Chapter 1: Head and Shoulders

Mike Radley was taking a nap in his favorite recliner when he felt a faint pulse of danger somewhere in his house. His eyes snapped open and he leveled his gaze at the window, wondering if the sense had been triggered by an intruder in his home. The odds were essentially impossible that a stranger could somehow bypass the magical wards on his home and then sneak past the centaurs who were constantly maintaining his ever expanding front yard, but he had learned long ago that the word impossible was largely meaningless in regards to him or his magical home.

“What’s wrong?” Kisa asked, opening her eyes to look at him. The catgirl had fallen asleep in his lap and was now sitting up, her green eyes scanning the office.

“Not sure yet.” He rose to stand, and his familiar hopped off him effortlessly, her padded feet hitting the wooden floor without making a sound. The two of them were alone and the house was unusually quiet. Mike moved to the window to look outside. It was mid-October and his front yard was a mosaic of red and yellow. What few leaves had already fallen on the ground had been raked into small piles that would be turned into compost and tilled into the soil come spring. “Vague feeling that something bad happened.”

“Inside or out?” she asked.

Mike shrugged. “Not sure yet, but I—”

That tiny pulse hit him again, the one that said he was in danger. Precognition was one of many gifts that had been bequeathed to him upon inheriting the house, which had been further strengthened by swapping souls with a cyclops. Still, it had its limitations. Whatever was happening could potentially harm or even kill him, but usually the danger was extremely obvious.

“Ooh, I felt that one.” As his familiar, Kisa was linked to Mike in a way that let her feel many of the things that he did. She yawned and stretched, then walked toward the door. “Where is everybody?”

“I don’t know, but—”

Mike was interrupted by the sound of slamming doors, followed by thudding footsteps. Moments later, his son Callisto came galloping into the living room, his hooves scratching up the wooden floors. Upon seeing his father, Callisto’s eyes grew wide and he slipped, his legs sprawling out beneath him as he slid across the floor and came to a stop at Mike’s feet.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice quiet.

“For what?” asked Mike. He looked up to see Grace come scrambling into the room as well, only she was on the ceiling. The little Arachne dropped down from above and skittered across the floor to her brother.

“Bad news,” she said, pointing back toward the dining room.

“Bad how?” Mike looked to his son for answers.

“Um...” Callisto closed his eyes and winced. “We made a poor decision today.”

There was a loud bang from the kitchen, followed by the sound of pots and pans being scattered across the floor. Mike and Kisa exchanged uneasy glances, then looked down at the children for answers.

“What did you do?” asked Mike.

“We opened the Vault.”

“Fuck.” Mike stepped over his children and walked toward the dining room. “Kisa, see if Yuki is in her room. I’ll need her help.”

“On it.” The catgirl raced up the stairs, followed by Grace. Callisto struggled to get his legs beneath him, his hooves further scratching the wooden floor. He had lost the rubber caps that he had been wearing earlier, most likely in his mad scramble up the stairs.

“Why the hell were you two downstairs messing with the Vault?” demanded Mike as he looked into the dining room. It contained the largest table he had ever seen along with a couple of dozen wooden chairs. So far, whatever was happening in the kitchen hadn’t spread to the dining room.

“Um ... we were curious.” Callisto fidgeted with his hands.

“Try again,” asked Mike. “You’ve been warned several times that the Vault is the most dangerous place in the house.”

“That’s why we were curious.”

“Gods damn it,” muttered Mike. “How did you even get the door open?”

“Grace figured it out.” Callisto said something else, but the sudden slamming of cookware in the kitchen drowned him out.

Mike looked over his shoulder to see that his son had backed into the office.

The Vault was a magically sealed room that contained dangerous magical artifacts. Over the last couple of years, Ratu, the naga, had taken it upon herself to destroy or dismantle several of them. Strangely enough, no matter how many objects they pulled from the room, it always seemed like more appeared. Every time the Vault was opened, something tried to escape and today was apparently no exception.

“Go back to the centaur village,” Mike said. “Tell your mom that you opened the Vault and to punish you appropriately.”

Callisto’s face went white, and he coughed into his hand. “Well, I mean, this is a house matter, and my mother probably doesn’t—”

Something in the kitchen let out a shriek reminiscent of a low flying fighter jet. By the time the sound had passed, Callisto had yanked open the front door and was already halfway across the lawn to the portal.

“Damn kids,” Mike muttered, then went to close the door. As he did, the spectral figure of a woman in white poked her head through the wooden door, a large smile on her face as she phased through it.

“Grá mo Chroí,” Cecilia said by way of greeting. “Do you need my help?”

“I do.” Mike stepped aside so the banshee could enter the house properly. “You don’t happen to see what’s in there, do you?”

The banshee nodded. Her eyes were white, as if they had frosted over with ice long ago. Even though she was blind to the world as others saw it, the one thing she could see was souls of any kind, which included malevolent spirits. She tilted her head to one side, then bit her lip in frustration.

“And?” Mike asked.

“It’s not good,” she replied, floating toward the dining room. “I can’t tell if I’m looking at one thing or many. It’s disjointed.”

“Great, I was hoping to—” Mike grabbed his ears as the shrieking noise resonated throughout the whole house. Upstairs, he heard shouting, followed by stomping feet. “Sounds like the cavalry is coming.”

The footsteps took an inordinately long amount of time before their owners appeared. Grace and Kisa appeared on the landing first, the catgirl with a chagrined look on her face.

“Don’t tell me,” said Mike just as Tink waddled into view. The little goblin was huffing and puffing as she descended the stairs, one hand on her belly and the other clutching a ball peen hammer. When she spotted Mike from the landing, she gave him a sweet smile.

“You’re supposed to be in bed,” he declared. “Doctor’s orders.” Naia, Zel, and Ratu had all declared that Tink’s pregnancy was high risk and that she needed to be on bed rest for the last few weeks. Naturally, the goblin had blown them all off.

“Fuck doctors,” Tink said, then held up the hammer. “Baby legs say big monster need squish!”

“You couldn’t find anybody else?” Mike asked Kisa.

She shook her head. “Nobody else is home and Grace went right to her.”

“Where is everybody?”

“Dana and Lily are off hunting down mercenaries with Jenny. Yuki is apparently at the store buying paint. Eulalie is in the Library, and...” Kisa scrunched up her face. “You know what? You’ve got access to the family calendar on your phone. I’m not about to list off everyone who lives here and what they’re doing.”

“That’s fair.” Mike sighed at the goblin. “I don’t suppose I could ask you to go outside and get Abella for me?”

Tink blew a raspberry at him. He turned to Cecilia, who nodded and floated up through the ceiling. At least someone here would listen to him. Typically, Tink did whatever he asked her to, which wasn’t very much. However, when it came to the children, she would drop everything if it meant making them happy or protecting them. He still wasn’t entirely certain how Tink conned Amymone the dryad into allowing the goblin to build a treehouse in her tree.

“Alright, well ... Tink, let me go first. You stay back with Kisa and make sure nothing gets by me to Grace, okay?”

Tink made a sound of disgust. “Fine,” she replied. “But husband miss monster, then Tink smash with hammer.” She turned to Grace. “Baby legs wait here, Tink take care of monster for you.”

Mike sighed, then turned his attention back to the dining room. The screeching sounds in the kitchen had grown louder. Whatever was in there was either going to come around the corner or break through the window and escape into the backyard. The magical geas around his home would keep his neighbors from hearing, but it wouldn’t stop them from seeing it on the off chance that it scaled the stone walls around his home and left the geas behind. The world was already on edge with magical conspiracy theories after the major event that had been Maui, and he didn’t need any of that attention on his property.

He moved quietly through the dining room, wary of what he may find. When he got to the door that led him to the kitchen, he took a deep breath and stepped through. Several of the cabinets were now open, and the refrigerator was missing its door. Food had been pulled off the shelves and a jug of milk was slowly draining its contents onto his floor.

“Hey, there. My name is Mike Radley, and I’m the Caretaker of this house.” He crossed his arms and studied the room. There was a swirl of dark magic clinging to the countertops, and he could sense the presence of a being just on the other side. Something hissed at him and he let out a dramatic sigh. “One of my children is half-spider. If you want to intimidate me, I’m going to need something far more substantial.”

“Yeah, that’s just great,” Kisa muttered from behind him. “Why not just ask it to jump out and rip off your face?”

“Because I like this face.” Mike stroked his chin. “I guess you could say I’m attached to it.”

Kisa kicked him in the shins. Tink chortled with glee, then held up her hammer.

“Tink smash?” she asked.

“Not yet.” Mike scanned the kitchen, hoping to spot the source of the noise. “Seriously, we know you’re down there and you’ve made a mess. At least come out where we can see you.”

A humanoid head with holes where its eyes should have been appeared just behind the counter. It rose and placed gnarled fingers with elongated nails on the counter, rising up to reveal a vaguely feminine form covered in scales.

“A naga?” asked Kisa.

“Definitely not,” Mike replied. This creature didn’t have a soul, at least not one he was familiar with. Where most living beings would have some sort of shimmering mass that he could see, this one’s essence was more like a cloud of gnats. That usually meant it was some sort of construct, or a summoned being.

“Ooh, Tink recognize. Nasty statue from back of Vault, in crate with blankets.”

“That’s clearly not a statue.” Mike looked at the creature just as a thick musk hit his nose. He pinched his nostrils shut and waved the other hand across his nose. “She’s got a funk.”

The creature unhinged its jaw and opened it. The skin around her chin stretched and distorted as a pair of massive fangs came into view, her face unfolding in a way that reminded Mike of the alien from Predator.

“Yeah, definitely not a naga,” he said. “But we should avoid killing her until we know her story.”

“I swear to the gods, if you end up fucking her...” Kisa muttered from right behind her.

“I don’t fuck everything I come across,” Mike protested. The monster hissed at them and he held up a finger to shush it. “Hold on a moment. We’ll be with you in a second.”

“It’s got tits,” said Kisa. “That’s the deciding factor. Once you see it has tits, your dick ends up inside it.”

“Where is this even coming from?” Mike felt a river of ice flow through his veins, and he raised his arm and sent a blast of magical lightning at the beast just as it leapt at them. The snake-woman flew back across the kitchen and slammed into the cupboards, ripping several of their doors free. “You’re not jealous. I would be able to tell through our bond. Are you just fucking with me?”

Tink groaned. “Husband and kitty cat pay better attention, snake face get away.”

Mike turned his attention toward the snake, who was currently halfway out a window she had opened. Sighing, he moved behind her and grabbed her by the tail.

“I don’t think so,” he said as he pulled. The snake-woman thrashed around, making it hard to hold onto her tail, so Tink and Kisa grabbed on, too. Mike really didn’t like how close this thing’s tail was to Tink’s belly, but arguing with her would probably result in a goblin bite. The snake-woman hissed and fought, then froze when a heavy mass dropped down from above. Abella rose from her crouch with a snarl frozen on her face.

“A little help?” Mike said.

Abella grabbed the snake-woman by the head and yanked her through the window as Mike and the others let go. The creature snarled and lashed out, but her fangs and claws were useless against the gargoyle’s stone flesh.

“Contain her,” Mike said, leaning out the window. “She came from somewhere in the Vault.”

“Understood.” Abella head-butted the snake-woman, sending her down into the dirt. She grabbed the tip of the creature’s tail and dragged it toward the massive oak tree sitting next to an intricately designed water fountain which was being used by dozens of birds as a bath. She threw the snake-woman at the tree. “The Caretaker wants us to hold her.”

A dryad hanging from a hammock made of vines dropped down from the boughs, her eyes locked onto the pages of a book. She leaned toward the trunk of the tree and gave it a playful smack. Large roots ripped free of the soil and wrapped themselves around the creature. After marking her place with a leaf, Amymone looked up at what she had just captured.

“Any ideas what that is?” asked Mike, leaning out the window.

“A lamia.” Amymone almost looked disappointed. “Or a facsimile of one, anyway. They can be quite nasty.”

“I thought lamia were supposed to be more...” Mike realized he was about to say sexy, but kept it to himself. “Um, friendly?”

“You watch too much anime.” The dryad was once more engrossed in her novel. “Besides, you don’t have enough time for all the women in your life anyway. Stop finding new ones to bring home.”

“This one was already in my home,” he protested, then heard the squeak of the basement door. He turned his attention to Tink, who was cautiously stepping into the dark stairwell. “Absolutely not,” he said.

“Tink not afraid.” The goblin smacked the doorframe with her hammer for emphasis.

“But I am.” Mike walked over to Tink and held out his hand for the weapon. “I know you’re tough and up for anything, but I won’t be able to concentrate if I think something down there will hurt you or the baby.”

Tink scowled and handed him the hammer. “Stupid fucking Vault,” she muttered as she waddled toward the door. “Tink go lay down!” she declared loudly. “Bed rest only, ‘cause fucking pregnant!”

Mike and Kisa watched the goblin go. They heard her stomping up the steps, swearing the entire time. Once he knew she was out of earshot, Mike looked at Kisa.

“Hey, I tried to keep her in the dark, but Grace went straight to her.” Kisa stuck out her tongue. “So do you want to argue about it or do you want to go see what else escaped from the Vault?”

Mike groaned, then looked back outside. The lamia was hissing and shouting in a language that he didn’t recognize but Amymone apparently did. The dryad scowled at the lamia, then looked at Mike.

“What’s she saying?” he asked, leaning out the window to better hear the answer.

“The usual bad guy stuff. She wants to rip your arms from your body and, uh...” Amymone frowned. “Some stuff about the kids, Tink, and the, um, baby.”

A twinge of unbridled rage built in Mike’s chest, but he never got a chance to act on it. Abella, who was still nearby, spun around and used her wide tail to crack the lamia in the head. The creature went limp on the ground.

“Is she dead?” he asked.

“No,” replied Amymone. “I can feel her breathing through my roots.”

“What a pity.” Abella stared daggers at the lamia, then looked at Mike. “If you want, I can crush her.”

“Maybe later,” he said. “Let me figure out what’s going on in the basement first.”

The gargoyle nodded, then wrapped her wings around her body until they resembled a cloak. She went perfectly still, looking very much like an old statue.

Mike turned his attention toward the mess in the kitchen, then to the opening across from the cabinets. The basement door had been ripped free of its hinges and was lying on the floor.

“What are the odds we can keep Tink from spending all afternoon fixing this?” he asked.

“You can be the one to tell her,” said Kisa. The catgirl went ahead of Mike, the air shimmering around her until she was nearly invisible to him. Their magical link meant he could sense her presence, but for anyone else, it would be virtually impossible to see her. Even if a being possessed the ability to see through the magical aura that kept her hidden from sight, Kisa’s innate magic also meant that living creatures simply forgot she was there.

Stairs are clear, said Kisa through their link. Mike followed after her, traipsing carefully down the concrete steps. The basement was easily the smallest floor of the house, if one didn’t take into account the interdimensional Vault that was attached to it. They had a few freezers for food storage, a side room that had been converted into a small supply space for anything Tink used for repairs, and then a flat space along the wall where the Vault door was. Today, the doorway was bigger than usual, the chalk lines drawn from floor to ceiling. Kisa was crouched down near the entrance, her ears twitching as she stared into the space beyond.

“The natives are restless,” she said, then looked up at him. “Unusually so.”

He felt a cold chill on the back of his neck and turned to see Cecilia. The banshee had drifted down through the ceiling, a whimsical smile on her face.

“Kisa says we’ve got a lot of activity in there today.” He gestured to the opening. “So keep your wits about you.”

Cecilia winked and then faded out. He could feel her touch along the back of his neck, the specter caressing his skin. Mike put his hands in his pockets in an attempt to look casual and stepped into the Vault.

“Alright, you all know the drill.” He addressed the items in the room, many of which were no longer on their shelves. On the floor was a broken statue, the one that the lamia had probably been trapped inside. “I’m going to do a quick sweep and put everything back where it needs to be. Fighting me is just going to be a waste of my time, and will move you up my shit list. If I have to toss you into a volcano to make my point, well, I have one of those now.”

The room exploded with the sound of muttering and cacophonous whispers. With his magical senses active, Mike could see the spirits emerging from their vessels. He was well aware that none of them would comply, their earlier silence an attempt to lure him into a false sense of security.

Spectral hands reached for him. A magical tempest swirled around his feet, then lifted up to nip at the skin of his arms. The eerie sound of children’s laughter echoed across the room, causing Kisa to back out of the Vault, leaving Mike behind to fend for himself.

Mike’s magic spread through his body, his fingertips tingling with power. The magical wind that tried to tear away his flesh was repulsed by streamers of electricity that leapt from his skin. Golden motes of light formed in the air, flickering like glitter caught in a spotlight.

“Quiet,” he demanded, his magic spreading away from him like a wave. The room immediately went silent as the spirits fled to the safety of their vessels. Wild magic obeyed, sinking back inside innocuous household objects. Mike shook his head and stepped further into the room.

Kisa came in behind him. “Is it safe for me?” she asked.

“Should be,” he replied.

“Have I told you how much I love your big daddy voice?”

“Several times,” he replied. After the fight in Hawaii, Mike had noticed on occasion that he could make a one word command that the world around him would attempt to obey. Pele had explained to him that he had started on the path of ascension, or apotheosis, depending on what he wanted to believe. In short, Mike possessed enough divinity that he was the modern day version of a demi-god.

In truth, he wasn’t certain how he felt about that. It certainly wasn’t something he wanted. After much discussion about it with the others, he believed the catalyst for the process had been a threesome he once participated in with Yuki and the goddess Freya. Or perhaps that time his soul had spent eternity in a gangbang involving Titania, the Queen of the Fae. Or perhaps even the fact that he had swapped soul pieces with both a naga and a kitsune, both of whom were already on the path.

Yeah, actually, there were lots of theories about how he had gotten where he was. Most of them were pretty solid, but they essentially came down to the fact that he had fucked a lot of sexy magical women to get there, which was the American dream, after all.

Cecilia emerged from her hiding place and helped keep watch as Mike and Kisa spent the next hour restoring the Vault to its previous condition. On at least three occasions, something tried to sneak out, but Cecilia spotted the escapees long before they could get away. Mike picked up an autographed baseball and was immediately assaulted by a demonic presence that tried to wrestle away control of his body. Unfortunately for the demon, it promptly ran into the conglomerate of consciousnesses that lived in his soul. Every woman he had swapped soul pieces with existed there, which meant the demon ran into an ambush and was promptly torn apart. Mike chuckled and tossed the ball in the air as it turned to ash, the surface flaking away.

“What do you have there?” asked Kisa.

“Nothing now.” By the time the ball hit the ground, it was little more than dust. “But I did just save a trip to the volcano.”

“Didn’t Pele tell you she didn’t want you throwing all your trash in there?”

Mike chuckled. “Specifically, trash is off limits. Enemies and junk mail are fair game.”

“Junk mail?” Kisa frowned at him. “That’s oddly specific.”

“I thought so, too. Apparently, if we throw enough in from one sender, she can burn them in their dreams or something.” He shrugged. “It’s not like I get junkmail anyway. The geas keeps us off of those mailing lists.”

“Yet another small blessing.” Kisa reached for a fork that had fallen behind one of the shelves and immediately retracted her hand. “Danger sense activated on this one.”

“Let me see.” Mike reached for the fork and snatched his hand back when it immediately came to life and tried to stab him. The cutlery made a mad sprint for the door, but Cecilia was waiting to scoop it up. Once it was in her hands, the fork sprang away and tried to stab her in the eye. It passed harmlessly through the banshee and into the basement.

The cutlery turned around and flexed its tines, ready to leap at the banshee again. Mike made a finger gun and blasted it with electrical energy, which sent it skittering across the concrete floor.

“There’s always one,” muttered Kisa as she ran over to collect it. “I wish Ratu had been able to break these all down.”

“Yeah, but that would mean releasing their spirits.” Mike held his hand out for the fork and took it from Kisa. While many of the dangerous objects in the Vault had been identified and broken down, the ones possessed by various entities were the exception. Those required far more care and there often wasn’t an easy solution, which meant they remained in the Vault. “We don’t quite have an answer for that yet.”

“And the ones who are here are too powerful to be forced to move on,” Cecilia added. “Or have nowhere to move on to.”

Mike nodded, then put the fork back in a small chest that contained the rest of the silverware set. The demonic entity in the baseball had likely fallen apart, or gone back to Hell if it was from there. Cecilia and her dullahan brother Sulyvahn were both psychopomps tasked with ensuring spirits made it to the afterlife. The things in this room were capable of putting up quite a fight, which meant they were in a stalemate. The rest were destined for true oblivion. Mike wasn’t quite ready to be the arbitrator of such a fate.

However, now that his kids had broken into the Vault and been attacked, the idea suddenly felt more appealing. “So what do we do now?” Mike asked, kneeling down to pick up the lamia’s statue. It was only eight inches tall, and looked like a vase with a snake wrapped around the outside. “I don’t suppose we can squeeze her back inside?”

“Abella would be happy to try,” Kisa offered.

“Let’s pass for now.” Mike did a quick visual sweep of the Vault. The room was long and narrow today, its features constantly shifting when locked away. There was a good chance that hundreds of objects were still stored away in here but had simply never revealed themselves. Nobody was entirely certain how the Vault itself worked. While part of the house, the room was an addition from somewhere else.

Once Kisa and Mike were outside the room, he sealed the Vault. The concrete unfolded itself like a massive piece of origami, the wall becoming smooth once more. Mike’s magic formed into a spider made of lightning that crawled around the chalk perimeter, incinerating the fine powder into nothingness. The air was filled with the scent of ozone as they left the basement and the Vault behind.

Back upstairs, Mike sent Kisa to check on Tink while he went out back. The lamia was awake again, its dark eyes on him as he walked past the decorative topiary to get to the base of Amymone’s tree.

“It’s about time.” Amymone stuck a leaf in her book and descended from her vine hammock. “This thing has been growling about you all day.”

“Sorry, the Vault was a bit of a mess.” Mike crossed his arms and stared at the lamia. “What are the odds our new friend here has seen the error of her ways and wants to play nice?”

The lamia hissed, then spat out a series of words. Amymone scrunched up her forehead, then looked at Mike with wide eyes.

“She’s making some very interesting suggestions about your anatomy.” Amymone winced when the lamia spoke again. “Specifically your asshole.”

“Yeah, some people are pretty sensitive about butt stuff.” Mike crouched down so that he was nearly eye level with the lamia. “I know a woman who would see your suggestions as a personal challenge.”

Naia snorted over in her fountain.

“Even Beth wouldn’t stick her head up her own ass and eat her way through...” Amymone shook her head. “Nevermind, it’s not worth saying out loud. I’m afraid this isn’t going to be one of those times where we all become close friends.”

Mike shrugged. “Yeah, well, no hard feelings.” He held up the statue, which caused the lamia to panic and struggle against her bonds. “She came out of this thing. Any ideas?”

“I’ve already sent word to Ratu,” said Naia. “Via messenger fairy. If anyone can help you with that thing, it is her.”

“And she’s not here yet?” Mike frowned. It wasn’t like Ratu to hole up in her Labyrinth like this anymore. In recent weeks, she could be spotted lounging around the house nearly every day. One of her favorite spots was in a sunbeam in the small library next to his office. She and Kisa sometimes fought to be the first one there on a sunny day.

Naia shook her head, her cerulean curls bouncing across her shoulders. “She isn’t. I sent Carmine first, and when she didn’t come back, I sent Cerulea next. I just sent Olivia, so I’m not certain what they’re doing.”

The fairy trio were typically reliable, but there was always a chance that they got distracted along the way. They had once disappeared for two days because they had somehow gotten themselves sealed inside a mostly empty peanut butter jar. Nobody knew where the jar had come from and the fairies refused to talk about why they had gone inside of it, but their sister Daisy had informed Mike later that the whole thing had started as a really stupid dare.

“I’ll give her ten more minutes, then go get her myself.” Mike held up the statue pieces. “Unless you can just go back in here?”

At the sight of the statue, the lamia trembled, then shouted some more stuff. A vine wrapped around her mouth, silencing the creature.

“I prefer to wait in polite company,” said Amymone, who promptly took the leaf out of her book and resumed reading. The dryad dangled a hand from her hammock and made lazy circles with her finger. “Besides, I want to finish this book before I have to sleep for the winter.”

“I’m surprised you aren’t asleep already.” Mike moved next to the tree and placed his hands against the bark. “Is the geas keeping your tree awake?”

Amymone nodded. “It’s the magical micro-climate. At the first sign of snow, I’ll drop the rest of my leaves and take a nap. The centaurs have promised me quite the feast in spring.” She looked away from her book and winked. “You’ll need to set aside a whole day for the first day of Spring, by the way.”