Home for Horny Monsters

Hi, all! Annabelle Hawthorne alive and well with another installment of "Monsters, Mayhem, and Buttstuff!"

I mean, that was a potential title in the beginning. I probably should have workshopped it some more.

New Readers? Welcome in, it's nice to meet you! This story is about a man who let his knob get slobbered by a magical nymph, and now he has to fight mercenaries to get his kids back. So pretty much the plot of Pretty Lady, only with a ton of other things added and no Julia Roberts.

Returning readers? Welcome back! You already know where the cookies and snacks are, so get comfortable as we return you to your regularly scheduled program. With a small scale war brewing on two fronts, this chapter will certainly end with a bang.

As always, a huge shoutout to my beta team. They've been working overtime recently, but do so without complaint. Also, thanks to a bunch of you for the letters you've written lately. I've gotten a few particularly powerful ones lately, especially from my readers who are parents or had rough childhoods. I'm always grateful when my story resonates with someone. It helps remind me just how much we all have in common, despite being told we're all so different.

Lastly, thanks to all of you who come here to read this story. I love that I can share this world with you, and super appreciate those of you who take the time to leave stars or comment. That just helps keep the Radley train going. I speak with a lot of authors who simply let worlds go when the interest wanes, and I am so grateful I get to keep doing this for you.

And so we move into the final sequence. You're about to see a beatdown starring none other than the one, the only

Master Cyrus

By the time Beth stepped through the portal to the secret volcano, the others had already arrived. She walked out of a small, thatched home into what looked like a village. Tink had dragged a table into the largest opening separating the houses and was having a very animated debate with Eulalie and Reggie. They were surrounded by dozens of rats who watched the conversation with twitching ears.

Unsure if she should interrupt, Beth noticed a beautiful Hawaiian woman in a white dress watching from outside the ring of rats. Recognizing the divine aura right away, Beth skirted the group and walked over to the woman. When she arrived, she gave a polite bow.

"My name is Beth," she said, then looked up at the goddess. "Are you Pele?"

The goddess didn't move, but her eyes shifted away from the discussion to take Beth in. "I expected you sooner."

Beth nodded. "I was supposed to be here some time ago, but had to speak with the centaurs before coming here. I apologize for my delay."

"The goblin referred to me as Hot Rock Island Coochie when she got here." Pele sniffed in indignation. "Then informed me that the families on my island are in danger from bony fucks. So I'm still not entirely sure what is happening."

Chagrined, Beth gave a quick explanation to Pele of what had transpired. At numerous points, the ground rumbled ominously beneath them, but Pele didn't otherwise react. When she finished talking, the goddess turned away and stared up toward the ridgeline of the mountains.

Beth gave Pele a couple of minutes to digest the information, then cleared her throat and stepped forward. "When I'm done here, I'm supposed to drop in on what's left of Paradise and speak to the merfolk. We need to know sooner rather than later if they will help the Order and us hold back Francois' army."

"Hmph. I sincerely doubt they will. This is a land walker issue, after all."

"Mike thought they might listen to you."

The goddess shook her head. "I doubt it. I am the one who boiled their people alive."

"And that's exactly why you should." Beth moved toward Pele and put her hand on the goddess' shoulder. Pele's skin was hot enough that Beth pulled her hand away. "They deserve to know why you did it and maybe what's at stake."

"I think that you and the Caretaker should prepare for further disappointment." Pele turned, her hair billowing away from her as if carried on the breeze. "But I will do whatever it takes to save my people, even if it means wasting a few moments on the merfolk."

"Mike also wanted me to ask why the night marchers can't come out during the day. And please don't say, 'because they're called night marchers.'"

Pele frowned. "Why would I say that?"

Beth shrugged. "Force of habit. I live with a man who acts like he can get into heaven by telling dad jokes and a tree who only encourages his behavior."

"I...don't know quite how to respond to that." Pele smirked and sat on a nearby rock. "How much do you know about spirits?"

"Less than I should. I sort of live with the Grim Reaper and have a dullahan as one of my boy-toys. It does come up in conversation sometimes." Beth leaned against a nearby tree. "I know that a good chunk of a spirit's behavior can depend on what they believed while alive."

Pele nodded. "For the Hawaiian people, they are tied to the land both physically and spiritually. The night marchers are a manifestation of this bond, ancestral warriors that have sworn to protect their chieftains and this land from those who would harm it."

"Do they remain because they were buried here or is it bigger than that?"

"In many cultures, a spirit is attached to their resting place, or perhaps an object that holds great meaning. For the ancient warriors of Hawaii, this place wasn't just somewhere to live. It was their forever home, a place that meant everything to all those who would come after. These warriors fought, bled, and died on this land, their bones interred in cliffs and secret caves that their mana could return to the soil and give back what they had taken from the island. As long as the spirit of Hawaii itself lives on, then so shall the night marchers."

"I understand all this. But that doesn't tell me why they only come out at night. We need their help during the day."

Tink shouted something particularly obscene, and both Beth and Pele leaned over to see who or what she was shouting at. The goblin was busy climbing one of Eulalie's legs, while the Arachne tried to shake her off. Quetzalli had joined them and was trying desperately to pull them apart.

"Does the Caretaker really think she can handle this?" Pele scowled at the scene.

"He trusts Tink implicitly. So do I." Beth cleared her throat to regain Pele's attention. "The night marchers. How can we get them to manifest during the day?"

Pele sighed and leaned back against the rock and tucked a flower in her hair. "The spirits of the dead are beings of energy, in a way. They require energy to manifest in a physical sense, and this usually comes from the presence of living beings. All day long, the spirits will slumber and gather ambient lifeforce on their own. But it's a delicate balance. Too little and they don't appear. Too much? They can burst." She looked up into the sky and studied a cloud that had rolled over the lip of the volcano. "The sun can also provide this energy, but how do you contain it in a non-existent vessel? It overwhelms them immediately unless they find a way to hold tremendous focus. They were able to manifest shortly before sundown when Francois tried to climb the mountain, but only because they had raw anger coupled with the shade of the trees to insulate them from the direct effects of the sun."

"So the spirits need an energy source, but the sun is too strong?"

The goddess nodded. "That's extremely reductive, but yes. Should you wish to summon the night marchers, you would need to replicate both the insulating effects of night time while providing them a sufficient energy source to manifest."

"FUCK!" Tink fell off Eulalie just as the Arachne leapt straight into a tree. Quetzalli stood between them, lightning crackling between her fingers. "STUPID FUCKING SPARK DRAGON, EAT TINK'S ASS!" The goblin jumped to her feet and tried to bite Quetzalli's hand, but the dragon shocked her again.

Beth stared at the three women, then grinned. "Done," she said, then turned to face the goddess.

"Done? You've figured out how to summon the marchers during the day?"

"Yep. But that hinges on your ability to cause an eruption."

Pele rolled her eyes. "The only reason I don't do it more often is that I like to treat each one as if it were a work of art. When you rush them, it can be rather boring."

"Good. Then let's go to Paradise and speak with the Order and the merfolk." Beth took Pele by the hand and pulled her to her feet. The goddess frowned, then looked at Beth's hand.

"You're a brave one, aren't you?"

"Only because I don't have the time to be scared." Beth was already moving toward the hut with a portal to the airBNB by Paradise. "Now, c'mon. Let's go back to Paradise and figure out what we can do to save your people."

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Sarah opened new eyes to see her mother standing nearby with her arms crossed. Elizabeth had her head tilted to one side as she inspected Sarah's new body.

"Well?" It was a question her mother had asked dozens, if not over a hundred times. Every body was a new experience, due largely in part to what made a person unique in the first place. When Sarah first moved in, there could be mental limitations to bypass, poor mana channels which meant burning new ones, and even something as basic as a gluten allergy. Sometimes there was quite a bit of pain accompanying possession, which was always a warning sign that the body wouldn't last long. Other times, the new meat suit felt like a comfortable sweater, or even a well worn jacket.

Bodies rarely lasted more than a few days, especially when Sarah was forced to rely on magic. Over at the conference table, Darius' corpse had been arranged to look as if he was taking a nap while still wearing his sunglasses. Upon closer inspection, anyone could see that the man's eyes had burst, a result of the power required to subvert an entire village full of angry centaurs.

But this body was different. Many times in the past Sarah had worn corpses of the Order, marveling at their strength and durability. Not only was this body perfectly suited to the kind of magic Sarah wanted to wield, but Laurel herself had been extremely easy to dispose of. Sometimes it was all Sarah could do just to suppress somebody's mind, but Laurel was easy. The woman had been broken on a psychological level, and it had been no challenge for Sarah to scoop away what was left until the mage had simply given up and died. As a result, the intrusion had been almost effortless.

Sarah raised her new hand and curled the fingers in, casually summoning heat into her fingertips. With a snap of her fingers, fire sparked to life and hovered above the palm of her hand. Pain immediately rushed up her arm and she allowed the spell to fizzle.

"It feels good." This wasn't a body that felt like a coat, or a sweater. This was a body that felt like home. Sarah grinned at her mother, then slid her fingers beneath the strap of her necklace.

"Are you sure?" Elizabeth asked. "If you pull that off and you're wrong, it'll cut your time in that body in half."

"And?" Sarah put her hands on the cord and lifted, pulling the necklace up and over her head. Unlike other times when she had tried this, there was no blacking out or sudden dissociation. This time, her soul was firmly entrenched in her new, permanent host. Smiling, she handed the necklace to her mother. "Success."

Elizabeth smiled, then let out a laugh. "I never thought I'd see the day," she said.

"Tell me about it." Sarah moved to the nearest reflective surface and studied herself in the mirror. Not only was the body a good fit, but Laurel had been moderately attractive. Sarah had wondered more than once if she was destined to end up in an ugly body or even as a man. Still, those options were far better than the alternative of burning in Hell for all eternity as some demon's slave. She summoned another handful of flames and let out a sadistic giggle.

"Stop that." Elizabeth swatted at Sarah's hand. "Just because your soul wasn't rejected doesn't mean you should force your magic through it so readily."

"You're right." Sarah dismissed the flames again and saw that her fingertips were already charred. Frowning, she pinched them together and frowned at the sharp pain. "I can't just go body hopping again, now can I?"

"Not for many, many years." Elizabeth put the necklace around her own neck. The blue gemstone had faded to black and now looked like obsidian. "The tear of the phoenix was always meant to be an emergency measure specifically because of how long it takes to recharge. You'll need to take much better care of this body than you did your own."

"Fuck you." Sarah undid a couple of buttons on the collar of her shirt and pulled her hair out of its ponytail. "Dying is probably the best thing that's ever happened to me. If not for what happened in that greenhouse, there's a good chance I would have been killed in the blast that now has our dear leader reconstituting himself one molecule at a time across time and space."

"Don't talk about him like that." Elizabeth's features had paled significantly.

"Oh, he's too busy screaming about his succubus to give a shit, even if he could hear me." Sarah tugged her shirt open and looked inside. "This girl had great taste in underwear."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and turned away from her daughter. "We won't have long before someone suspects a problem with Darius," she said.

"Let's just tell them that the centaurs poisoned him or something. He gave his life to complete the mission or some bullshit. Hoorah."

"You're very belligerent tonight."

"Hell, yes, I am." Sarah swayed her hips from side to side as she did a small dance. "I'm fucking alive again! No more rotting from the inside, no more body hopping, no more doing the Curator's--"

"Watch it." Elizabeth's tone was like steel.

"Infiltration missions," Sarah finished. "I've had so many people's memories in my head that I thought I was going to go crazy as a result."

"While that is probably true, I would like to remind you that our benefactor expects a certain level of respect from those he has supported. When we return, you know he will want to run some tests." Elizabeth frowned at the floor and stomped on a rather large wolf spider.

Sarah nodded. The Curator had made several hypotheses about why she had been unable to find a suitable body, and the only reason she wasn't afraid he would dissect her to learn more was because he had given his word not to do so. The Curator was one scary bastard, but the man kept his promises.

There was a knock on the door. Both Sarah and Elizabeth looked at each other and then Darius. Sarah cast a minor illusion which made it look like the man was breathing while Elizabeth walked to the door to answer it.

Dirk stood in the doorway, his features serious. "We have a situation," he said, looking at Darius. Sarah gave the corpse a nudge with her magic, causing Darius' head to tip like he was listening.

"What is it?" asked Elizabeth.

"Somebody just knocked on the main door." Darius looked at Elizabeth. "We checked the cameras but didn't see anything."

"Shit." Elizabeth looked at Sarah. "Most likely a spirit. It could be the Grim Reaper."

Sarah bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. During this whole operation, their primary fear had been allowing Death to spot her. The Reaper's abilities were severely limited in regards to living beings, but when it came to souls that refuse to depart, he could easily rip Sarah out of whatever body she inhabited, including this one.

"What do you want us to do?" he asked.

"Have your men form up." Elizabeth looked over at the corpse. By now, her shadow had stretched across the floor, allowing her to take control of it. Darius nodded his approval. "Prepare for an assault. Authorize lethal force by any and all means. When you get a moment, have somebody check on the prisoners and then call up whoever is watching them. They're just kids, a pair of guards will suffice. Sister Laurel, we will require Order personnel to assist with our defenses. Once we repel the attackers, we need to prep for evacuation. They were never supposed to find us this quickly."

"Of course." Sarah gave a little bow and walked out of the office. In the control room, men watching screens were already mobilizing, many of them heading into the hangar to bolster field teams. Atop a pair of guard towers, the M134 miniguns that had been installed were already being prepped.

"Do we have audio?" she asked, moving closer to the screen that displayed the entrance to the secret base. The man closest to the screen didn't respond, but pressed a button that caused the speakers to burst to life.

"I say, we do know you're in there. It would save us quite a bit of effort if you would just crack the door a bit and return those children." A dark shape briefly appeared as Death walked to a different part of the door. "If we do have to come in there, you certainly won't like the results." The dark shadow disappeared again, and the faint knocking of bone on steel could be heard.

"Yep. Reaper." Dirk was standing behind Sarah now and checking his sidearm. "The psychopomp is harmless, but I'm guessing if he knows we're here, the others are coming."

The monitor went black. The man running the monitors clicked through to a couple of other cameras, but they had gone dark as well. He turned in his chair to look at Dirk.

"Feeds are down." He looked at the console and smashed a spider that was near his hand. "Damned bugs."

"We expect contact any moment people." Dirk moved toward the door and paused to look back at Sarah. "Get your group up here. Things are about to get hot."

Sarah smirked and followed him out of the control room. Even though the Radleys had found their location, there had always been a contingency plan. Once she secured Mike's children, she and the Order personnel would escort them out through a secret exit tunnel that they could easily collapse behind them. She had been here decades ago when the place was built, after all, and knew where everything was. By this time tomorrow, she could hand the children over to the Curator and be done with this affair.

In the hangar bay, the temperature had dropped substantially. The Sons of Sin were glancing at each other with knowing looks as their breath turned to vapor. This had to be the work of the kitsune, Yuki. A couple of men back behind the barricades were already pulling out propane heaters and turning them on.

Mumbling to herself, Sarah went to the elevator and pressed the down button. The hangar door creaked behind her, and she turned to observe as frost began forming on the inside of the door, curling in on itself and forming into the shape of a large lotus flower.

"Cute." Knowing it wouldn't change anything, Sarah tapped the down button impatiently until the elevator door slid open. When she stepped inside, she turned around to get one last look at the Sons of Sin. She doubted that any of them would survive. The doors slid shut. As the car descended, Sarah noticed a tiny spider by the Open-Door button. Using her thumb, she smashed it.

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Cyrus winced as he got to the top of the landing and turned to look up. They were only three floors down from the hangar now, and he still didn't have much of a plan. Sighing, he looked at his charges. Callisto had already taken the slap bracelet off. He and his sister had been conserving charges on it this whole time, which was a fortuitous stroke of luck. With the bracelet on, Callisto could go up the stairs without any difficulty, but it was still physically demanding. His cheeks were red from the steady climb.

Grace had zero issues with the stairs and wasn't winded at all. She was carefully holding her skirt so that it didn't drape over her body as she crawled along the underside of the stairs. Scuttling just ahead of Cyrus on the ceiling, she turned to look at him.