Hi, all! Annabelle Hawthorne here with the newest chapter of "Let's throw a bunch of magical characters into a fuck-blender and see what sort of smoothie we can make!"

I just spent ten minutes trying to think of a clever way to intro this chapter, but simply couldn't. I'm in prime "everywhere I look is smoky" territory and my gray matter has become a poorly marbled brisket as a result. This chapter is called

Out with the Old

It was just after eight in the morning, and Mike had been up for half an hour. He sat on the eastern turret of his home with Abella and a young gargoyle named Bedrock. The youth had just turned five earlier in the week, which meant he was considered an adult within the clan.

Gargoyles, as long-lived as they were, had remarkably short childhoods. Mike hadn't known this, but they emerged from their eggs in a quasi-adult form. Gargoyle children looked like shrunken down rock gremlins until they hit roughly five years of age. This is when secondary sexual characteristics emerged and they could be considered adults.

This particular young adult had become smitten with Abella. Now capable of breeding age, he had been quite upset that Abella had no interest in him. To make matters worse, Bedrock had been lurking on the roof when Mike had come home from his date, only to overhear Abella wistfully mention that she wished she could go on a proper date. This had apparently been the last straw for the youth and he had challenged Mike over the matter the moment he stepped outside to check on Cecilia.

While Mike hadn't been keen to even acknowledge the adolescent gargoyle's challenge, Abella had asked him to acquiesce. The gargoyles from Avalon were old-fashioned, and declining would be seen as a weakness on Mike's part. None of the adults in their right mind would even consider such a thing, but this adult was new and obviously not yet in their right mind.

Bedrock seemed like an immature idiot. Up above, Slade clung to the turret as Bedrock's second.

"You can do this, little brother," he shouted, then looked at Mike. The gargoyle put his hands together in a pleading gesture and mouthed the words, "Please don't kill him too much."

"This is your last chance," Mike replied, trying not to roll his eyes in annoyance. A regular human had no chance against a gargoyle, after all, which made this duel, challenge, whatever the fuck it was, even more petty.

Human and gargoyle relations in Avalon had been fairly one-sided. They never came into conflict with one another, so even the clan thought Bedrock was out of line.

Still, this was apparently the honorable thing for Mike to do.

"I do not know the meaning of the word defeat," Bedrock declared, then flexed his muscles. He looked over at Abella to see if she noticed him. She rolled her eyes and shook her head in annoyance.

"Even if you win, I have no interest in you." Her French accent made her sound ten times more annoyed. "I don't know why you won't get that through your thick skull."

"That's because my skull is ten times as thick as his!" Bedrock pointed at Mike, then flexed again.

Mike really hoped Callisto didn't go through a phase like this. "Okay," he replied. "If you really think this is necessary, then I accept your challenge."

"Then choose." Bedrock grinned, then looked at Abella again. "Shall it be a test of strength? Flight? Fire?"

"Combat," Mike replied, which caught Bedrock off-guard. Slade had briefed him earlier on the clan's rules. There was a limit to the challenges a gargoyle could make. With their declining numbers and slow population growth, they didn't want clan members accidentally killing each other.

However, combat was the secret option. If a problem really couldn't be solved without two gargoyles punching each other in the face, this was it.

"C...combat?" Bedrock looked at his brother, then Abella. "You know you can't use weapons, right?"

"Actually, you get to choose the weapons." Mike looked at his fingers as if inspecting his nails. "Hammers? Swords? Guns? It's a modern world, after all. And then I get to choose the terms of the battle. I will be choosing death."

Bedrock actually paled, the dark lines of obsidian running across his body standing out. "Death?" he whispered.

"Sure. I'm the Caretaker, but I'm also the Conqueror and the King of the Fae. Abella is a special member of my family, and you failed to heed her words. I will absolutely use you as an example that I don't like being challenged." He grinned wickedly, then summoned a ball of lightning into his hand. "I intend to crush your corpse and use it to landscape some bushes in the maze as a reminder."

"That...uh..." Bedrock looked at his brother, who just shook his head.

"I can't help you with this," Slade said. "You flew into this mountain on purpose, even after we warned you."

Mike had no intention of killing Bedrock. Slade and Abella both knew this. However, he absolutely didn't want to deal with something like this again.

"Is there a problem?" Mike asked. "I have accepted your challenge and await the terms of weaponry."

"You...um..." Bedrock's skull may have been ten times thicker than Mike's, but even he saw the potential problem here. If he killed Mike, everything that had been built had a huge chance of falling apart. The boulder-brained idiot had essentially Kobayashi Maru'ed himself.

"A point of clarification. Does unarmed combat include magic?" Mike made the sky rumble overhead. "If not, then you can't choose unarmed. My body is altered by magic, you see, so much so that I don't know where the defining line is. Can I use lightning? Ice? What about my touch of death?"

"Touch...of...death?"

Mike nodded solemnly. "That one definitely counts as unarmed. It's just a touch, after all."

Abella hid her face behind her wings before Bedrock could see her smile. Slade just shook his head.

"If we don't do unarmed, I would prefer swords. You'll just have to wait while I go grab Excalibur."

The gargoyle swallowed hard, making a sound like crunching gravel. Yeah, Bedrock had no idea what to do with himself. If he rescinded the challenge, he would lose a massive amount of honor, or whatever the clan called it.

Mike let the gargoyle sweat it out for a minute, then sighed. "Look, I really don't have all day. If you don't want to do combat to the death, perhaps I can choose something else."

Bedrock almost looked relieved. "That...I believe it would be in everyone's best interest if nobody died here today."

"But in exchange, I get to choose the conditions of victory." Mike made the stern face he gave Grace whenever he caught her eating cookies on the ceiling. "Also, you'll find a gargoyle girl your own age to pester. Somebody who is unattached."

"That, um..." It was very clear to Mike that Bedrock realized this was also a trap, but he couldn't figure out what or how. Mike couldn't fly, and he definitely couldn't breathe fire, so that left strength. The gargoyle made a face, his jaw flexing as if he were chewing on something.

Slade hopped down and smacked his brother on the back of his head. "Spit it out, rocks for brains."

Bedrock glared at his brother. Mike wondered what the gargoyle version of testosterone was. "Okay, then. You may choose the challenge and the conditions."

"Fantastic." Mike held up a hand and Abella tossed him a piece of chalk. Bedrock grunted as Mike drew a five-foot circle on the roof and then jammed the chalk back into his pocket. "I choose a test of strength."

Bedrock grinned. "The terms?"

"It's rather simple. You will use only the strength of your body to move me out of this circle. Tail, arms, legs, I don't care. In return, I will only use the strength of my body to remain inside the circle. If you can move me in twenty seconds, then you have beaten me."

The gargoyle scoffed, his tail whipping back and forth. "I can do it in three."

"Twenty will be fine. You will start three steps back from the edge of the circle. Your second will time us. If I am still in the circle, you take Abella at her word that she isn't interested and piss off." Mike looked past Bedrock at Slade. "Should I add that he has to leave the clan, too?"

"You could," Slade admitted.

Bedrock whipped around. "I'm not going to lose," he snarled.

All three of the grown-ups rolled their eyes together. Mike had no intention of banning Bedrock from his property. He was just a hard-headed youth struggling to adjust to this new world. "Then you have no problem if I assign you to a thirty-year security rotation on the tower."

The rotation was something that the gargoyles had volunteered to do. Those who felt like Earth was far bigger than they were comfortable with now occupied Yuki's former tower in the pocket world with the old centaur tribe. Those gargoyles had been happy enough to take up the rotation, because they could fly to their heart's content and were quite happy with the tower itself.

It also meant that Mike always had eyes and ears on a particular mountain in that area. Though the gargoyles didn't know exactly what they were supposed to be guarding, they did know it was extremely important.

Thirty years would have been cruel for a human, but Abella had assured him that this term wasn't long for a gargoyle at all, and Bedrock would grow out of his rebellious phase by then.

"I accept these terms." Bedrock immediately took up his position, his tail swishing from side-to-side. Mike frowned at the shingles that got ripped up in the process, but said nothing about it.

"Then I am ready when your second is." He looked past Bedrock. Abella had already jammed a pair of noise-cancelling headphones over her ears. Slade was forced to make do with just clasping his palms over his own. Mike took a deep breath.

"Now!" he declared.

Mike released the banshee's cry. Bedrock had only taken a single step forward when he cried out in pain and clutched at his head, now fully disoriented. Gasping, he tried to cover his head with his wings and crawl forward, but Mike simply sang louder. A couple of gargoyles who had been lurking nearby covered their heads in agony and hopped across the roof to get away.

Bedrock, out of a sense of preservation, crawled away. Slade signaled that the time was up, so Mike stopped singing. Almost immediately, Bedrock came stomping back over.

"You--" was all he managed to say before Slade tackled his brother from behind.

"Don't you dare accuse him of cheating," the gargoyle hissed. "As your second, even I agree that you have lost."

Mike held up a hand to get their attention. "Strength comes in many forms. Clearly, Bedrock assumed it would be just the strength of his muscles against mine, and that is where his failure lies. I only said I would use my body, which does include my voice."

"That isn't what strength means!" Bedrock snarled.

"Oh? What does it mean, then?"

"It...means..." Bedrock flexed his claws in frustration. "IT'S HOW STRONG YOUR BODY IS!"

Mike shook his head. "Even by your definition, you have failed. How would you like to define your loss? Did I test the strength of your resolve? Or perhaps the strength of your pain tolerance? These are both features of your body, Bedrock. Clearly, you have failed in regards to the strength of your character."

Bedrock shoved at his brother and stepped toward Mike. Abella stepped in and tried to hold Bedrock in place.

"Let him go," Mike said. All three gargoyles looked up at him.

"Are you sure?" Abella asked.

Mike nodded. "I have nothing to fear from him."

Slade and Abella stepped away from Bedrock, who flared his wings and snorted angrily. He snarled at Mike, his thick brow furrowing.

"You should be afraid," Bedrock grunted. "Stone outlasts flesh, Caretaker."

"Sit." Mike pointed down, and Bedrock's body immediately fell into a crouch, powered by the divine command. Much of Mike's divinity had gone to creating his Fae King copy, but a third of it had already returned over the last year.

"What--"

"STAY." This time, a ripple of power emanated out from Mike like a shockwave, then immediately coalesced around the troublesome gargoyle. A golden aura briefly appeared along his stony skin, then vanished.

The gargoyle's mouth opened in shock as he found himself unable to move. His whole body locked up, but he could still speak stiffly. "How are you doing this?"

"You're trying to weasel out of a bargain with the King of the Fae while on top of his house. This is a place of power, Bedrock, and that power is mine." Mike spoke softly as he knelt to be on eye level with Bedrock. He hadn't wanted to use his authority in this manner, but it was time. "You shall obey this command until you can honestly reflect on your life choices and correctly identify the one who is at fault for them. Once you have done this, you will be free to begin your penance."

"He could be up here for years." Slade slapped his brother in the back of his head. "Decades, even."

"It's a big roof." Mike sighed. "Let your people know to give him his space. Some lessons are harder than others, and he doesn't need others coming to tease him while he thinks on my words. We learn from our failures, but some lessons require extra grace and time before they can fully sink in."

Bedrock looked like he was going to say something, but lowered his gaze when Mike looked at him. The Caretaker placed his hand on the youth's shoulder.

"You have great potential, Bedrock. Don't waste it on the pettiness of youth. As a gargoyle, your hearing is excellent. But it's time you learn to truly listen." He yawned and looked at Abella. "If we're done here, I need breakfast."

Abella launched herself into the sky, then circled wide and swooped down to grab Mike's extended hand. She carried him over the edge of the roof and glided in an arc that allowed her to set him on the ground before she landed just up ahead.

"Thank you for handling that," she said, waiting for him to catch up to her. "Slade offered to beat him up for me, but I think it would have just further encouraged him."

"Probably, but I understand his desires, you're an attractive woman."

Mike fell in step beside Abella as they walked toward the front door of the house. The Moon Tribe was out in force this morning, doing maintenance on the yard as the flowers blossomed. Over by the hedge maze, the gnomish council had formed and were holding a meeting about this year's summer landscaping. They were one of the many smaller fae communities that now occupied the land around the house.

"How was your date?" Abella asked.

"Great in a lot of ways."

The gargoyle stopped and turned to face him. "Is something bothering you?"

"Yeah." Mike looked up at his home and smiled. "Last night made me realize that I don't have enough time anymore. Something as simple as a date has become a huge event for the whole house."

"You think we don't date?" Abella slid her hand into his and gave it a squeeze. "I would far prefer to find somewhere cozy and watch a movie together, or maybe watch the rain fall. When I spoke last night, it was more the whimsy of the fantasy itself. We all want different things."

He looked at Abella. "That's true," he admitted. "Not everyone needs what Leilani and Quetzalli wanted. But others..." His mind went to Tink. "Their options are limited by their appearance. I can't just take them out for a night on the town."

"If you ask me, the city is overrated. But I see your point." Abella cocked her head to the side, clearly listening to something he couldn't hear. "Neighbors are watching us again."

The neighbors on Mike's street couldn't see the truth of the property. The geas concealed the home in such a way that it was anybody's guess how it was viewed. To further conceal himself, he had bought several of the homes on his block, but there were still some holdouts, like those who lived immediately next door. "What are they saying this time?"

"The wife brought out some old scrapbooks that belonged to her mother. They're puzzling over some of the pictures from eighty years back, a bit in disbelief that they've been living next door to a castle this whole time and never thought twice about it."

"Ah. Well..." Mike laughed. "Did I tell you that we've gotten over a thousand wedding requests this month?"

"A thousand?" Abella's eyes widened.

"Yeah. Eulalie wasn't able to suppress all the posts and blogs that popped up about our home, so created a website where people could book events. She claimed that we're booked solid for the next ten years. Nobody is waiting ten years to get married, so that gets rid of most of them. She then put Paige, Reed, and Booker on taking phone calls for a while to train them on modern social norms and communication."

"That must have been quite the culture shock."

He nodded. "They can't believe how rude modern people are. The good news is that they can't get fired, so they are allowed to say whatever they want. Eulalie has an audio file of Paige getting some bride-zilla so worked up that she kept slipping into another language while ranting. This woman kept calling back, so they eventually called in the customer service specialist."

"Oh? Who is that?"

"Tink. She apparently made the woman cry. We got a one-star review on numerous websites because of it. Eulalie has a bot army that is constantly manufacturing four- and five-star reviews to account for the fake events we hold here."

Abella snorted. "That's a lot of work when you could just ignore everybody."

"Sometimes it's better to hide in plain sight." Mike caught movement from the corner of his eye and saw Death strolling up the driveway. He gave Mike and Abella a cheerful wave, and they waited for him.

"Good morning, Mike Radley. Abella Radley." The Grim Reaper's hood was pulled back, exposing the top of his skull to the bright sun.

"Hey, bud. Thanks for all that you did last night. The girls had a really good time."

"You are quite welcome." Death grinned. "I am just returning home, myself."

"From the club?" Mike asked.

"Oh, goodness, no. I left the club shortly after you did with Ms. Racquel."

This immediately had his full attention. "You did?"

"Of course. She told me that she was getting off soon, and wondered if I would like to go someplace else. Ms. Racquel has always been very kind to me, and I had nothing else going on, so I agreed. She took me to a club with a microphone for a poetry slam."

"You spent all night at a poetry slam?" Abella asked.

"Would you let me finish my story?" Death cleared his throat. "We stayed at that club for a couple of hours. Racquel shared much of her poetry with me during the slam. A lot of it was about ravens. Eventually, the club shut down and she invited me back to her place."

"You..." Mike had no idea what to say. "Death. Did you just go on a date?"

"Of course not."

"What did you do at her place?" Abella asked.

"Well, she gave me a tour of her apartment, then showed me her bedroom. We sat on her bed while she showed me all her tattoos."

"Death. This sounds like a date."

"It wasn't." Death lifted his head indignantly. "I will have you know that nothing inappropriate happened. In fact, she was feeling quite tired and told me that it was probably easier if I just stayed the night. We sat on her balcony and spoke until the sun came up, and then she asked if I would lie with her in bed for a bit. Once she fell asleep, I snuck out and came home."

"Death." Abella crossed her arms. "That sounds like a date."

"It wasn't a date." Death scowled. "I have no interest in any relationships beyond friendship."

"Does Racquel know that?" Mike asked.

The Grim Reaper lifted a finger to object, then paused. "Um...I'm not entirely certain." He scratched at the top of his bony pate which made a sound very similar to nails on a chalkboard. "I suppose I can't say for certain."

"What does she even see you as?" This was the question Mike was most curious about. People either avoided looking at Death entirely or mistook him for someone related to dying.

"I...do not know that either." Death sighed. "I am embarrassed to admit that I may have gone on a date without realizing it."

"You wouldn't be the first guy to miss signals." Mike chuckled. "Next time you see her, maybe you should just ask."

Death scratched at his skull, then nodded. "Yes. That would be appropriate. Even in a friendship, proper communication is key. Thank you, Mike Radley."

Mike patted Death on the back, then bid Abella farewell. The gargoyle, not satisfied with a quick kiss, picked him up and wrapped her wings around him in a passionate display. She set him down with a grin, then flapped her wings and launched into the sky. He gave her a wave and walked inside the house.

Inside, at the breakfast table, Sofia was actually sitting in her oversized chair at the end. She smiled as Mike walked in, then gestured toward the food that was left over.

"Can I make you a plate?" she asked. "The kids, Tink, and Yuki already ate."

"Is it just us?" he asked, taking the seat next to hers. "Oh, hey, breakfast burritos!"

"The ones on the yellow plate are sausage. Red plate is bacon." She pointed at an empty platter nearby. "I had a bunch that were both, but Tink and the kids ate all of those first."

"It's okay." He grabbed both a sausage and bacon burrito and set them on a clean plate he had grabbed. "Is there--"

"Coffee?" Sofia smiled and slid a cup toward him. "Poured it while you were coming in."

"Thank you." He grabbed some hot sauce and poured it into the corner of the plate. "Is today your day off from the Library?"

"It is," she replied. "I know it's a bit unscheduled, but I was hoping that maybe we could...hang out."

Mike nodded. "I think we can manage. Abella told me things are going well at the Library with your new trainees."

"They are." Sofia grabbed a burrito for herself. "I'm still finding a balance that works."

"Good!" He gave her massive thigh an affectionate squeeze and turned toward his food. "Gentleman, I want you to know that it is an honor to eat you. And though my hand is forced and I must eat one of you first, know that this is a limitation of the human body alone and has nothing to do with my love for you."

The cyclops hid her grin behind her own burrito. "You don't think you could take two at once?"

"It wouldn't be right," he replied, then picked up the bacon burrito and took a big bite.

"You'd be the only adult in this house who couldn't," Sofia muttered. Mike immediately choked on his food, and grabbed for the glass of orange juice that was in front of Sofia.

"You did that on purpose," he wheezed, the flavor of bacon now embedded in his sinuses.

"Me? No." She traced his forearm with a finger. "But if you think I've been a bad girl--"

The dining room door slammed open and Lily slid in on stockinged feet, her tail acting to propel her the additional distance until she was able to casually spin in place and sit directly in Mike's lap.

"Hello, Daddy," she said in a sultry voice. She wiped some hot sauce off of his chin and licked her finger clean. "Did I hear somebody call me?"

The cyclops groaned. "I had him to myself for almost three minutes. Three whole minutes."

Lily stuck her tongue out at Sofia. "Oh, please. I happen to know that three Tuesdays ago, you had him all to yourself for almost three hours."

"That was for sex," Sofia replied with a sniff. "We were satisfying some deep-seated carnal desires."

"How scandalous!" Lily pressed her palm to her chest. "Next you'll imply that women should read books and think for themselves!"

"Even the village cum dumpster knows how to read." Sofia reached across the table and flicked Lily's nipple through her shirt. "After all, you're always advertising your services."

Part of Mike wanted to tell them to stop fighting with each other. Another part of him definitely wanted to hear more. Lily was currently grinding on that part of him with her ass. The cyclops had an uncharacteristic smirk on her face, and it was clear she was enjoying herself as well.

Strike while the iron is hot, he thought to himself. "You know, there's room in my heart for two bad girls," he began. "I firmly believe that man evolved two hands for the sole purpose of spanking two bratty women at once."

"Romeo!" Lily gasped and clasped her hands to her cheeks. "Everybody knows that the rule is one hand per buttcheek!"

"Now who is scandalous?" Sofia slid the sausage burritos toward Lily. "Made your favorite."

"Hardly." Lily scoffed as she slid off Mike's lap and landed in the seat next to him. "If you had, these things would be stuffed with so much meat that they couldn't close."

Sofia leaned across the table and gave the burrito a squeeze. The end burst, causing sour cream and sausage to leak out. "Are you sure?"

The succubus snatched up the burrito and looked at Mike. "I take it back," she said, licking cream out of the burrito. "Who can resist licking cream and sausage out of these delicate folds?"

"I would beg you not to lewd my food, but burritos are fairly bulletproof." He turned back to his plate and gave his food an affectionate pat. "Don't worry, guys, nobody could change how I feel about you."

"What a nerd," Lily stage-whispered to Sofia. "Dude needs to get laid."

"So do I," Sofia replied.

"Reeeeallly." Lily grinned. "Did I ever tell you I have a thing for tall girls?"

"You're always telling everyone that you're the master debater." Sofia leaned back in her seat. "Consider this your chance to persuade me."

Lily immediately sat forward in her seat and began her speech with something about the Fall of Constantinople. Mike got another bite of his breakfast before his phone dinged several times one after another. Frowning, he decided to check real quick and make sure that it wasn't an emergency.

It was a series of texts from Coach Terry. The man was clearly sending them one at a time.

Hey, Mr. Radley.

In loo of recent events

*loo

*lieu

Because of recent events

And information that has come to light, I've decided that it would be best for the team if Callisto did not play for the rest of the season.

I want everyone's attention focused on the kids and their achievements.

Mike frowned at his phone. He looked over at Lily, who was now holding two burritos and making them kiss each other.

Is this about the fight?* Mike typed. I thought that was settled.

He watched as three dots appeared and disappeared from his text chat. Sensing a shift in the wind, he hastily gobbled down both of his burritos and started drinking his coffee. A quick glance at the women revealed that Lily was now wearing rock climbing gear. Sofia was leaning forward with both amusement and interest.

"And some say that it's important to climb it because it's there," Lily said as Mike's phone dinged again.

He looked down at his phone.

This is in regards to the lawsuit that has been filed between two parents, is what Coach Terry had texted. I spoke with the Program Director and she believed it would not be in the team's best interest to allow Callisto to continue with the program especially with the attention it has already gotten.

"What lawsuit?" Mike said.

Lily immediately clammed up and Sofia turned toward him.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"No," he replied, then asked Coach Terry what he meant by a lawsuit. Again, a series of dots appeared, indicating that the man was typing for a very long time. When the text finally came through, he almost slammed his phone on the table.

I've been advised to discontinue contact regarding this matter. In loo of a refund, Callisto will be given a partial discount should he choose to enroll next season.

"What the fuck," Mike whispered, then put his hands over his face and took a few deep breaths. Callisto had just gotten kicked off the soccer team. Why? What had happened?

"Mike?" Sofia gave him a gentle shake. "What's wrong?"

"Callisto just got kicked off his soccer team." Mike stared at his phone. "The Coach said something about a lawsuit creating a bunch of attention." After a moment, he grabbed his phone.

"What are you doing?" Lily asked.

"If there's a lawsuit, it has to be from that other kid's family." He shook his head in frustration. "I'm going to have Eulalie figure out where the guy lives and go talk to him man to man."

"Oh, I wouldn't do that," Lily said as she took a step away from the table.

"Why not?"

"Well, once somebody sues you, I doubt a simple mano-a-mano bro chat is going to fix things. Unless he wants to watch you fuck his wife in front of him. That would probably work."

He stood to leave the table. "I still have to try. He's a dad, too. I won't apologize for what Callisto did, the kid had it coming, but maybe I can talk some sense into him."

"Oh, you really can't," Lily said with a grimace on her face.

"Why not?"

"Because you already spoke with him yesterday." The succubus grinned nervously as her tail swished behind her. "He came here with bodyguards and everything."

"What?"

"Tried to push you around and got humbled more than he liked."

"WHAT?"

"I think I'll find something else to do for a bit." Sofia picked up her dish and headed toward the kitchen. "If you two decide to go mountain climbing later, let me know. I think it could be...educational." She winked at Lily and disappeared through the door.

"Look, Romeo, I know you're upset, but I think we need to focus on that ass." Lily pointed in the direction Sofia had gone. "That's a prime piece of real estate just begging for--"

"Lily." Mike crossed his arms. "Tell me exactly what happened."

The succubus stuttered, then reluctantly gave him a play by play of the interaction. She tried to soften the blow by telling the story with a trio of sock puppets to stand in for Bentley and his henchman. Her tail provided the third puppet. When she was done, she winced at the look on his face, then sat down on the seat closest to her.

"Are you...mad at me?" Lily's voice suddenly sounded so small.

Mike sat next to her and let out a heavy sigh. "I'm more disappointed that somebody didn't tell me what was going on yesterday."

"Beth didn't want us spoiling your date day with the others."

"Lily." Mike took her by the hand, then realized there was still a sock puppet on it. He pulled the abomination off of her hand and held it in his own. "I really appreciate that you were trying to protect the others. And I know this came from a good place. Everything you do comes from a good place, despite what you want others to think."

"But you're disappointed. I can tell." Lily tried to pull her hand back, but Mike held on.

"In myself." He sighed and leaned back in his seat. "I'm just one man. Yesterday, it really hit home just how busy I am. I prioritize the kids, because they deserve that. But what will happen when they get older? Will I only spend time with them once every few weeks, too? How many people here do I hurt with my own inattentiveness?"

Lily snorted. "You're the only man I know who can spend his days drowning in pussy and make it sound bad."

"It's not just about sex--"

"Scandalous!" Lily manifested a fan and waved it frantically at her face.

"It's about spending meaningful time together. And because that has become so hard, something as simple as a date day became so important that everyone felt like they should keep this from me." He shook his head and smiled sadly. "I don't have any answers. But I'm guessing the first thing I should do is talk to my attorney. See what she has to say."

"That's the second thing you should do." Lily squeezed his hand, then lifted her shirt and placed his palm on her breast. "You've got two hands, you know."

Laughing, Mike took a breast in each hand and gave them a good squeeze. He even leaned in and pressed his face between them for a moment as she tousled his hair.

"Do you want them to honk or anything?" she asked.

"No, but thanks." After another good squeeze, he sat back and let out a sigh. "Okay. Now onto the second thing."

"If we call Sofia back, maybe talking to Beth should be the third--"

"C'mon, you horny monster." Mike gave her tail a playful yank as she rose. "Let's see what our attorney says and plan our trip for the Grand Tetons later."

"Yes!" Lily pumped her fist and summoned the climbing gear back as she let him drag her by the tail out of the kitchen. An unusually high number of carabiners popped free of her harness and pinged against the furniture before disappearing into puffs of smoke.

It was cold, despite the brightness of the day. Alexandros stood outside the Svalbard Global Seed Vault, his eyes narrowed against the bright sun. His manservant Basil stood by his side, surveying the terrain and keeping an eye on the road.

Dotted across the permafrost landscape were a team of mercenaries. The scientists who worked in the vault had been told this was an emergency training exercise. The intelligence communities had caught wind that a terrorist cell was planning a strike on the world's seed vaults. Therefore, they wanted to run some drills on how to handle such a situation. Naturally, Svalbard was enough out of the way that such an operation would minimally disrupt the nearby town.

Alexandros himself had reassured the head scientists that Svalbard was near the bottom of the terrorist hit list. He wanted to keep them from panicking and perhaps missing an important detail. In truth, disaster had already struck, and his team were looking for clues. Right now, a team of mages were inspecting the secret chamber that had been storing the Black Prince.

"Tea?" Basil held up a thermos and gave it a jiggle. "It may shake the chill."

Alexandros shook his head. "No, thank you. This isn't the kind of chill you can shake."

The Order was currently in a full-scale panic right now. The only reason they had learned about the Black Prince potentially escaping was because a woman had been seen stumbling out of the facility and got caught on the security cameras. The internal investigation triggered at Svalbard had immediately pinged the Order's control center, who had sent a small team to investigate.

Alexandros had immediately cancelled that team and came himself with a small army. Four Order pairs and a team of mercenaries trained by the Fae Queen herself. If the Black Prince had actually escaped and was in the area, he was still underprepared.

Basil made a sound in the back of his throat and poured a cup of tea anyway. Alexandros accepted it out of habit, then sipped it over the next half an hour. It was a lovely peppermint that did nothing to lift his mood.

The scientists were currently undergoing procedural interviews under the guise of understanding potential breaches, but they were actually being screened by mages to see if any of them were currently the Black Prince's host.

Kalu Kumara. If any sort of god were looking out for Alexandros, the team would learn that the mysterious woman had accidentally extinguished the bastard. Or maybe she took his soul upon herself and promptly drowned herself straight off the pier.

The last time the Order had dealt with Kalu Kumara, it had cost them dozens of mages and numerous teams just to corral the bastard into one body. Unable to successfully purge the demon, they had isolated him to a single person, an older Knight who had taken poison and wandered deep into a magically prepared chamber to prevent the creature's escape.

The corpse had sat alone in that cave for thirty years in the hopes of sufficiently weakening the spirit. Afterward, they had been forced to confront storage options that would keep the tissue preserved and contact with humans to a minimum while still guarding it. Eventually, Svalbard had become the facility to take on this burden without their direct knowledge.

However, the Order had been the one to funnel money toward building in the first place. There were lots of places like this one, not knowing that they were safeguarding magical artifacts or monitoring a creature's prison.

An Order team wandered out of the vault toward Alexandros. It was a mage named Timothy and his knight, Belinda. Their team was considered an up-and-comer in the organization. For Alexandros, this pair would have been considered average just twenty years ago.

Fuck, he thought to himself. If the Black Prince really had gotten out, the casualties would be far higher this time.

"Well?" he asked once the team was close.

"Interviews are finished," Belinda said. "We don't think any of them have become the host."

"And none of them were magically compelled or lying," Timothy added. "Looks like this was an outside job."

"And the entity?"

The team winced. "No sign of its presence here. Either dead or... somewhere else," Timothy said.

"What is this guy, exactly?" Belinda shivered, despite her magical coat keeping her warm. "I tried to look him up in the archives, and most of it was redacted. His Tier was listed as zero, but I thought it didn't go higher than one."

Alexandros nodded. "The entity ranking system used to be visual. The most dangerous of beings, a tier-one entity, would be capable of hunting and destroying a tier-two, and so forth. For truly unique entities like the Black Prince, they received a tier-zero label."

"So why are our classifications the other way?" asked Timothy. "We classify more dangerous artifacts with higher numbers. Wouldn't it make more sense to do the same with those?"

The old Knight chuckled. "Bureaucracy," he replied. "The Order was created to keep the magical and non-magical world apart. To that end, we have those who track entities and those who track artifacts. At some point in the last century, the research team came up with their own organization system for storage which...didn't really make sense to me.

"However, it made plenty of sense to them. The hunters and the researchers weren't communicating enough, and suddenly we had this much nicer system that made plenty of sense to only half of us." Alexandros sighed. "But they had already done us the favor of re-classifying all known artifacts, and it would have taken years to undo it and return to the original system, which they conveniently destroyed any record of."

"What was the old system?"

"Color wheel and letters." Alexandros shook his head. "It was created centuries ago, a system that made more sense to old men than to our generation. The further into the alphabet you went, the weaker the artifact. The color was meant to denote elemental alignment. So I don't entirely blame the scribes for choosing something more elegant."

"So Tier-Zero means...we're fucked?"

Alexandros nodded. "If the Black Prince did indeed escape his confinement, it will be inside of a host. Once that person sleeps, he will access their Dreamscape to grow stronger. Then he spreads like a virus, able to hop from one mind to another."

"How do we stop him?" Belinda pulled lip balm from her pocket and rubbed it on her lips. "Do we kill the hosts?"

The old Knight chuckled. "If it were that easy, perhaps. Even if you kill the hosts, he might be hiding in your shadow, waiting for you to fall asleep."

"So is he a demon?" Timothy asked. "What little we found in the report didn't make sense."

"The term demon is most accurate, but not in a biblical sense. This is no fallen angel. We're not entirely sure how he came to be, or which legend is correct." He turned to stare down toward the village. "If I thought dropping a bomb on this island would stop him, I'd order it right now."

"Even with us on it?" Timothy asked.

"He would," Basil answered. "And it would be the right thing to do."

"So...if he got away, what now?" This was from Belinda.

Alexandros sighed. "If we're lucky, he'll go into hiding for a hundred years so that it isn't our problem."

"And if we're unlucky?" Timothy asked.

Alexandros shook his head. "Then we'll know soon enough. Tell the vault that our training operation is over. Those of you who ate a big meal today, I would go somewhere else." He stuck a hand in his pocket and pulled out a pocket watch. "I think it's time to see where our Jane Doe went."

"What of the locals?" Basil asked. "Won't they see?"

"Let them." Alexandros pulled off his gloves to get a better hold on the magical item, perhaps the last one the Order possessed. He twisted the knob that would allow him to peer through time as if it had been reversed, then put his hand out. "A peek behind the veil is the last of our problems right now."

Basil handed over a Q-tip with blood collected on it. It had been collected inside of the Black Prince's vault, from the intruder's attempts to scratch her way out.

Alexandros swiped the swab against the inside of the watch and clicked it shut. Basil immediately took a step back while popping a piece of candied ginger into his mouth. As reality temporarily warped around the group, both Timothy and Belinda promptly vomited from the magical effect.

"Only average," Alexandros muttered to himself. He wished his daughter Tasia was here.

Mike sat at the dining room table of the cabin in Oregon. Though the property was technically his, he didn't think of it as his own. Not only was he rarely here, but the place had been taken over by Beth's presence. Bookshelves placed against the walls were now packed with her literature. The rumor was Beth had, in fact, read every single thing on these walls.

Since gaining magic of her own, some of her natural talents had been amplified. One of these things was apparently the speed at which she could read and comprehend detailed written passages. He supposed this was a trick that was far better to demonstrate in mixed company as opposed to how accommodating her now magical vaginal opening could be.

Through the window, Mike could see Lily playing with some Nirumbi children. They were practicing swarm tactics, the succubus screaming in mock agony as the Nirumbi youngsters bit her limbs and dragged her to the ground. The children were taught from an early age to stick together in case of predators. Unable to safely wield weapons, swarming their aggressor was the preferred method of survival.

Lily's presence gave poor Bigfoot a break from being their target. Right now, the sasquatch was crammed into an oversized chair with a pair of reading glasses and a copy of the newest Dungeon Master's Guide to Dungeons and Dragons.

The fluttering of wings was followed by the clip of stone against wood. Mike turned his attention to the earth elemental who had just landed with his coffee.

"Thank you, Emery." Mike took the offered cup. In truth, he wasn't that thirsty, but the little homunculus was always desperate to serve him anything.

"You are welcome, Caretaker." The imp hopped to the edge of the table. "Should I prepare a meat and cheese board?"

"I just ate, so no." Mike extended his hand and placed it flat against the table. He slowly lifted it in the air, allowing his magic to trickle from his palm and form a stream of electricity that danced along the pockmarks in the wood. Between his hand and the table, a silver dollar spun slowly in place.

Emery watched the spinning coin in awe, then snatched it up and promptly flew off to stash his treasure. Mike grinned to himself, then looked back out the window. Lily now stood eight feet tall and was pretending to eat a Nirumbi child with an overtly large mouth. The other children had scaled her torso, clinging tight as a group of others tackled her legs. The succubus fell to the ground with a loud thud, sending dirt and children scattering.

Lily cackled maniacally, her tail snaking out to drag some of the children back in. She seemed perfectly content to wrestle with the kids, which meant she was probably planning to sit this conversation out.

Maybe that was for the best. Lily, bless her heart, really liked to be the center of attention. It would be faster this way.

When Beth finally arrived, she was wearing a loose dress and calf-high boots. The Nirumbi in the yard greeted her enthusiastically, and she stopped to speak for a minute with a couple of elders who were supervising Lily and the children from a safe distance. Her hair was in a loose plait over her shoulder, and Mike couldn't help but notice that she wasn't wearing a bra when she bent down to speak.

She had been at the hot springs when he had arrived. Emery had offered to let her know, but Bigfoot had already sent a pair of birds, who were much faster.

Gazing at Beth, Mike wondered if this conversation would have been more palatable if he had just gone straight to the hot springs instead. He was well aware that the two of them still existed in their own separate orbits. Over time, it almost felt like some sort of chaotic dance where maybe what they had might further solidify. Into what, he didn't know.

The two of them were mirrors for each other. It didn't take a psychiatrist to acknowledge that Beth wasn't happy with what she had. Comparison was the thief of joy, after all, and the ever-present distance between them was the result.

Tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the table, it made him wonder if he should even be pushing to further include her in his own life. His relationships felt all over the place anyway. Maybe it made more sense to back off a bit and let Beth focus on her own happiness without always comparing herself to him.

The fact that their lives were so inextricably entwined made this an impossibility. She lived in his cabin and was willing to fight by his side. Shutting her out would be the worst thing he could do. Why was it he could juggle other relationships so well, but everything with Beth just felt so hard? His feelings for her were just so...complicated.

He wasn't sure what sort of love he felt for Beth. It was certainly more than the love one felt for friends. But it wasn't quite romantic either. Looking over at Bigfoot, he felt like the sasquatch wasn't the right guy to help him put a word to the love you share with someone who begs you to fuck them in the ass.

"Good morning," Beth said as she pushed the door open. "If I had known you were coming, I wouldn't have stepped out."

"If I had known I was being sued, I would have scheduled something." He said this without malice. "Just so you know, we did have a very lovely time last night. Thank you."

Beth smiled as she moved into the kitchen where Emery was already putting her coffee cup down. The scattered sunbeams that illuminated the kitchen created a soft aura around the attorney, who somehow looked like she was dancing as she moved. This was the nymph's magic, the ability to raise attraction to the highest level possible. He wasn't sure if Beth was even aware she was doing it, because he certainly forgot that he did it as well.

But Beth was different. She was deliberately cultivating her magical abilities. Mike's magic was bound in the threads of the Fae, and was very different from her own.

"I'm glad to hear it." Beth poured herself some coffee, then waved a hand over the steaming mug. A voluminous cloud wafted out as she dropped the temperature to the amount of her liking. Her ability to manipulate water was impressive. "I heard you went out dancing."

"We did. Who did you hear that from?"

"Tink." Beth grinned and sat at the table with him. "She apparently had a spy filling her in on the details."

Mike just chuckled. "Don't take this the wrong way, but why was she sharing this with you?"

"Oh, it was in the group chat."

"What group chat?"

"So let's talk about this lawsuit." Beth set her mug down and crossed her arms, suddenly all business. "I've reached out to Bentley's attorney, and learned two things. The first thing is that his attorney is a huge douchebag. Massively condescending, kept inferring I was just a paralegal, anything to piss me off."

"And the second?"

"That it's clearly personal." Beth rolled her eyes. "I asked about settlement options, what sort of damages he was asking for, the works. I even challenged him on the amount of money you're being sued for, and the fucker just laughed at me. He was very up front and let me know that this was, indeed, going to be personal. Bentley is willing to spend massive amounts of money just to drag you into court."

"The last people who dragged us into court had to learn the hard way." Mike shook his head. "Seriously, though. Millions?"

"The amount went up while I was on the phone. This guy is somebody used to getting his way. I don't think he realizes that his own net worth is just a fraction of your own, not that you ever think about money." Beth leaned back in her chair, causing the sunlight to cast quite the shadow across her cleavage. "I honestly think this is a ploy to humiliate you in court. A reasonable judge would disagree with the monetary awards, but I suspect that you won't get a reasonable judge."

"What makes you think that?"

Beth snorted. "Somehow, our Initial Appearance is scheduled in just ten days. Typically, something like this would have to wait at least two or three months. A little bit of digging revealed that the judge's granddaughter is a huge fan of We're Nearly Golden."

"What is that?"

"A K-pop band with massive traction in the US right now. Their fans call themselves Golddiggers."

"I feel like this doesn't explain anything."

"Bentley's company produces their music videos. I have a sneaky suspicion that some little girl is going to get a surprise meet and greet."

Mike frowned. "Isn't that bribery?"

"Absolutely. But how do we prove it? Eulalie looked up this girl's social media accounts. She is flying out to a concert in a month and bought the tickets nearly a year ago." Beth shrugged. "I'm sure whatever deal was made was done in person or over the phone. Maybe We're Nearly Golden pulls a random fan on stage and it happens to be this guy's granddaughter. But we live in a day and age where corruption like this happens in front of our faces all the time. People are apathetic to the causes of others, and the gears of justice move so slowly that they've become pay-to-win."

"Fuck. I'm almost depressed hearing you put it that way."

Beth nodded. "This is why I avoid social media. I don't know how Eulalie can see everything that she does and not be depressed over it."

"Because she isn't human," Bigfoot said from his chair. He pulled down his glasses to look over the rims. "It can be an easy thing to forget. Humans aren't her people and they never will be. Expecting Lala to somehow become the Jane Goodall of the human race is like asking the Nirumbi to become vegans. Just because she found herself in a position of power doesn't mean she cares about anything immediately outside of her orbit. For her, family is everything, and that's about it."

"Since when did you need glasses to read?" Mike asked.

Bigfoot pushed them back into place. "I don't. The woman in my life thinks they make me look distinguished, and foreplay isn't always about touch."

Mike looked at Beth, who was grinning from behind her coffee cup.

"Sometimes I make him wear a tie," she added. "Suly can't wear them, because if you pull too hard, his head comes off."

"What about Asterion? Do you make him wear glasses and formal attire?"

Beth shook her head. "We haven't seen each other that much recently. Asterion is... well, Asterion. He would wear something if I asked, but I can tell it makes him uncomfortable. Ever since the Nirumbi came, this place has become sort of a gathering place for wayward creatures. He's found an acceptance outside of our relationship that fulfills an emotional need that just one person can't provide."

Mike looked back and forth between Bigfoot and Beth. "I feel like I'm sitting between two therapists right now."

"Life can't always be about eating mushrooms in the woods and pissing on people who litter while camping." Bigfoot turned his attention back toward his book. "Learning to appreciate the intricacies of the human condition allows us to better explore it."

Mike looked to Beth for further explanation.

"We've been doing some group therapy," she admitted, then set her cup down. "Online, that is. There have been some hiccups around our relationship. I have three and a half men in my life, after all, and it's not unusual for feelings to get hurt or for some to feel neglected."

"I had no idea," Mike replied, well aware that he was the half.

"That's because you're too busy for your own life. I haven't said anything because it's not my place." Beth bit her lip and stared out the window. "I feel like we've gotten off track."

"Agreed." Although Mike suddenly had a desire to express his own frustrations, they had other things they needed to focus on. "The coach texted me this morning--that's how I found out about the lawsuit. Callisto is officially off the team."

"What? Oh no!" Beth almost stood, then sat back now. "Poor guy, have you told him yet? I can look into the agreements we signed for the league, see if I can make them let him finish the season."

"If you do, we can't speak with Terry. The guy told me that he was encouraged by the Director not to speak with us any further and all that."

"Let me see the texts."

Mike handed over his phone without hesitation. Beth did a quick scan and frowned.

"What does he mean by the attention this has already gotten?"

"I assume it's because the parents found out about the lawsuit or something."

"Perhaps. But did they boot this other kid off the team?" Beth slid his phone back over. "I've got a weird feeling we're missing something here. I'll see if Lala can do some digging for us."

"We'll see her for game night tonight," Bigfoot added. "If you text her now, she can bring whatever she finds by."

"Hmm." Now that Beth had pointed it out, he did feel like something was off. "Maybe she needs to pop into this Director's emails and see if she can find out more. If both kids are off the team, well... that's fair and expected."

"But if it's just Cal?" Beth grinned in a manner that made Mike uncomfortable. "Then we change our approach."

Mike reached across the table and patted her hand. "Let's not go to war with a children's sports program," he said. "We can concentrate our time and energy on the guy who is doing all of this." He stood with a heavy sigh.

"You okay?" Beth asked.

"Yeah. I need to go tell my son the bad news. Up until the incident with Ashton, this was good for him. I hate the idea that this got taken away. He needs something like this."

"You could always start a league of your own." Bigfoot pointed outside. "The Nirumbi youngsters could use the exercise. The merfolk and villagers might play as well. How many slap bracelets can Ratu make?"

"We end up with the same problem, though. Callisto is still an outcast among the centaurs and a lot of the kids who play with them."

"Oh. Right." Bigfoot furrowed his brow and went right back to his book. After a moment, he looked back over. "He would probably get on pretty well with the kids here. The Nirumbi don't know about what happened. They probably wouldn't care either."

"I'll think on it," Mike replied. He didn't want to shut Bigfoot down too quickly. After all, the guy was just trying to help. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to rescue those children from my succubus."

"Don't you have that backward?" Beth asked, then looked out the window to see Lily dangling a child by the feet with her tail. She pushed open the window in time for everyone to hear Lily yelling.

"What did I say about biting my ass?" she growled, then whirled the child around in a circle. All of the kids shrieked in terror and ran. Lily gave the kid a toss into a nearby pile of hay.

"See?" Mike asked.

"Give it a second," Beth muttered. Lily only took a couple of steps forward before the Nirumbi children swarmed her again. The succubus squawked in alarm, then was buried beneath them. Moments later, an armor-clad Lily scrambled free and climbed up the side of the barn to safety.

The Caretaker walked outside and stood with his hands on his hips. "Lily. Are you picking on these kids?" he asked.

The succubus narrowed her eyes at him. "Maybe," she admitted.

"C'mon. We need to talk to Callisto." He moved toward the barn and the portal. Behind him, Lily landed on the ground with a loud whoomp.

"I'll get you next time," she hissed, pointing at her eyes first, and then the Nirumbi. Laughing, the children chased her and Mike all the way to the portal.

Sarah sat on the beach, staring out at the distant horizon. She had her phone nearby and her headphones in, but had yet to find a suitable playlist to soothe her soul that exceeded the power of nature itself sweeping water against sand.

All around her, tourists milled about, giving her a wide berth. On a couple of occasions, she would catch sight of a man who would get up the fortitude to approach her, but they all veered off at the last second as if warned subconsciously of the danger.

This may have been her mother's doing. Ever since she had stitched her soul to Sarah's shadow, she was an ever-present figure. For a while, Sarah had wondered if this had happened so that Elizabeth could save her daughter's life. However, she now had doubts, and believed it was nothing more than an act of self-preservation.

Sarah was aware of the eternal damnation that waited for both of them. Hundreds of years ago, an eternity of torment had seemed like an upgrade to their circumstances. Back then, they had been little more than two constant victims who had discovered the power to alter reality to their whims.

But power corrupted. Little by little, their souls had rusted along the edges until the rot had crept all the way in. They were no better than the people they had once condemned, and there was no way to escape that fact. If Sarah promised her soul to a demon, Hell was already her destination.

This fact alone kept her from walking out into those waves and letting nature carry her away. After her experience locked in the secret vault, she couldn't even close her eyes without hearing the sinister, mocking laughter of the Kalu Kumara.

The crunching of sand behind her revealed that somebody had finally gotten up the nerve to speak with her. Sarah kept her gaze locked forward, holding in the wrath that was clutching her heart. Setting someone on fire would feel good, but would attract unnecessary attention.

A massive figure sat next to her, and she was surprised to see the Curator had joined her. Dressed in a pair of board shorts, his white skin looked like fresh paper. There were long, thick scars across his entire body, as if he had been taken apart and sewn back together multiple times.

"Am I needed?" she asked, her voice flat.

"No."

They sat together in silence for several minutes. Finally, she turned toward the Curator. "Aren't you worried people will look at you?"

"No." He turned to look over his shoulder at a nearby family with children. None of them so much as batted an eye. "I am cloaked in an illusion. Our work is too important for me to come out here and be noticed."

"Why not wear a shirt, then?" She wasn't being combative. After spending the last couple of years at the Black Palace with the Curator, she had never once seen him without a shirt on. "This is a lot of work to get a tan."

"I do not tan." He shifted, his form blurring as he was now sitting in front of her, blocking her view of the ocean. "I wanted you to look at me."

Not daring to disobey, she did. Her eyes took him in, immediately noting that his gnarly, marred body looked like it had been carved from stone. His immense form was somehow bigger without his jacket.

"The Collector did this to me." The Curator indicated the scars all along his body. "Most of this is her work."

"Oh." Sarah wasn't entirely certain what to say about that. She was aware that the Collector often referred to the Curator as her son, but the Curator himself never spoke about the relationship. In truth, Sarah didn't feel remotely safe asking either one of them about it.

"Is that pity I see in your eyes?" he asked. She realized his own eyes were wide, despite the brightness of the day.

She shook her head. "There is no room for pity for the likes of us."

"That is true." He moved a hand down his torso, tracing one of the scars. "I don't even remember all of these. Not the ones that I made, anyway. But I can tell you that I know what it is like to see one's own heart beating in another's hand. I have been spread apart on her table, my organs struggling to survive as she swaps them for new ones, that same heart pumping poisoned blood through me. I know what it is to fall prey to her machinations. For this, you have my understanding."

"She took you apart?" Fascinated, and a little horrified, her curiosity got the better of her.

"Many times." His attention wandered over to the nearby family. "The woman who calls herself my mother does not know what the title itself means. I was not born of her, to my knowledge."

"She adopted you?"

"In a manner of speaking." The Curator studied the family with an intensity that made Sarah uncomfortable. The little girl was crying, as her half-made sandcastle had fallen apart. Her mother reassured her softly while her father patted her head. Eventually, the Curator turned back toward Sarah. "You are disappointed that you became a catalyst for her schemes."

"Disappointed and catalysts aren't the words I would use." Sarah scowled. "Do you have any idea what that woman put me through?"

"Of course. She told me all about it before it happened."

Hot tears formed in the corners of Sarah's eyes. "So that's how it is, then. I've done nothing but obey your every command, yet I am as expendable as one of Legion's puppets."

"Not true." The Curator looked down at his hands, which were entrenched in the sand. He wiggled them back and forth as if discovering them for the first time. "You are important."

"Then why?" she demanded.

"The Kalu Kumara feasts on your fear and anguish. To tell you the plan in advance would have reduced its efficiency."

"He could have killed me!"

"A tactical lie." The Curator raised a grain of sand and studied it. "She implied your life was in danger to season the meal."

Sarah put her hands over her ears and screamed in frustration. The Curator opened his hand and twisted his fingers so that no sound came out of her mouth. The witch screamed her heart out silently for several long seconds, then slammed her hands into the sand in frustration. Weeping, she accidentally rubbed sand in her own eyes.

"Do you know what he did to me?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"Clinically? Yes. But do I understand it? No." He shook his head. "The Dreamscape is a powerful place, one I can never visit. It does not suffer the bounds and limitations of reality, which means the torment you were exposed to was limited only by his imagination. He targets the soul exclusively in that place, as you well know. His power is such that your body manifested its wounds, much like the stigmata associated with the son of God."

Sarah could only stare at the Curator in horror. "But why?"

"Because we need him." The Curator took a deep breath, though Sarah knew he didn't actually require air to live. Instead, this was the deep breath of a man sifting through many thoughts, unsure of what to share.

"But why?" she asked again.

"We are dealing with a foe that has become formidable. One the Collector herself has deemed a personal threat. That is not a term she uses lightly." He pursed his lips, then took a piece of sand and pushed it inside. She could hear the grain cracking in his teeth, then he scooped up a small handful and repeated the process.

"You haven't answered my question."

"When forced to play a game against an opponent who is constantly changing the rules, the only choice is not to play. However..." The Collector made a face and spat out a stone. "Like it or not, this man is making unprecedented progress in a collective event known as the Great Game, Grand Game, or whatever variation you prefer. So not playing against him is not a choice either."

Sarah frowned. "Are we sending another player after him? That didn't work last time."

"The Captain was merely another test subject. Better him than us." Spotting an errant piece of seaweed, he put that in his mouth, too. "I am not aware of another player who could properly compete with the Radleys. And it is better to think of them in this manner from now on. We are not just against the Caretaker. We also face those who now stand beneath his banner. They are not to be considered mere game pieces. How does one play a game of Chess against somebody who starts with so many queens?

"Instead, we have decided that the best bet is to challenge him to another game entirely, one with rules designed to target his weaknesses. To that end, we found a being who is desperate to survive and return to power. For the Kalu, the price of failure is likely death."

"So we're sending the...him...against the Radleys?" Sarah snorted. "How is that any different?"

"Oh, he was explicitly told to stay away from the Caretaker and his kin. Forbidden, in fact. In exchange for his freedom, he was handed very few limitations, and that was one of them. Unless told otherwise, he is to avoid anybody associated with the Radley family."

Sarah blinked and shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense."

"It will. But you should know that he was also instructed to leave those who worked for us alone as well." The Curator reached toward Sarah's face, and she flinched away. However, he was too fast, and ended up patting her on the head awkwardly. "You should know that you have nothing further to fear from him."

"Nothing to fear?" Sarah scoffed. "How do you figure? I haven't slept since before...the incident. The couple of times I've tried, I can hear that bastard's laughter, his growls, feel his fingers against my throat! I'm afraid of him! I'll always be afraid!"

The Curator nodded. "That is because he continues to feast. You will feel much better once you sleep and he is allowed to slip away into the Dreamscape proper instead of nesting inside your soul like a pack of mice."

A chill ran up Sarah's spine. "He's...still inside of me?"

"He is, and shall be until you sleep." The Curator gestured toward one of the recently rebuilt resorts just a couple of blocks away. "In fact, we have rented you a very nice room over there. Legion has procured some sleeping pills. Should you fall asleep, then the Black Prince will be free to hop into the dreams of nearby sleepers, his reign begun anew. Then he will leave this place, and you will be free of his continued influence."

Shaking, Sarah clutched at her chest as if all the warmth had been sucked from the air. The Curator patted her head again, then turned his attention toward the ocean.

"Do you find the ocean soothing?" he asked. "If so, is it the sound? The warmth? It certainly can't be the sand. It is coarse, rough, and irritating, and has somehow gotten into my shorts. Explain it to me, if you can, because I fail to understand."

She didn't know what to say, her thoughts turned inward. Eventually, the Curator spat out the rest of the sand in his mouth and stood.

"Perhaps some things shall remain beyond my knowledge," was all he said as he left her behind, with only her shadow for company.

Sarah sat on the beach until the sun was low in the sky. She got up and returned to the Black Palace long enough to receive further instructions regarding her accommodations for the night and pick up the sleeping pills.

When she checked into the resort twenty minutes later, she barely acknowledged the clerk who gave her the room key. A quick elevator ride took her only halfway up the eight-story building.

The room itself was nothing special with linoleum floors and a king-sized bed. She didn't even have any luggage, so the room somehow looked even bigger than it should. Staring out the window, Sarah realized it was essentially the same view she had seen for the last couple of years from the Black Palace.

As the sun went down, she stood and walked onto the balcony, inhaling the sweet scent of salted air that had only recently become bitter. Down below, a few stragglers were still on the beach, likely to remain until the sun went down. Her thoughts were like mud, and she nearly dozed off twice while standing there.

But he was waiting for her there in the darkness, his crimson eyes staring like a predator ready to pounce. Both times, her eyes snapped open to reveal that she was still safe on the balcony of her room.

Whatever the plan, she hadn't just been the catalyst. She had become the carrier of some insidious weapon, a bomb that would psychically detonate when she fell asleep, releasing terror on those sleeping through the closest walls. She thought back to the Curator's words, about how she was the vessel. If she were to swim toward the horizon and drown, she would go straight to Hell.

But she'd also take the Black Prince with her.

Honestly, it was a tempting proposition. The idea of condemning such a loathsome spirit to the same fate as her brought a small smile to her face.

It wasn't too late. If she left now, she could probably make it a mile or two before exhaustion hit. Her magic would power her for another couple of miles, and then she could sink into damnation with a smile on her face.

In the corners of her mind, something growled. She flinched, then stumbled against the patio chair and almost fell backward into the plate glass window.

Shadows branched out like sticky threads of silk, bracing her fall. Sarah narrowed her eyes at the realization that she would have to contend with her mother as well. All thoughts of revenge were promptly squashed right then and there.

The plan was half-baked at best, but she was just so tired. The sun sank beneath the horizon, casting the world into a darkness that was still somehow bright and alive with activity. Torches along the beach were surrounded by tourists who listened to island music, and people chatted like long-time friends at the beach bars. The beaches of Maui would persist long into the night, and she would be there to hear all of it.

Sarah thought long and hard on the Curator's words, and the scars along his body. She had seen him switch out some of those parts when damaged, namely his own eyes. More than once, she had wondered what sort of being he was, but it didn't matter.

Right now, in this moment, she was the carrier for something vile, and potentially more powerful than the Curator. Perhaps even the Collector. Much like the world looked different after the sun went down, so too did her situation.

The witch wasn't gazing out into the darkness. She was the source, the harbinger of something frightening and terrible. Her situation was horrible, of that there was no doubt. There would be no revenge, no calculated plan to somehow destroy the Black Prince, or to get even with the Collector for using Sarah's soul as a food source.

And so her only solace lay in the fact that she would force that misery onto others, to dole out her pain like candy and spread it to the ends of the Earth. Looking down on those people below, she hated them. She hated them for daring to find happiness, for existing in a state other than the agony she endured.

Most of all, she hated them for the hope they still had for the future.

Sarah heard a growl of approval from the shadows, causing her to jump. Shaking her head, she stumbled toward the bed, exhaustion overpowering her senses. On the small table in her room was a bottle of wine and a welcome basket.

With a thread of shadow, she severed the neck of the bottle and took several gulps. The back of her throat stung with its taste, which she chased with the pills that she had been given at the Black Palace.

It didn't take long. Sarah had only finished half of the bottle when it finally slipped free of her numb fingers, caught by her mother before it could break on the floor. She stumbled to the bed as the gravity of the room tugged at her mind. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and let herself fall asleep.

As before, those crimson eyes waited for her once more in the darkness but only for a moment. She heard the Black Prince laugh, only dimly aware that it was coming from her bedroom rather than her mind.

The inky black gave way to the sweet oblivion between the waking world and the Dreamscape, and she fell into a blissful slumber.

I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! The Black Prince is a villain I've been holding in my pocket for over a year now, and it's safe to say he will change the Horny Monster-verse in ways you haven't foreseen yet.

~Annabelle Hawthorne