Tres Navarre vs. the Chupacabra Chapter 4: Underworld Research

Tres didn’t have class the next day so he slept in until the noonday sun in his eyes made it hard to continue his slumber. The funny thing was that he didn’t remember leaving the drapes open. He stumbled into the kitchen and turned on the coffee pot to reheat yesterday’s brew. He had halfway convinced that he had dreamed the whole nonsense about demigod messengers, attacking penguins and goat eating monsters when he noticed a large brown envelope with his name on it beside the coffee pot.

He ripped open the letter, dropping a small silver coin onto the formica counter in the process. Written in a a precise child-like script he read:

Dear Mr. Navarre,

Percy Jackson asked me to deliver a message to you. It seems like he has been doing a lot of messaging and not much helping out lately. Any, here is the message.

Go to the Majestic Theater at midnight. At precisely midnight, a door will appear to the left of the theater. It will say The River Styx. Show the man at the door this coin but do not give it to him under any circumstances.

The man at the door is Charon. He operates the ferry across the River Styx. Once you cross, give him the coin or else he will not let you out of the boat. However, remember, don’t pay the ferryman until he gets you to the other side.

Once you cross the River Styx, you will find Cerberus, the three-headed dog. If you rub his tummy, he will roll over and let you pass. However, you have to avoid being eaten first.

Good luck.

Your Friend,
Felix

P.S. If you are wondering how I got into your apartment, I made a mold of your key with my bubble gum.

Tres shuddered at the thought that a ten year old boy had gotten into his apartment without him knowing. He needed better security or he was going to wind up dead. He picked up the coin and rubbed it between his fingers. It felt like real silver rather than a cheap plated job. The coin was small and irregularly shaped. On one side was an antique looking head. On the other side was Greek lettering that said “έρχονται σαλπάρετε με εμένα.” Given the coin’s age, it was obviously worth something and could keep his truck in gas for a while.

He quickly banished the thought of pawning the coin from his mind. In a world where ten year old kids could break into your apartment and mythical Aztec creatures roamed the countryside, no good could come from keeping the coin. Besides that, he had a strict code that he never retained an unearned fee. While this wasn’t exactly a fee, it was in the nature of a cost advance, which made it sort of the same thing.

He decided that, for the sake of the goats of the Hill Country and the chance to see his old friend Ralph, it was worth seeing if a portal to the underworld really would open up next to the Majestic Theater. However, first he would have to do some research.

After a quick breakfast taco and some week old Chinese food, he made his way downtown to the main branch of the public library. The six-story Mexican modern building was colored enchilada red.  Ordinarily this would make him hungry.  However, food was the last thing on his mind.

Making his way between the stacks, he pulled down a copy of Bullfinch’s Mythology.  There he learned that Charon was indeed the ferryman who made the passage across the River Styx. Charon’s payment was an obol, a small coin much like the one he held in his hand. The figure on the coin was Medusa and the Greek letters translated to “come sail away with me.” Disturbingly, the reference book indicated that Charon had a strict policy against letting the living pass. While Hercules gained passage by beating Charon with his own oar, Tres doubted that he would be able to use brute strength.

Adding to his unease, he learned that Cerberus was a three headed dog with a taste for living flesh. His job was to bar the way to Hades for the living and keep the dead in their place. He found several strategies for subduing Cerberus, including lulling him to sleep with music (a stratagem also used in the Harry Potter series) and feeding him drugged honey cakes. There was no reference to rubbing Cerberus’s tummy.

His research completed, there was nothing left but to take a nap. As a good detective, he knew that it is always best to face mythological underworld beings while well rested.

Tres Navarre vs. the Chupacabra Chapter 3: Lessons My Abuelo Never Taught Me

Tres could barely keep his eyes open as he prepared to leave the UTSA campus after the day’s classes.   As he passed the fountain, he had to blink to make sure that he wasn’t seeing things.   There in the fountain was a familiar looking boy.   He shut his eyes tight and then opened them.

“Nope.  I didn’t go away,” said the boy in the fountain.   “I’m really here.”

“I was hoping last night was just a bad dream brought on by too many tequila shots.”

“No, you weren’t drinking and if I do say so myself, you shouldn’t.  It’s a bad habit and has been the downfall of many of the Olympians.  But I am not here to lecture you on the dangers of strong drink.   I am here to deliver a message.”

“Since when is the son of Poseidon in the business of delivering messages?  Isn’t that some other guy’s job?”

“Well technically yes, but there is a push for more cross-training on Mount Olympus, so I am doing some contract work for Hermes.    If I do well, my next job will be with Athena.”

“All right, already.   Just deliver the message and leave me to my headache.”

“You failed in your first encounter with the chupacabra because you forgot the lessons of your abuelo.   And also, relying on Felix and his penguins is always a tricky proposition.”

“What lessons from my abuelo?   I don’t even speak Spanish?”

“Are you sure?   According to my briefing, the secrets of the chupacabra were passed down from the Aztecs to their descendants in Mexico, passing from grandfather to grandson.”

“The only problem with that theory is that I’m not Mexican.”

“Well, I’m sure the proper term is Mexican-American or Latino.   I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No, it’s not Mexican or Mexican-American or Aztec-American.    My family is Spanish even though I don’t speak a word of it.   My father was elected Sheriff of Bexar County because people thought he was Mexican-American.   However, he wasn't and I’m not.  There are no secrets passed down to me from my abuelo.   As a result, I was just winging it out there.  I figured that when a kid showed up talking about penguins and magic that that was my clue.”

“Oh dear,” said Percy.   (I am assuming that the reader picked up the hint that the boy in the fountain at UTSA was demigod Percy Jackson).    “If you are not the keeper of the secrets of the chupacabra, we have a big problem.   Once the chupacabra eats all the goats, it will turn to eating humans and there will be a terrible carnage unless it can be driven back to its lair.   Think.   Is there someone you know of Mexican descent who is unusually wise in the ways of San Antonio, who always knows everything from where to find the best bowl of menudo to where the bodies are buried?”

“Yes,” said Tres, “that would be my friend, Ralph Arguello.    The only problem is that he died in Mission Road.   Tres’s throat caught for a moment as he recalled the image of Ralph’s lifeless body, clad in his trademark guayabera shirt, size XXL, in his coffin.   “Look. unless you can conduct a séance, we’re not going to be talking to Ralph.  At least not in this lifetime.”

“Don’t be silly.   Seances aren’t real.   What you have to do is go to Hades to talk to Ralph and gain the secrets of the chupacabra.”

“Is that all?”    

“I realize that it’s not done that often.   As a matter of fact, Hercules and Dante are the only persons I can think of who crossed the River Styx and came back.   However, you have one advantage they didn’t have.   You have me to tell you the way.”

“Are you coming along?”

“Oh no, there would be Hades to pay if I did.   But I can show you the way.”

“Go away kid,” said Tres, who promptly got in his truck and drove home.

Tres Navarre vs. the Chupacabra: Chapter Two March of the Penguins

Chapter 2:   March of the Penguins

As Tres drove slowly behind Sea World, Felix pointed to a mesquite bush barely visible in the darkness.    As they drew closer, Felix opened a gate hidden in the darkness behind the bush.   They entered the deserted amusement park stealthily and made their way under the Steel Eel roller coaster.   Under the night sky, the roller coaster really did look like the twisted figure of a giant serpent.    The penguin enclosure was on the other side of the roller coaster.     Felix removed an unusually large ring of keys from his shoe and unlocked the back door.   This led to a darkened hallway.   Felix pulled a glowstick from his other shoe to light the way.   

When Felix reached another locked door, he whispered, “Let me do the talking.”    Tres silently shook his head in the darkness.    Felix rapped three times on the door and it opened inward.  A large Emperor penguin greeted Felix.    Tres could not make out the words, but Felix seemed to be talking to the penguin.    The penguin shook its head from side to side and raised its wings.    Felix made soothing sounds until the anxious bird calmed dawn.   

After what seemed like hours but was probably only three and a half minutes, Felix drew closer to Tres followed by the penguin.   “This is Hugo,” Felix said.   He can spare six of his men, but we have to be back by sunrise.   And he wants anchovies, the kind that come in the little tins.”

“Is there anything else?” Tres asked.

“Yes,” said Felix.   We will have to fill the bed of your pickup with snow.   The penguins are not used to the heat outside their enclosure.    We could stop by the 7-11 and buy 200 pounds of ice and then shave it into little pieces, or I could just cast a spell.”     

Tres quietly cursed and said, “This is the weirdest dream.”

Hugo and six other penguins of various shapes and sizes followed them out.   Felix chanted an incantation which filled the bed of the pickup with snow.   Tres drove them to an all-night Walmart which stocked industrial size cans of anchovies.   The greedy penguins devoured the anchovies as Tres headed west on Hwy. 46 toward the small town of Bandera.

“What’s in Bandera?” asked Felix.

“Bandera was founded by Roman Catholic immigrants from Poland.  They built a stone church which is one of the oldest in Texas.  It is also known as the Cowboy Capital of the World.  The Mayan Dude Ranch has been in business for over fifty years.  However, that’s not why we are going there.    I have selected a goat pasture to stake out just outside of town.”  

“I thought the chupacabra ate all the goats,” said Felix.   

“Apparently not,” said Tres.    While you were in Walmart, I did some sleuthing.   According to the Texas Commissioner of Agriculture, the only goats left for a hundred miles are located near Bandera.   Also, according to the local newspaper, local ranchers have found goats drained of all their blood at several locations near town.”

After what seemed like much aimless driving around, Tres pulled the truck off the road and turned toward a pasture barred by a locked gate.   Tres reached behind the seat and pulled out a very large set of bolt cutters.   “Sir, do you have vandalism in mind?” asked Felix.   “Best if you don’t ask too many questions, kid,” replied Tres.   

Tres made short work of the lock and opened the gate.   He parked the truck behind a stand of live oak trees.    Felix directed the penguins into strategic positions around the pasture, giving them each a sack of ice to sit on.   Tres lifted Felix onto a limb about five feet off the ground and told him to stay put.   

They didn’t have to wait long.   Slightly after 3 am, the wind began to stir and clouds covered the moon, eliminating what little light there had been.   The goats became skittish, moving rapidly back and forth across the pasture and making frightened bleating sounds.    An object moving at incredible speed moved into the center of the herd of goats, causing them to scatter in all directions.   Despite the absence of light, Tres and Felix could see the dim outline of a hulking figure looming over an unfortunate goat.   The goat gave one last pathetic bleat before talons ripped its throat open.   As the wind blew their way, they could hear a greedy sucking sound as the phantom drained the life from the goat.

                                 

“Holy sh----“ cried Tres.

“Hugo attack,” commanded Felix.   

Penguins emerged from behind mesquite bushes across the pasture and began to rush the figure which they now knew was almost certainly a chupacabra.     Felix chanted a protection spell toward the rapidly advancing penguins.    While it is generally believed that penguins waddle slowly, Hugo and his band descended upon the beast with both speed and ferocity.   

As the penguins advanced, the beast reared up to its full height of nearly seven feet.   It batted Hugo away as easily as the wind carrying a tumbleweed.    The other penguins boasted off the monster harmlessly or were swatted away.    For a split second its red eyes stared directly at Tres and Felix, then it gave an angry cry and vanished into the night.  

 

Shortly after, the clouds cleared and they were able to assess their damage.    At the center of the attack was the empty body that had been a goat only a few minutes before.   Penguins picked themselves up from the grass of the pasture and unsteadily made their way back toward Tres and Felix.   

“I don’t understand,” said Felix.   “My protection spell should have worked.”

“What kind of a spell did you use?” asked Tres.

“It was a very venerable incantation from the priests of the Seventh Dynasty.   From Egypt.”

“Son,” replied Tres.   “You’re in Texas.   Everything’s bigger and badder here.   Be glad your furry friends are here at all.”

Felix noticed that Hugo’s wing was hanging at an odd angle.   He made a poultice of mud and goat manure and applied it to the injured wing.   He fashioned a sling out of a handkerchief.  

“Sorry boss,” said Hugo.   “That beast was wicked powerful.  He makes a leopard seal look like a kitten.”

“That’s all right,” said Felix.   “You fought valiantly.   The rest of these goats will get to live another night.”

Without anything more to be said, they climbed back into the truck and made the long drive back to Sea World.    They got the penguins back to their enclosure just as the red sun began to peek over the horizon.   After returning Felix to the Palacio del Rio, Tres returned to his apartment, took a quick shower and left for class.

Tres Navarre vs. the Chupacabra--Chapter One: A Day Without Cabrito

Introduction

I used to write silly stories for the newspaper when I was in high school and college.    However, that was a long time ago.    In my current work, I often write stories about people caught in conflict.  However, they are called legal briefs.    About a year ago, I had the idea to do a Rick Riordan crossover story.   I am a huge fan of Rick Riordan's Tres Navarre books, while my daughter Stephanie has enjoyed his mythology books since she was in middle school.  Quite frankly, I missed Tres Navarre, Tai Chi master and unlicensed private investigator and wanted to hear from him again.  I started work on this tale and then got stuck and set it aside for a long time.   Now I have written enough to where I think I can release a chapter a week until the story is concluded.   Here is chapter one.

Chapter 1: A Day Without Cabrito

It had been an uneventful day for Tai Chi master and unlicensed private investigator Tres Navarre. He had spent the afternoon at UTSA teaching a class on Medieval English literature as a way to pay the bills until the investigating business picked up again. Uneventful could mean more than one thing for Tres. In this case, it meant that his students were sort of prepared and occasionally looked up from their iPhones when he asked a question. It also meant that no one had taken a shot at him or tried to blow him up.

As he drove towards Los Barrios in Alamo Heights, he hoped to relax with a beer and a plate of cabrito as he planned his next lesson on Julian of Norwich. However, when he placed the order, his waiter gave a panicked look and ran back into the kitchen. More than a few moments later, Chef Diana Barrios-Trevino emerged. One look into her troubled brown eyes told him that she was deeply unsettled.

“Tres,” she said breathlessly, “it is an evil thing. There is no cabrito on the menu tonight for the first time in thirty years because there are no goats to be had.”

“Why?” said Tres. “I thought that goat flu was just a rumor that someone cooked up on the internet.”

“Goat flu was just a rumor,” she replied. “This is something far worse. The thing that comes in the night is back.”

“You mean the –“ Tres began.

“Do not say it,” she said. “Even to name it is to invite unspeakable terror.” Then her face lightened and she said, “But the Tacos a la Diana are pretty good tonight.”

After his consolation prize of a dinner, which was, as Chef Diana had predicted, pretty good, he returned to his apartment and tried to still his mind with a series of Tai Chi poses. However, he could not find his center as his mind returned again and again to the fear behind Diana’s troubled eyes. He drove downtown and descended to the level of the River Walk. He often paced the River Walk late at night when he needed to work things out.


                             

As he strolled along, he noticed a disturbance in the usually placid waters. A human figure broke the surface, his face turned upward.

“Hey, are you all right?” Tres asked with equal parts wonder and concern.

“Fine” came the reply. “Just doing the back stroke.”

“Uh, you do know that there is no swimming in the river, don’t you?” Tres replied. “It’s okay. I’m a demi-god,” said the swimming figure.

“Wait a minute,” said Tres. “Aren’t you Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon? Shouldn’t you be out doing Olympian things instead of violating local city ordinances?”

“There is a mythology conference at the Palacio del Rio. The San Antonio River is less crowded this time of night than the hotel pool. It gets pretty noisy when you have a bunch of middle school mythology geeks doing cannonballs in the pool. Also, I was sent to give you a message: Beware the Chupacabra.”

With that, Percy swam off. A chorus of fish followed him singing, “swim, swim, swim.”

“Wait. Come back,” protested Tres. “How does this information help me?”

“Excuse me, sir, I think I may be able to help,” said a small voice from the shadows.

Tres turned around and noticed a young boy with tousled hair and a shy smile. “What is this? Unaccompanied minors on the River Walk night,” he sputtered. Inside he was more than a little annoyed. Letting people sneak up on you in the dark can get you killed when you are an unlicensed private investigator. The fact that a boy of ten had gotten the drop on him only made it worse.

“I am sorry to bother you,” said the boy. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with Percy Jackson and I have an idea that might work. My name is Felix. You may know me from the Kane Chronicles.“

“Sorry kid, I don’t read children’s books.”

“You would be surprised,” Felix said. “Mythology taps archetypes that recur throughout Western literature. Beyond that, you would be surprised how many of the old stories have a basis in reality. Why, back in The Throne of Fire . . . .”

"All right,” said Tres. “You made your point. Besides that, I lied. I do like childrens’ literature, particularly the Harry Potter books. How do you think Big Red Tequila stacks up against your books?”

“Oh, I am sorry sir. My parents won’t let me read your books until I’m twelve. Too much bad content.”

“All right, all right already. You said you could help.”

“I think I know the answer,” said Felix. “Penguins.”

“What???” Tres fumed. “Go back to whatever home for disturbed children that you escaped from and leave me alone. I have a serious mystery to solve.”

Felix sighed. “I get that a lot from my friends. Most people don’t appreciate the understated majesty and the sublime power of the penguin. Why, in The Serpent’s Shadow, I conjured an up army of shabti penguins from mashed potatoes. Did my friends think that was a good idea? No. It’s always, ‘Felix, enough with the penguins’ or ‘Felix we don’t want to hear any more about penguins.’”

“Do you know what a chupacabra is?” asked Tres. Do you know about the claws that tear and the teeth that shred? Besides, where are we going to find penguins in San Antonio, Texas?”

“Penguins can be quite resourceful,” said Felix. “Why I once used penguins to peck away at evil magicians enased in snowmen. Now, as to where to find penguins, that’s easy. Sea World.”

“And I suppose you’re just going to walk through the front gate and march out with an army of penguins?”

“Don’t be silly. I have a key to the back gate. However, what I don’t have is a driver’s license. If you can drive me to Sea World, I can help you.”

This did not thrill Tres. It was close to midnight, he had a class to teach the next day and Sea World was way out on the northwest side of town. Trying to avoid a long and pointless night, he asked,

“Won’t your parents notice that you aren’t in bed?”

“No,” said Felix. “I told them that I was going to a lock-in at the Witte Museum. They won’t expect me back until morning.”

Without a better excuse, Tres relented and walked Felix to his pickup truck. As he drove across the darkened city, Felix babbled incessantly about whether there was an ice god and how shoes and basketballs could be used as weapons. Tres’s mood darkened as he thought about how he would explain the presence of an unrelated young boy in his pickup truck so late at night if stopped by the police.

Disclaimer: Tres Navarre, Ralph Arguello, Percy Jackson and Felix are all characters created by Rick Riordan and belong to him. This story is intended to be a fair use under the United States copyright laws. All original content is copyright 2015 by Stephen Sather.