Home for Horny Monsters Ch. 111

Hi, all! Annabelle Hawthorne here with another exciting installment of "Sex and Property Damage: the Musical." For those who might argue there's no music, you were supposed to read the whole story like a beatboxer doing freestyle on the streets. (Maybe I should have mentioned that 110 chapters ago...)

New reader, hail and well met! Now that I sound like a stereotypical Baldur's Gate 3 NPC, I am tasking you with a quest to go back to Chapter 001 of Home for Horny Monsters and start there. Naturally, you don't have to listen to me, but you are likely underleveled and jumping into the main quest after skipping so many cutscenes is going to leave you lost and confused. But hey, if lost and confused is your kink, then you may want to sit on a towel before diving in.

Returning reader? Welcome back! I've been hard at work doing all the writerly things on my end, so I hope the wait hasn't been too painful. The wrist is doing better, but I am working on re-teaching myself how to type appropriately. I may have cheated in my typing class in High School by using hotkeys to copy/paste my way to 60 words per minute. To be fair, cramming forty kids in a room and having us peck out the same paragraph over and over again for 45 minutes really was a waste.

To anyone who wrote me, thank you so much for taking the time to drop a line and let me know you're enjoying the story, even if recent events have been stress-inducing. In my journey as an author, I've been working hard to better capture genuine moments with my characters, both good and bad, and there will definitely be some genuine, high tension moments in the chapters ahead. For those of you who can't stand waiting to see what happens next, the final installment of Book 7 (not the series, just this book) will be Chapter 116.

As always, don't forget to leave me some stars on your way out to help others find the story. I couldn't be where I am today without you, and will continue to do my best to improve my talents to be worthy of your time. Some say I do it for the fame, others the money, but the truth of the matter is that I'm treating writing just like a business these days. I suppose you could just call me

The Company Man

Cyrus walked the long halls of the underground installation, his hands tucked into his pockets as he moved with the grace of a man his age. Maybe it was the lingering dampness, an old back injury, or perhaps the weight of the world on his shoulders that had him moving at a snail's pace. He had only been at the secret base for a few hours, but was already well aware that some of the others referred to him in hushed tones as The Fossil.

That was fine. They could call him whatever they liked. Right now, in this moment, nothing about himself actually mattered. He had received word nearly an hour ago that two assets had been seized and were on their way. In his hands was a file folder with a picture of Callisto Radley, taken at a park near the house. The boy was actually a centaur who had been taken from his tribe, which had been hidden away in the magical greenhouse.

The other asset was a young child who had been with him in the centaur village. Nobody knew her name or if she was even important to Mike, but that hadn't mattered. Darius had somehow led an assault on the centaurs by himself that had yielded rewards and created more than a few questions in Cyrus' mind.

Every moment up to this point no longer mattered. Cyrus continued his exploration in slow motion, hoping to come up with a plan. The ventilation system was far too small for even a child to squeeze through and monitored by a laser grid. This whole facility had been designed once upon a time by someone else for the capture of the cryptids in Mike Radley's home, and no expense had been spared.

The hallway he traveled now was like a tomb, eerily devoid of sound. He stopped every so often to lean against the wall as if to stretch. In reality, he was probing the walls with his magic, an old trick he had learned from a mentor long ago. What had his name been?

"Fredericks," Cyrus muttered, pulling at that thread. "Master Fredericks, during my field studies. Short man, black hair, had a scar from a vampire on his left cheek...no, wait, that was Brother Blake. He was there for the field study, which was taught by Master Fenton, not Fredericks. Fredericks was the name of...someone. Hmm." He let his fingers linger on the wall, the mana penetrating about six feet deep with no results. Cyrus had a last name once, but he couldn't remember it. Back when he was a child, the Order had told him that last names were better off forgotten. That way, no being could gain power over them by using their true name.

He wondered what his last name had been. It started with an E...right? It felt strange to have forgotten something so important, but he had been young when the Order had scooped him up from the orphanage. Getting three square meals a day and being able to sleep through the night was a far better deal than waiting to starve to death in a Russian gulag. What sort of life would he have led if he had somehow managed to survive?

In all honesty, he probably would have died. Many from his hometown had simply ceased to exist. That's what happened when you were poor and unimportant. It was like everything about you was simply folded up on a piece of paper and tossed into a fire.

In the grand scheme of things, that had actually happened the moment Cyrus had joined the Order. Sure, people knew him or of him, but he would eventually become little more than a name in stories that others told. It wouldn't be the same as being remembered. For decades, he had held onto the belief that he was part of a giant family, one that looked out for each other. Thirty years ago, this was probably true. He fondly remembered the names and faces of so many men and women who had come before him, of listening to their tales with eager ears and lots of questions.

Maybe it had been a family back then, but not anymore. The winds of change had carried away fertile soil, leaving behind only sand. That was the problem with growing older than everyone else. You got to be alone with nothing but memories in the end.

He sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. His sinuses were a mess, and they didn't make the headache that had formed any better. A dull thud had appeared between his eyes, and it almost felt like he could hear it echoing off the walls.

"Cyrus?"

He turned to see Sister Laurel standing behind him, her chin lifted slightly as she regarded him with open disdain.

"That's Master Cyrus," he said.

"Not anymore," she replied. "Last I checked, protocol dictates that proper titles are to be used with--"

"Oh, please. Don't quote your protocols at me."

Laurel regarded him coolly. "Any active members or former members who are in good standing," she continued. "And as far as I can tell, you abandoned the current mission to take a job with the SoS. Until I hear otherwise from the Director, I consider you to be in poor standing."

"Then let's talk to him." Cyrus almost smiled at the idea of learning how to get a message out. "Right now, if we could."

"Radio silence for the next 72 hours is mandatory. I don't care how much the Sons are paying you, I refuse to call you Master anymore. This may just be a job to you, but my job is a calling for me."

Cyrus snorted. "I used to feel the same way. All it took to dissuade me of my own importance was a simple fall from grace. You are never more than one bad situation away from becoming an outsider. If the Director had seen what a mess you were only yesterday, you'd already be out the door. I seriously doubt he would have agreed to transfer you here."

"It's okay to admit that you need help." Laurel sniffed. "While those moments weren't my finest, I own them. As for my presence here, you have Darius himself to thank. He specifically requested me and my team."

"What do you want, Laurel?" Cyrus watched in satisfaction as the young woman's nostrils flared.

"I was sent to inform you that the assets are nearly here. They want you upstairs in the next ten minutes to prep for prisoner transfer."

"They're children, Laurel. Hostages might be a better word for them, don't you think?"

Laurel actually gazed at him sadly. "You've lost your edge," she said. "Nothing about that family is harmless, even if they are children. Do you know how many good men and women we probably lost today? I've heard rumors that it's devastatingly bad."

Cyrus almost snapped and told Laurel that the number was zero, because no good person would attempt to harm someone through their own children, but kept it to himself. He needed everyone's trust for now, and it wouldn't surprise him if Laurel was somehow attempting to make him look incompetent in this job, too.

"What rumors?" he asked as he moved past Laurel and back toward the main facility.

"Not a whole lot," she said. "They were monitoring comms upstairs, listening only. Heard talk about dragons, an actual hell hound, and that doll appeared. But nothing for awhile now. They fear that everyone involved has been terminated."

"Damn." Cyrus licked his lips, then cleared his throat. He was afraid to ask, but had to know. "Did we, uh, get any of them in the process?"

"Not sure yet." Laurel sped up to walk just a little bit in front of him. "Hopefully we killed someone. It's never right when we lose one of ours and they don't."

Us versus them. Cyrus took a deep breath in through his nose and studied the ceiling for a moment. Such a simple ideology, summed up in three words.

"Well, hopefully we hear something soon." Laurel walked away, her footsteps echoing. Cyrus frowned, knowing full well that the woman knew how to move without making any sounds. The act reminded him of another drama queen he knew. "Also, I'm supposed to ask you if we should separate the assets."

There it was. A simple question, the trap suddenly laid bare. Cyrus was overseeing this part of the operation, true, but only a completely miserable asshole would separate two children. This was Laurel's way of testing to see if he was still with US, or if he had somehow sided with THEM.

"Of course we're going to separate them." He tsk'ed at her. "The boy's file says he's a centaur, but what about the girl?"

"Unknown. Human, we assume. It sounds like she came quietly."

"We have that cell for the succubus. Go ahead and toss the girl in there and we can put the boy next to her in the banshee's cell. That way, if we're dealing with the demon, we won't fall for it later." Cyrus secretly hoped the girl was Lily. The enochian seal was almost identical to the one he had tried to trap her in once upon a time, and she had escaped that with little difficulty.

"Hmm." Laurel almost sounded disappointed. "Why next to each other?"

"They're still children. Well, one of them is, anyway." Cyrus cleared his throat. "If they were found together, it will probably be easier to ask them questions by threatening to torture the other. Those cells are separated by reinforced glass capable of stopping bullets and safely housing any animal on the planet. But that also means they can see each other. We'll identify the weak link and make them talk."

"Ruthless. Didn't know you had it in you."

"You should watch me clipping coupons," he said. Cyrus heard Laurel bite back a laugh and tried not to roll his eyes. He had never hated the back of somebody's head so much. If the little girl really was Lily, maybe he'd have her snack on Laurel before they headed out.

No, that was a thought too far. Now he was grumpy with himself for even thinking it. When was the last time he had gotten enough sleep? Maybe that was the problem.

The thought made him chuckle. Laurel looked back at him in confusion, but he ignored her. He no longer cared what she thought, or anyone else in this place, for that matter. With every step, he forged another band of iron from his will and wrapped it tightly around his heart.

He returned to the main bay with Laurel, taking a small detour on the way to use the bathroom. While in the privacy of his stall, he went through the contents of his pockets, triple-checking the magic and items at his disposal. Now that he stood waiting for Callisto Radley to arrive, he looked around the bay as if it was a giant chess set. What moves could he make, and in what order, to ensure the survival of himself and the children?

The members of the Order who were working there were his biggest problem right now. The Sons of Sin were weak against magical attacks, which was a defensive gap that the Order's mages filled quite nicely. Cyrus would need more than just the element of surprise to break the kids out. As for the children, the boy was a centaur. He was capable of running, but where to? And what about the girl?

Staring hard at the door, his eyes slid to the mechanism that opened it. The device was a massive set of gears with a locking mechanism made up of separate pins. He had two ways he could open it with magical brute force, a possible third if he could get his hands on an RPG, or maybe he could access the control room and simply open it with the press of a button.

He studied the various forces that had been gathered. At least six different SoS teams were in rotation on the door itself, which seemed like overkill. With two Order teams, there were nearly fifty people on this door at all times. This was the real reason the facility felt empty. It had been explained to him that the whole compound was capable of being run by roughly ten people, but that hinged largely on not needing to worry about a defensive force.

The comms inside the base were all hard-wired to prevent detection from the outside. They consisted largely of intercom systems which could easily be shorted with the lightning rod he carried. If he could activate the fire suppression system, that would provide more than ample confusion. He could get the doors open and make a break for it, no problem.

Well, it wouldn't be as long as he could figure out how to dodge bullets while towing two children by this afternoon. Even with the magical amulet in his pocket, he could only take a few direct hits. That also depended on the caliber of the bullet. When the bay door opened, he flinched at the sudden sound of turning gears.

"Jumpy?" asked Laurel with a smirk. She was definitely enjoying his discomfort.

Had Cyrus ever been this disrespectful to another mage? What if he set her on fire, just a little? Then again, the woman had already suffered a small mental breakdown this week. When people were pressed against the wall and forced to endure difficult circumstances, who they really were inside tended to leak out.

"What was that?" Cyrus pretended to unclog his ear with a finger.

"Nothing." Laurel turned her eyes forward and stood at attention. When the doors parted, a black van pulled through the narrow gap. The gears immediately reversed course, the doors sliding shut with a clomping sound that made the old mage's ears pop. When the vehicle came to a halt, an SoS team surrounded it, guns drawn. Darius himself stepped out from behind the driver's seat, his sunglasses still on despite being indoors.

Elizabeth, the witch, got out of the passenger side, took a moment to smooth down her dress, then moved to the side doors. "We need these two alive," she said, addressing the men in the room. "Or the boy, anyway. We're not sure yet about the girl."

"Wait." Cyrus stepped forward, a hand outstretched. "If I may?"

Elizabeth stared at him in curiosity, her dark eyes glittering beneath the halogen lights. "May you what?"

"You're the ones who abducted them. They all have guns. Kids take a certain level of...deception." He patted himself on the chest. "Good cop, bad cop. I understand you want to pump these kids for information while they're here, and I'll squeeze every drop out of them as the friendly, grandfather type. If we need a heavy hand, Laurel is already a bitch."

Laurel squeaked in protest, but Cyrus ignored her. He looked deep into Elizabeth's eyes, trying to implore her to see things his way through body language alone.

"Anyway, it was just a thought," he said. "This whole thing is your show, one hundred percent. But you did contract with me specifically to care for whatever prisoners you brought in. I didn't expect kids, but we've already made small alterations to their arrangements to maximize containment and intelligence gathering efforts. I remember that you have a daughter, I saw it in the file. Hopefully you remember that a little bit of kindness goes way further with children than anything else."

Darius threw an odd look in Elizabeth's direction, as if curious to hear the witch's response.

"A sound decision," she said as she moved away from the door and gestured toward it. "Though child rearing is a bit different these days."

"Kids are always kids," Cyrus said as he put his hand on the door. From inside, he heard a bit of shuffling, followed by an odd snapping sound. When he opened the sliding door, it was to reveal a van bereft of seating. On the floor, a centaur boy sat awkwardly, clutching the hand of a little girl. She hissed at Cyrus, baring her teeth. "Hey there."

Callisto narrowed his eyes at Cyrus, then looked past him at the armed men. "We want to go home."

"I know you do. And you know what? I'm going to do everything in my power to help you do that. My name is Cyrus." He extended a hand in greeting, the sleeve sliding up to reveal the bracelet that Dana had given him. It was a long shot, but the way Callisto's eyes flicked toward it and then widened revealed that the gamble was a success.

The little girl lunged forward and tried to take a bite out of his hand.

"Grace, no!" Callisto pulled his sister back and whispered something in her ear. She stared unblinkingly at Cyrus, her face somehow extremely familiar. Had he seen her around the house before? Her bangs hung across the front of her face, concealing her eyes.

"It's okay. I know she's scared. We can shake hands later, man to man." Cyrus took a step back and gestured at the mercenaries. "So these people here are the bad guys. But you knew that, right?"

Callisto snorted, clutching Grace. "They're assholes," he said. One of the mercenaries actually snickered.

"Yep, that's right. But these assholes are in charge. Now, if you and your friend here will cooperate, they'll let me take you to the special rooms we have set aside for you. But if you don't, there's a very bad lady over there who will probably hurt you if you disobey." He pointed at Laurel now, whose cheeks had turned red.

Callisto stared hard at Laurel in a defiant way exclusive to children. "Jenny says hi."

Laurel's hand actually moved toward her wand, but she restrained herself. Cyrus moved to block Callisto's view and shook his head.

"Now that wasn't very nice," he said, then held a hand to his mouth and stage-whispered. "But it was pretty funny."

The centaur shook his head. "We'll come. My sister might need help. Her legs are, um, weak."

Cyrus winced at the word sister, but the cat was out of the bag now. "I'll carry her if she lets me." He held out a hand for Grace, who gave Callisto a dirty look as she was pushed into the old man's arms. She was surprisingly light, but Cyrus still had to fight the ruffles of her dress. While she was shifting about, he noticed the green slap bracelet on her wrist.

"What a pretty bracelet," he said. "Did your mommy give it to you?"

Grace didn't answer. Instead, she stared through a blanket of hair into his eyes with an intensity that actually made him sweat a little. Where had he seen those eyes before?

Callisto grunted as he slid his equine bulk across the van and allowed Cyrus to help him out with a free hand. He stumbled a couple of times, causing more than one mercenary to raise their weapon. The centaur looked back at them, head high and shoulders thrown back.