Chapter 1: A Family Outing

Mike knelt at the bottom of a slide, his hands on the cool metal. The hot summer day had been chased off by a sudden thunderstorm summoned up by the dragon Quetzalli, who sat in human form on a nearby swing. The playground was empty now, save for Mike’s family. At the top of a slide, a young boy stood nervously eyeing the slide.

“C’mon, Callisto, you can do it. It’s actually a lot of fun.”

His son shook his head nervously, causing lanky hair to blow across his face in the breeze. “It’s too scary, and I’m too high!”

“C’mon, you should try it.” Mike patted the slide again. “That bracelet Ratu gave you will only last another hour, and then you’ll have to wait for her to recharge it.”

Callisto held up his wrist to look at the bracelet. What appeared to be a simple slap bracelet was in fact a magical device that the naga Ratu had crafted to grant Callisto a human form. The boy was actually a centaur, and had spent the past year espousing interest in learning how to walk on two legs and spend time in the human realm. Over a month had been spent planning this outing, and other than climbing to the top of the playground and freezing in place by the slide, the centaur had done nothing else.

In truth, the bracelet wouldn’t have worked if Callisto hadn’t accidentally shapeshifted into a human close to his first birthday. It had scared the shit out of Zel, his mother, and the rest of the herd. It wasn’t something he could control, and Ratu thought it was leftover magic from the time Mike had knocked Zel up while she was in a human-esque form. Like his mother at the time, Callisto had human-esque legs with horsehair and toes that were pinched together like hooves, which was why he wore long pants even though it was summer. His shoes were custom enchanted to look like sneakers. The tail that had been pulled through the back of his pants was a dead giveaway that he wasn’t quite human.

His half-sister Grace emerged from beneath the slide, her hair dangling as she clung to the bottom of the metallic surface with eight slender spider legs. She scowled at her brother and tapped on the metal sheet hard enough that she put a divot in it.

“Even your sister wants you to go.” Mike looked at his daughter. “And you need to fix your skirt if you’re going to climb upside down like that, young lady.”

Grace bared her fangs at her father and slunk back into the shadows beneath the slide. He was happy to see that she used the velcro on the front of her skirt to reattach it to her legs. Just because she was an Arachne didn’t mean she could go around showing everyone her underwear. Her aunt Eulalie was already talking about making her wear shorts all the time.

If anyone was in the park, the sight of Grace would have terrified them to the core. Her lower body was that of an orb weaver spider, but she was still small enough that if she crouched down, she could pull her skirt over her legs and pass for a normal child in public as long as she kept her additional eyes hidden behind her bangs. They had brought her to the park in a wagon through a magical tree portal, right after Quetzalli had gone ahead and summoned enough thunder and lightning to scare away anyone lingering around. Abella and Mike had scoured the area to make sure it was empty first, and then a perimeter of magical wards had been established around the entire park. If anybody wandered in, Mike would know.

Taking them beyond the protective boundaries of his magical home was a huge risk. After much discussion amongst the adults, it had been Eulalie who was their biggest advocate. As an Arachne who had spent her entire life locked away from the outside world, she was worried the disconnect would create a line of “us vs. them” in the children. The last thing Mike wanted was for his kids to fear the world he had grown up in.

“Try sitting on your butt first.” Mike patted his own behind for his son’s benefit. “You know, that gross thing under your tail.”

This made Callisto smirk. Even though he was a centaur and they pooped openly, there was something about human butts that often put the kid in hysterics. It must be a universal thing.

Callisto carefully sat near the edge of the slide, his fingers gripping the edges tightly. Tentatively, he slid forward, his fingers squeaking against the metal. Once his whole body was on the slide, Grace popped over the side and bit her brother’s fingers, causing him to release his grip on the sides and slide down screaming.

Mike caught Callisto at the bottom just as Grace disappeared back under the slide. “You did it!” he cried with excitement, lifting his son up and hugging him tight. Callisto was stuck somewhere between joy and terror, so Mike set him on the ground and held up his hands. “High five, bud!”

The centaur gave him a high-five, then looked down at his fingers. There were little red marks, but no punctures. Mike put his hands on his hips and walked over to where the slide and playground connected.

“Gracelynn Penelope Radley, what have I said about biting your brother?” He peered under the slide and saw that she was crouched upside down beneath it. The Arachne hissed at him from her hiding spot.

Mike tilted his head to one side and frowned at her, unafraid. Eventually, Grace pouted and held her arms out for him. He helped her down, and she moved over next to her brother and butted her head gently against his chest.

Callisto hugged his sister. The two of them were close, despite their differences. Lily often referred to them as the Leg Brigade. The two of them were inseparable whenever Callisto came to the house for a visit, and it wasn’t uncommon to hear Callisto’s hooves on the hardwood floors as they chased each other around. Tink had even made him special rubber hoof covers to keep him from slipping and damaging the hardwood floors.

Mike walked with both of them over to the teeter-totter and showed them how it worked. Callisto asked a bunch of questions, but Grace remained silent. At eighteen months, she was non-verbal, which wasn’t that uncommon among Arachne. Her aunt Eulalie didn’t have a whole lot of information to go off on, but apparently Grace’s mother, Velvet, had been the same way as a child.

As Callisto and Grace bounced up and down on the teeter-totter, Mike smiled. Shortly after Grace’s hatching, Callisto had become insanely curious about his little sister. However, his strange fear of Mike had prevented the two of them from playing together. It had become clear to Mike that Callisto saw the world in a very different way than anyone else did, one that nobody quite understood yet. Play dates between siblings slowly turned into special father-son moments that helped bridge the gap between them. Mike had asked Callisto once about why he used to be scared, and the boy had simply shrugged and said it didn’t matter, because he didn’t remember why anymore.

The trees rustled above Mike, though there wasn’t any wind. He tilted his head to listen. Trees didn’t often use words, but the ones in the park had grown up around humans and could sometimes speak in stilted sentences rather than stray thoughts and feelings. Words and images entered his mind and his brain worked overtime to decipher them.

Someone had entered the park. There were at least three people, and they were headed directly for the playground. Mike frowned, realizing that whoever was coming had bypassed the protective wards he had helped place. That meant trouble.

“We have company.” He frowned at his children, then looked at Quetzalli. The dragon was already sliding an enchanted napkin ring over her horn, which rendered it invisible. Abella emerged from the trees, her wings wrapped around her body like a cloak. She cocked her head to one side.

“I can hear four of them,” she said. “What do you want me to do?”

“If they bypassed the wards, they know we’re here already.” He bit his lip and looked at the kids. “Take Grace.”

“Come, hatchling.” Abella opened up her wings, revealing the stone body beneath. Grace was unnervingly quick, crossing the playground in seconds and leaping onto Abella’s body. She wrapped her wings around the child and moved back into the trees, becoming motionless. To a casual observer, she was nothing more than a statue, the Arachne hidden from view.

Callisto looked up at Mike.

“Where do I hide?” he whispered, tucking his tail down the back of his pants.

“Nowhere.” Mike knelt and ruffled his son’s hair. “You’re safe here with me. If something happens, you know what to do.”

Callisto nodded, fingering the bracelet on his wrist. He wasn’t a stranger to the odd happenings at the Radley house. Typically, the danger was fairly minimal, and it wasn’t any different here. If a fight broke out, he had plenty of aunts to run to as a safety net.

Mike sent a mental note to his familiar, Kisa, at the house. He felt her mind touch his, and then she was gone. Help was already on the way.

Three men and a woman appeared through the trees, all of them wearing business suits and looking like Secret Service agents. Two of the men wore slightly longer coats and had protective auras about them. He immediately suspected that they were knights of the Order. The Order was an international organization dedicated to keeping the boundaries between the magical and non-magical world intact. Other than Cyrus, a retired mage, Mike had never dealt with any of them.

“Mike Radley.” The blonde woman leading the group gave him a friendly wave, unaware that he could see her soul. It typically manifested as a fractal in most people, and he had learned how to read the shifting colors within to some degree. Right now, he saw deception with a healthy dose of caution. This was a woman who was ready to cause trouble if she needed to.

“Who?” he asked, playing dumb.

“I’m not here to do this dance with you.” She took off her sunglasses, revealing a pair of emerald green eyes that glowed. He could see the magic in her soul, slithering between the moving shapes like an ethereal serpent. This woman had some serious magical chops, and she clearly wasn’t afraid to show it. “My name is Ingrid. I’m here regarding one of your properties.”

Now this was a surprise. It had been well over a year since someone had hassled him about the properties that he owned. There was a giant patch of land in Oregon that had become a refuge for Native American mythical beings. Some land developers there had tried driving him out by building near his land, not realizing that Bigfoot had zero qualms about dismantling their machinery.

Then there was the castle in Ireland, but his only attempt to visit it had been disastrous. He used to get offers to buy it regularly until Eulalie had wiped its existence from the internet. Not an easy thing to do, but the Arachne was a master coder. Now if someone looked it up by name, they got sent to a fake website that tried to sell them timeshares.

There was also a forest in the caldera of a dead volcano in Hawaii. Mike hadn’t visited it yet, but only because there was no easy way to get there. He had sent Beth some time ago to check it out, but between the landscape, the locals, and the super thick vegetation, there was no easy way up the mountain without hiring a guide. Typically, he used portals that magical rats could chew to travel long distances, but the exit had to be inside a structure that they knew about.

“I’m afraid all inquiries regarding my properties need to go through my attorney.”

Ingrid held up a manilla folder. “Mr. Radley, this is a matter of some importance. I represent an organization whose sole purpose is to protect the mythical creatures of this world from, well, humans.”

“Huh. I can’t believe you guys openly admitted mythical creatures exist.” Mike studied the woman and her companions. He knew more about them than they were willing to let on. Their sole purpose wasn’t protecting cryptids, but maintaining the order between the magical and non-magical realm by whatever means necessary. “I kind of figured you would give me the run around and talk about weather balloons or politics.”

“We’ve been watching you for some time now. We are aware of the mythical beings living in your home and felt it was prudent to be honest. That, and the storm earlier was definitely a magical anomaly, so why waste time beating around the bush? We call ourselves the Order.” Ingrid shook the folder. “Would you please look at these?”

He scowled at her, then reached for the envelope. If they were going to attack, his magic would warn him first. “We don’t have a problem, do we?”

“With you? No.” Ingrid shook her head. “Our main purpose is to maintain peace and secrecy. Based on our research, this is the first time you’ve left your property since moving in almost three years ago. You only ended up on our radar due to a local investigation.”

“What sort of investigation?” He took the envelope from Ingrid and undid the string holding it shut.

“Local cabal of witches were digging into your affairs, but they blew themselves up. That’s where we found notes and things about your home and its previous owner, a woman named Emily.” Ingrid looked down at Callisto. “Is this your son? He looks just like you.”

Mike pretended to be more interested in the contents of the envelope than Ingrid’s question. Callisto already knew better than to answer—his mother Zel had drilled it into him that he was never to speak to someone outside of the house without permission first. The only outsider he ever got to chat with was Cyrus, and it was on strict orders to be friendly and never mention his sister. Cyrus was still under the impression that he had killed Grace’s grandmother decades ago, and for good reason. If the man ever learned that he had failed to wipe out the last Arachne, he would probably lose his mind.

He pulled a handful of photographs out of the envelope and frowned. “This seems a little dramatic. Why not just send me an email or something?”

Ingrid shook her head. “I can’t say much, other than someone has been monitoring our systems. You are an unknown quantity, Mr. Radley, and we would rather you stay that way.”

“I see.” It was the first thing she had said that he could truly agree with. Quetzalli moved up by his side, sliding her arm around his.

“Are you Mrs. Radley?” Ingrid asked.

Quetzalli smiled and shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Mrs. Radley is at home. I’m just helping out today.”

The pictures had been taken with a drone and were in black and white. Mike wondered about the lack of color until he saw a label in the corner that said infrared imaging. The first image was of a road that was torn apart by a mudslide. The next few photographs were buildings that had been hollowed out by fire. He had been handing them down to Callisto, who studied them with intense interest.

“Don’t show him the last couple,” muttered Ingrid. “It may be upsetting.”

Mike didn’t quite understand why when he got to them. It took him a moment to put together what he was seeing, a beach covered in men and women lying in the sand. However, instead of legs, they all had beautiful fins, and they were scattered about as if lounging. Finally, he spotted it. Several of them were staring at the sky, eyes wide and slack jawed. These were merfolk, dozens of them. They were dead.

“What caused this?” he asked, looking up at Ingrid. Quetzalli was staring at the images, her fingers now digging into his arm.

“We don’t know. However, we do know that whatever did this came from a piece of land you own, then returned there when finished.” Ingrid tilted her head to one side. “The Order is prepared to buy the land from you, so that we can go in and investigate. We’ve spent the last month trying to access the land, and think that whatever is keeping us out is similar to the geas on your home. We assume that a transfer in ownership will allow us unrestricted access to investigate.”

This made him smirk. Nothing was similar to the geas on his home, not anymore. “Well, it’s not for sale, no matter how many zeros are on the end of that number.”

“I’m afraid we need to act on this, one way or another. We are responsible for the safety of the merfolk colonies throughout the islands, and this is a tragedy we never want to see again.” She pulled another manilla envelope from her inner coat pocket and handed it over. “Inside this is a monetary offer and all the paperwork required to seal the deal today. This is the carrot, Mike Radley, and a rather generous one. I would like to warn you that you won’t like the stick.”

“My dad’s not afraid of you,” Callisto said.

“Maybe he should be.” This was from one of Ingrid’s lackeys. The man fixed Callisto with a hard stare, but the child yawned, suddenly disinterested in the conversation. It was also possible that Callisto hoped Mike would forget that he had spoken to a stranger.

“Cal, can you go play with Aunt Que for a moment?” Mike watched as Quetzalli escorted Callisto over to the monkey bars, then turned back to Ingrid. “So let’s cut the bullshit. You’re here for my land and intend to either buy it from me or take it.”

Ingrid nodded. “I think you understand the situation rather well.”

“Well, for reasons I can’t go into, I’m not going to sell it. And you can’t really take it, either.” He held up his hands defensively as her lackey folded his coat back to reveal a knife in his belt. “This isn’t a tough guy thing, I promise. It’s complicated.”

“Explain it to me.” Ingrid’s eyes were suddenly hard.

“Magically complicated. If I could, I would.” This was only partially true, but they were outsiders and didn’t need to know his life story. “But what I can tell you is that I have a duty to the land and whatever resides there. So instead of all this talk about the stick and carrot, how about secret option three? I go out there and help you figure out what’s going on, then we put it right together. Your colonies stay protected, I get to keep my land, and your higher ups can spend the money they saved on Bigfoot spray.”

Ingrid frowned. “I’m not sure that would work.”

He shrugged. “Either way, might want to run it by your bosses. But you should know that I’m involved now. I intend to investigate the problem and solve it, with or without you.”

“And you think someone like you can fix it?” Her lackey was giving him a hard stare, now.

“Of course I can. After all...” Mike sent a pulse of magic into a nearby tree, which started a chain reaction with the surrounding vegetation. The Order looked around in confusion, obviously sensing the magic but unable to track it. Despite a complete lack of wind, the branches of the trees shook dramatically, causing leaves to fall around the group. As the leaves fell, Mike used his mastery of electrical fields to spin them into tiny tornados that danced across the playground. Callisto clapped his hands in delight as the leaves were carried up into the air, creating a whirling fountain of green. Up above, thunder rumbled in the clouds, most likely summoned by Quetzalli.

“I am the Caretaker,” Mike finished. The leaves tumbled down around them, forming a circle.”Now if you’ll excuse me, I promised I would push my kid on the swings before we left.”

The Order stood there for several long moments, the men looking at Ingrid. She tilted her head as if listening to something, then nodded in Mike’s direction.

“We’ll be in touch,” she said, then turned on her heels and left, taking her minions with her.

Ingrid sat in the back of the van, her eyes on the electronic tablet in her hands. It showed a dossier that had been assembled on Michael Radley, now complete with a picture taken from a secret camera that Wallace had been holding.

After leaving the park, they had plugged directions into the GPS for a retired mage who lived in the area. They had wanted to bring him on board ahead of time, but directives from the top had been very strict. They would make no further moves until contact had been established with Radley. Her people had staked out the Radley estate for over a month now, waiting for the man to finally emerge.

“So what are you thinking?” In the seat across from her, Wallace was busy looking through a tablet of his own. The interior of the van was modified to allow the passengers to face each other. It was more of a mobile command center than anything else, but it did have a minibar stocked with snacks and beverages.

“Hard to say. I’m more interested in the woman who was with him and the boy.” She flipped to the pages they had marked Cal and Aunt Que. “I imagine the woman is probably a cryptid. There’s definitely something otherworldly about her. According to the few notes we have, her profile doesn’t match up with anything that lived in that house.”

“Hmm.” Wallace looked up from his tablet. “She seemed older, and she’s the boy’s aunt. That implies that she’s related to the boy’s mother.”

“And yet they look nothing alike. So unless the man adopted, he knocked someone up.” She double-checked Radley’s history. “But he’s way too old for the math to work.”

“Which means that either he is adopted and potentially a cryptid, or a half-breed.” Wallace marked something on his own tablet with a finger. “Half breed makes the most sense to me. Definite familial resemblance.”

“Agreed. Depending on what he bred with, we may be facing a massive violation of non-breeding ordinances.”

“However, he is in protected territory. No exposure to normals. As long as this kid doesn’t get out and cause trouble, we don’t have any right to move on him.” Wallace smirked. “The guy has been getting dirty with monsters. Who would have thought?”

“Sex with monsters isn’t a crime,” Ingrid said. “But it really should be.”

“Eh.” Wallace shrugged. “Monster is such a general term. Boning a vampire is way different than boning the Loch Ness monster. Crosses a few extra lines.”

“Not as far as I’m concerned.” Ingrid had been with the Order since childhood. She had been the sole survivor of a plane crash on a family trip when she was nine. It was a small plane, capable of sitting ten, and her family had purchased all the seats. An undiscovered flock of wyverns had attacked the plane in mid-flight, and after the plane went down, she had successfully hidden from them until the mysterious Order had arrived to save her. There was a thin line separating the real world from the magical one, and she was determined to destroy anything that dared to cross it.

“Estimated threat level?” Wallace raised an eyebrow. “Potential telekinesis, though it seemed like he was manipulating nearby trees. I felt all the hair on my arms stick up, so electrical fields, perhaps?”

Threat levels were a simplified way of looking at any potential target and knowing what measure of response was needed. Nixies and other faerie pests were considered Tier 5 threats—they existed, but rarely accomplished anything beyond being a nuisance. Rookies were often sent out to dispatch Tier 5 threats to work on their own teamwork, or as punishment. Some of the level 5s were, frankly, annoying.

A Tier 4 threat was something that could use magic and was intelligent or capable enough to do serious harm. A hedge witch might reach Tier 4 if she knew the right spells to seriously hurt another. Typically, magical creatures in the Tier 4 category were left alone, because they really only struck out in self-defense.

“I’d put him at Tier 4,” she replied.

“His son thinks otherwise.” Wallace grinned. “He’d probably be embarrassed to know that his dad barely makes our list at all. If not for the cute little leaf show, I don’t know that he’d even pass 5.”

“I don’t give a shit what his kid thinks. Based on what we saw, the worst thing that guy has ever been through is a bad hair day and some chafing.” She thought back to that ridiculous pose he had struck. It had been the act of a carefree individual, a man without a care in the world.

“Are we talking about the same person?” Wallace tapped his tablet, flipping back through pages. “Did you even read his psych evaluation?”

“Several times. Let’s just say money apparently does buy happiness.” She groaned. “Please tell me you got a ping on that ridiculous title of his.”

Wallace shook his head. “Even in our library, the word Caretaker is pretty innocuous. Could be something he made up himself.”

“Damn.” She pushed the hair away from her eyes and sighed. The Director had been very adamant about how she was to approach Mike Radley, but she could feel that something was off. The man was supposed to be dangerous, and there hadn’t been any intel about children. Cal’s presence had made her own approach far softer than intended, and now she regretted even agreeing to speak with him again about the property in Hawaii. However, the Director had been listening in on their encounter with Mike through her earpiece. At Mike’s offer of assistance, the Director had practically shouted for her to accept. “Are we there yet?”

“Almost.” Wallace looked out the window. “So we’re pulling old man Cyrus back into the game?”

“Out of necessity, yes.” Master Cyrus had been one of the best mages the Order had ever seen, but his last mission had been an absolute disaster. His entire team had been killed, save for one of his knights. The whole thing involved a succubus, a dragon man, and rumors surrounding a blonde haired witch who couldn’t be killed. “But he knows we’re coming.”

“Kind of convenient that he is so close by. Coincidence?”

Ingrid snorted. “You really think an old school mage like him would be hanging around a place like the Radley estate without checking in with us?”

“Yeah. Guess you’re right.” Wallace looked at his tablet again. “Speaking of the improbable, do you really think Mike is hiding a Class 1 artifact in his house?”

“Like the Grimoire of Morgan Le Fey? Doubt it.” While cryptids and magic users had Tiers, magical items had Classes. The levels were similar, and anything with one attached was either under lock and key with the Order, or had been destroyed. There were Tier 1 threats out there that the Order hadn’t gotten rid of yet, but those were not for lack of trying. For example, there was a creature in the Berkeley Pit that they kept locked away from the public. If they knew how to get rid of it, they would have already. “You think a man who could change the world with Words of Creation would be messing around with his kid at the park?”

“Fair.” Wallace fell silent, his gray eyes focused on the scenery outside. The man had been Ingrid’s partner for almost twenty years, and seemed to have a supernatural talent for knowing when she needed to be alone with her thoughts.

The van pulled up outside of an apartment complex. Blake and Bradford, who were brothers, got out and opened the side door for Ingrid. She got out first, then waited for Wallace.

“Sword got stuck in the seatbelt,” he muttered, sliding his weapon back into its sheath. “Sorry.”

“Why even bother with a seatbelt? You have wards.” Ingrid rolled her eyes and walked up the stairs. An elderly resident came out of her home, saw the four of them, and promptly went back inside, muttering something about men in black. It wasn’t an entirely bad assumption, considering how much time and energy the Order had put into perpetuating the myth.

The Order had been hiding in plain sight for centuries now. Often, if someone shared a conspiracy theory involving aliens, lizard people, or phantom lights in the sky, the Order was involved. It was far easier to let the wackier theories gobble up any specific details about their activities. Nobody wanted to believe that the UFO they saw was a fairy cluster lost during migration, or that the lizard people were a newly discovered warren of kobolds. Sometimes, the story became so wild that the Order had people who actively promoted the tale just to further discredit the source.

Walking toward their destination, Ingrid marveled at all the wards that Cyrus had laid out. He had been surprisingly thorough—if they had been a hit squad, at least one of them would be dead already. This was a man who had prepared for the worst, which was good, all things considered.

She had worked with Cyrus a few times several years back and had a massive amount of respect for the man. Things inside the Order had changed rapidly in the last eighteen months. Something was hunting down their older members, retired or otherwise, and the loss had been staggering. Hundreds of years of collective knowledge and experience had been lost already, and the collateral damage meant pulling trainees up early just to meet staffing demands. It was clear that Cyrus had made preparations in case he became a target, and she wondered if things would look different in the hallway if he hadn’t known they were coming.

Looking over her shoulder at the men under her command, she frowned. The Order was being stretched thin. She often wondered if that had been the intent.

The old mage opened his door long before they could knock, revealing a thin man with a stern jaw. His face was pockmarked with scars and his hair had gone completely white.

“Brothers. Sister.” He stepped away from the door. It was a small apartment with a decent view. “Please, come inside.”

Blake and Bradford took up positions in the kitchen, bringing in a couple of paper bags full of lunch from a nearby cafe. While they put together a meal for everyone, Ingrid sat with Cyrus and showed him the folders on the Radley Estate. The whole time the mage dug through the papers, he had a troubled look on his face. He dropped the folders on the table with a sigh and sat back in his recliner.