Chapter 10: In a Clutch

The mood amongst the SoS ranged wildly from somber to simmering rage. Cyrus watched as several of the men spent hours going over their weaponry, breaking down weapons and then reassembling them, just for something to do with their nervous energy.

Laurel’s team was among the first to be sent on patrol after the doll incident. The mage had hesitated only briefly when Darius gave the command, and it became clear early on that arguing would be counter-productive. Rumors amongst the Order were already circulating that the Director had been pissed when their search had yielded nothing and the SoS had immediately doubled their price. With that much money on the line, it was clear that results were expected, and soon.

Darius had made several phone calls during this period, but Cyrus didn’t know to whom. The man had spoken in at least three different languages, one of which he didn’t recognize. He had asked Eulalie discretely if she was listening to those calls, but the Rat Queen was not. Apparently even magical rats had their limitations.

After morning came and they weren’t attacked, a small squad of men took their injured comrade for medical treatment. Cyrus asked how they would explain the injury to the ER doctors, at which point some of the men had chuckled. Apparently, if they said their buddy slipped and landed on it while naked, the ER would just assume it was a weird sex thing and ask no further questions. The old mage didn’t bother inquiring how this was somehow common knowledge.

With the anxious energy building up, Cyrus decided to take a walk off of the property. The SoS wasn’t paying any attention to him that he was aware of, which was for the best. Though a few members of the Order deferred to him, he had been completely supplanted by Laurel and the Director.

Away from the Radley estate, he made it a couple of blocks when Eulalie’s voice chirped in his ear.

“You out?” she asked, her tone playful.

“No,” he muttered quietly. “Wouldn’t mind a nap, though.”

“There’s a park up ahead on your left. You could probably find somewhere to lay down if you wanted. It’s rarely busy during the week.”

He cast his eyes up, but didn’t see whatever Eulalie was watching him with. The park was nearly empty, so he found himself a bench tucked away in a garden and stretched out, his hands behind his head.

With so much agitating just under the surface, he doubted he would find sleep. At least, that’s what he thought, but when he blinked, the sun had shifted across the sky and was nearing the horizon. Yawning, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. He had slept for most of the day.

“I was wondering when you would wake up.” The voice made him do a double-take, and he realized he was sitting next to Dana. He hadn’t seen the zombie recently, but she looked to be in far better shape than usual. She was in yoga pants that left little to the imagination and a tank top that said My Girlfriend is Hotter than Yours.

“How long have you been sitting there?” he asked, scratching his beard.

“Not long,” she replied nonchalantly.

“About twenty minutes,” said Eulalie in his ear.

“Huh. Is everything okay?” he asked.

Dana slouched back, casting her sullen gaze forward across the park. “No,” she muttered. “Ever since your new buddies tried to break in, I’ve been asked to get more directly involved. That’s not good news for them.”

“What do you mean?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “To start with, I’m annoyed that I got pulled away from my project. But the real issue is you have a house full of women who are planning to absolutely tear everyone apart. Jenny has things under control for now, but the fact that the SoS hasn’t packed up means that they’re gonna double down.”

“Fuck.” Cyrus sighed. “You’re right, though. I just don’t know how they’re going to do it.”

“More like tripled down.” Cyrus’ earpiece filled with the sound of clacking keys. “More money is being transferred as we speak,” said Eulalie.

“They asked for double,” Cyrus replied.

“That’s not what I’m seeing. Roughly five times the original amount has been sent out to a couple of different locations. Based on some flight data I’ve been monitoring, I think the SoS is bringing in more people.”

“But why? It doesn’t make sense. The plan didn’t work.”

“You’re right, it didn’t. That means a new plan.” Dana took something out of her pocket and handed it to Cyrus. “You’re going to want to wear this.”

“What is it?” He opened his hand to reveal a silver band with symbols engraved on the inside.

“Something Zel and Yuki whipped up. If things get messy, that will help us know right where you are.”

“So you can save my butt?” he asked.

“More like avoid it. If a fight is about to start, we don’t want to accidentally trample you in the process.” Dana stood up and shoved earbuds into her ears. “Or drop a thousand pounds of ice on your head.

“You’ve gotten stronger,” he said, noticing that something was very different about the zombie. It was how she moved that tipped him off. When he had first fought with her, it had been raw strength and stamina. Now, her movements were smooth and fluid, those of a practiced killer.

“Perhaps.” She contemplated him for a moment. “You’re a good man, Cyrus.”

“Excuse me?” He blinked up at her.

“There was a time when you could have taken the easy way out. You could have told those people everything you knew in exchange for getting as far away from here as possible. But you didn’t. Honestly, you deserve better.” Dana pulled out her phone and touched the screen. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go for a little jog. Not all of us can sit on our asses using drones.”

“You could be in here with me piloting them!” shouted Eulalie in the earpiece, causing Cyrus to wince. “Shit, I’m sorry, only she was supposed to hear that.”

Dana grinned, then jogged away. Cyrus watched her go, then smiled to himself as he rose from the bench. His joints actually creaked on the way up. That’s what he got for pulling an all-nighter and then sleeping on a bench.

There would be plenty of time to rest once all this bullshit was over. He limped toward the entrance of the park and was grateful when the pain in his hip subsided by the time he made it to the sidewalk.

The SoS were planning something that would require more people. Shoving more mercenaries into the house wasn’t going to be enough to change anything. What else could they even do?

He thought back to Dana’s comment about being a good man. Hearing those words spooked him more than a little, because they reminded him of something that the Oracle had said when last they spoke. He had told the Oracle that he believed Mike Radley to be a good man, and was certainly better than either of them had deserved.

Thinking back to that meeting, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was a clue in the Oracle’s twisted words that would lead him to a potential answer to his current situation, but soon gave up. He hadn’t thought much about their conversation since then, and it wasn’t like he could ask. The Oracle had been moved last year after somebody broke into a top secret facility and nearly abducted the thing.

No, not “thing”. Person was probably the wrong word for what the Oracle was, but it was the best word that Cyrus had. If there had been one regret about his time with the Order, it was how he had deliberately distanced himself from the mythical beings he had sworn to protect. In truth, the Order was all about maintaining the balance between the world of magic and humans, but that line had become so blurry recently that he could no longer see it. When he had left the Order, there had been good people there who still maintained that balance.

But he knew better now. Somehow, that balance had been tipped, and Cyrus wasn’t even certain it was in anybody’s favor except the Order itself. The organization he had devoted his entire life to had become the very thing he would despise the most. Those men on the front lawn of Mike’s house were a testament to how far the Order had fallen, and he now faced a powerful machine that he doubted he could actually stop.

Standing on the edge of Mike’s property, he paused to stare up at the stone lions. They were supposedly powerful protectors, but it was a fact he could only take on faith. If the SoS had gone in with wands instead of guns, perhaps they would have been properly cowed. Looking at the small group of men and women that were essentially camped on Mike’s driveway, he wondered what options were even left to him.

“Hey. Are you okay?” Eulalie’s voice was quiet.

Cyrus shook his head and walked toward the tent. An inkling of an idea had formed in the back of his head, but it would be difficult to pull off. It would require a tremendous amount of stealth and would absolutely put his safety at risk.

But if it worked? The hired killers would be off Mike’s lawn soon enough.

When he got to the tent, he noticed a few new faces among the SoS, but not enough to account for the newly hired forces Eulalie had reported. Near the front of the structure, Laurel stood by the entrance with dark shadows under her eyes. Her hair had come loose, and she looked like a woman on the edge.

“Are you okay, Sister Laurel?” Cyrus moved next to her slowly, wary of the wand tightly clenched in her hands.

“It’s that stupid fucking doll,” she muttered breathlessly. “We were using comms to keep in touch with the teams, but she hijacked them. It started with stupid shit like nursery rhymes, but then things got personal.”

“How so?” Cyrus had to fight to keep a grin from forming.

When Laurel’s eyes met his, he was slightly frightened to see a hint of madness in them. Clearly Jenny wasn’t just hitting a nerve, but had somehow dug deep into Laurel’s psyche and carved away a necessary piece.

“It’s like she’s inside my head,” Laurel whispered, her eyes darting from side to side. “She keeps talking about things that only I could know, tormenting me with my own mistakes.”

Cyrus looked at a few Order members milling about. They looked tired, but nowhere near as manic as Laurel did. While the doll was no mind reader, she was capable of picking up other people’s emotions. If anything, she was playing Laurel like a fiddle. “Is she doing that to everyone?”

Laurel nodded, her pupils unnaturally wide. “They all heard her. She’s been talking to everyone with comms—SoS, Order, it doesn’t matter. But they all act like it’s no big deal, like the things she is saying don’t bother them. She keeps telling me that it’s because I’m weak, that I’m not strong enough, but she doesn’t know me, Cyrus. She can’t understand!” Her voice was rising in volume, and a couple of Order people threw her troubled looks before wandering away.

“Maybe it’s time you stepped back for a bit,” said Cyrus, but Laurel grabbed his collar with one hand, her wand perilously close to his face in the other.

“Don’t you see? That’s what she wants!” Laurel licked her lips, her eyes shifting to the house. “She knows that I have her figured out. Ooh, she knows, and that’s why she’s trying to get rid of me.”

“I assume you stopped using the comms.” Cyrus was stuck between offering genuine advice or simply letting Laurel lie in the bed she made. “That way, she won’t bother you anymore.”

As if on cue, a high-pitched giggle broke the silence on the front lawn. Almost immediately, weapons were drawn and everybody backed toward the entrance of the tent. Laurel was breathing hard, her wand pointed up at the house.

“Sometimes I hear her without the comms,” she whispered. “I think she’s out here with us.”

“Where is Mads?” he asked.

“I. Don’t. Know.” Laurel was grinding her teeth now, her eyes darting back and forth. Cyrus put his hand on her shoulder slowly to avoid startling her. “One moment, he was there. The next? Gone!”

“C’mon,” he said, pushing her toward the tent. “It’s warded, which means you can get a break from the doll.”

“She’s not a doll, she’s a demon.” Laurel shuddered. “I’m supposed to be in charge of the perimeter.”

“I’ll take full responsibility. Blame it on me.” He pushed a little harder. “You can tell the Director that I tried to pull rank. It’s okay.”

“Pulled ... rank?” Hope and understanding appeared in her eyes. “Yes. You’re pulling rank. The Director isn’t here. He’ll understand.”

Nodding grimly, Cyrus guided the woman into the tent. Once they were safely inside the warded structure, Laurel visibly deflated as she found somewhere to sit. She held tight to her wand as if it was a talisman, then slumped forward and closed her eyes.

“Jenny has that effect on people,” said Eulalie through the ear piece.

“Is the doll really a demon?” he asked, scratching his chin and pretending to talk to himself.

“No.” Eulalie chuckled. “She’s just had a lot of practice.”

“I wonder if we have anything in the kit from the Catholic church.” He wandered over to where the Order kept some of its supplies, muttering to himself to keep up the ruse. In fact, his idea from earlier was already evolving, and he made sure to wander past some members of the SoS on his way. “I don’t think holy water would work, but what if we had some sacred iron?”

For a moment, he thought the men were ignoring him, but one finally spoke up. “Sacred iron? What’s that?”

Cyrus looked up as if he hadn’t noticed the men there. “Hmm? Oh, sorry, just muttering to myself.”

“You said something about sacred iron,” said another man, his features hidden from view by a full-face mask. “And that demon.”

“Oh, you mean the doll?” He looked around to see if anyone else was listening. “We’re not sure what she is. I mean, we haven’t positively identified the type of entity yet, so it’s just a theory.”

“It’s a damned good theory.” The man leaned forward, using the butt of his rifle to support his weight. “That bitch didn’t just hurt one of our own, she disrespected us. If you think you have something that will hurt her, you tell us right now.”

“Uh...” Cyrus pretended to engage in an inner debate, then looked around again. Nobody in a leadership role was nearby, so he took a seat next to the armed men and nodded toward them conspiratorially. “I’m not really supposed to talk about this, but these are desperate times. I’m sure you’re all aware of the effect of iron on a lot of paranormal entities, yes?”

The men nodded. This was common knowledge. The science guys at the Order believed it had something to do with iron’s receptivity to magnetism, but Cyrus often felt like magic didn’t require an explanation.

“Well, you guys know that the Order is always coming up with new ways to protect themselves from ... monsters.” For some reason, it was harder to say that word than ever before. He gestured toward the house for emphasis. “Demons, in particular, are extremely dangerous. Part of the reason for this is their rarity. Whenever we come up with something new, we might not have a chance to field test it. And if it fails, well...” He slid his thumb across his neck and made a cutting sound. “Innovation in this field is difficult for that reason.”

“That makes sense.” The masked man looked at his compatriots. “We’ve dealt with some demon shit before, but they usually run at the first sight of a priest or whatever.”

Cyrus nodded. “If that thing in there is a demon, I don’t think it would care if we brought a priest in.”

Eulalie chuckled in his ear. “You have no idea how right you are,” she muttered.

“Sometimes we run across demons who don’t give a shit about divine intervention. So that means weaponry. Demons are notorious for making you fight them up close. That way, they can get inside your head, just like this one is doing. Some are powerful enough to read your thoughts, even.” He looked over at Laurel, who was now biting her nails. Her performance was perfect right now for his needs. “So they decided to work on something more tactical. Something more ... parabolic.” Now he looked at the barrel of the gun in front of him.

“Demon bullets?” The man snorted.

Cyrus waved his hand dismissively. “The bullet is just the delivery mechanism. Look, maybe it was stupid to even bring this up.”

“Keep talking.”

Cyrus lowered his voice. “I was part of this project. If you guys wanted me to, I could alter some of your ammunition. That way, if you get a clean shot...” He made a popping sound. “You’ll send her straight back to hell.”

The men all looked at each other, communicating solely through their eyes. The man in the mask eventually nodded, then looked back at the old mage. “And you said it will work?”

“Never field tested,” Cyrus replied with a shrug. “Which is why I hesitated to bring it up. But it definitely worked on demons we summoned. So unless all of them knew to collapse in on themselves in a ball of hellfire...”

“How many rounds?” asked the man. He pulled a spare magazine from his pocket and handed it over.

“Um...” This would be the tricky part. Sacred iron wasn’t even a real thing. What he really needed was a bullet he could hide an enchantment inside of, but one that the SoS wouldn’t default to automatically. That meant sidearms, or backup weapons. “9 mm rounds would be best, but they have to be hollow points. I need room for the reagent is all. It shouldn’t affect your aim. Maybe ... twenty rounds by this afternoon?”

Already, the men were pulling spare magazines from their vests and checking them before handing them over. Cyrus got three magazines in total, tucking the ammo away in his coat.

“It’ll only take one shot,” he whispered, making eye contact with each of the men. “When I give these back, definitely spread them out. Also, it might be best to keep this info from the higher-ups. We already know the demon is getting inside their heads, and it’s definitely targeting the people in charge. If it knows what you all are up to...” He left the thought hanging.

The men nodded, and the masked man clapped a hand on Cyrus’ shoulder.

“You do your job, and we’ll do ours.” He fist bumped Cyrus, and then shooed him away in dismissal. Cyrus wandered toward the Order supplies and started digging through them.

“Seriously, though, you all have demon bullets?” Eulalie’s voice rose an octave in excitement. “That sounds awesome.”

Cyrus cleared his throat and crouched over a crate to hide his face. “No,” he whispered.

“Oh.” The Rat Queen sighed. “So since demon bullets aren’t real, I assume that means you’re up to something?”

“Uh huh.” Digging through the box, he found the reagents he needed and then stood. He was going to leave the tent and get started on his secret project, but he saw Dirk messing with the projectors. Darius, who had yet to leave the tent, was staring at the empty screen with his hands behind his back. A couple of squad leaders were gathering around as the projector turned on, revealing a picture of the massive tree and Naia’s fountain nearby.

“What’s going on here?” asked Cyrus nonchalantly. “Do we have a lead?”

“That’s on a need to know basis,” said Dirk.

Cyrus held up his hands. “I’m not trying to pry. As you can see, we’re having some leadership problems of our own and I’m currently in command.” He tilted his head toward Laurel. The mage was lying down on her side and had fallen fast asleep.

Dirk looked at Darius, who remained silent for several seconds. The SoS commander looked at Cyrus with eyes that seemed to simmer with rage, but his face was neutral.

“We’re planning a new approach,” he replied, then gestured toward the images. “Since we cannot breach the perimeter of the house, we are forced to find a way to bring its denizens out. Your Director has asked us to secure the package via trading assets.”

“Trading assets?” Cyrus frowned. “What assets?”

“That fountain is home to a magical nymph. If the supply of water becomes blocked, she dies.” Darius gestured to the fountain. “So we’re going to try and blow it up.”

“What?!?” Eulalie yelled so loud that Cyrus flinched.

“Um, wait, so we’re planning to kill the nymph?”

Darius nodded. “If need be. The real plan is to lure out the others and capture them. Then we can barter for what your Director wants. We have supplies coming right now in order to take them into custody, and have even hired a specialist to assist.”

“A specialist?” Who on earth could specialize in detaining magical beings that wasn’t already part of the Order? In his earpiece, he could hear Eulalie frantically chattering both to herself and somebody else, but was going so fast he couldn’t understand her.

Darius nodded. “We have some other moving parts, but we’ll start once we’re ready. I assume we’ll have your team’s full cooperation?”

“Naturally.” With Laurel falling apart, he would be able to take command of the Order once again, even if only temporarily. He thought about how best to guide his people to not only protect them, but Mike Radley’s family. Thinking about the bullets in his pocket, he wondered if upscaling his current plan was possible.

First, he would have to figure out where all his people were. With Mads noticeably missing, he suspected that Jenny had taken more than a few of them. Maybe he would find some mages willing to put in some extra time on his new project.

“Sir.” An SoS operative rose from his position by the computers and looked at Darius. “The specialist is here.”

Darius raised an eyebrow, the shadow of a smile appearing on his face. He looked at Dirk first, then his gaze settled on Cyrus. “Would you please bring in our guest?” he asked.

Cyrus nodded, then excused himself from the tent. Back outside, a sleek black town car had parked next to the other vehicles. When the doors opened, armed SoS agents emerged from the vehicle, their eyes intensely scanning the roof of the Radley house.

Curious who would require such a retinue, he watched in silence as a woman stepped out. She wore a simple dress and her long, braided hair had been tightly coiled up in a bun. He recognized her face immediately.

“You’re Elizabeth,” he said, locking eyes with the woman. Though she looked to be in her late thirties, he sensed that the woman looking back at him was far older than her outer appearance. “From the Historical Society.”

She smirked in his direction and held up a letter. “I am,” she stated, walking toward Cyrus. “Your people found me this morning, quite by accident, and I had a little chat with your Director. We came to a deal.”

“You were part of a secret cabal.”

“I was, and now it’s gone. Was pretty much being forced to work for them, you know how it is.” She smiled weakly and handed over the letter. “Per your Director, my eventual release hinges on my cooperation with your operation here. You’ll find me quite knowledgeable about what the denizens of this home are capable of.”

Uncertain how to respond, Cyrus opened the printout. He scowled at the letter giving Elizabeth full rights and access to his team, including a leadership role. It bothered him how easily he would have rolled with this if he didn’t already know the whole operation was crooked. The Order was severely lacking in critical thinkers, and he knew now it was by design.

“Let’s go meet the man in charge,” he said and gestured toward the tent. Elizabeth clasped her hands together in front of her body and moved past him. Cyrus shivered as her shadow passed over him, sucking the heat from his body.

Turning, he followed her into the tent where she immediately walked toward Darius unprompted. The two gave each other a look of recognition, then turned their attention to the screen. In his ear, Eulalie had stopped chattering and he could only assume they were working on a plan of their own.

Once he was satisfied that nobody was paying attention, he snuck away. If he was going to make a difference, he needed to get to work right now.

Mike felt his magic stirring, eager to act, but uncertain how. The woman tilted her head, her dark eyes studying Leilani first, then settling on Opal. He looked over the stranger’s shoulder, noting that she had actually emerged from inside his property line. There would be no safety for them if they managed to cross the line, so whatever came next depended on what the goddess wanted.

“I’m afraid you have me at a loss,” he confessed, ignoring the spirits that had now packed in so tightly that he could no longer see through their ethereal forms. “I wasn’t expecting to find somebody here.”

“And you shouldn’t have. My involvement in these matters was meant to be a secret, for reasons you will understand very soon.” She walked toward Mike, divinity radiating from her like light from a star. “For you see, I am the final line of defense in this place, Caretaker.”

“You’re the guardian?” he asked.

She snorted. “Hardly. Consider me a very invested third party. The guardian of this place would recognize your authority immediately, perhaps even welcome you. I, on the other hand, am here to ensure that you are worthy of this place.”

“By what mechanism?” asked Leilani, her voice quieter than usual.

“This man is an outsider, daughter of the waters.” The goddess stepped past Mike to confront the mermaid. “He knows not of the old traditions, nor can we expect him to understand. This place was never meant for his kind, and yet they have taken it. Our ancestral lands now belong to men and women of means, some who rarely walk our shores. These islands were not created for those who worship greed and power. I have been here since the beginning, and shall judge him in whatever manner seems fit.”

“I am princess Leilani, of the—”

The goddess held up her hand, and Leilani froze. “I’m not interested in your opinions. You have not known him long, and I can smell him on your flesh. When you get to be my age, you learn that the whims of youth are no excuse for the wisdom of experience.” She then turned to Opal. “As for you, I have no idea what manner of creature you are. You are made from the stuff of gods, yet your spirit is new like a child’s.”

Opal nodded introspectively, then signed to Mike.

“This is Opal,” said Mike, translating out loud. “She wants you to know that she means no disrespect, but she is unable to reply verbally.”

“You have interesting companions.” The goddess turned back to Mike. “And is that a fairy I sense?”

Daisy came out of hiding and gave a shy wave.

“Daisy is the same,” Mike added. “By the way, my name is Mike Radley. By what name may I address you?”

The goddess arched her eyebrows. “What an interesting way to ask that question.”

“I got into a fight once with the Queen of the Fae,” he explained. “I learned from her that names are important, especially to the gods.”

“And would you presume to know who I am?” she asked.

“I would not,” he admitted. “Before we came here, I studied some of the lore, but it’s been watered down. I’ve also learned a bit about how divinity works, and that who you used to be may be vastly different from who you are now.”

“Good.” She stepped forward, her face now inches from his own. Though the air was cool and wet, he could feel the intense heat emanating from her flesh. “How about now?”

He wasn’t about to be baited into such a trap. “I have some ideas,” he admitted. “But I would prefer to hear what you would like to be called.”

“Interesting. Very interesting.” Her eyes searched his, but he could feel her gaze across his very soul. “Arrogance is a natural byproduct of the quest for power. You radiate with strength, yet it would appear you are not one who seeks it.”

“That’s not entirely true,” he admitted. “I’ve worked hard to become stronger.”

“Working to become stronger is a far different path than simply taking that strength for yourself.” The woman took a step back and crossed her arms. “If I should let you pass, what comes next? Why have you come here?”

“I was brought here by the Order,” Mike replied. “They said a dangerous creature came down from this place and boiled the bay, killing several of Leilani’s people. They wanted my help in hunting it down.”

“And you believed them?” she asked.

“I wanted to seek the truth for myself. A creature capable of doing such a thing is dangerous, but it’s more important to understand why it happened.”

“And if there was a good reason? What then? Will you just walk away?”

“No.” Mike shook his head. “I need to learn what that reason was and find a way to fix it. This place has become a refuge for the merfolk, and I don’t want them to be chased away by a problem I could have fixed.”

“I see.” The ground rumbled, but the goddess didn’t seem to notice. “And what if I told you that I was the one who boiled the bay?”

Leilani flinched, but Mike kept his gaze on the goddess. “Then I would ask you why,” he said.

“What if you don’t like my answer?” The irises of the goddess blazed with fire.

“I doubt I would like your answer, regardless of your motivations. A lot of people died, and that’s never good. Still, I will ask what I can do to help.”

“Hmm.” The fire in her eyes vanished and she took a step back. “The Queen of the Fae taught you well.”