Home for Horny Monsters Ch. 102

"And what would you suggest?" Cyrus cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Weren't you the one who wanted to initiate contact? This is the equivalent of knocking on somebody's door and being mad when they bother you."

"I wouldn't go that far," Mads replied, but Laurel pushed him out of the way.

"This was an act of hostility. We were lured in, and I won't stand for it. Nobody here will, in fact." She gestured at the men and women clustered around her, but more than a few didn't look so sure.

"I have yet to hear a plan from you." Cyrus shook his head. "Being mad and shouting doesn't accomplish anything and certainly isn't the hallmark of a good leader."

"I don't need advice from someone who fucked a cheesegrater with his damned face!" She was about to say something else, but Mads interceded, pushing his mage away from the group. The others looked uncomfortable now, but Cyrus focused on Bradford.

"I'll help you get him to the car," he said, looking up at Blake. The mage's eyes flicked back and forth between Laurel and Cyrus, then eventually settled on Cyrus. He put his wand away and helped Cyrus walk Bradford down to the entrance of the property. The whole time they walked, Bradford stared straight ahead, and either mumbled or cried.

"Are you sure she's still not in his head?" Blake asked once they were down by the cars.

"I don't believe so," Cyrus replied.

"She isn't," Eulalie confirmed in his ear. "You all would know. All he needs is time and probably a career change. Jenny can be a bit much, but if she broke this man so easily, he wouldn't have lasted in your job."

Cyrus digested this piece of news with a frown. After all, this was a fellow human in pain, a man whose mind was broken. He was conflicted at best, but he also saw wisdom in Eulalie's words. As if with a mind of its own, he touched the scars on his face and shivered. That particular moment in time would stick with him until the end of his days. If anything could have broken him, it would have been that.

Down at the street, he helped load Bradford into the back of one of the suburbans. The man curled up on his seat and cried quietly as Blake moved up to the driver's door.

"I'm gonna burn this fucking place to the ground," declared the mage before he got in and drove off. Just as his vehicle turned onto a side road, a group of white vans appeared.

"And here they are," Eulalie muttered. "Punctual little fuckers."

Cyrus stood at the curb and waited to greet the unwelcome guests. Instead of stopping on the street, the white vans pulled into the main drive and headed for the apex of the loop. They drove up onto the lawn itself, clipping a few bushes in the process.

"So much for meeting them first," muttered Cyrus as he limped his way up the hill. His lower back was stiff, a likely result of his nap. Getting old sounded way better back when he was young.

By the time he made it back up the hill, the SoS had torn up a chunk of the yard getting the vans nearly to the gazebo. Men dressed in black athleticwear emerged from the vans, milling about as they threw open the rear doors and started pulling gear out. Cyrus frowned when he realized that they were pulling out weapons as well as body armor.

Their leader, a man with short white hair and black sunglasses, was chatting amicably with Laurel. By the time Cyrus arrived, he was more than a little out of breath.

"What's going on here?" he demanded, pretending to be shocked.

The man with white hair regarded Cyrus coolly with one hand hovering over the grip of a gun in a thigh holster.

"These are the other arrangements," Laurel explained, gesturing to the man with white hair. "This is Dirk. He is the head of this unit. Have you heard of the Sons of Sin?"

"I have," Cyrus grumbled. "But that doesn't tell me why they're here."

"That's on a need to know basis." Dirk looked to Laurel, who nodded her head slightly. "We are planning to coordinate entry into the home and have been authorized to use lethal force if necessary."

"Excuse me?" Cyrus' jaw hung open.

"These guys are going to help us break in." Laurel smirked.

"But they...we can't..." Cyrus gestured at the lions. "We were warned that any sort of hostile activity would be met with massive repercussions."

"Magic hostility." Laurel pointed to the nearest van. A battering ram had been pulled out and set on the ground. "Physical violence won't activate the home's barrier."

"What of the residents?" Cyrus pointed at the door. "That place is swarming with powerful cryptids."

"We have countermeasures." Dirk's lips curled into a grin. "We are well equipped to deal with any sort of physical offensive."

"And defensive magic won't trigger the home's defenses. So if someone comes out throwing fireballs, we've got shields at the ready." Laurel's eyes were practically sparkling. "The plan is to break in, identify potential assets, then bring them back out."

"Idiots," muttered Eulalie through the earpiece. "They're going to get someone killed."

"But...would that really work?" Cyrus scratched at his jaw. The question was for Eulalie, but Laurel thought he was talking to her.

"With a high degree of success. The Director needs results within the next forty-eight hours, otherwise he'll have to lock down the Caretaker on the island until he gives them what we want."

"And what do we want?" Cyrus asked. "A magical book that's only rumored to be there?"

"That's on a need to know basis." Laurel smirked. "And according to the Director, you officially don't need to know."

"Ouch," Eulalie muttered. "Sounds like you're officially on the outs."

Cyrus held up his hands in defeat. "I guess I just question the wisdom of this move, especially so soon after what just happened to Bradford."

"What happened to Bradford?" asked Dirk.

Laurel gave Cyrus a dirty look, but he ignored her. "Malevolent spirit got inside his head, messed him up."

"This true?" Dirk asked, addressing Laurel.

"Yes," she admitted. "About fifteen minutes ago."

"And I count, what, twelve of you?" Cyrus did another head count. "The SoS are good, but that number seems small."

"Oh, fuck me," Eulalie muttered. "We have more incoming, I wasn't paying attention."

A van honked at the end of the drive, and Cyrus turned to see six more vehicles pull in. These ones drove up onto the grass, followed by a truck pulling a trailer and a moving van. The trailer came to a halt at the apex of the drive with the moving van behind it.

"Don't worry about our numbers," Dirk said. "Okay, people, I want a perimeter around the trailer, nothing outside our teams goes near it without my permission. Once we get the Command Center set up, we will get a debrief from Laurel here, who is our point of contact. Any paranormal contact is to be reported immediately, and I want eyes on the sky with those Barretts."

"Barretts?" Cyrus asked.

"Sniper rifles. Will blow the wings off a gargoyle from a mile away." Dirk waved his hand in a circular motion, and the men around him split into teams of three, forming a fractured semi-circle between the Order and the house.

"Shit, shit, shit," Eulalie muttered, then her voice became distant. "Someone tell Abella to get off the roof, now!"

Cyrus stayed back and watched as the Order fell back, allowing the SoS to take over. Laurel commanded mage/knight teams to join up with the SoS teams, making groups of five that now kept watch on the house.

Realizing that he was being ignored, Cyrus wandered toward the trailer. He recognized it as the kind the Order used, meaning it would be magically warded. The moving van opened up to reveal racks of heavy weaponry, which someone with a clipboard began handing out.

"This is really bad," he muttered. "They're going to come inside, you know."

"We're not too worried," Eulalie replied. "But we need to get everybody inside, first. Ah, shit sticks."

"What's up?"

"We just lost two drones, and...yep, there goes a third. Looks like they're on to me. Dana is gonna be pissed. I gotta go, leave your earpiece in." The call went silent, leaving Cyrus alone with the SoS. He didn't know what they hoped to accomplish, but more than a few were giving him odd looks now that he was standing nearby.

"Is there anything I can help with?" he asked, approaching the moving van. "I'm more of a consultant on this job, so they don't need me up there."

The man with the clipboard stared down at Cyrus, then nodded. "We need somebody to do a double check on the wards in the Command Center once the truck drops it off."

"I can do that." Cyrus stepped back and watched as the trailer was leveled and then unhitched from the truck towing it. The truck was parked further down the driveway as a small team started unfolding the trailer, its side walls folding up to become the roof as tent flaps were unfurled from within. Enchantments had been stitched into the fabric, making the Command Center impervious to psychic attacks and scrying. The last time he had been part of an operation that utilized a Command Center was almost a decade back against a nasty coven of witches who were sacrificing people for immortal life in Europe.

A few mages joined him in his efforts, and the Command Center was up and running after nearly an hour. Dirk stopped to check on progress, but spent the bulk of his time surveying the exterior of the house. When Cyrus finished his job, he sat down at one of the tables inside, citing old age. Nobody seemed to question it. Shortly after, he heard a pop of static, and Eulalie let him know that she was back and listening.

Laurel dropped in about fifteen minutes later and sat down across from him. She didn't say anything at first, but finally broke the silence by sliding a tablet across the table to him.

"What's this?" he asked.

"A peace offering." She sat back in her chair and waited while he read the tablet. It was an email from Laurel to the Director, detailing that Cyrus had been instrumental in their early efforts at the house. Judging by the look on her face, it was clear she felt like this was a huge gift to him. "I shouldn't have said what I did about your face."

He snorted. "People have said worse," he replied, then slid the tablet back over. "So what's the current rumor? About my scars, that is."

"What do you mean?"

Cyrus chuckled. "I've heard at least a dozen different stories about how I got them. Some of them are pretty funny, actually. So I'm curious which one you've heard."

"Wendigo," she replied. "Someone said it got hold of you and tried to chew your face off."

"I've heard that one. My personal favorite was a rumor about a horny chupacabra." He sighed and stared at the ceiling. "I was still a young man when it happened. I was hunting a cryptid in the northwest. It was the last of its kind, an Arachne."

"Wait, that was you?" Laurel leaned forward in her seat. "We've heard about that one in training."

Cyrus nodded. "Yes it was. My partner and I tracked her down to a small town in the middle of nowhere. Was supposed to be an easy enough hunt, but she had seduced a soldier who helped her escape. Tracked her to the middle of the woods and that's when this happened."

"She attacked you?" Laurel's eyes were practically sparkling.

He shook his head. "She commanded all of the spiders in the forest to protect her. Hundreds of them, biting and clinging to my face, all at once. I almost died from all the venom running through me, it was like everything was on fire."

"Fucking hell," Laurel muttered.

"Indeed." Cyrus sat back and crossed his arms. "I guess maybe the point I'm making is that my feelings aren't easily hurt. I was happy to help here, but am looking forward to going back to retirement. I don't care who is in charge as long as I get to go home in one piece, you understand?"

Laurel contemplated him for a moment, then nodded. "I really have come across as a bitch, haven't I?"

Cyrus shrugged. "That's up for you to decide. You're the next generation, after all."

Laurel smiled and picked up her tablet. "Thank you, Master Cyrus." She took a few steps away, then paused. "If I may ask about the Arachne?"

"Go ahead?"

"What was it like? Taking down a monster like that?"

Cyrus sighed. "Several years ago, I would have told you it felt good. A monster like that is a cancer, you cut it out immediately."

"But now?" Laurel looked at him with concern.

"But now I'm getting soft." Cyrus chuckled. "I've seen a lot of things die, have been responsible for many of them, and now it just makes me sad. It wears on you."

He didn't know how to explain to Laurel that maybe there had been something that could have been learned from the Arachne. That mission had been one of his greatest triumphs and now his largest regret. He and Jeffrey had been so focused on killing the Arachne that they had never stopped to properly question the fact that she hadn't left a trail of bodies behind. What if she had been different? The Radley house had taught him that the world was no longer black and white, but it was so hard seeing all the shades of gray without questioning the past.

She snorted. "You're not getting soft. You're essentially a pillow now."

"And I won't pretend to be otherwise." He stared at his hands, then clenched his fists and pulled them off the table. "So what's the next step? I don't need details, just the things I need to know."

Laurel smiled. "Once the Command Center is up, the SoS will come in and get their orders. There's a very real fear that someone in the house can scry or read minds, so only the Director and the squad leader know what's going to happen next."

"Squad leader? Dirk?"

The mage shook her head. "He's the second-in-command. The squad leader was supposed to be here a few minutes ago." Through the flaps of the Command Center came the rumbling sounds of a motorcycle pulling up. "That should be him, actually."

Moments later, the flaps of the Command Center were pushed open, admitting a slender man in a leather jacket wearing a motorcycle helmet. Cyrus recognized the rune work as Order made, and the cyclist moved to the table and flipped open his visor to reveal blue eyes that were cruel and calculating.

"Sister Laurel?" he asked.

"That's me. Are you Darius?"

"I am. Is the room secure?"

Laurel looked at Cyrus, who nodded. "Our wards are up."

"Good." Darius removed his helmet. The man had dark skin without a single hair on his head. Even his eyebrows were gone. "We can begin as soon as we're ready."

"I'll get Dirk for you." Laurel stood and left. Cyrus rose and offered his hand to Darius.

"Master Cyrus," he said. "Spatial anomaly consultant. Let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

Darius ignored Cyrus' hand. "I'll keep you on comms, then. Don't go anywhere, it'll be all hands on deck in the next couple of hours."

"Don't worry, I won't."

"Good." Darius set his helmet on the table and removed his jacket. A glittering, tear-shaped pendant hung around the squad leader's neck, which he hastily tucked beneath his shirt. "Because early tomorrow morning, my team is going in."

It was almost two in the afternoon when the quads came to a halt for lunch. It had been a slow, steady climb up the slope of Haleakalā, and the teams had been forced to stop on numerous occasions to either slash back the undergrowth or find an alternative way up the path. Mike groaned as he slid out of the driver's seat, his legs feeling like lead.

Quetzalli had informed Mike early on that the trail absolutely looked to be dragon made. The trench they were following back to its lair was likely from its tail, which had flattened out the terrain. Based on her assumptions, this dragon was larger than she had been. The rain had already washed out large portions of the trail, and the quads had gotten stuck on two occasions due to mud.

Wallace had pulled one of the bags from his quad and was handing out lunch to everyone while Ingrid refilled canteens. The shade of the forest kept them cool, but the humidity was a force to be reckoned with. None of the cryptids seemed to have any problem with either, but Mike's shirt stuck to his skin.

"One hour, people." Ingrid looked in the direction of Haleakalā's peak. "I don't know how much farther we're gonna get before we have to travel by foot, but we're definitely camping on the mountain tonight."

Francois snorted as he took his meal. "Maybe we should just skip the break and keep going, then."

Ingrid shook her head. "We need to refuel the quads anyway. Also, my ass is asleep. Breaks are good for you."

Francois snorted again. "Come, princess." He picked up a spare meal and gestured for Leilani to follow. The princess seemed apprehensive at first, but followed her guardian off into the brush.

Ratu looked around the mock clearing for a moment, then crouched down and dug her fingers into the soil. The ground trembled for a moment, and then stone columns rose from the ground to waist height and formed into small tables. When she saw the Order staring at her, she just shrugged.

"I've been sitting all day," she explained, setting down her food to unwrap it. Mike and Quetzalli joined her, forming a tight circle around their earthen table. Lunch was some kind of fish sandwich with a slightly spicy aioli sauce and chewy protein bars.

"My back is so sore," Quetzalli groaned, massaging her spine.

"Do you want to switch seats with me?" asked Ratu. "My seat was pretty comfortable."

"It wasn't the seat." Quetzalli grabbed her own breasts and hefted them. "These things kept jiggling around. I should have worn a sports bra."

"I'm surprised your driver was able to concentrate." Ratu grinned at Mike.

"Hey, I'm a gentleman," he replied. "Safety first."

"I caught him peeking a lot," Quetzalli said.

"All this natural beauty to look at and you're still looking at breasts." Ratu shook her head and laughed.

"It's a different kind of natural beauty," Mike assured her.

"Speaking of the terrain, how are you feeling?" Ratu took a bite of her sandwich and licked aioli off her fingers.

"I'm doing better," he admitted. "It sounds silly, but all the fumes from the quads helped quite a bit. The focus on the drive gave me a chance to acclimate."

"And now?"

He closed his eyes and smiled. "I can feel it all around me," he explained. "Almost like it's an extension of my mind. There's just so much life, it's like the island is breathing underneath my feet. In fact..." He opened his eyes and pointed behind Ratu. "There's a pool over that way if anyone wants to go check it out."

"I wouldn't mind a swim." Quetzalli grabbed the hem of her shirt, but Mike stopped her.

"Let's walk there first," he said. "Ratu, are you coming?"

"As lovely as that sounds, I've already spotted a lovely sunbeam I intend to take advantage of." The naga was already unbuttoning her shirt. "And it will allow me to keep an eye on things up here, if you catch my drift."

He nodded, then ate his last bite of food. "When you're ready, I'll lead the way," he said to Quetzalli.

The dragon promptly stuffed the rest of her sandwich into her mouth. "Ahm reathy," she mumbled around her food.

He took Quetzalli by the hand and led the dragon away from the group and toward the pool. When he touched one of the trees, the branches shifted, allowing them passage. The forest bent away from him as they wandered into the woods, eventually standing ten feet above a deep pool of water. In the distance, a thin waterfall could be seen dumping water into a stream that fed the pool, which emptied over a cluster of rocks and dropped another twenty feet to vanish in the foliage below.

"It's so pretty," Quetzalli declared, unbottoning her shirt and throwing it on the ground before stepping out of her skirt to reveal that she was wearing a bikini underneath. After pulling off her socks and shoes, she made as if to jump when Mike grabbed her arm to stop her.