Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
Winter
"Bring the monster home," I read the scroll again for what felt like the hundredth time. "What monster? And where's home? My actual apartment? This prophecy prison? The Bureau?"
The scroll remained stubbornly cryptic, the blue script glowing faintly in the dim light of the living room.
Fenric had been analyzing it for days with Dr. Thornwick, running scans with various magical devices that beeped and whirred and occasionally shot out sparks.
He was driving us all nuts. More than usual.
Today Rook retreated to the balcony, still avoiding eye contact after our almost-moment on the coffee table. Zane was sprawled in an armchair, watching me with those mismatched eyes that seemed to see too much.
"Maybe it's metaphorical," Zane twirled a pen between his fingers. "Like, the monster is your inner demons, and home is self-acceptance."
I threw a cushion at him. "Very helpful, Yoda. Should I meditate on it while doing a headstand? Or sip the koolaid?"
He caught the cushion with irritating grace. "Just brainstorming, Shortstack."
The front door burst open, and Milo bounded in with the enthusiasm of a puppy who'd been left alone too long.
"Sorry I'm late!" His arms full of what looked like ancient books and a cardboard box that was moving? "The necromancy conference ran long. You would not believe the debate over ethical reanimation practices. Professor Mortis nearly turned Dr. Bonecrusher into a zombie!"
"Milo," I nodded toward the squirming box, "please tell me you didn't bring home another skeleton."
"Not exactly," he set the box down carefully. "I brought research materials! And a surprise that might help with the prophecy thing!"
Fenric immediately abandoned his scanning devices. "What research materials? Any documentation should be properly cataloged and submitted through the appropriate…"
"The scroll!" Milo interrupted, spotting the parchment in my hand. "New prophecy instructions? What does it say?"
"'Bring the monster home,'" I recited. "'No, not Rook.'"
Milo's face lit up like I'd just told him Christmas came early.
"A monster? That's perfect! I'm great with monsters!
One time, I reanimated this basilisk skeleton for a museum exhibit, and it imprinted on me like I was its daddy.
Followed me around for weeks, turning people to stone with its eye sockets. It was adorable!"
"This isn't about reanimating anything," Fenric sniffed. "It's clearly a prophetic trial requiring the retrieval of a specific entity."
"Wait," Milo's eyes widened. "Monster... home..." He started frantically digging through the books he'd brought. "I think I know what this means!"
We all stared as he flipped through pages at alarming speed, muttering to himself.
"Here!" He triumphantly held up a book with a worn leather cover.
"Three years ago, I did a job for this family in the Swampy Quarter.
Their grandfather had passed away, and they wanted me to temporarily reanimate him for the reading of his will because he was paranoid about lawyers changing his words. "
"Fascinating," Fenric's tone suggested it was anything but. "How is this relevant?"
"Because," Milo continued, undeterred, I think he purposely made his voice even more chipper to annoy Fenric, "while I was setting up the ritual, the grandson mentioned something weird happening in the storm drains near their house.
Something that sang Broadway showtunes at midnight and ate dead cats. "
"Broadway showtunes?" I repeated skeptically.
"Specifically songs from 'Cats,'" Milo nodded solemnly. "The grandson thought it was ironic."
Rook chose that moment to rejoin us from the balcony. "You think the prophecy wants us to find a cat-eating sewer monster that likes musicals?"
"Not just any monster," Milo's voice dropped dramatically. "A manticore horror. A baby one."
The room fell silent.
"A baby manticore horror," I just blinked, deadpanned. "In the sewers."
"The Swampy Quarter," Milo corrected and pointed to his book. "It's more of a bog than a sewer. Very atmospheric! Lots of cursed fog, floating lights, that sort of thing."
"And you know this because...?" Zane raised an eyebrow.
"I helped the grandfather cross over after the will reading," Milo explained, as if this were all perfectly normal. "He wanted to investigate the singing monster himself. Said it reminded him of something he'd encountered during the Great Magical Convergence of 1976."
Fenric was already typing furiously on his tablet. "Bureau records do indicate an uptick in anomalous entities following the 1976 Convergence. Several extra-dimensional rifts were documented in what is now the Swampy Quarter."
"So you're saying there's an actual baby manticore horror living in a swamp, eating cats and singing showtunes," I summarized, "and the prophecy wants us to, what? Adopt it?"
"Bring it home," Milo corrected cheerfully. "Maybe it's lost! Maybe home is another dimension!"
"Or maybe this is completely unrelated to the prophecy," Fenric countered.
The scroll in my hand suddenly grew warm, the blue script glowing brighter.
"I think Milo might be onto something," I held up the pulsing parchment. "It's reacting."
Fenric's eye twitched in that way that told me he was deeply annoyed but trying to remain professional. "Very well. I'll prepare the necessary paperwork for a field expedition to the Swampy Quarter."
"Field expedition?" I perked up. "You mean I get to leave the apartment again?"
"Under strict supervision," Fenric clarified. "Given the sensitivity of this prophetic trial and the recent cultist attack, I'll need to assemble a full security detail."
"Or," Milo interjected, "we could just go check it out ourselves! Quick and easy!"
"Absolutely not," Fenric looked horrified. I think he would have choked if he had anything in his mouth.
"Actually," Milo leaned forward conspiratorially, "I was thinking it might be better if just Winter and I went. Small footprint, you know? Manticores are shy."
"That is the most absurd idea!"
"Think about it," Milo continued. "If she accidentally blows up reality, I'll just reanimate it!"
I choked on a laugh at Fenric's expression of pure outrage.
"That's not how reality works!" he spluttered and his ears were turning red..
"How do you know?" Milo challenged. "Have you ever tried reanimating it?"
Before Fenric could respond, his tablet chimed with an incoming message. He glanced at it, his expression shifting from outrage to concern.
"There's been an incident," he pulled things up on the screen. "A Level 2 prophetic anomaly in Crescent Park. All available agents are being called in."
"Level 4?" Zane stood up. "That's serious."
"Indeed," Fenric nodded grimly. "The park has been evacuated, but there are reports of temporal distortions and spontaneous transmutation events."
"So we're postponing the monster hunt?" I felt oddly disappointed.
Fenric hesitated, clearly torn between protocols. "The prophetic trial takes precedence according to Bureau guidelines, but this emergency..."
"I can take Winter to the Swampy Quarter," Milo volunteered eagerly. "Like I said, small footprint, less chance of spooking the manticore. You guys handle the park situation."
"That would violate at least seventeen security protocols," Fenric objected.
"But it would fulfill the prophecy requirements," Zane pointed out. "And time might be a factor here."
The scroll pulsed again in my hand, as if agreeing.
Fenric looked pained. "I cannot authorize this."
"I'll take full responsibility," Zane interrupted. "Let's go handle the Level 4. Rook and I will go with you, and you can file all the reports your bureaucratic heart desires afterward."
Rook, who had been silently observing, finally spoke. "I don't like it. The cultists are still out there."
"The Swampy Quarter is neutral territory," Milo assured him. "Protected by old magic. Even cultists respect the boundaries."
Fenric's tablet chimed again, more urgently this time. He glanced at it and sighed in defeat.
"Fine," his eye was twitching a little again.
"But only to the Swampy Quarter and back.
No detours, no unnecessary risks. And you will maintain constant communication.
" He fixed Milo with a stern glare. "If anything happens to her, the paperwork alone will ensure you spend the next century filing incident reports. "
Milo saluted cheerfully. "Yes, sir! Operation Monster Home is a go!"
An hour later, Milo and I stood at the edge of the Swampy Quarter, a section of the city that seemed to exist in perpetual twilight.
Twisted trees rose from murky water, their branches draped with phosphorescent moss that cast an eerie blue-green glow over everything.
Wooden walkways, weathered and worn, provided precarious paths through the bog.
"This is beautifully atmospheric," I pulled my jacket tighter against the damp chill.
"Isn't it great?" Milo beamed, completely in his element. "The veil between dimensions is super thin here. Sometimes you can hear music from other realities!"
As if on cue, a distant melody drifted through the mist, haunting and strangely familiar.
"Is that... 'Memory' from Cats?" I screwed up my face incredulously.
Milo's eyes widened. "It's here! Come on!"
He grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the walkway, his excitement infectious. We followed the wooden path deeper into the swamp, the mist swirling around our ankles and the strange music growing louder.
"So what exactly is a manticore?" I looked around as we navigated around a particularly large, bubbling pool of something I didn't want to identify.
"Inter-dimensional beings from the spaces between realities," Milo hopped over a broken plank. "They exist outside normal physics, which is why they tend to drive people insane just by looking at them, plus they are dangerous physically. Too many angles, you know?"
"And we're trying to find a baby one because why again?"