“Any luck with your case?” Felix asks, voice squeaking with desperately eagerness. “Have you found my son?”

“…” you say.

Felix Lynn fidgets inside his bulky hazmat suit. “Did something go wrong?" He asks. "How bad is it? Is my son still in danger?” His rubber gloves creak loudly as he wrings his hands. “You’d tell me if he was dead…right?”

Mr. Lynn trails off into a muffled silence, a silence broken only by the gentle hiss of his helmet’s respirator.

Sarah reaches out and takes one of Lynn’s galvanized hands. “Maybe you should sit down for this, Felix,” she tells him. “This might take a while.”

#

By the time you’ve finished catching everyone up on recent events, golden afternoon light shines through the windows of the break room, windows that look out over a courtyard with well-tended garden patches and apartment blocks festooned with red and black banners.

Fausta and Fortuna Orobas are seated together on the long couch with floral patterns. Cookie the pit bull walks in a circle before settling down at their feet. Sarah is perched on the armchair, hooves propped on the edge of the coffee table. Mr. Lynn sits on the hardwood bench, holding a cranberry muffin in his rubber-gloved hands and staring longingly at it through his tinted faceplate.

“…and then, well, I woke up here,” you conclude.

An awkward silence fills the breakfast room.

Lynn let out a muffled sigh and hands his muffin to Cookie. Cookie takes the muffin in his jaws, walks behind the couch, and wolfs it down.

“Do you think he’s hurting Philip?” Mr. Lynn asks you. “This Maxwell Kayne fellow?”

“If Mandrake Kayne wanted your changeling child dead, he’d have flayed his corpse to a wall for the whole world to see,” Fausta replies acidly.

Felix Lynn recoils at Fausta’s words. Behind the faceplate of his helmet, his eyes widen with horror.

“Fausta,” Sarah hisses.

Fausta’s scowl turns into a weary grimace. “That was uncalled for,” she says to Mr. Lynn, “and I’m sorry. But we both know that Kayne’s not after your son.” She wraps her arm around Fortuna’s shoulder and draws her daughter onto her lap. “He wants to take my baby girl,” Fausta whispers, hugging Fortuna with a desperate strength.

Fortuna winces and closes her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispers to her mother. “I’m sorry...”

“No,” Fausta says sharply, and kisses her daughter on the crown of her head. “Don’t say that. Never say that. This isn’t, and will never be, your fault.”

Fortuna squeezes her puffy eyes shut and leans back into her mother’s chest. 

“You mom’s right,” you tell Fortuna. “It’s not your fault.” Your next words sit heavy in your mouth. “It’s my fault. I screwed up. I practically told Kayne you two were in town…”

You stare at your hands, wrapped in bandages for a few nicks and cuts. They look like Kayne’s hands now.

“I thought I could outsmart him,” you admit, “and you paid the price.”

“Please stop talking, Mr. Worawoot.” Fausta rubs the corners of her bloodshot eyes. “I may not blame you…but I’m not interested in hearing you drown in self-pity.”

“Who is this Mandrake Kayne guy, anyway?” Sarah Mankiller asks, the jewelry on her antlers clinking as she leans in. “Psychotic monster hunter dressed like an Egyptian mummy, sure. But what’s his game plan?”

“He’s a mercenary pretending to be a hero,” Fausta says, glowering with her puffy, sleep-deprived eyes. “He talks a good game about protecting humanity, and then accepts a million-dollar contract to track my baby girl down.”

“So who paid this Kayne?” Mr. Lynn asks.

Fausta clenches her teeth and refuses to answer. So her daughter does it for her.

“It was Dad,” Fortuna says softly. She looks up at her mom. “Dad hired the hunter, didn’t he?”

The stricken, devastated look on Fausta’s face speaks volumes.

Sarah inhales sharply. “Son of a gun,” she whispers.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You didn’t just wander into Cryptatown on a whim,” You say to Fausta. “You’ve been running from Fortuna’s father. Why, though?”

“They don’t have to tell us,” Sarah says, giving you a brief glare. “They deserve to deal with their baggage on their own time—”

“They didn’t run away from a broken home,” you interrupt. “At the very least, they didn’t just run away because of a broken home. Am I wrong?” You ask Fausta.

Mr. Lynn glances at Fausta, then at you, then at Fausta again.

Fausta stares at you with dark, bloodshot eyes. “Back off, Diesel,” she hisses, “or I’ll rip a hole in your fuel line.”

Oh. That’s a pretty good one-liner; you should save that for later! You should also back off before she shoots you in the face.

“Mom.” Fortuna tugs on the sleeve of Fausta’s scrubs. “I want to tell them.”

“No, sweetie,” Fausta whispers.

“I want to tell them,” Fortuna insists. “I don’t want to hide it anymore!” Fortuna’s eyes shimmer. “I don’t have to be a freak in this town!”

Fausta goes very, very still. You can see conflicting emotions ripples across her pale face, the desire for hope and kindness clashing with paranoia and protectiveness.

She looks at you, then at the rubber-suited Lynn. Finally, her eyes settle on Sarah Mankiller and her jagged antlers.

Intriguing, isn’t it? Fausta Orobas only really starts to relax when she lays eyes on the non-human of the group.

She pats her daughter on the shoulder and nods. Fortuna disentangles herself from her mom’s lap and stands up to address you all.

“So,” Fortuna begins awkwardly. “I have superpowers. You’ve, uh, seen me do the thing with the Sprites and my phones…”

“I haven’t!” Sarah says.

“Oh!” Fortuna says. “Well…”

She pulls out her pink-cased phone and opens up the Sprite Quest app. She shows us the screen: a three-dimensional cartoon earth faerie dances back and forth inside a circle of runes. You can see character stats listed at the bottom of the menu page:

–––––––––––––––––––

BROWNIE:

LVL 6

STR ++

STA ++

REF +

MJC +++

Strong Against: Ice.

Weak to: Iron.

––––––––––––––––––

“Brownie!” Fortuna shouts loudly, pointing her finger at the coffee table. “I cast you!”

You blink: that’s the catchphrase the heroes in the “Sprite Quest” anime use to summon their Eidolons. You didn’t know she watched that cartoon...

“Whoa there!” Sarah exclaims, jumping to her hooves. “A lot of work went into this piece!”

The screen of Fortuna’s phone shimmers, like a pond stirred by a thrown rock. The Brownie crawls out of the liquid crystal display, a square, stout faerie with skin the color of clay and vibrating insect wings.

Cookie the Pit Bull raises his head and stares intently at the tiny spirit.

The Brownie tumbles out of the phone and lands on the coffee table face-first. It picks itself up and waddles toward the plate of muffins. After sniffing carefully at each, it seizes the chocolate caramel muffin, tears a chunk off and stuffs it into its tiny mouth.

“So yeah…” Fortuna says, scratching the back of her head. “I can summon Sprites for real.”

“Spirit summoning,” Sarah exclaims breathlessly. “Not bad, little chum.” She stares with sickened fascination as the Brownie shreds muffins like a wood-chipper.

You can’t blame the Deer-woman; that little Sprite’s really going at it.

“I can also do this,” Fortuna says, holding up her index finger.

She closes her eyes and tenses up. An orange bead of flame kindles to life at the tip of her nail. The smell of rotten eggs fills the room.

Sarah claps politely.

A stray spark falls from the tiny fireball in Fortuna’s hand. It floats down to the coffee table...and instantly burns a charcoal-black crater in the wood.

The Brownie shrieks and scampers away from the sound of sizzling wood, tripping and falling off the table in the process.

"Ah!" Fortuna says, closing her hand and snuffing the fire. "Sorry! I didn’t mean to!"

"It’s okay," Sarah assures them. "Trust me, I’ve seen much worse magic accidents..."

Cookie stands up, walks over to the prone fairy and sniff at it.. The Brownie unfurls its leaf-shaped wings and makes eye contact with the pit bull. The Faerie and Dog stare into each other’s eyes for a moment.

“Woof,” Cookie says.

“Hsssk!” the Brownie says, clicking his mandibles.

The dog lies back down. The faerie snuggles up against the Pitbull’s fur.

If you hadn’t lost your phone,  you realize, you could have filmed that scene and gotten so many hits online...

No, you tell yourself, dragging your eyes away from the dog and the newly summoned Brownie. Focus. There are more questions you need to ask.

“Does your father want to kidnap you for your powers?” you ask Fortuna.

Fortuna nods. “I think he wants me to use my powers to”—her face scrunches up in thought—“bring about Armageddon?”

…

…

Oh. I see. So that’s who she is. Ha ha ha ha!

I haven’t seen one of those in a while. I thought half-breeds like this girl were out of fashion!

The girl you see before you bears the blood of my kind, Diesel, lineage that could tear apart the skies above if nurtured properly. Your monkey species have many names for this kind of hybrid:

Demigod.

Nephilim.

Antichrist.

“Oh,” you say out loud.

Fausta frowns at you. She grabs her daughter by the arm and gently pulls her back onto the couch.

“Oof!”

“Are you satisfied?” Fausta asks you. “Fortuna’s father wanted to use her for her powers. I refused to let that happen.” She looks at you all, silently daring you all to say something bad about your daughter.

Sarah seems more intrigued than scared. As for you...on a finer day, you may have felt a smidge of worry about Fortuna’s existence. For now, at least, you can’t must the energy to be judgemental.

“Um,” Mr. Lynn says, hazmat suit squeaking as he turns to look at Fausta. “I’m confused. Is Fortuna’s father…” he lowers his voice to a hush “…the Devil?”

Fausta’s lips twitch with contempt. She opens her mouth to give Felix Lynn a cutting reply.

The phone in Sarah’s pants pocket buzzes.

“Crud!” Sarah Gold fumbles for the phone. “Darn it, darn it…” She gets a good look at her phone screen. Her face loses all color. Quietly, she flips her phone around and shows you all the caller ID:

––––––––––––––––––––––

“Dieselnoi Worawoot.

PI Wannabee.”

––––––––––––––––––––––

You reflexively pat for the phone that should be in your pocket. The effort strains your stitches and yields nothing.

Of course, you think. He took it from you.

Mr. Lynn stands up straight as he realizes who’s calling. His rubber gloves creak audibly as he squeezes them tight.

Sarah sets her phone on the coffee table, answers the call, and switches it to speakerphone.

For a few seconds, you hear nothing but crackling static.

Then a familiar voice speaks up:

“Good afternoon,” Mandrake Kayne says. “Am I speaking to Diesel’s client? The guardian of the Ogre-changeling?”

“Yes!” Mr. Lynn blurts out before anyone can stop him. “Yes, I’m here! Where’s Philip?” He snatches Sarah’s phone from the table. “What have you done to my boy, you bastard?”

Silence on the other end. And then:

“I assure you, sir,” Kayne says in a bored tone, “I haven’t laid a finger on your changeling child.”

The sound of muffled footsteps. A familiar scream echoes out from the phone’s speaker, a bellow that’s both an angry roar and desperate shriek.

Mr. Lynn rises to his feet, nearly crushing Sarah’s phone in his rubber-gloved hands.

“Correction,” Mandrake Kayne says over the phone. “Now I’ve laid a finger on your child.”

“You…!” Lynn seethes, gasping for breath. “You...”

“Listen carefully,” Kayne tells Lynn. “This is not a negotiation and I will not repeat myself.”

You hear the monster hunter take a deep breath: “Meet me in the Goblin Market at the stroke of midnight. Bring the girl and I shall trade her for your changeling child.” 

Kayne pauses, giving Lynn time to process his statement. “If you show up too early or too late, I will kill your Ogre. If I do not see the demon’s child with you when you arrive, I will kill your Ogre. If you try any clever tricks or magical schemes...do I make myself clear?”

Lynn squeezes Sarah’s phone hard enough for the screen to crack. Sarah makes a bound of protest, aborted halfway through.

“Do I make myself clear?” Mandrake Kayne repeats, louder but still bored-sounding.

“Yes,” Mr. Lynn hisses.

“Good,” Kayne says.

Click. Beep.

Mr. Lynn stares at the cracked phone held between his gloved hands for a few seconds before gingerly setting it down on the coffee table. He collapses back down to the couch, biohazard suit squeaking loudly as he does so.

Everyone watches him silently, waiting for him to speak or act. Mr. Lynn just sits there, hiding all his feelings and thoughts behind layers of vulcanized  rubber and tinted glass.

He’s not considering it, you tell yourself. He’s not seriously thinking about going through it. He’s smarter than that.

Isn’t he?

Mr. Lynn’s head snaps up, thumping softly against the hood of his hazmat suit.

He glances right, looking straight at the trembling Fortuna.

The moment Mr. Lynn makes eye contact with her daughter, Fausta Orobas draws her pistol from her purse and shoots him in the face.

Next Chapter: Episode Seventeen: Settle for Less (Revised)