Michael Devaney - The Elisha Pool

The hair on the back of Finn’s neck bristled.

“Matching appendage?”

“Yes, the other paw. It’s not common knowledge, but there are actually two Monkey’s Paws in existence. Both are the front paws from the same monkey and were tainted with the same spell during the same ritual by a powerful Fakir. One of them — the one we have in storage — the Fakir gave away as a test to prove a point about the dangers of interfering with fate, the other he kept hidden.”

Finn stared at Andrew with a befuddled expression. “But the Monkey’s Paw is not even real,” he said. “It was contrived over one-hundred years ago as part of a fictional, supernatural short story. I remember reading it in middle school.”

The corners of the director’s mouth eased upward to form a tolerant smile. It was the smile of someone that secretly knows more than his audience. He held the cheerful pose a few moments. “You might be surprised, Mr. Winters, to find out how many fictional stories, and their related artifacts, came from real-life experiences. Imagination is one thing, but inspiration is entirely another,” he replied.

Finn exhaled an exasperated breath and ran a hand through his dark hair. “And I suppose Thor’s hammer is also real, huh?” he quipped.

Andrew maintained his indulgent smile then turned up his palms as if innocent. “You never know,” he said. “In this business you’ll learn there’s a fine line between reality and fantasy and sometimes the two overlap. You’d do well to forget that line. As you’ve already seen with the Death Mask case, there can be more involved with your case than meets the eye.”

Boy, that’s for sure. I can only imagine the predicaments a bewitched artifact like the Monkey’s Paw could get Andria and I into.

“Fine,” Finn said. “I’ll give you that but, even after such a bizarre case as that, it’s still unrealistic to expect me to miraculously convert to being a believer of this supernatural “mumbo-jumbo” overnight. Believing that the Mighty God of Thunder and a Monkey’s Paw with the ability to grant its possessor three unconditional wishes really exists might take a while.”

A lingering pause afforded Andria the opportunity to speak. “So, Mr. Game, you were saying you already have an assignment for us?”

“Yes Ma’am, I do,” Andrew said, leaning forward to extend her a piece of paper. “Around lunchtime yesterday our satellite monitors picked up a huge paranormal surge in Concord, Massachusetts consistent with that of the original Monkey’s Paw. After detailed computations and analysis of the data, a Latitude/Longitude center point of the surge has been determined to be at, or within a two to three block radius, of the address I have listed here. I’d like the two of you to snoop around the proximity of that address to see if you find anything unusual.”

Andria extracted the paper from between Andrew’s fingers and gave it a quick look before folding it and sliding it into her pants pocket. “But we’ve only been officially recruited to The Powers Group less than a week ago,” she said. “What about training and gear?”

Andrew nodded his head in agreement. “Yes, immediate training would be the normal protocol before sending agents out into the field, but given the dire circumstance of having a dangerous object like a Monkey’s Paw out in the open combined with the organizations momentary shortage of agents, we don’t have the luxury of time,” Andrew said. “We need boots on the ground, now. And you’re available. Besides, after having read over your resumes and personally witnessing the way you two handled the Death Mask case without any training whatsoever, I have complete confidence in your abilities to carry out this task. You two may be rough around the edges from a Powers Group rules and compliance standpoint, but between Mr. Winter’s military experience, some of which is classified, and his detective training with the Atlanta police department and your curator background and Anthropological research knowledge and skills, I’d say you’re more than ready to handle the legwork.”

“Thank you for the confidence, sir. We’ll do our best,” Andria said.

“Good,” Andrew said, before turning his tone more serious. “Just let me caution you both again that this matter, just like the Death Mask and ALL matters pertaining to The Powers Group, is extremely delicate and confidential. Anything you do or learn must be held in the strictest of confidence. Forever.” He emphasized the last word with conviction.

“Understood,” Finn said, giving his head a quick nod. “But I do have one question I’d like answered to satisfy my curiosity.”

Apprehensive, Andrew clasped his hands together, then leaned forward. “What might that be?” he asked.

“If, The Powers Group, is a secret organization that collects clandestine, and sometimes powerful, artifacts but you reside in the open in this very public building, how do you explain yourselves to the world? What do people think we do here?”

“That’s a very good question,” Andrew said. “And again, I must apologize. It’s another of those questions that would normally have been answered more thoroughly during the training process had you received it. That said, the short answer is this. As far as the government or anyone else is concerned, we're an “old money” philanthropic organization created many hundreds of years ago in the name of preservation and protection to financially support historical collectors and treasure hunters of all kinds. Although we’re known mostly within the artifacts community for supporting odd, extravagant projects which no one else wants to commit to, we also fund dozens of mainstream historical, geological and underwater expeditions every year all over the world.”

“That’s amazing,” Finn said.

“Yes, it is. Especially since it’s only a Red Herring. Although we do provide a much needed assistance for those “legitimate” projects, it’s only a veil to cover our real purpose of locating and securing the surprisingly many numbers of haunted or cursed artifacts that lie hidden around the world.”

“A cover for a cover,” Finn said, giving him a thumbs up. “I love it.”

Andrew chuckled. “Yes. I suppose it is ironic that we hide to find the hidden.”

There was a brief pause, then Andrew continued. “Now that we have that settled, let’s get back to my original request. Do we have an accord for you two to look for the Monkey’s Paw?”

“Yes, sir,” Finn and Andria replied in unison.

“Very well then,” Andrew said. “Go find our artifact.”

Riley Stephenson’s first wish — and subsequent cause for the paranormal surge that was picked up by The Powers Group’s satellites — had been a simple one. Considering he’d already amassed an enormous fortune capable of lasting him many lifetimes, at ninety years old, he’d reasoned the most obvious, pressing issue facing him was his remaining time left on earth.

One of the many luxuries of Mr. Stephenson’s considerable wealth had been his ability to travel the world, partaking in the lifestyles and traditions of all the various cultures. Ironically, of the many cultural experiences he’d enjoyed throughout his life, the one that had beguiled him most had come during a weeklong journey through the jungles of the Amazon to a secluded, undiscovered village called “The Forever City.” However, it wasn’t the village itself that had made such an impression on him, it was a mysterious pool of water located on the outskirts of the village. Worshipped religiously by the villagers for exhibiting magical properties capable of regenerating health, this mysterious “Healing Pool” of water was fervently guarded, day and night, by its superstitious tribesmen.