Hi, all!

I don't have a clever segue into today's chapter. Can't win them all.

A Caretaker and Conqueror Be

Death held open the door as Mike limped into the house with Beth's aid. He thanked her as she helped him into the loveseat, all of them silent to avoid waking the children who had pushed the coffee table out of the way and were snuggled up on the floor of the living room, fast asleep. Grace was curled into a ball in Callisto's arms, the centaur's cheeks stained from his tears. Zel looked up from her silent vigil, a question hanging in the air between them.

"This way," Beth whispered, gesturing toward the office. "Give him a minute while we talk."

"The others are around," Zel said as she walked past Mike, her hooves clicking on the floor. She touched his face and he leaned into it, letting out a soft sigh. "They figured you might need a moment alone once you got back. The last few days have been...difficult."

Mike nodded, then sat quietly with his children watching them sleep. He sent a mental message to Charlotte, letting the others know that he planned on having things ready in the morning, his time, when she could bring over everyone from Avalon. His initial plan was to take them to the island where Leilani and her people could give them a once over and help document everyone. Ordinarily, he would ask Zel if she and the Moon Tribe could do it, but now wasn't the time to ask for something like that. Once they knew how many people there were, they could figure out the best way to distribute and care for them long-term. He certainly wasn't about to cram a hundred strangers into his home all at once.

The vampyr's pleasure radiated back through their connection, then went calm again as she went back to caring for her people.

Death moved to the other side of the room and started prepping a cup of tea. The Grim Reaper looked up at Mike and pointed to an extra cup.

"Please," Mike said. Between the injuries he had sustained and what had happened with the Queen, a new level of exhaustion had overtaken him. He waited while Death made him a drink, and tried not to look at the office when he heard a quiet sob from Zel. Beth had likely shared the news about the missing centaurs. Today's victory would forever ring hollow due to those who had been lost.

Death came over and sat on the arm of the loveseat, then handed Mike one of the cups. The sweet scent of chamomile filled his sinuses as he held the cup in his hands.

"I was scared for them," Death said, his gaze on the children. "It was a special kind of helplessness, really. I was forced to confront the possibility that something bad might happen and I would be helpless to prevent it, or even to take revenge." The Grim Reaper shook his head as Mike patted him on the knee. "Are you familiar with this feeling?"

"Yeah. I was scared for everyone." Mike leaned back in his seat and looked at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and let the smell of his tea wash over him, feeling the warmth in his fingers. It was good to be home.

"Is this what love feels like?" asked Death.

Mike sat forward and looked at his friend. "I need you to be more specific."

"I've heard mortals say that they would die for someone they loved." The Grim Reaper contemplated the children on the floor, his eyes now burning a dim white. "Though I myself cannot die, I wondered more than once what price I could pay to release Gracelynn Radley from her accusations." Death flattened a bony palm against his sternum. "I have never had a heart, and yet I felt a pain in here at the thought of such tragedy. Is love supposed to hurt?"

"It can and often does. Love can take many shapes, even if you don't understand it. But you shouldn't be surprised, Death. Every day that you're here, you are surrounded by it in all its different forms. It's not just our love for others that you see. It's for you as well. You are my friend, and I love you." Mike smiled at the Reaper. "My children love and adore you. Some of the others probably feel similarly, but that is for them to say, not me. If you think you feel the same, then you should tell them as well."

"You love me?" Death scratched at his chin. "Is it okay for friends to love each other?"

"It is," Mike replied. "Loving someone is being afraid that you will never see them again, or being hurt when they're hurting. You can love anyone you want to as long as you're respectful about it."

"I see." Death moved to kneel by the children. He gently brushed a lock of hair away from Callisto's eyes, then patted Grace on the head. "Then I love your children, Mike Radley. I love you as well, and Tinker, and Kisa, and--"

Mike chuckled. "Stick to just the people in this room," he said. "Save the rest for when you have a moment with them. Never forget to tell people you love them while they're here. You should know better than anyone that life can be fleeting, and it's better to share our feelings so there are no regrets."

The Grim Reaper nodded, then stood and sipped his tea. He watched the children sleep as Mike slowly drank half of his tea, and then stood to go to the office. Now that he'd had a moment, there was someone else who needed him.

Beth was busy hugging Zel, who quickly moved to Mike upon his arrival. He held her close and rubbed the small of her back, but didn't dare suggest that everything would be okay. It simply wouldn't. When he looked at Beth, the woman nodded sadly. She had told her everything.

He let Zel grieve for a few minutes, then squeezed her tight. "What do you need from me?" he asked. "What can I do?"

"Nothing," she whispered. "This is just so hard."

"It'll always be hard," he said. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to stop it."

Zel shook her head and stepped back from him. "You can't be everywhere, Mike," she said. "And you can't carry the weight of every disaster that befalls us. You have too many people counting on you, it would simply be too much."

"I have plenty of people to help me," he said, looking pointedly at Beth. "Amazing people, really. Together we will all help your tribe rebuild. I already have some ideas on how we can start."

Zel laughed, which came out as a snort due to all the tears. "I'm sure you do," she said, then pulled a handkerchief from her vest to dab at her eyes. Mike gently took the cloth from her and performed the deed himself, then stood on his tiptoes and tilted her head down to lay a kiss on each eyelid.

"We can't ever make it better," he said. "But we will make it right."

"I know." The two of them held hands for a moment, then Zel let out a sigh.

"It's getting late," she said. "I need sleep. I haven't slept for days." Zel looked at him with such sadness in her eyes that he felt like it would break him. "Can Callisto stay here with you?"

"Of course," he said, unsure why this made her so sad. "And I'll be here first thing in the morning when he wakes up."

"Good," she replied, clearly hesitant to leave. Zel stepped forward and kissed him hard, touching his cheek before thanking Beth and stepping out. Mike watched her go with concern, then turned his attention to Beth.

"Counselor," he said.

"Caretaker." She stuck a hand in her pocket and pulled out the silver coin to flip it in the air. The light of the room sparkled off of the silver coin as it spun, then was caught in her palm, tail side up. "You don't pay me enough."

"I don't." Mike smiled and held out his hand. "You're overdue for a raise."

Beth gave him a knowing look, her eyes glancing briefly at his crotch. "I certainly hope so," she said. "And I'd collect my bonus package now, but I believe you have somebody to share some good news with." She waved her hand toward the bookshelf where a familiar red book lay on its side, a golden triangle on its spine. "It looks like the Library is officially off of lockdown. You should go see her."

Mike nodded and moved toward the bookshelf, ready to shift the book toward the edge where a similar triangle waited.

"Do you think being the King of the Fae will come with any perks?" Beth asked.

Mike paused, his hand hovering over the book. "Honestly? If it means things will calm the fuck down, then I hope so."

He heard her laugh disappear as he pushed the book into place, and he was instantly transported to the Library. He turned around and walked toward the information desk, smiling at the sight of Tink and Kisa arguing with each other. The two of them were busy playing a videogame on an old CRT TV, both of them huddled over their controllers and mashing buttons like crazy. Neither of them saw him walk up, but Kisa's ears folded back in his direction, her focus solely on the television screen.

Mike examined the mound of trash and food wrappers that were stacked all along the counter. It seemed like the rats had given up cleaning after the goblin, and he couldn't blame them. Stacks of books nearby had been used to build structures, and he counted no less than six empty cheese wheel wrappers. For some reason, a top hat sat on the corner of the desk all by itself.

"Are you eating for two or are you just a pig?" he asked.

Tink spun in place and leapt in his direction, failing to make the jump by at least three feet. She huffed and puffed, both hands on her stomach as he knelt down and swept her up in his arms.

"Husband home!" she cried. "Now can take care of Tink!"

"Yeah. We're gonna take care of Tink," he said, then pulled back and put a hand on her stomach. "And the booger."

Her eyes went wide at the implications of his words. "Really?" she asked, her voice barely a squeak.

"Really." He kissed her, then stood and smiled at Kisa. "But seriously, guys, this place is a mess."

Kisa let out a sigh. "Yeah. I was waiting for her to go to sleep so I could help clean the place up. We learned that if she sits in her own mess, she won't make more of a mess. It's like there's a limit to the chaos she surrounds herself with."

"Not chaos limit," Tink said. "Waddle limit." To emphasize her point, she picked up a wrapper and threw it. The trash landed well within the limits of the pile around the desk. "No walk, unless have to pee."

"I'm surprised you didn't just pee in a trash can," Mike noted.

Kisa scowled. "She did. That's why we don't have one anymore."

Tink cackled quietly to herself and Mike laughed. His brilliant, smart, disgusting goblin of a wife was going to make it, and so would their child. He hugged both Tink and Kisa tight against his chest, lifting them into the air. Tink bit his shoulder and let out a growl of happiness.

After he set them down, he looked at the top hat. "So what's this about?" he asked, then picked it up to try it on.

"Nooooo!" Kisa cried as the air filled with an absolutely mind-wrecking stench. Mike coughed and gagged, waving the hat to disperse the smell, all while Tink cackled madly. The goblin made a sudden face and grabbed at her crotch, then speed waddled toward the nearest bathroom.

It was good to be home.

When Sofia stepped onto the marble tile of the Library's lobby through a portal in Avalon, she took a moment to allow her gaze to wander up those impossible columns, towering hundreds of feet into the air to support an awe-inspiring roof. Floating platforms covered in rats and books zipped through the air, the Library itself more like a beehive of literature than the solemn, silent tomb it had once been.

For the first time in hundreds of years, it didn't feel like home. She smiled sadly at the idea that she had already said goodbye to this place in her heart, yet she would be forced to remain until a suitable replacement could be found. It was a marriage where the love had faded, but a sense of duty remained.

A pretty young woman with dark skin sat at the main lobby desk. She was busy having a rat huddle and discussing some sort of organizational strategy involving book distribution. Curious, Sofia moved closer.

"We can actually plan for changes in book distribution based on current fads," she said. "For example, there's an entire sub-genre of hockey player romance novels that is blowing up the market right now. This is niche enough that we can predict a massive shift in placement on the sports romance column, so we should have eyes in the stacks identifying...identifying..." Her eyes had slid past the rats to stare at Sofia. "Oh. Hi."

"Hello." Sofia put a hand on her hip. "Don't let me interrupt."

"I...think they get the gist." The woman shooed away the rats and stuck her hand out. "You must be Sofia. I'm Aurora."

"Hello, Aurora. Why are you here?"

"Long story," she replied. "If you're looking for Eulalie, she's...out."

"Out?" Sofia's eyebrow raised. "She's just...out?"

"Yeah." Aurora knelt down and picked something up from behind the counter. "Helping someone, it's a whole mess. Anyway, here." The woman set the Head Librarian's staff on the counter. "This is yours."

"It is." Sofia twisted a finger and the staff slid off the counter and hopped toward her until it rested comfortably in her hand. "Where is Tink? I half expected to see her here tearing up the place."

"Mike came for her last night. Said something about a cure for something, but I didn't ask, because I'm not family. She and Kisa drug him off shortly after, and that was hours ago. This is the quietest it's been since I've come here and I don't dare disturb it by looking for any of them. I don't ask questions, I enjoy working here."

"You do?" Sofia almost laughed. "I was unaware we were hiring."

Aurora gave the cyclops a stern look. "I saw the shape this place was in," she said. "You should have been looking for people a long time ago. The rats have to work far too hard for things that are easy for a person."

A rat walking by the desk and wearing a child's bib as a cape lifted its nose in disdain and huffed at her.

"Gee, I'm sorry that I offended you," Aurora said sarcastically. "By the way, how fast can you put books away on the top shelf again?"

The rat chittered and made an extremely rude hand sign at Aurora. The woman picked up a paperweight and threw it at the rat, who took off.

"That's...uh...don't do that," said Sofia.

"Oh, it's fine. That's a game we play." The moment she said this, Aurora tilted her head to one side as a marble shot past where her face had been. She snapped her fingers and the paperweight shot back into the palm of her hand. A sigil had been carved into the bottom of it, which glowed briefly before she set it down.

"A...game." Sofia chuckled and leaned on the desk. "Well, since we're hiring, I have a few people I'd like you to meet." She turned away from Aurora to reveal the small train of humans who had walked in behind her, their eyes wide as they stared up at the Library. Where Sofia had experienced dull familiarity, this group was having their minds blown.

"Did you steal them from a renaissance festival?" asked Aurora.

"You are a snarky one," Sofia muttered. "Avalon, actually. Generations of family kept as vampyr food. These ones sounded interested in what I do, so I brought them here with me instead of taking them to the volcano."

"Volcano?"

Sofia waved dismissively. "Another long story, maybe I'll tell you after it's done. Anyways, while I was trapped in the world's shittiest buffet, I had the same thoughts you did about hiring people. So let's get started." She cleared her throat to get the others' attention.

The villagers ran up to the desk. The two men bowed awkwardly, while the woman tried to curtsy and tripped a little.

"Aurora, I'd like you to meet Paige, Reed, and Booker."

Aurora narrowed her eyes. "You're pulling my leg."

Sofia dropped her voice. "I honestly wish I was," she whispered, then raised her voice for the others. "Anyway, these three are interested in working here. I would love it if you could arrange living spaces and assign them some simple tasks with the idea that they will take on more responsibility eventually."

"So...you don't mind that I've sort of taken over?" Aurora smirked so hard that Sofia debated throwing the paperweight at her.

"Hardly." Sofia smiled instead, thinking about the benefits of honey versus vinegar. "It's about time I started delegating tasks. I intend to step back from my primary duties with the hopes of a successor stepping up to take my place. Maybe that person could be you, someday."

"Hell, no." Aurora shook her head. "I like being in charge, but not responsible. I'm middle-management material."

Sofia frowned. "You don't want to run the magical Library of Thoth?"

"Nope. But I am happy to onboard new employees." Aurora smiled at the villagers who had come with the cyclops. "If you'll come with me, I'll get you settled into your quarters."

Paige, Reed, and Booker muttered quietly to each other as Aurora stepped around the counter. Sofia held her staff out to briefly block Aurora.

"Assume they know nothing beyond what an 18th century peasant would," she explained.

"Understood," said Aurora with a wink. "I'll teach them about hot showers, first. They'll love it."

Sofia watched the humans leave and chuckled quietly to herself. She moved behind the desk and sat in the same chair Aurora had, then looked back at the portal to Avalon.

The rats running the portal network were already chewing in reverse, the stones sealing up as Avalon became dimly visible behind a shrinking hole. Sofia couldn't help but smile as Avalon shrank down to a pinprick and then popped like a bubble.

She pulled a pad of paper out of the desk and set it down. Seeing a rat nearby, she waved it over.

"Can you see that my room is clean?" she asked. "Also, if there are any wine bottles stashed away, please remove those as well."

The rat gave her a small salute and left. Sofia looked at the paper and picked up a magical quill. Along the top of the paper, she wrote Goals and then made a small bullet every few lines. She spent a couple of minutes really thinking about what she wanted, then smiled to herself as she wrote her thoughts down.

Find and train a replacement

Give more tasks to employees, human or otherwise

Spend a full day once a week outside the Library

Get to know Grace and Callisto better

She stared at the last bullet point she had made, unsure what should go there to round things out. After another minute of inner debate, she grinned to herself and finished her list.

Settle all debts

That last one was going to have to wait. With Mike so busy with Tink and something about the Fae Court that she heard through Charlotte, the cyclops knew things would be hectic for a bit. Sighing, she leaned back in her seat and stared at the ceiling high above and wondered. A trio of rats brought her some lunch about ten minutes later, which is also when Aurora returned.

"It took some convincing, but they're all getting clean," she said with a grin. "I've got the rats out looking for some clothes that will fit them."

"Excellent." The cyclops studied the plate of food that the Library had sent her way. It wasn't lost on her that most of the meal was composed of sausage. With Mike being absent today and this evening while he took care of everything else, she was going to have to get creative. "What are you up to right now?"

"Now? Onboarding. Once those three are done in the shower, they're gonna need to be walked through...well, everything." Aurora sat on the desk and stole some food from Sofia's plate.

"If you've got time to sit, you've got time to work." Sofia smirked and wrote a few things on a piece of paper and slid it to Aurora. "Would you be a dear and procure these for me?"

Aurora took the paper, her eyes going big as she read the list and promptly started choking. Sofia smacked the girl on the back so hard that she coughed up a sausage and slid off the table sideways.

"Is this...a joke?" Aurora wheezed, her cheeks bright red.

"It is not," Sofia replied with dignity. "It is not a Librarian's place to judge what their patrons need."

"Right, but most libraries don't check out..." Aurora laughed and shook her head. "I'll see what I can do," she said, then folded the paper up. "Beth probably knows where the best ones are. But if you want something by tonight, I need to go and procure these now."

"I think I can handle this for a while longer," Sofia said, patting the desk. Aurora gave a mock salute and headed down the hallway, summoning the rats by making a squeaking sound that almost sounded like she was speaking their language. The rat with the bib showed up last and hucked a marble at Aurora, who ducked it.

Sofia picked up her staff, the token of her station, and studied it. The wood was smooth to the touch, and the crystal at the top had gone foggy, the magic aware that it was about to be summoned.

"I need books on...doing butt things," she said. A little light reading would go perfectly with her plans for the evening. "For beginners."

A platform immediately landed, summoned by her staff. She hopped on and watched the lobby shrink as she was carried into the air. Not all adventures had to be big to be meaningful. Pulling out the piece of paper in her pocket, she pulled a pencil off of the book rack next to her and added one more thing at the bottom.

Live a little

Smiling, Sofia put the paper back in her pocket and tapped her staff on the platform, ordering it to go faster. She had new employees to teach, and didn't want them wandering off. The Library could be a dangerous place, after all.

But for the first time in a long while, it felt just a little like home.

Callisto stood by his mom's side, wanting desperately to clutch her hand, but trying to remain stoic in front of the tribe. It was late afternoon the day after his father's return, and he had reluctantly returned to the greenhouse to be here for this moment. Not a single member looked his way as the group waited near the center of the village for the return of their members.

Six. That was the number his mother had been told to expect. Six lives out of the 43 that had been stolen away by the Fae.

People shifted nervously as they waited. The Caretaker himself had been chosen for this task, as they trusted him. He wasn't just bringing back the missing centaurs, but also the memories of them that had been taken as well.

Seeing Adhara across from him, Callisto raised his hand and waved. She caught his movement, then pointedly looked away. Not a single member of his tribe was on speaking terms with him, and he wondered if they ever would be again.

A cry of alarm went up from the tribe as a golden archway appeared in the middle of the village. Centaurs nervously shifted as one of their own stepped through, an older woman with a vacant expression on her face. She was followed next by a young man who immediately ran to a pair of centaurs near the edge of the clearing.

"Mom! Dad! I'm home!"

Both of the older centaurs recoiled in fear. Puzzled, the centaur grabbed at them, clearly desperate for a sign of recognition. The next to come through was a girl younger than Callisto, who picked at her braids as she stared at the others. She was followed by a pair of adults holding hands who immediately waved at family members that didn't recognize them either.

Mike was next, his arm around the back of a very old centaur male as he guided him forward. The elder hobbled slowly, his body bent with age. The golden archway vanished back into the ground as if it were made of water, then vanished.

The centaurs muttered quietly as the Caretaker looked at all of them, then took a step away from the old man and held aloft a soap bubble made of light.

Upon crushing it with his hand, everybody gasped. Memories came flooding back to the Moon Tribe, which immediately triggered a wail of mourning from those who realized their loved ones weren't among the returned. The young man was busy being hugged by parents who now recognized him, while the woman stared off into space as if dazed, despite others calling to her. The adults holding hands were welcomed home by their respective families, and tears of joy were shed in this instance.

Callisto winced, names and memories flooding through him. It was a sensation akin to remembering a word that had been on the tip of your tongue all day, only he felt it throughout his entire body.

The little girl looked lost when nobody came forward to claim her. She just picked at her braid nervously until Mike knelt by her side and said something in her ear. The little girl nodded, then took Mike's hand as he walked over to Zel.

"Her parents aren't here," Mike whispered, keeping his voice low. "She said they used to be on the other side with her."

"Used to?"

Mike nodded. "I think they were servants, and she was born there. The Fae rounded up all the centaurs they had. It doesn't seem like they remembered who they took or not, or maybe didn't care. This one was born in the Fae realm and will need someone to look after her, as her parents have already passed."

Zel spoke through clenched teeth as her people grieved. "There are plenty of broken families here. I'm sure somebody will find a place in their hearts for her. Perhaps the families of her parents?"

Mike nodded, then handed Zel a bottle filled with light. "I certainly hope so. By the way, this technically belongs to the tribe. A single drop is equal to a year." He looked down at Callisto and sighed. "I'm sorry, Cal. I don't think any of your friends made it back."

Zel held the bottle up to look at it, then quickly stored it away in a protective case around her flanks.

Callisto nodded. "You are correct," he said, trying to stay strong. Once upon a time, he had done so because he knew he would be chief someday, and needed to lead by example. Now, he felt like he didn't deserve to grieve. Though the Fae alone were responsible, he had been the catalyst for tragedy, one that the tribe would not soon forget.

Throughout the crowd, Aunt Yuki, Ratu, Beth, and Cecilia could be seen helping centaurs, offering comfort where they could. Mike was speaking now with the family of the woman who stared off into space. Callisto felt rude doing so, but decided to take a look at the woman's soul.

It was a tangled mess, and made him think of a piece of fabric that had sat out in the sun for too long and faded. Whatever had happened in the Fae realm hadn't scarred her physically, but it had somehow diminished who she was.

Studying the crowd, Callisto considered speaking to the young man who had returned. Based on bits he overheard, that centaur had only been in the Fae realm for about six months.

Callisto felt eyes on him, causing the hair on his neck and tail to stand up. In a place where nobody would look at you, it was easy to see that the elderly centaur was studying him from afar. None had come to claim him, and with his memories returned, Callisto didn't remember anyone from the tribe who had been this old. Taking it upon himself to offer aid, he approached the old man.

"Sir, is there a member of your family we can contact for you?" he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "You may be unaware, but time passes differently in the Fae Realm than it does here."

The old man stared at him, but there was no malice in those eyes. Instead, there was a dim recognition. When he spoke, his voice sounded like dry reeds of grass that brushed together.

"I do not poop on my own hooves," he said sadly.

"Wh...what?" It took a moment for the words to sink in.

The old man said nothing as he turned his attention back to a pair of centaurs weeping away from the others. They were clutching a child's blanket between them. Nima sighed and moved toward them, ready to break his parent's hearts anew.

The dam inside of Callisto broke. He became dimly aware of his parents calling for him as he ran out of the village, his eyes full of the grief he had been afraid to shed.

Mike sat out in the gazebo, his eyes on a group of centaurs and a pair of villagers who were currently cleaning out a bunch of dead branches from the edges of the maze. Spring was in the air, and green shoots of grass could be seen sprouting all along the property. For over a week now, Amymone's sleepy muttering could be heard from the base of her tree, and she was likely to properly wake any day now.

One of the villagers laughed, and a centaur gave them a playful swat with a broom. Mike smiled to himself at the interaction. When the villagers had first come here from Avalon, he had known that he would find a safe place for them to live and thrive. What he hadn't quite expected was how quickly Zel had taken nearly all of them in to come and live with the Moon Tribe full-time.

The tribe, still reeling from the loss of their own people, had been extremely sympathetic to the villagers' plight. Not only was there plenty of room for the villagers, but this allowed them to ease into a society with similar technological advancements.

Zel had admitted to him in private that the move wasn't entirely altruistic on her part. With emotions so high over the loss of their own, giving the centaurs somebody else to help had allowed them to process their feelings over a longer length of time, all while helping those who had been driven out of their homes, which was something the centaurs understood very well.

Most of the villagers now lived with the centaurs, while the rest had stayed on the beach at the volcano. Well, except for the three who now worked at the Library. They were always friendly when Mike dropped by, and would often visit their respective families on their mandatory days off.

Of their former home, Avalon itself was officially back with the Fae. Mike had removed anything related to the Conqueror and given it back to them, where it was immediately entrusted to Nyx's sisters again. The strange bottomless hole had vanished once Avalon was removed from the mirror world, a phenomenon which Reggie had explained using some advanced concepts that only Tink had properly understood.

In short, the hole had been truly bottomless, and was the result of Vincentius doing an absolute shit job of placing Avalon in a pocket world.

Charlotte had adapted well, and spent most of her time in the greenhouse, working closely with both the villagers and the tribe. The centaurs had been initially distrustful of an old world vampyr, but Charlotte had easily won them over with kindness and a genuine heart.

That, and she was constantly monitoring the children, human or otherwise. In the wake of what had happened with the Fae, this had endeared them to her faster than anything else, and the children loved challenging her to races that she would somehow win, despite the plain shoes and heavy skirts she wore.

There was a thump from under the table, and Mike leaned back to see what Grace was up to. The Arachne was down there with Pawpaw Cyrus and a coloring book. She was busy licking something off her palm when she noticed he was watching.

"What'cha eating?" he asked.

"Beetle," she replied.

"An actual one or someone shaped like a beetle?" he asked.

Grace shrugged and continued licking the mess on her hand. Mike smirked and reached for a piece of cheese from the plate full of snacks nearby. It was most of the way to his mouth when a tiny green fist snatched it out of his hand, yanking it back into the baby carrier he wore. A growling sound came from within, followed by a purring noise.

"That was very rude," he said, then picked up another one and held it nearby. He knew better than to stick his hand inside the carrier, because that was a good way to get bit.

"Stupid, fucking board!" shrieked Tink from the front porch. The goblin was currently in a crouch, the muscles in her arms bulging as she tried to rip free a piece of wood that had rotted out. Some of the Fae that had come through during his absence had prematurely aged parts of the exterior of the house. Tink had just been waiting for the snow to clear before getting to work.

"Don't hurt yourself," he called.

"Husband...no...worry!" she yelled, the board crackling as she yanked it free. Hundreds of moths erupted from underneath the porch, causing Tink to yell and swing her hammer and the broken board at them.

The moths were yet another weird side effect of so many Fae on his porch all at once. Mike watched as several of them fluttered around and turned to dust in the sun.

"Those are the embodiment of fleeting moments," said Titania from his side. "They are quite harmless."

He turned in his seat and gestured to the platter of food. "If I had known you were coming, I would have prepared something better," he said.

Titania laughed, and his goblin child immediately cooed in response, then promptly bit him through the fabric of his shirt, causing him to wince.

"Can't a Queen drop in on her King?" she asked, then offered her cheek for a quick kiss. "The rules of Hospitality are...different for us."

"What brings you here?" he asked. "I haven't seen you since...well, shortly after." He was referring to when he had gone to the Fae Realm to see her and retrieve the missing centaurs, along with their memories and the liquified essence of life Titania had harvested from the Fae responsible for their theft. Most days, he heard from her psychically, which made this physical appearance a special treat. "Also, before I forget, you should know that Callisto is out back playing with Charlotte." The vampyr had taken a shine to Callisto early on. Mike suspected this was due in part to their shared bond and how much he worried about his son. Callisto spent almost all of his time at the house now as a form of self-exile from the tribe. This was something that bothered both him and Zel, but it wasn't like they could lie to him and say that he had been forgiven. People were fickle, and centaurs even more so.

"I am aware of your son's location, and chose to come at a time when my visit would not frighten him. As for why I am here, I am taking a break from the acting Court," she said with a smirk. "Your stand-in is watching over them currently."

"Is he...am I still doing okay?" he asked. Titania had constructed a copy of him based on the genetic material he had coated her in during their shotgun wedding. Using both her magic and his own, Mike had gifted her a piece of his soul during one of her visits to the Dreamscape. She had also extracted quite a bit of his divinity, which he didn't even notice was missing. The golden light Titania had pulled from him had been spun into a special kind of thread which she had used to stitch his soul into their creation.

They called this copy King Mike.

"He is doing well," Titania said with a smile. "In almost every fashion, he is just like you. Kind when he needs to be, yet always fair."

"In which fashion are we not alike?" Mike asked, curious.

"He may be a copy of my husband, but I prefer the real thing in matters of...state." Titania smiled and ran a finger up his leg. "Now is not the time for such a dalliance, but perhaps...later?"

"Later can mean a lot of things to the Fae," he said.

"Tonight, then." Titania raised an eyebrow.

"Tink watch," the goblin declared, now standing nearby. Tink had pulled her hair back into a ponytail, which revealed a long, gray streak that ran the length of it. Naia had dubbed the hair-style a 'reverse Cecilia', which had pleased Tink to no end.

None of the centaurs had wanted to use the life essence taken from the Fae. The addled woman couldn't consent, and the adult couple had fallen in love and didn't wish to be children again. Nima, despite his parent's pleas, had also declined. He had lived an entire lifetime in the Fae realm and was content to lend the tribe his wisdom, but did not wish to live a second life.

Mike had brought Tink back to the house where they gave her thirty drops of the Fae lifeforce to try and undo the damage that had been done. Surprisingly, they had been forced to give several drops a day for the next few weeks to stave off the rapid aging process until the baby came right before Thanksgiving dinner. The streak in Tink's hair was the only remaining sign of her premature aging, and it was anyone's guess how far back the clock had been rolled on her age.

It was also unclear how much of that essence the baby had absorbed instead of Tink. When the baby had come, Mike had witnessed a beautiful, golden soul come blazing into the room, surrounded by prismatic rainbows that hovered around the child for several long seconds before she promptly bit his chin.

A green fist reached out of the baby carrier and tried to grab Titania's gown. The Queen of the Fae shifted her hand to allow the child to hold onto her finger, which got yanked into the carrier. He saw the Queen flinch, and could only assume she was being bit.

"I suppose I could let you watch," Titania said, smirking at Tink. "Perhaps I could teach you a thing or two."

Tink blew a raspberry. "Tink best wife, four arm titty queen lucky Tink like her."

Titania frowned. "I'm not sure I approve of the moniker four arm titty queen. I do not wish to hear it should I ever take part in Death's tea ceremony."

"How is the tea ceremony going?" Mike asked.

"Last I checked, rather poorly." Titania smirked and took a sip of a hot beverage Mike hadn't even seen her procure. "The trap your attorney laid will be written into Faerie lore for time eternal as a cautionary tale."

When Beth had conceived the notion of punishing the Court with Death's hastily written tea ceremony book, even she couldn't have fully foreseen the scope of the disaster that would befall them. The first pitfall of such a party was that one fae must address all others by every known name. With creatures who had been alive since before time began, this meant that there were a lot of names to be said, and the problem further compounded itself as new names were revealed in this process. This also included any true names that were known, which had caused quite the stir. However, just like Titania had said, the punishment was magically enforced, which meant the Court had very little wiggle room for improvisation.

It had apparently taken the first speaker well over a month to simply name every other member of the Court, at which time he had taken a drink of his tea. The magically hot beverage contained pollen from the mandragora that had been steeping for an entire month as a result. When the first speaker disrupted the ceremony by begging his spouse or anyone to blow him, the ceremony had been forced to start anew, as a mistake had been made.

With the official Fae Court tied up in a process that could easily take hundreds, if not thousands of years in the real world, the acting Fae Court had been born. Made of lesser nobles who had never qualified for a seat on the Court, these new fae were thrilled to be allowed to finally participate in such a thing. These beings were fully aware that their more powerful brethren were locked away in a form of purgatory for an immeasurable period of time as they were forced to adhere to the punishment by Old Magic.

"How long has it been for them?" Mike asked.

Titania grinned over the top of her cup. "Over six hundred years," she said. "And because they are compelled to obey, they are forced to sit quietly and endure, bored out of their minds. Some have gone quite mad in this time, which has caused the ceremony to begin anew."

"And...the Accusator?" Mike felt his own mind darken as he remembered Mara. For a brief moment, he could feel fire in his veins at the very thought that she still lived.

"Still strapped to the floor of the Court, her hands bound in iron as her flesh is constantly burned. As she was a mouthpiece for the Court, she is forced to endure their combined thoughts and hatred as her flesh sizzles, knowing that a single cry of pain will force the ceremony to start anew. With an eternity to complete their task, the Court will eventually see it done. By then, lesser families will have risen to take their place in the Court, and those currently in power shall have lost their own. In their attempt to topple me, they have only managed to topple themselves."

Mike nodded, but kept his opinion on the matter to himself. On more than one occasion, he had considered asking Titania if she would unmake Mara when all was said and done. On each of those occasions, he felt something terrifying rise within him, a darkness that had been a part of him ever since freeing Charlotte and fighting her master.

Magic came with a price. To protect those he loved, he would gladly pay it. But to use it for something as trivial as revenge, well...there was already a lurking darkness that had embraced this new infusion of power. In his darker moments, it whispered to him, promising him great strength in exchange for dark deeds.

He had seen what it had done to his predecessor. He would rather die than become the one to turn on his family and tear them apart.

Grace came out from beneath the table and held out what was left of her beetle stain for Titania to see.

"Snack?" she asked.

"No," Titania replied, then nodded her approval. "But your Hospitality has been noted."

"Pest," Grace replied. When she realized the Queen wasn't about to lick her palms, she ate the rest of the beetle herself and went back under the table to grab Pawpaw Cyrus and her coloring book. She crawled up into the Queen's lap and set her things down to resume coloring.

The Queen sat with her, one hand stroking the Arachne's hair. "May I color with you?" she asked.

"No magic," Grace declared, then picked up a random crayon.

"May I at least choose my color?" Titania asked.

"No." Grace tilted her head backward to look up at Titania. In the corner of her mouth was a purple, waxy stain. "And no eating."

"I would never," Titania replied, then accepted her brown crayon with the dignity and grace befitting an eternal monarch.

The two of them colored together over the next hour. Mike checked in with Charlotte and learned that she and Callisto were perfectly fine playing together out back. While Callisto hadn't taken his father's wedding to the Faerie Queen very well, even he had admitted that faulting her for what the other fae did was no better than what his own people were doing to him.

However, he was also a kid, and entitled to irrational thoughts.

At some point, Tink decided to take a break and breast-feed their baby. Grace watched the process with intense curiosity. Once the baby was done, she let out a loud belch and a fart at the same time, the smell causing everyone present to wince, even Tink.

"Tink take nap now," the goblin declared. "Take booger for nap. Husband come?"

"Not this time," he said. "We have company."

"Tink see company later. Wear something nice, or Tink spank." Tink gave Titania a lewd look, and then took the baby inside.

"She acts far too familiar with me," Titania declared. "By what right does she have to speak to me in this manner?"

"She is the first wife," Mike replied. "And there's some magic to that."

Titania pursed her lips, but nodded. "There is truth in those words," she said. "Perhaps...I have noticed the goblin possesses an injury of the mind. It would be a simple thing to do. Would you like me to fix it?"

"No." He smiled at Tink as she disappeared inside the house. "I wouldn't change a single thing about her. My only request is that she be given a fair deal should she ever ask for such a thing."

"Like not calling me four arm titty Queen?" She raised an eyebrow at him. He laughed, then took one of her hands in his own and squeezed it.

"Her titles are considered a badge of honor around--Grace."

The Arachne looked up at him, half of her crayon now missing. She opened up her mouth and stuck out her tongue, slowly allowing the other half to roll free and land on the table.

Mike felt a presence slide along the edge of his consciousness and he turned his head to look down at the entrance of his property. What had once been a long driveway was now almost half a mile away, the driveway twisting back and forth and lined with stone to prevent anybody from simply driving straight through with a car.

"Excuse me. There is something I must deal with."

"I shall watch the child." Titania's coloring page had somehow transformed into an image of a stained-glass window, and her single crayon produced vibrant colors that threatened to leap off of the page. Grace had paused her own coloring to watch the Queen lay down liquid light. "We are bonding."

"Be good, you two." Mike stood from his chair and left the gazebo, pausing to wave at Sulyvahn who was busy at the exit. The dullahan was busy pouring fertilizer for the roses at the base of the bush.

"Is everything okay, brother?" The dullahan's eyes briefly flitted toward the Queen, then back to Mike.

Mike shrugged. "Just some unwanted guests is all."

"Will ye be needin' my help?"

"Nah. This is one I should deal with myself." Ever since the home had expanded to become a fully-fledged castle on the East Coast, they were constantly giving curiosity seekers the boot. Eulalie had burned down more than a few blogs claiming that Radley Castle was the perfect place to host your wedding and had even gone after a few bloggers who had begun conspiracy theories about its mysterious owner.

Well, it was Eulalie in theory. She had hired some guy from MIT to become her personal assistant. Apparently he was really good at, well, whatever it was she had him do. Something about a real eye for detail while also being a colossal pain in her ass.

Either way, it was usually Suly, sometimes Cecilia, or whoever else was working the grounds who went to deal with trespassers. It was fairly difficult for them to get past the wrought-iron gate at the bottom of the drive, but that didn't mean some people didn't still climb it to look around inside. The geas couldn't keep out the truly curious, especially if they meant no harm to those who dwelled within the house.

However, there had been a few times Mike had come out to discover that the lions had ripped someone, or some thing, into tiny pieces right at the edge of his property. Typically, they fed whatever was left to the jabberwock, who now lurked near the entrance like a dog by its food dish. These incidents were particularly disturbing because Mike honestly had no idea who or what they could have been.

Ever since taking on the mantle of the Conqueror, Mike could feel each of those intrusions, as short-lived as they might be. His connection to his family and those he cared for now seemed to extend to the very land itself, giving him a much broader sense of those who came to visit.

And right now, a demonic entity was snooping around the front gate of his home.

Mike whistled quietly to himself as his magic trailed behind him like a cloak. He didn't always know what was lurking around his home, but demons were different. They had a certain edge to them, like a knife pressed against your skin. Knives could be useful or dangerous, depending on which direction they cut, and it was time to see what this particular blade was pointing at.

This certainly wasn't the first one that had dropped by in recent months, but it was absolutely the first one who waited around to speak with him. The demon standing just outside his home was unassuming, as most of them were. It only took a moment's inspection to realize that this particular creature was inhabiting someone else's body. Mike stopped on the other side of the gate and raised an eyebrow.

A swirling, dark mass lurked where the human's soul should have been. Mike wasn't certain if it had been removed, consumed, or if a tiny shred was still alive inside.

"Can I help you?" Mike asked.

"That depends." The shell smiled. The body had belonged to a woman in her fifties, perhaps. They were wearing a sweater vest over a button down blouse and white leggings. "Are you the owner of this beautiful home?" she asked with a saccharine smile.

"That depends," Mike replied with a smirk. "Are you the original owner of that body?"

The demon's grin twitched. "Now what a silly question for such a handsome young man."

Mike yawned. "I don't know your business," he said. "You might have a very good reason for hollowing this lady out and wearing her like a coat, but can we dispense with the cheap attempt at deception? I'd rather go play stupid games with my own children instead of some miserable remnant from Hell who thinks they're something special."

The smile remained. "You do live up to your own hype, it would seem."

"That's what they say," Mike replied, having zero idea who 'they' were. "Why is a demon from Hell standing on my doorstep this morning?"

"Right to the point I see. I have traveled from afar, Mike Radley. There are numerous forces acting in the world today with many reasons to--hey!"

Mike had already turned to walk away, but paused when the demon called out. He kept his tone light. "You were starting to monologue. When I said I don't feel like fucking around with whatever this is, I meant it."

"You're awfully impatient," the demon scolded.

Mike shrugged and turned around to face her. "Life is too short to spend it pissing around with people who just want to antagonize you. Do you think I'm unaware of the malevolent intent you carry? You didn't come here out of the goodness of your heart." He made a show of sniffing the air, then cocked his head as if hearing something. In truth, he was looking at the thin, dark tendrils of the demon itself as they stretched into the distance. The connection looked very much like the one Vincentius had had with Charlotte, but instead of one line, he could see hundreds.

While a majority of these lines were so thin they were nearly imperceptible, four of them were about an inch across. These stretched to different people he could sort of sense nearby.

"You brought friends," he said with a smile. "Might as well have them come over and say hello."

The demon didn't respond physically, but the malignant entity inside shifted uncomfortably. Mike didn't want to let on that the thing was pretty much wearing a high visibility vest for someone like him.

Pulses of information went along those threads. Moments later, an older gentleman joined them, followed by a college-aged boy and an Uber driver who pulled over.

"You're missing one, Legion."

This time, the vessels all frowned.

"You...know of me?" Legion asked.

Mike nodded. "Of course I do. What, do you think this home is full of people who keep secrets from each other about possible threats? This isn't shitty television. We talk and share things." He leaned close to the gate and dropped his voice. "I have seen so many buttholes since moving in."

Legion stared at him for several long seconds as the last thread thickened and another old woman appeared. Mike examined each of them, making another play of sniffing the air. As far as he could tell, the demon had either devoured the souls inside of these bodies or had corrupted them.

None of this really mattered to him right now. "Now that the gang's all here, can I get you a drink? Perhaps a snack?"

"We are not hungry or thirsty," Legion replied. "We have come to deliver a message."

Mike scowled. "If it has anything to do with my world burning, I'm good now." He patted his stomach. "Had myself fire-proofed by a goddess."

"Do you always speak such madness?" asked a different vessel.

"Oh, fun, we're doing it like this." Mike placed his fingers on the metal bars and tapped. "Um...yes. Yes, I do."

Energy pulsed along those connections, clearly being fed to some central location, or maybe a particular vessel that was far away. Mike was already wondering what it would take to dismantle the network.

"We were sent here by the one known as the Curator." The woman in the vest pulled an envelope from her pocket. "He has certain requests of you."

"Oh. Yeah. I don't like being handed things." Mike shook his head. "Never can tell when someone is gonna slip a salamander in a letter."

The vessels didn't bother exchanging glances, which did take some of the fun out of it. "So you don't wish to hear the message?" asked the older man.

"Oh, I do. You can open it." Mike leaned against the bars, pretending to be eager. In reality, he was studying the demon. Behind him, he heard the crunch of gargoyles landing on gravel. He looked back to see Abella, Slade, and a smaller female named Mica.

"Is everything okay?" Abella asked.

"Yeah. Hey, out of curiosity, what do these guys look like to you?" Mike asked Legion, jerking his thumb toward Abella. "You're a demon, so surely they look...off, right?"

The demon seemed taken aback internally, but maintained a facade of disinterest. "Bodyguards of some sort," they replied.

"Yeah, you guys can go." Mike waved off the gargoyles. "It's just demons delivering a message today. I can handle them."

Abella was already standing next to him. She gave him a little kiss on the cheek. "Only if you're sure."

"Yeah." He kissed her back and then watched her fly away. Mica followed, but Slade was still standing there. The gargoyle tribe had been invited to move in along with the villagers. Some had taken up residence around the Moon Tribe, while others had taken up posts around the volcano. A few rotated in at the house as part of a personal detail. Rumor had it that Slade spent a bunch of his time at the cabin with Beth. He kept thinking to ask her about that later. "Did you want a kiss, too?"

Slade chuckled. "I'm only here to see what happens next."

"Suit yourself." Mike turned his attention back to Legion. Surprisingly, the demon was being patient. "Okay, go ahead. What does the hat man want?"

"Hat man?" asked Legion.

"Always assume that my family talks to each other. The Curator. Dude in a hat and trenchcoat, right? Showed up at that church in...in...Louisiana?"

"Alabama."

"Right." Mike grinned. "I was, and still am, shit with geography. Don't tell anyone. It's my one weakness." The way that darkness swirled around in Legion's vessels was interesting. He could actually see the shift as the main demon moved its attention between them. Was it some sort of hive mind? It was hard to imagine what controlling multiple bodies would be like. Technically, Mike's soul inhabited two bodies, but his mind was his own.

It suddenly occurred to him that a chunk of his soul resided in multiple places, yet there were no tethers between them. He could only see the one that tied him to Charlotte. The tethers revealed some version of control, but the one he shared with Charlotte was golden.

"Are you ignoring us?" Legion asked with just a hint of anger. Mike realized that he had stopped paying attention to the demon.

"Yeah, I was just wondering what it's like being you. Sometimes when I wear a sweater that's too itchy, it drives me bonkers. Do certain bodies feel different? I have to imagine the older ones have aches and pains that drive you nuts."

Legion studied him for several seconds. "The Curator would like to offer you a one-time deal," they continued.

"Oh, I can't wait to hear this." Mike leaned against the bars of the gate. "On a scale of one through ten, how angry do you think this will make me?"

The demon continued. "The Curator wishes to congratulate you on your progress in the Great Game. You have built a quiet, happy life here, and that seems to be your primary ambition. However, the two of you are officially at odds."

"Oh noooooo," Mike said sarcastically and put his hands against his cheeks in mock shock. "Is this the part where your boy starts making demands?"

Undeterred, Legion continued. "In your possession is an Arachne. We are aware that you possess two of them. The Curator is extremely interested in studying this creature. Whether it be the one who is controlling the flow of data, or your daughter who possesses the ability to use magic, it does not matter. If you turn one of them over, then he shall turn his attention away from you and your family and demand the same of his allies for the rest of your days."

All humor left Mike's body. The vessels all smirked in response. He had no idea if the Curator actually wanted Grace or Eulalie, or if this was simply the means to officially start trouble with Mike. Ultimately, it didn't matter.

"And if I refuse?"

Legion grinned. "Then you become fair game. You should know that the Curator is extremely powerful on his own, but has also put together a team of like-minded individuals with the sole purpose of dismantling you and your home."

Mike frowned. "I don't get it," he said. "Why even make this offer, then? If he's strong enough to take what he wants, why not do so?"

This question elicited a slight reaction from the demon. "Because coming here to take the child or the other Arachne would take time and resources," Legion explained. "We are not under the belief that we would leave such a battle unscathed. You are a formidable adversary, and the Curator is making this offer as a sign of mutual respect."

"I see. I suspect you already know the answer."

Legion grinned. "Of course I do. I'm a demon. We didn't expect anything different from the legendary Caretaker. But the Curator is a business man. At the very least, the offer needed to be put out there so that we can rub your face in it later."

Mike narrowed his eyes at Legion. "There it is," he whispered. "The mask has finally slipped."

Two of the vessels snickered before they all spoke together. "Our mask is unneeded. You know what we are. We are demons. We are Legion."

The Caretaker sighed. "Even if I took your deal, you said it was only good until the end of my days. I'm sure I'd suffer a tragic accident of some sort, and then my family would be back on the menu. Also, your cute little catchphrase needs work. It sounds kind of dumb coming from a group of people who look like they got lost on their way to an early-bird poetry slam."

"A personal insult. Oh, how tiring." One of the vessels mimed a yawn.

Mike crossed his arms and studied the demon just a moment longer, then laughed. "How about a counter offer? You go back and tell Uncle Fester that if I ever catch him, you, or anyone else lurking around my home again with the intent to hurt me or my own, then I will come for him. I will devote my resources to scouring the globe to track him down, making what Jenny did to the SoS look like fucking puppy playtime. I will fucking drill a hole deep into the center of the world and drop him inside, then fall asleep every night hoping to hear the soft vibrations of his screams through my pillow." He slammed his hands down onto the metal bars of the gate, yet kept his face calm as he leaned in close. "As for you, I heard a rumor you're trying to get back into Heaven. How does an eternity of pain sound, instead?"

Legion laughed. "Do you really think you can outdo the torment of Hell itself?"

"Yes," Mike growled, and the world trembled.

Legion paused, the vessels briefly wearing looks of concern. The demon may have taken those bodies, but their reactions still betrayed their thoughts. Pulses of information had them all shifting nervously, but it was calculated now. The younger man took a step back, while the middle-aged woman stepped off to the side.

"Bold words for a man behind a magical geas," Legion said with a shrug. "It's very hard to take you seriously. When we come for your family, you should know that--"

Mike recognized the trap, but didn't care. With just a thought, he dismissed the gate, and it vanished as if it had never been there. Legion actually managed to look shocked as Mike stepped off of his property, his magic coming alive.

In this moment, Legion was a looming threat. The darkness inside briefly surged up in anticipation, then bowed down to the intent to protect as that strength was given to his magic instead. Mike recognized that a show of force was necessary. Ordinarily, strength lay in numbers, but the demon had only brought five humans today.

Mike could easily take them.

Flashes of insight triggered. By the time the person in the lead had raised the pistol, Mike had already seen the outcome. He tilted his head to one side, his ears ringing as the gun went off near his ear and missed completely. Placing a single hand on the woman's chest, he grabbed a tiny thread of the demon and then stepped to the side where he repeated the process with the older man, who had pulled a knife.

Summoning his magical shield, it was powerful enough to deflect the bullet from the third attacker's firearm, which ricocheted into one of the lions. The creature tilted its head to look, but Mike commanded it to remain.

Casually dodging and weaving between Legion's attacks, Mike now had five threads of the demon's soul, or whatever it was, looped around his fingertips like string. Sending his magic down those dark threads, he gave a powerful yank.

Legion cried out in pain, and all five vessels collapsed to the ground. Mike looked back at his home and saw that Yuki was halfway across the yard already, but stopped when she saw him shake his head and hold out his free hand to stop her. She cocked her head to one side, then nodded, seeing he had it under control.

"I bet that hurts," Mike said, giving the tendrils another yank. Legion groaned, and one of the vessels puked. "Soul magic is tricky like that. A human soul can be concentrated in one spot, yet connected to your whole body somehow. I'm not even sure how that works, but maybe that's the point. But you're different. You're a demon piloting multiple bodies, right? So every single body contains a piece of your soul, which is easy enough for me to grab. You didn't know that, of course, but feel free to pass it along. As a spiritual being divided amongst hundreds, this is probably the equivalent of grabbing someone by the finger and breaking it."

"Let...go..." Legion begged.

"Sure, it's just a finger, but a finger can really fucking hurt. So let's have a little rehash. You came to my home," Mike said softly, as if chastising a child. "I offered you food and drink, which you declined, but that's okay. It's not about accepting it. What was most important was that it was offered. You said you came here with a message, which you then delivered. Our business had concluded. Yet the first chance you got, you attacked me in an effort to take my life." He tsked at the demon and started reeling in that darkness with both hands, causing it to stretch like melty cheese in an attempt to stay attached to the bodies.

Pulses of information shot from the vessels back to Legion Prime, wherever that bastard's main body was. However, the tendrils didn't break, which confirmed Mike's theory. Legion didn't have a way to sever pieces of itself, which made sense. Otherwise, it would be a copy, just like King Mike.

"A smart demon like you can be anywhere it wants," he continued. "Even if you have to spread yourself a little thin. But you share the same weakness as someone who touched something hot. If you don't yank your hand back fast enough, you get burned. So let me hold your hand on the pot a little bit longer."

In a couple of the vessels, Legion had already attempted to withdraw, but Mike refused to let go. He watched as the demon eventually detached itself from three of them, leaving behind corpses. Flames licked at his fingers where he clutched the demon by the metaphorical balls, but no fire could hurt him.

"Before you hang up, I want you to give a message to the Curator." Mike knelt down over the last vessel still connected to the Dickhead Demon Network. It was the older woman in the vest, who he grabbed by the collar so Legion could see the fury in his eyes.

"You tell that fucker this isn't even my final form," he said, then forcibly ripped Legion free of the last vessel. He studied the black mass concentrated around his hand, then pinwheeled his hands in an attempt to reel in the whole demon.

In reality, he was yanking on that demon until he couldn't. His clothes were now scorched from the flames on his arms, and Legion's soul was pulled as tight as it would go. If Mike were strong enough, maybe he could drag that bastard across the planet and rip him out. But psychic strength like that wasn't something he possessed.

However, killing Legion had never been the master plan. Taking a few steps back until his feet were firmly on his property, Mike summoned his magic and formed it into threads of his own. Strings of purple, gold, and black wrapped themselves all along the chunk of demon he had trapped, then braided their way along the connection between them, extending dozens of feet into the sky. When he was unable to trap any more of the demon's essence, he took a deep breath and put both hands together, digging his magic in deep.

With a shout, he ripped what he held apart, much like Titania had done to the Fae Prince. An agonizing scream filled Mike's mind as his magic became like razor blades, each one severing a strand of its own. The air filled with a sound similar to a spider's web being torn as Mike Unmade the portion of the demon he had captured.

The portion of Legion that Mike had been unable to capture snapped through the sky like a massive rubber band. He watched it go with a smirk, then turned to see Slade watching him.

"Well?" he asked with a grin. "Worth it?"

The gargoyle shrugged. "Not really. You touched each of them and they just died. It was hardly exciting."

"Right, but..." Mike pointed to the west, where Legion's essence had fled. "I just ripped a big chunk of it off."

"A big chunk of what?"

"The demon."

"Oh." Slade made a face. "Is that why you stood there and danced for a little bit?"

"Danced for..." Mike let out a groan. Of course the one person watching him was unable to see souls or demonic entities. To anyone watching, Mike had just had a tai chi fight with the wind. He shook his head and laughed. "Okay, yeah, it wasn't that cool. Don't worry about it."

"Okay," Slade replied. "Out of curiosity, why didn't you let your honor guard take care of it?"

Mike raised an eyebrow and cast a glance to the spectral beings hovering on the stone wall of his property. There were six of them, each one created from starlight and armed to the teeth. They were a late wedding gift from the Faerie Queen, a personal guard intended to keep him from harm.

"I would prefer my enemy learn about the Fae the hard way. If the Curator comes knocking someday, let's make sure to offer him food and drink first before he tries to kill someone. It'll be a fun surprise...for me, anyway." Mike felt a looming presence to his left and turned to see the jabberwock staring at him from only a foot away. An unspoken question hung in the air between them.

"Yeah, go ahead," he muttered, and the jabberwock's serpentine head extended out to the sidewalk where it quickly consumed the bodies.

"Where do the bodies even go? Does that thing poop?" asked Slade. "I've been dying to know."

"It composts," Mike replied. "Good for the flowers." He summoned the metal gate back into place and turned to look back at his home. Its powerful stone walls loomed, the structure now more than five stories high. The front of the home was the same, but he had used the stone from Camelot to create more rooms in the house by expanding sideways and up. It was his very own castle, packed full of magic and monsters.

Out in the gazebo, Titania met his eyes. She nodded her approval at how he had handled Legion.

A powerful lesson, she said in his mind.

Mike was holding too much power now, through no fault or effort of his own. Looking up at the massive estate, he could feel the weight of what was both a blessing and a curse.

Someday, others would come to take what was his. When they did, he would fight for it.

And on that day, both a Caretaker and a Conqueror he would be.

The Curator hummed quietly to himself as he arranged the flowers by the doorway of the Black Palace. These arrangements had been flown in special from Latvia. He snipped a couple of bulbs with a blade that retracted back into his thumb, then tossed them over one shoulder where they were promptly caught and disposed of by one of Legion's minions.

There was a clacking sound from down the hallway. Sarah walked around the corner in her new body, wearing a face mask and a medical gown. She pulled the mask down and pulled off her gloves.

"How is the patient today?" he asked.

"All parts accounted for and properly sedated. We should be able to communicate with him through the Dreamscape in a few hours once he's not so volatile." The witch cocked her head to one side. "What are you doing?"

"Putting out flowers," he replied.

"But...why?"

The Curator chuckled quietly. "Though it may pain you to hear this, this is something I enjoy without any larger implications. Their smell pleases me, and I find their appearance soothing."

Sarah frowned. Her scars had long ago faded, but the Curator could see a tiny one in the corner of her mouth that had failed to heal correctly because she had picked at it. If he hadn't needed her help, he would have removed her hands and started over. However, time was of the essence.

"You seem..." It was clear the witch was going to say happy, but thought better of it. Rightfully so, she was still scared of what the Curator might do to her if she pissed him off. He wasn't about to alter the terms of their current relationship. It was built on mutual trust and terror, two things that inspired heavy loyalty to commands given.

Still, he was curious what she might go with. "I seem what, exactly?"

Sarah's features shifted, and he could tell her mother's spirit was talking to her. That was a puzzle he had tried to dig a bit into, as Elizabeth's demon-touched soul was now, somehow, her daughter's shadow. The best thing about magic is that it didn't always rely on any sort of apparent logic. That meant there would always be new mysteries to unravel and explore.

It was also the most frustrating thing.

"I have yet to see you indulge in a passion project which does not somehow further your goals," she said. "You are consistently busy. While I may see the benefit of a moment of respite or self-care, you have never given me the impression that you indulge in such practices."

The Curator snorted, which made Sarah flinch. "These flowers represent the culmination of months worth of painful negotiations."

The witch nodded. "I know you've been speaking with someone," she said. "Are we bringing another into the fold?"

The Curator nodded. "We are. In my assessment, the Radley family is beyond our current capabilities, not without great personal risk to myself. We have a limited pool of potential allies who I fear would either betray us in order to amass power for themselves or sell us out to the Radleys in order to curry favor. So I have turned to one that I do not wish to work with but know will not betray our goals. The Radley family has wronged her as well, which gave me more leverage than I am used to." He frowned. "Though I feel I gave too much, she will be our staunchest supporter."

"I wish you had told me about this," Sarah muttered. "We should have been consulted."

The Curator gave Sarah a stern look that made the woman flinch. "Kings don't trouble pawns with all their plans," he replied. "Perhaps if I knew your full capabilities, it would be different. I respected your mother and her counsel. You, however, are young, impatient, and can no longer infiltrate the bodies of others to further my aims. To me, you are an above average witch, and I don't concern above average witches with my deeper thoughts."

Sarah's shadow loomed up on the wall behind her and formed into a demonic visage that tore at the marble with claws of darkness.

"You can be angry all you want, but I speak the truth," he added. "Or would you attempt to fight me on this? Perhaps I should send your daughter in to handle my affairs while I watch from afar? It would be easy enough to make her do the dirty work and hope for the best, Elizabeth."

The shadow abruptly vanished. He knew Elizabeth didn't dare risk her daughter's life, especially now that it was the only thing keeping her out of Hell proper.

Sarah shook her head, obviously listening to a conversation, then gave the Curator a stiff bow.

"If I'm excused," she said.

The Curator made to wave her off when Legion's minion let out a cry of pain and crumpled on the ground. His enhanced hearing allowed him to hear numerous vessels collapse around his home, and he was already running toward the pool outside the master bedroom.

Though the Curator hated getting wet, he threw himself into the pool and grabbed the limp form of the young woman who had already sunk to the bottom of the pool. It was Legion's prime body, and he had no idea what could happen to the demon if its main vessel died.

"She's having a seizure," he declared, then jabbed a finger at Sarah. "Pull the water out of her before she drowns."

The witch nodded and curled her fingers. Water vapor formed over Legion's mouth as Sarah cast a spell to expel it. The Curator didn't need to push his ear against Legion's chest to see if her heart was beating. It was very erratic as the woman convulsed, but at least her airways were clear.

Pushing a finger against her sternum, he zapped her in the heart with a bolt of electricity. Legion gasped and sat upright, clutching at her chest, then her head as she let out an unholy scream.

The glass railing around the edges of the deck cracked, followed by the windows of the Black Palace. The Curator scowled at them, disgruntled at the time and cost it would take to repair them.

Still, that was a problem for tomorrow, for he had no idea what had just gone wrong with Legion. Staring down at the demon, he knelt and helped her sit up.

"What happened?" he demanded.

Legion smiled weakly. "Mike Radley rejected your offer," she said, then promptly vomited all over him.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Letting out a sigh of general discontent, the Curator stood and marched silently down the stairs, aware that Sarah was right behind him. When he got to the door, he moved to open it and hesitated.

There were very few things in the world that the Curator hated or feared. There was only one thing that fell into both categories, and she was currently standing on the other side of the door.

With the strength of magically binding contracts backing him up, he pulled open the door to reveal an older woman in a sweater-vest and carrying a witch's broom in one hand and a Hawaiian guidebook in the other. She tilted down a pair of horn-rimmed sunglasses to look at him over the frames. He couldn't help but notice there was a scar just above and below her right eye, which was no longer the same color as the left.

"You're looking well," she said in a British accent. "It's been quite some time, Curator."

"Please, come in."

The woman stepped past him into the foyer and took note of the flowers. "My, my," she said. "My presence here must really be stressing you out." She turned her attention to Sarah, who had flattened herself against the wall. "Oh, don't do that. And don't think I don't recognize you, Elizabeth. You've lost weight, but your soul is unchanged."

"This...this..." Sarah couldn't seem to gather her words. Honestly, the Curator didn't blame her.

"She will be working with us," the Curator replied. "And though her reputation apparently precedes her, I would like to formally introduce you to the Collector."

"Collector?" Sarah asked.

"My, this one asks a lot of questions." The Collector set her broom down and it hopped toward the nearest wall. "You will address me by my title if needed, as it is the most protected of my names. For you to take on a player in the Great Game, you will need one of my caliber. From what I've discovered, you already wasted that opportunity."

The Curator shrugged. "We underestimated the Caretaker," he replied. "But you should know that we learned more than enough."

"I see." The Collector held out her guidebook to Sarah. "Be a dear, and put my things in my room," she said.

"I...don't..." Sarah looked at the Curator in horror.

"Any room will do," he clarified. "She probably won't sleep in it very often."

"Or at all, depending on how quick this is. Just give me something with a big window." The Collector watched Sarah leave with the book, then turned to the Curator. "You look like shit."

"It's just vomit," he clarified. "It's not like you to worry about bodily fluids."

"I meant in general. It's been too long, but I suppose that was the point." The Collector smirked at him. "Tell me. Did you find what you were looking for, yet?"

He knew better than to lie, and shook his head.

"I see. Has Amir awoken?"

"Yes, but his mind is fractured. It will take a few more months, by my estimates." The Curator looked toward the hallway that Sarah had emerged from. "He has such potential that is currently limited by his trip back from...well, a place devoid of time or space."

She nodded. "I think we both agree that we should not rush this. I fear, even with my own preparations, that we will only have one chance to achieve our goals."

"On this, we agree, Collector."

The Collector snorted. "Is that how it's going to be?"

The Curator nodded. "It is."

The witch let out a long, dramatic sigh. "I guess giving you your freedom wasn't enough. Maybe someday you and I will finally see eye to eye, and you'll call me by my real title."

"I sincerely doubt it."

"We'll see." The Collector winked and moved toward the front door. "I'm going for a walk on the beach. Make sure supper is ready early. I'm broom-lagged."

The Curator nodded out of habit, then scowled as the woman left. Turning around, he saw the vases he had set out, each filled with bouquets he had spent almost two hours putting together.

His fury was silent as he lashed out, shattering those vases with his massive fists. Flowers scattered along the floor of the foyer, as he stomped their petals into the marble, his heavy feet cracking the tiles.

It had been over a century, and yet that bitch still got to him. When he was done trashing the foyer, he turned and saw that two of Legion's minions stood nearby, waiting to clean up the mess.

"Is this going to be a problem?" one of them asked.

"No," the Curator responded. "She just has a way of...getting to me."

Both vessels nodded. "I have no reason to doubt you," they said, then started sweeping up the mess.

The Curator walked back up to the private pool, noting that Legion's primary vessel was asleep on a day bed. He looked down the beach and saw the Collector walking on the water's edge, occasionally dancing away from the foam. Other people on the sand had no idea that one of the world's most dangerous people was nearby, wearing a sweater vest beneath the hot, Hawaiian sun.

She was the Collector, also known as a witch of the First Coven, and had legally held over a dozen different names over the centuries, her own true name lost to time. He could call her any of these if he wished, but he would rather rot at the bottom of the sea before he would call her Mother again.

I really hope you enjoyed Book 8. I had so much fun writing it, but it was definitely the hardest one for me. The last year and some change has been fraught with IRL difficulties (we all suffer them from time to time, it's okay), which slowed me down substantially.

~Annabelle Hawthorne