stout middle-aged woman in tweeds, a bellhop, and a little girl dressed in frills and lace, much like Shirley Temple.
Letting the video play, she noticed text began flashing at the bottom of the screen. "This is a re-creation of previous events. This is a staged re-creation." Salem snorted in laughter, and she shoved him off her lap.
The elevator doors closed, and the camera cut to inside the elevator, to show the impatient occupants. The camera cut again to a shot of the hotel outside, a thunderstorm brewing overhead. Sabrina slowly inched forward, frowning.
Before she could comment to Salem, a bolt of lightning streaked out of the sky, striking the front of the building. The people inside the elevator were electrocuted, before finally vanishing into thin air.
She dropped back onto her haunches, mouth open. The announcer came back on.
"One of the most baffling mysteries to ever shock the nation; the Hollywood Tower disappearance. Where did the ill-fated passengers go? Are they dead, or is there some sliver of hope that they may yet be alive?"
He got up, and began walking around the desk. "One thing is for certain, though; magic was involved." He held up the envelope. "Human/Magical Affairs field officers compiled their findings, noting that various traces of otherworldly residue were centered in the elevator shaft. Unfortunately, findings were not able to determine the source or type of said residue. This baffling mystery calls into question the existence of the Twilight Zone," the announcer said solemnly. "Can it be possible that such a place exists—and may be responsible for these bizarre disappearances?"
Sabrina hit the pause button almost immediately, whipping around to face Salem. "Please tell me that this is Drell's idea of a joke," she begged. "A disturbed joke that makes no sense. I mean, the Twilight Zone? Get serious! There's no possible way…" she trailed off as Salem simply sat there, stiff and unmoving, save for the occasional lashing of his tail. "Oh, God," she murmured briefly, "it's…real?"
Salem wriggled a bit. "In a way." Ignoring her sputtering, he continued. "From what I've understood, the Twilight Zone belongs mostly in the realm of theoretical physics; Zelda's probably the best person to ask for an explanation."
"But it's a TV show!" Sabrina suddenly shrieked. "A mortal TV show! It came from the twisted minds of sci-fi nuts, and…"
"Bzzt," Salem commented like a buzzer, "wrong. The magical community has known about the hypothetical existence of the Twilight Zone for…well, as long as theoretical physics have existed."
Sabrina's mind was, understandably, whirling. This is too much to process. The Twilight Zone is…real? But if so… "Then how come mortals know about it?" she challenged. She paused a moment, as another thought occurred to her. "Hypothetical?"
"Yeow," Salem muttered. "One question at a time, please." He yawned and stretched, as if to broadcast his nonchalant attitude. "The universe we live in is four-dimensional, right?" he began.
"Width, height, length, and space-time," the teenage witch mechanically replied.
"Good. I see you've been paying attention in one class, at least." Sabrina glowered at him, but wasn't within reach of the couch pillows. "The theoretical branch of physics that Zelda studies has shown data that lean towards the existence of a fifth dimension—one that's more metaphysical than anything else. It's hard to explain…" he trailed off.
"But the theoretical aspect of it all?" Sabrina pressed.
The cat looked sheepish at this. "Nobody's conclusively proven anything yet. The data's there, but it's nigh impossible to actually find it, ya know? It would explain a lot of freaky stuff, that's for sure."
"So humans know about it, too?" she wondered. Then why have I only seen it on TV, and not in textbooks?
"Not exactly. Come on, think of the premise of the idea, the lack of data available to them. Does it sound like mortal scientists are jumping over the idea?"
The teenage witch picked up the remote, toying with it. "Still doesn't explain how they know about it," she grumbled under her breath.
"As long as humanity has been fascinated by the supernatural, they've wondered about its origin," Salem stated philosophically. "Who's to say that, to them, the idea of another dimension sounded right?"
Are you sure that the information didn't get accidentally leaked?" Sabrina asked, with a sidelong glance.
The cat yowled in surprise. "Of course not!" he protested.
Sabrina raised an eyebrow as she hit the play button. "Uh-huh."
"The vague pieces of this puzzle yield few results. The complete disappearance of the elevator's occupants…the strange energy traces with no known source…the lack of eyewitnesses…no motive, and no suspects." The announcer stood up, and turned to head back behind his desk. "With no clues, no leads, and no suspects, the Other Realm Department of Intelligence sadly must consider this case…dead."
He opened the drawer of a filing cabinet near the desk, dropped the folder in, and decisively shut the drawer with a hollow bang.
The announcer looked up at the camera, folded his hands, and gave a solemn nod. The Twilight Zone theme flowed as the screen faded to black.
The girl and her cat sat there, stunned, staring at the black screen, which abruptly ended. As static filled the screen once the tape stopped, Sabrina blinked. Except for the crackle of the static, the room was silent.
Salem yawned. "That's got to be the worst movie I ever saw."
Shinji rubbed the back of his neck as he bent over his suitcase, attempting to finish packing. It wasn't easy; every time he turned his back, Moriko stole a pair of socks. He'd finally had to put her in the bathroom and close the door; she was barking with displeasure right now, but he forced himself to ignore it.
I've got to remember to take her out when I leave; otherwise, Ken's gonna throw a royally hairy conniption fit.
"That should be it," he mumbled to himself, setting a few more pairs of underwear into the suitcase. "I don't think I'm missing anything…" He eyed the bag critically, assessing the bulging pile of clothes, shoes, toiletries, manga, and snacks. Just in case American food doesn't agree with me, I can rest assured knowing I have perfectly good, normal food in the bag.
A knock sounded at the door as Shinji began to close the suitcase. What does he want now? "Come in," he called distractedly.
Kenichi inched the door open, and caught sight of his younger brother attempting to close the suitcase over the mountainous pile of stuff. His eyebrows shot up, as he stared at the bizarrely random items poking out. "Maybe I should help you with this," he stated, immediately flipping the lid open.
Shinji watched in silence as Kenichi pulled his belongings out, and began to sort them into piles. Once every article of clothing was removed, the elder brother began to fold them neatly and place them back in the bag. Shinji shrugged, and went to his closet to pick out an outfit to wear.
It was a companionable silence, with Shinji flipping through his wardrobe, and Kenichi carefully packing the suitcase. It seemed as if neither brother knew what to say, and hoped that a relaxed hush could serve, instead. Kenichi finally broke the quiet.
"How long will you be gone?" he casually asked, magicking some plastic bags into existence, and sorting the snacks into them.
"Dunno," Shinji shrugged, trying to decide which pair of sneakers to wear. "A week, maybe, or two weeks?"
"I see." Silence again.
Shinji ran his hand through his loose mane of blue hair. There are so many things left unsaid between the two of us. Why, when we're finally somewhat getting along, can't we talk? It's like there's a gap between us, and I can't cross it…
"You'll miss school," Kenichi remarked. "And I'm sure that there's a test coming up in your nearby future."
The younger brother paused, thinking of the scrap of paper taped to his desk announcing a history test in a few days. His smile brightened. "I suppose I will," he grinned cheerfully. "Can't say I'll miss it, of course."
Kenichi studied the hairbrush in his hand as he paused in packing the toiletries. "I could stop by school while you're gone, and pick up your assignments…if you want."
Shinji stopped, and turned his focus to his brother. Kenichi had resumed packing, and was working on his task diligently. A soft, small quirk of a smile lifted the corner of Shinji's lips. "Thanks."
His brother looked up from under his glasses. He gazed at Shinji for a long moment, before nodding awkwardly. "No problem."
Sabrina sat cross-legged on her bed, flipping through the manila case folder. She licked a finger, and turned the page, unearthing a section of papers with photographs paper clipped on.
"What's that?"
She looked up, flicking a few strands of hair out of her eyes. A black shape oozed through the crack left by the semi-open door. "What do you mean?" the teenage witch asked, turning her attention back to the folder. "It's the case folder."
"The section you just opened." Salem leapt onto the bed, padding over to examine the papers.
"This looks like…" she paused, tracing a finger along the cover page. "This is the section with information on the victims. It looks like they tried to find anything they could that would be relevant to the case."
Salem used his paw to knock the papers around, separating each one. He and the teenage witch sat back, gazing at the pictures before them. "So, we've got five characters in this mystery," Salem mumbled. He gestured to each picture with a paw. "The actor, the actress, the child star, the nanny, and the bellhop."
"A weird collection of characters," Sabrina mumbled.
"Indeed," Salem nodded. "Except for the nanny and the kid, it looks like none of them were connected."
"So why were they all attacked?" Sabrina mused. "Was it directed towards one person in particular, or towards all of them?"
Salem twitched his eyebrows as he gave her a sideways look. "You think that this was an attack? That this was planned?"
The detective snorted, and waved her hand. "Please. It's all too random to be a freak accident." She picked up the files, and neatly stacked them. "An elevator randomly stops between floors, and just so happens to conveniently get struck by lightning? And the people inside also just happen to disappear?" She shook her head, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She picked up the picture of the Hotel stuck to the front of the case file and frowned.
"No. There was a reason for everything: that elevator shaft got hit by lightning, that the elevator got stuck, and that those people vanished. It's our job to find out who, how, and more importantly, why."
"Well…I'm ready to go."
Shinji stood by the front door of the house, his street shoes already on, backpack strapped on, and suitcase in hand. Kenichi stood a few feet away, twisting his hands around in his pockets. "I…guess you are," the elder brother said quietly.
For a moment, the two brothers stood and looked at each other. It was quite unlike anything that had ever happened before to them; for a few years, now, they had always been together (whether they wanted to be or not). What more could be said? Kenichi had become used to the quiet tenor of their lives. They may not have had a very communicative household, but it was one they could deal with. But now their lives were being turned topsy-turvy. Shinji was heading off to a strange country, to solve a mystery that could involve very real danger. He didn't know how long it would take him, or if he'd even be okay.
Kenichi almost hated to admit it, but he was scared. He feared for his brother's safety. He wouldn't be there to protect Shinji, like he had these past few years. Some big brother I am. I can't even watch over him right now.
Worst of all, he could find absolutely no words to express any of this. Words refused to come to mind, and anything he tried to say ran dry in his throat. His wild, unpredictable, and hotheaded little brother was about to leave, and Kenichi was struggling to find something meaningful to say. Was it always like this? Have we turned to silence so often to avoid clashing that it has replaced all of our communication?
For his part, Shinji was shifting nervously. Ken had been acting different lately, since Drell had designated Shinji as a Spirit Detective and assigned him a mission. He was...more like the old Ken, before the accident. Less nagging. Less lecturing. Less hovering around Shinji and fixing everything he did. It was...nice.
He hated talking about deeply personal matters; the idea of talking to his brother about their relationship was terrifying and uncomfortable. Even thinking about telling his brother that he appreciated his help with the packing seemed frightening, like it could go down a slippery slope and open up thoughts and feelings best left unsaid. Not yet. Maybe later, but not yet. Shinji finally nodded, and turned to go. "I'll call you later, then," he mumbled, turning the door handle.
Kenichi's eyes widened faintly as protective instincts flung silence and uncertainty to the wind. "Wait!" The younger of the two paused, an uncertain and inquisitive look spread across his face. "Be careful," Kenichi finished, lamely.
The corners of Shinji's mouth lifted faintly. "I will."
Yamagi Kenichi stood, mutely, as his brother opened the door and left, heading for the portal that would take him on this crazy adventure. For your sake, Shinji, I hope that you do…And when you get back, maybe we can talk about this...
He groaned, taking off his thick-lensed glasses, and rubbing his eyes. Maybe he needed a good shower right now to relax… Kenichi shuffled off to the bathroom, idly wondering why the house was so utterly quiet in his brother's absence. So entirely free of any noise…
"Sabrina?"
The teenage witch looked up, holding a pink camisole in front of the mirror. Aunt Zelda stood in the doorway, arms folded, glasses down low on her nose. She was eying her niece expectantly.
"Y-yes?" Was there something I forgot to do? My homework's done, and my packing's almost done, and I remembered to take out the trash…
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
"Uh…" THINK, girl, think! There must be something that you forgot to do!
"I thought we agreed that today, you'd help me grade papers." Her aunt had recently been hired as a physics professor at nearby Adams College, and had thrown herself into her work enthusiastically. However, Zelda was also passionately loyal to her family—she'd taken the week off, after all, to look after her niece upon her return from the Gracey Case. Zelda gave her a stern look that brooked no argument. "I upheld my end of the bargain, after all."
What bargain?
"Well, I'm really busy, Aunt Zelda," Sabrina blurted, "seeing as how I still have to pack and everything…"
"Well, then." Zelda lowered her eyes. "I suppose we can always return this dress to the boutique, couldn't we?" With a flick of her index finger, a silky blue dress rose out of the suitcase, and sailed across the room to hover before Zelda. Sabrina's eyes bugged out as she quickly recalled cajoling Zelda to buy the dress for her, and promising to do 'anything' in return.
Damn.
"So…when do we get started?"
Zelda snapped her fingers, and the two of them were transported to Zelda's office at the college. Her desk was practically creaking under the weight of foot-high stacks of papers from her aunt's students. The teenage witch's eye twitched. "I had to ask."
Shinji paused before the portal. "Was there something I forgot to do?" he muttered. He scratched his head, thinking for a moment, but shrugged and gave up.
"Must not have been important."
Back inside the house, Kenichi opened the bathroom door.
"AAAUUUUGGH!"
Many, many eye-twitching, paper cut-filled, pen-stained hours later, back at the Spellman house…
"And you've got your hotel confirmation?" Zelda Spellman paced back and forth in front of Sabrina's door. Her niece stood just behind her, suitcase at her feet, waiting impatiently to leave.
The teenage witch sighed loudly. "Yes, Aunt Zelda," she droned, fishing the papers out of the folder. "Right here."
"And your sunblock? It may be October, but it's always sunny in California, and I don't want you to get sunburned."
"Yes, Aunt Zelda," Sabrina groaned, "in my bag."
"And you won't forget to call us once you're there, will you? I want to make sure that your portal dropped you off correctly."
"I will, Aunt Zelda." Sabrina considered sneaking off, but her aunt was unfortunately blocking the door. No good.
"And you-"
She was suddenly yanked out of the doorway by Hilda. "She's fine, Zel," Hilda said firmly, steering the elder woman over to the side. "No need to be a worrywart. She's not exactly a newbie at this, ya know." The younger aunt winked at her niece.
Grinning, Sabrina made her way towards the door. "Just relax, I'll call and everything," she reassured her nearly-panicking aunt. "It won't be like last time, I promise." She stopped, frowning. "It better not be like last time. Or I may be forced to get violent."
Hilda blanched, as the idea of a screaming, machete-wielding Sabrina storming the Other Realm danced through her head.
"Either way," the teenage witch cheerfully continued, "I'd better be going. Make sure to give my excuses to the school, right?" She turned towards the stairs, but paused, making sure to hug each aunt.
Zelda hugged her tightly. "Try not to get hurt," she whispered.
Sabrina sighed. "Okay, okay. I promise," she mumbled. Like I have a choice, though…
Hilda handed her niece her suitcase. "Just ignore her. Have fun. Get a tan. Meet some cute surfer boys!" Zelda elbowed her sister in the ribs. "And do work! Make sure you do your work!"
"Are we leaving yet?" Salem whined petulantly. "The beach is calling to me! The surf! The sand! The cool, frosty drinks with the little umbrellas…"
Rolling her eyes, Sabrina picked up her backpack, Salem leaping into her arms. "Something tells me this is gonna be a loooooong case."
Sunset Boulevard, Hollywood, California
It was a nice, quiet alley, sandwiched between a travel agency and a small warehouse used by a local café. Not nearly as dark, foreboding and dirty as most alleys commonly are, the clean little strip of cement sat unobtrusively off the main street.
This particular alley will become quite important in a few minutes, as Drell decided to set the portal destination site here. But in the meantime, let's examine the rest of the street.
The particular section of Sunset Boulevard that surrounded the hotel was small, clean, and fairly quiet. The street was lined with bright shops, hotels, apartment buildings, and lush palm trees. People hurried about their daily business, or were content to lounge on benches and enjoy the sun. It was a quiet, bright little place.
Nothing would have ever suggested that it had such a dark, dirty little secret.
Keep that in the back of your mind as we return to our intrepid little detective, as she and her animal-familiar/partner enter the scene:
"I still don't see why you had to come along," Sabrina grumbled as the portal opened a pathway to the alley. "Drell assured me that he assigned another detective to this case."
"Knowing him, it's a newbie," Salem scoffed. "A wannabe gumshoe who we'll have to lead around by the hand and spoon-feed information."
Sabrina lifted an eyebrow. "I seem to recall," she remarked, in an off-handed manner, "a girl and a cat who were put into the same situation scarcely a week ago. Two 'newbies' who also had no idea what they were doing."
"But that's different," Salem protested. "We're experienced now."
"Are we?"
Salem nodded vigorously. "Of course! And if we're going to work with this newbie, we'll need to show him the ropes."
Sabrina felt like smacking her head into the brick wall in front of her. "And you feel this makes you qualified?"
"Precisely."
Groaning, Sabrina grabbed her suitcase in one hand. "Forget I even asked," she mumbled, making her way towards the front of the alley.
"Plus, I—er, we—get free room service," the cat mumbled under his breath, licking his chops as he sprang after the girl. Mmm…sushi…caviar…goose-liver pâté…liver omelets…yes!
"I hope I'm dressed okay," Sabrina remarked as she patted her outfit down.
The cat yawned, as if to show his boredom at the topic. "You look fine."
"You think?" Sabrina tugged at her jacket. It had taken her most of an hour to decide what to pack, and more importantly, what to wear. She'd had to balance Californian weather against her own East Coast wardrobe, while trying to decide how professional she wanted to appear. She'd finally decided on a belted mid-thigh length dark blue skirt, a black tank top, a cropped plum-colored mini-blazer, and black ankle-length boots.
"I don't see why your outfit had to be so important," Salem muttered, licking a paw to smooth the fur down. "It doesn't really matter what you wear, ya know."
"That's because you're a guy," Sabrina tossed her head, scattering pale blonde locks over her shoulder. "Guys just don't understand how important appearances can be."
"Maybe," the cat conceded, "but you don't have to be so obsessive about it."
"I'm not," she muttered in her defense. "And besides…I wanted to look nice." She nervously tugged at her blazer. "I want to make a good impression on my new partner." I want her…or him…to think well of me.
The cat sighed and rolled his eyes. "Just be your normal, charming, fun-loving self, and I'm sure you'll have no problem." He paused. "Just be careful you don't klutz out, though. As anyone will tell you, property damage usually makes a lasting impression—and not usually a good one, either."
Sabrina bit her lip, digesting this, as she continued to fiddle with the blazer's hem. "I still can't help being nervous, though."
"Your problem, not mine." Salem leapt onto the suitcase, and bounded into the backpack from there. "Now, are we going to chat in an alley all day, or are we going to find that beautiful, air-conditioned, room-service hotel?"
Sabrina smirked. "With a pep talk like that under my belt, how can I refuse?" Gripping her suitcase more firmly, she walked into the bright sunshine of the main street. Blinking a little in the direct light, she zapped up a pair of sunglasses.
"Where to?" she mused, watching the people stroll along the street. "Of course! The hotel." She dropped the suitcase, and pretended to rummage in her backpack, for the sake of being discreet. "Salem, where's the hotel reservation sheet? I need the address."
"It's the Cayuga Seaside Hotel," Salem yawned, cuddling up inside the backpack. "It's at the end of the block. Just keep going."
"Fine, fine."
As she strode down the street, Sabrina took the time to admire—and take note of—her surroundings. This was one of the older sections of town, and there was plenty of architectural charm. Old-fashioned wrought-iron lamp posts and park benches dotted the sidewalk, interspersed with lush-leaved palm trees. Brick exteriors and old-fashioned trim were commonplace on most buildings, the majority of which were shops of various kinds.
It's gorgeous here, she noted, tugging her sunglasses down to examine a passing store window. But why do I have this slightly eerie feeling? Almost like…something lurking around here. Not too close, just out of my reach…it's creepy.
She shuddered involuntarily, despite the warm California sunshine. "Are you cold?" Salem inquired, his voice muffled by the backpack.
"I'm fine," she replied in a low voice. "And keep quiet!" she added as an afterthought in an urgent whisper.
A disgruntled snort was her only reply. I really hope he's not going to be so testy all week long. I might have to drown him in the hotel pool. Her eyebrow twitched.
Walking briskly, she reached the corner of a street block—the home of the Cayuga Seaside Hotel. Sabrina leaned against a lamppost, evaluating the hotel's façade. The building had to be at least sixty or seventy years old, and looked more like an apartment building than a hotel. A pale yellow exterior, with chipped white wooden trim and wide windows, gave the building a comfortably shabby appearance.
Salem wriggled his way out of the backpack, just enough to pop his head out. He made a scoffing sound. "I've seen scratching posts that look more appealing."
"What did I tell you about staying hidden?" the teenage witch hissed, shoving him back into the backpack. "We can't afford to appear too suspicious!"
"Right," the cat mumbled as he disappeared into the recesses of the bag, "and you're not suspicious at all, talking to your backpack."
Sabrina blinked in surprise as she realized that a few passerby were staring at her oddly, indeed. Nervously laughing, she tried to think of an excuse. When none came immediately to her, she tried to casually slip into the hotel doors.
Red-faced, she leaned against the door. A poker-faced man stood behind the front desk, hotel register open before him. He looked less than enthusiastic about Sabrina's appearance. Taking a deep breath, Sabrina walked toward him, digging in her backpack for the reservation information. Her eyes flitted about the room, taking everything in.
A wide, sturdy-looking wooden staircase curved elegantly upward at her left, towards the upper levels. Before her, at the end of the room, were the front desk, an oddly paneled red door, and an open doorway, leading into a dimly lit hallway.
Plopping her suitcase down before the desk, she favored the clerk with a smile. "Hi, I have a reservation here under the name of Spellman." She handed him the papers, watching his eyes flicker for a moment as he read the top sheet.
"Ah. Yes. Miss Spellman," he drawled out. "We indeed have a reservation under that name. The room is pre-paid, as well. Your partner arrived here earlier. The two of you have separate rooms on the fifth floor."
"Nice!" Salem cried out in delight.
The desk clerk frowned, studying her backpack. Panicking, Sabrina pretended she had just spoken. "That's great!" she added quickly, lowering her voice to mimic Salem's muffled tone.
"Of course, miss," he replied mechanically, in a bored tone. "You're stationed in room 513; your partner has number 514 next door." He handed her the room key.
Twirling the key around her fingers, Sabrina shifted the backpack on her shoulders. "Where can I find…uh…her?" she asked, realizing that Drell hadn't even told her the name of her partner, let alone his or her gender. Wow, do I feel stupid now…
"I believe he is currently outside in the garden," the desk clerk raised an eyebrow. "You can reach it through this hallway," he gestured towards the passage. He stopped to look at her suspiciously.
Sabrina gave a flat laugh, scratching the back of her head. "Uh…thanks. I'm…uh…gonna go now, so thanks, Mr…." she paused, realizing again that there was a name she didn't know.
"My name is Bradbury," the clerk said shortly. "Please feel free to call the front desk if there's anything you need."
Nodding, Sabrina nervously sidled towards the staircase. I've got to get out of here…Mr. Bradbury's kind of creepy…
"There is an elevator, you know." Mr. Bradbury's nasal tone cut through her thoughts. He gestured towards the red door. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer to carry your suitcase up five flights of stairs."
"Thanks!" Sabrina nervously chirped, hefting her suitcase towards the door. She jabbed the call button once, then twice, impatient for the doors to open. Bradbury raised a lazy eyebrow at the teenager's nervous actions.
The door clicked open, and Sabrina pulled it out, wrestling to pull the suitcase in with her into the cramped space. "Bye!" she managed, as she shoved the case sideways against the elevator wall. Bradbury didn't reply, but continued staring.
As soon as the doors closed, she slumped against the wall. "Thank God. That man is entirely too creepy."
Salem snickered. "So much for not being suspicious. You looked like you'd just robbed a bank."
"I couldn't help it!" Sabrina moaned. "He's like Mr. Kraft. Somehow, they can see through anything. It's like they have built-in 'weirdness' detectors or something."
Before Salem could make a retort, a chime faintly sounded, and the door clicked open. Yet again, Sabrina had to wrestle her suitcase (which hadn't seemed so heavy or bulky before they went into the small elevator) out the door. "What did you pack in that thing, rocks?" Salem squalled, as Sabrina nearly fell over while trying to pull it upright.
"Just clothes…and shoes…and a hairdryer…and stuff," Sabrina evasively replied, brushing a stray wisp of hair out of her eyes. "The contents must have settled or something."
Salem made a small, skeptical noise, as the teenage witch finally wrestled the suitcase into submission and fished the key out of a pocket in the blazer's inner liner. "Now, which room was it…" She started down the hallway, noting the walls were painted a soft, pale shade of blue. After a scant amount of searching, Sabrina found their room, unlocked the door, and threw it open.
"Finally! Comfort!" The Burmese cat wriggled his way out of the backpack, and in one fluid, graceful motion, leapt onto the bed in front of him, snuggling into the comforter. He purred, nuzzling the fabric. "Bliss…"
Chuckling, Sabrina tossed her backpack to the floor, assessing the room for herself. The floor was bare hardwood, glowing faintly golden in the mellow sunshine pouring through the window. The bed Salem was currently curled up upon was a double, covered in a plush-looking white coverlet, with lace trim and matching pillows. She winced, thinking about the black hairs he'd leave behind. Note to self—get a lint roller. The furniture—a dresser, desk, and chair-were of a faintly lighter shade than the floor, made of warm golden wood, and looking several decades older than the room's occupant. The walls were the same white shade as the coverlet, and just as bare as the floor.
No-frills, huh? Well, at least it doesn't smell like mothballs…
She dropped her suitcase next to the bed, and ambled over to the window. "But the view's great," she said aloud, pressing a hand to the window casement.
Indeed, the view from her window was a sight to behold; it overlooked Sunset Boulevard, giving her a clear view of the both the palm tree-lined street and the hilly horizon. Below her were the pastel blocks of shops, and emerald swathes of treetops, while ant-sized people milled about on the sidewalks.
She pushed the window open, and leaned on the sill, breathing in the myriad of scents wafting up from the street below. Sabrina inhaled deeply, basking in the sunshine streaming down. It's so beautiful here…I wish I was on vacation. She leaned forward a little further, to see how far down the street she could peek. "Salem, you've gotta check this out! The view's fantastic!"
Salem opened one golden eye briefly, then snuggled into the covers. "No thanks. I'll be more comfortable here than hanging out the window."
The teenage witch chuckled. "I thought cats were supposed to have a good head for heights," she teased, arching an eyebrow.
"Not when it involves leaning out a window five stories up from a busy street, they don't," he replied, somewhat muffled by the blankets. "You just have a good time."
She turned around, leaning against the window, smiling at her familiar. Scaredy cat, she mused, affectionately. A stray thought floated across her mind, causing her to frown. "Weren't we supposed to do something?"
"I believe you were going to go meet your new partner in the garden," Salem yawned. "I say, go for it. I'll stay here and guard the room."
"You are the laziest being I have ever met," Sabrina informed him. "Just don't mess the bed up too much." Running her hands through her hair, she started for the door. This is going to be a very long case, indeed.
"And stop smirking!" She shouted as she slammed the door.
"When is he going to get here?" Shinji grumbled impatiently, running one hand through his mane of electric-blue hair. Patience was a virtue seldom exercised by the young warlock, who preferred action and movement and patience and inactivity. At the moment, he was sitting at the edge of the courtyard's fountain, waiting, albeit impatiently, for his new partner to arrive.
"At the very least, he could have told me what time he was getting here," the teen mumbled. With a bored groan, he slumped forward, resting his chin in his hands.
The small garden that the hotel boasted was nothing more than a small courtyard with a fountain and overgrown flowers, but retained a bewitching charm nonetheless. Lilac and periwinkle hibiscus blooms twined up the walls, around the gutters, and caressed the windows, shining like jewels amidst a sea of foliage. The warm sunlight, heady floral aromas, and gentle splashing of the fountain made the garden an excellent place to relax.
Unfortunately, he couldn't.
Ugh, I'm nervous. I shouldn't be—there's no reason to be—but I am. …Ah, who am I kidding? It is important. He squirmed slightly. I need to complete this mission if I ever want to have an actual life again. And I can't do that if my partner and I end up hating each other. Or if he turns out to be a douchebag who wants to sabotage me. What if he's really weird and smelly and decides that we're best friends? What if he's just like my brother?
He groaned again, propping his left elbow on his knee, and began rubbing his head with the same hand in a vague attempt to stave off an impending headache. Lost in his worried reverie, Shinji failed to notice the sound of a door swinging open, and heeled feet hesitantly stepping onto the stone floor of the courtyard.
Sabrina, in the meanwhile, managed to take the elevator down to the lobby and quickly sidled past the empty front desk, just in case Mr. Bradbury should choose to reappear. The hallway went past a few guest rooms and what looked like doors to supply closets, ending at a glass-paneled door. She perked up at the sight of the garden beyond, and eagerly pushed the door open.
She had stepped out cautiously, to better appraise the situation; perhaps she would have a few moments to quietly observe her new partner, if she or he did not notice her immediately. She was not disappointed.
Sitting rather artistically at the fountain was a teenage boy who could only be the partner Drell had spoken of. Tall and athletic-looking, with long limbs, he was slumped to one side, elbow propped upon his knee, and massaging his forehead with the same hand. He was dressed in a pair of khaki pants, with a maroon T-shirt layered over a dark long-sleeved one. He looked almost like any other normal human teenage boy.
Almost, though. She didn't know many human boys who had electric-blue hair.
Could it be more obvious that he's a warlock? I wonder where in the Other Realm he comes from; he looks almost like a Japanese anime character. On him, though, the hair looks good…
Sabrina felt her face slowly flush as she realized just how good-looking he was. The boy's face was oval-shaped, with a lightly pointed chin and slightly slanted cheekbones. His eyes were closed, and nearly hidden by the bright mane of hair that fell to his shoulder blades. His lips were moodily pursed, and his face slightly scrunched; he appeared to be in deep thought.
He's…he's…gorgeous…
The self-control Sabrina had developed as she matured was nothing short of remarkable to her, now; she could remember a time when the mere sight of a boy as handsome as this would send her brain short-circuiting, and her legs into quivering jelly.
Well, not that her legs weren't quivering a little now, and she was having a bit of trouble focusing on anything else at the moment…
Oh, get a grip on yourself, Spellman! He's just a guy. Repeat that to yourself: just a guy. Just another teenage boy. A very cute teenage boy…a handsome boy…with amazing hair and…darn. Curse these hormones!
Involuntarily, she took a step back, shaking her head in an effort to free it from the haze clogging it. The heels of her boots clicked against the stone floor, startling the boy out of his reverie. His eyes snapped open, and swept about his range of vision, looking for the source of the noise. He lifted his head, eyes finally catching the sight of the blonde girl.
She'd been about to introduce herself, or ask what his name was, but at the sight of his eyes, the words caught in her throat. Warm, expressive eyes the color of milk chocolate curiously stared at her. Sabrina could feel her feet stick to the floor as a rosy blush spread further across her cheeks.
His dark eyes studied her carefully. They lingered on her hair and eyes for a few moments more, then scanned the rest of her body, down to her feet. A choked squeak of indignation forced its way out of her mouth, as he began to look upwards again, towards her face. The boy's eyes burned into hers again, before noting the strawberry flush spreading across her cheeks.
His face broke out into a small, warm grin at that, in good humor. He pushed himself off of the fountain and stood, eyes twinkling in amusement. Finally, he broke the silence. "Are you my partner? The other Spirit Detective that Drell sent?" There was a trace of an accent and a certain halting quality about his words, as if he'd been practicing English, not accustomed to conversing in it.
A wave of warm relief washed over her, mixed with faint admiration. Yes, indeed, Drell knows how to do his job… Still a bit shocked, she forced herself to nod faintly in reply.
"Aaah." He gently inclined his upper body towards her, in a semi-bow. He looked back up at her.
Sabrina was still rather stunned, and a bit confused at the moment. What I am supposed to do?
The boy chuckled slightly, eyes twinkling again. He held out his hand towards her, smiling. "My name is Yamagi Shinji…" he paused, frowning. "Excuse me. American-style, it's Shinji Yamagi. Yoroshiku onegai shimasu."
Realizing she was still just standing there, gaping like a fish, Sabrina forced herself forward. She grasped his hand, shaking it. "Sabrina Spellman," she blurted. "Pleased to meet you." He's got such a warm smile…it makes you feel at ease right away.
"As am I," he replied, with a grin. "I have never been to America before, but I can see that it is very lovely." Sabrina faintly blushed again at his appreciative gaze.
Well, he's sure friendly…a bit flirtatious, but I've never held that against anybody.
With a slight laugh, she realized she was still shaking his hand, and dropped it. He chuckled a bit as well, before placing his hands in his pockets. The promise of another awkward silence loomed in the air, and Sabrina hurried to ward it off.
"Would you like to come back inside the hotel?" she offered. "We could see about getting dinner, talk about the case, get to know each other...or something..." she finished, nervously.
Shinji offered her another warm smile, and beckoned her towards the door. "Dinner would be great."
This is the longest chapter I've written for this fic so far. So many events to cram into one chapter! I tried to condense it as much as possible, but...well, that's how it is.
Yes, Drell's a bit unorthodox in his mission briefing. However, in the ride itself, guests are taken into the library, where they are shown a video spiel giving the ride's story. Drell also doesn't like having people in his office longer than necessary; he usually just yells at them for a bit and then throws them out. It seemed best to have Sabrina watch it at home (and the beginning of the intelligence officer's spiel is verbatim from the ride script, by the way, just wanted to clear that up). It's 1999 in the story, so they're still using VHS. Oh, the nostalgia!
Oh, and most of the chapter titles are taken from Twilight Zone episodes. Heh, heh. (With very few exceptions; I think maybe 4 chapter titles aren't taken from the Twilight Zone.)
Something I must confess: I've never been to California, much less Sunset Boulevard. I have been to Disney World, though, and the Sunset Boulevard in this story will be based on the Sunset Boulevard found in Disney World's Disney/MGM Studios theme park. I apologize for the difference, but trying to research the real Sunset Boulevard and transplant it in here would have caused too many inconsistencies. Chalk it up to another quirk of the universe that Sabrina and her cohorts inhabit.
The Cayuga Seaside Hotel is a fictional hotel, and named after the production company (Cayuga Productions, Inc.) that filmed the Twilight Zone. Mr. Bradbury, the charming (or not) proprietor of this establishment, is a reference to the noted science fiction author Ray Bradbury, of whom Rod Serling was a fan.
About the introduction scene... Shinji's introducing himself for the first time to someone new, so he bows (to be polite and respectful), and says his name (in English, since Sabrina obviously doesn't speak Japanese). The next step in the process would be to say "Yoroshiku onegai shimasu", which is kind of hard to translate, since it can have different meanings in different contexts. In this example, it roughly means "It's nice to meet you," but could also mean something like "Please be kind to me/please look after me." He just leaves it in Japanese, since it's part of the standard greeting and is hard to translate (phrases with double meanings are notoriously hard to translate).
Before I forget to say it, I don't own Rush Hour.
Next chapter: As Sabrina begins to hunt for clues, Shinji schemes how to get closer to his new partner. While the date he has planned may not go the way he wishes, the pair meet an invaluable asset to the case…