Monster Security Agency Bundle

Guarded by the Spider:
“That’s why the kidnappers are demanding more money. They don’t think Arcus is negotiating in good faith. And he doesn’t think they are, seeing as they’re not providing proof-of-life photos anymore.”

I groaned and shook my head. “A tragic situation, to be sure,” I granted. “But I don’t understand what any of this has to do with me.”

“I want to send you in. To get her.”

I shook my head gravely and put a fist to my chest. “I cannot be relied on. I could die at any moment—my time is near. I won’t let you put me in a position where my death could injure teammates.”

Royce licked his lips. “I . . . wasn’t going to send anyone else.” I blinked and reared back. “It’s almost a guaranteed suicide mission, Nine. And you could just be going in to bring back a corpse. But hey, I figured since you were already dying . . .”

His voice drifted as I understood his math. I hissed at him before continuing. “Here,” I said, using my arms to illustrate the surroundings. “The way I’m supposed to. Not in some firefight in a place that is not my own.”

“Ahh.” He leaned forward dramatically. “But they’re keeping her inside the Threadstone Mountains. Isn’t that where you came from or something?”

The Threadstone were Arachnaea’s ancestral homeland. “Nice to know you listened, once upon a time.”

“I pay attention more often than you think,” he said with a wicked grin. “Some of Shiranak’s drones got some footage out—they were two days’ travel deep.”

“That means nothing. The Threadstone . . .” I began, but my voice drifted. I’d never been “home” personally, but I remembered all of my mother’s tales from her childhood, before she’d been abducted and brought to “civilization” several centuries ago, to spin silk for wealthy individuals. She’d always said the system of caves and caverns was massive, that you could spend your entire life walking or climbing underground and still not come out on the other side.

I had no idea if she was telling the truth, or if those were just stories meant to entertain me, as a child.

“So?” Royce prompted. “Is there any chance you might consider going back there to die? Isn’t it more magical or something?” I clicked at him again and he blew me off. “Look, you can’t blame a guy for hoping when ten million dollars are on the line,” he said. “It’s not even the money, Nine. The money’s temporary. But having one of the richest men on the planet owe the Monster Security Agency? That shit’s worth a solid gold toilet.”

I looked him up and down. “You are but a fragile human. You couldn’t carry a solid gold toilet—why would you want one?”

He tried to read my face, his round eyes squinting. “I can’t tell whether or not you’re joking sometimes—it bugs me, no pun intended.”

“I was making a joke. And—none taken.”

Guarded by the Kraken:
Who would this human be that I was guarding—and why?

And, perhaps more importantly: from what? 

I twisted, suddenly unable to find any position that felt right, and missed my window to sleep entirely, feeling all the krakens Sylinda had sent away slowly rejoining the local ‘qa. 

I closed down my thoughts to keep them to myself. The other krakens had no such compunction though. I could feel them without trying, each of them a bright pinprick of energy, living a life without shame, sharing trickles of everything on the ‘qa, until there were so many of them it felt like I was swimming in a raging torrent. 

At least none of them were thinking about me. Probably because Sylinda had threatened them when she’d sent them away. 

But what was happening now was almost worse. One by one I felt certain krakens fade as they fell asleep, but some of them turned their attentions to other matters. I clenched my beak to brace as a pair that was particularly close to me shot one another messages.  

“…do you know how beautiful you are?”

“You always say that!”

“Because it’s always true!” 

They were laughing and happy—and while I was glad it wasn’t my brother and his wife, it was awful none the less. 

“…come here!”

“Catch me!” 

I lifted my hands up and pressed the heels of my palms against my broad eyesockets, in an effort to somehow physically block out what I otherwise could not, as the most intimate thoughts of even more of my kind leaked in. 

“Let me lift you—” 

“…my arm is ready—” 

“Twine with me—” 

“Let me hide it in you—there—”

Balsur hadn’t been wrong. I hadn’t pumped, not even once, since Cayoni’s passing. And feeling all the swirling emotions of my countrymen and women on the ‘qa as they satisfied themselves was agonizing. 

The hunger and need of the rest of my kind flowed through me, and it made my pumping arm ache—the only thing that stopped me from relieving myself for the first time in years was knowing just how empty I would feel when I was through. I pulled myself against the rock wall with more ferocity, wishing I’d picked a different spot, one where the stones weren’t quite so smooth, so that I would have something else to concentrate on. 

And then the first couple that had started things finally finished—I felt their joy and pleasure splash along the ‘qa and it reminded me of all the times prior that mine—no, ours—had and I grasped the wall tight enough with all my tentacles to twist against it so that I could pummel the rock nearest me with my fist. 

Dark blue blood poured out of my knuckles and I bellowed in surprise, both with my mind and an open mouth. I’d hurt myself—but it’d felt good just to feel.

I’d forgotten what it was like to manifest pain rather than just having it live inside me. 

And while the other kraken nearest me sensed something—I could hear a few of them wondering, “what was that?” and “are they okay?”—I quickly managed to hide myself again, and all of their evenings continued. 

Me cutting myself had done nothing to stop them, but as the anemones I’d brushed on earlier turned off, one by one, the taste of my own blood in the water of the room reminded me why I needed to be alone.

Guarded by the Nightmare:
“It’s time.” 

I erupted out of the ground in Royce’s office and planted my hourglass on his desk with bone-rattling force, so that both of us could watch the last of the red sand inside pour down. 

His jaw clenched. He hated me, and with good reason. I’d killed his great-grandfather when I’d been bound to his line, and no matter how often he tried to rid himself of me, just like his father and his grandfather before him, he hadn’t managed it yet, and he never would. 

I was a creature of shadow and fate, and every time the hourglass turned, it was time for me to get my due—and right now, there was someone coming to the Monster Security Agency who was meant for me.

Someone from whom I could feed.

Royce pushed himself away from his desk reluctantly. He’d said ‘no’ before, and he’d tried to refuse me, but that wasn’t how this worked. The curse that made me roam the earth feeding on fear and terror could not be denied, just delayed, for one hourglass’s worth of sand.

“Fuck you, Sylas.”

I laughed at his discomfiture. “Cursing won’t change anything. Does it even make you feel better, at this point?” 

“Not really, no,” he confessed, taking a long inhale, and looking out the window beside him, as if he could see whoever was arriving, seventeen floors below. 

“Who do you think it will be?” I asked conversationally. The opportunity to taunt him was too good to pass up. “Young, or old? Male, or female?” The smoke I was comprised of swirled around in eager anticipation. 

A sheen of sweat broke out on his head, reflecting light as he shook it. “Whoever it is, I don’t want to meet them.” 

The burden of knowing that horrible things were going to happen was too great for him to bear, but it didn’t bother me in the least. In almost every case people—usually men—would walk in and ask to hire a monster for an ‘assignment’. Sometimes they were cagey, sometimes not, and I would give Royce one thing, he never entertained them, nor tried to extort money from their insanity. The second they said anything about hurting other people, he—or a cadre of his employees—would escort them out the door.

And in those cases, released from my tether to his hourglass, I would follow them, silently, knowing that a great crime was going to be committed. I had followed cult leaders, mad bombers, and school shooters alike—and each time, I knew that somewhere inside the MSA building a frantic Royce Bannerman was making phone calls to lines that would suddenly not work, or getting through and shouting warnings that went unheeded.

His line was cursed, I supposed, much the same as I was—but I had accepted my fate long ago. I was well aware of my place in the world, and I didn’t fight it.  

“I have no idea what my grandfather was thinking, when he tied you to that.” Royce pointed at the hourglass that we were both watching—the object I’d spent most of the past three generations trapped inside.   

“Hmm. He was probably too busy planning your great-grandfather’s funeral to think much,” I said, letting a malevolent smile cross my shadowed face. 

Royce made a pained, growling noise, from deep inside his chest. “You’re no better than a tick.” 

I gave a dark and mocking laugh. “Really, Royce,” I chided. “Have you ever considered that I perform a needed function?”

The magical dark red sand inside the hourglass was thinner now and pouring out like blood. 

“Which would be?” he asked, his tone arch. 

“Maybe someone needs to feed on those emotions. Maybe if they were left alone, they would multiply endlessly, splashing out onto others.” 

“Is that what you tell yourself? So you can sleep at night?”

“Oh, tsk, Royce. I don’t sleep. I only make others sleep—sleep, and dream of me.” The final few grains were rattling down. “Here it comes.” 

The last one dropped—and Royce’s intercom went live. “Mr. Bannerman? There’s a potential client here to see you. I tried to tell them you weren’t in, but—” 

I eyed Royce, watching him swallow and hate me with his full heart.

It was the first time I’d gotten to eat since being released, and his animosity tasted like a fresh warm blackberry plucked from the vine at the end of the season, when you were standing in full sun, but there was a light and comforting breeze all around you. 

It tasted like life. 

I wanted more—so much more—and soon I would have it. 

Royce gritted his teeth together and reached out to hit the intercom button. “Reception room three,” he announced. 

“Race you there,” I taunted him, snatching up my hourglass to sink into the floor at once.

Guarded by the Krampus:
And then the alarm that indicated someone was coming to the MSA lobby door started beeping softly. The three of us looked over, watching a beautiful blonde woman wearing entirely black clothing arrive. She was bundled up in a black wool coat that flared out from her hips like a cape, she had shiny black leggings on underneath tucked into stylish leather snowboots, and she was holding both a phone and a long thin cane in gloved hands as she reached for the door, feeling for the handle, before pushing her way in.

There were two things striking about her—one, her extreme elegance, she held herself like a dancer, or perhaps a marionette with a master at the strings—and the second was her blindfold, a strap of black satin stretched across her face, hiding both her eyes. 

“Hello?” she asked archly, as the door slowly closed behind her. “I know you’re there. My phone has a heat sensor built in—” she said, waving it in front of herself. 

Her talking made the three of us shift gears. 

“Sorry about that—we were just caught off guard by your arrival,” Royce said, recovering first. “You’re in the lobby of the Monster Security Agency—can we help you?” 

“I recognize you!” Serena blurted out.

The woman’s red lips curved up at their ends. “I’m not surprised,” she said coolly. “Although that does mean you’re a woman of taste.”  

Serena gave a nervous giggle, and then looked to the two of us to step up. “Oh, come on!” she complained. “Do both of you live in caves?” 

“Only my ancestors,” I said wryly. 

Serena shook her head in profound disappointment. “This is Satin. She’s an internationally famous sculptor!” she went on, waving both of her arms. “She’s had shows at the MoMa, the Armory, and the Stutenberg!”

“Don’t forget the Auralis Conservatory,” Satin said, taking a few more steps up.

I’d never heard of her, but judging from Serena’s reaction, either she was ridiculously famous or had a cult following I’d somehow missed.

“Well then I am pleased to meet you—especially if my daughter’s a fan. But what can we do for you here, Miss Satin?”

The woman in question’s lips curved down slightly. As she began folding up her cane, I was surprised to realize that it wasn’t an affectation—and perhaps neither was her blindfold. “I believe I have need of your professional services,” she said, tucking her cane under her arm and offering a gloved hand out. Royce came up to give it a firm shake, and just then, Sylas arrived, seeping around the edges of the lobby door without setting off anything, before he coalesced.  

“I’m here,” he announced, then flew across the room quickly, winding around the tree, before lifting off one of the pinecone grenades to inspect. “Christmas trees would make so much more sense if they doubled as a weapons rack.”

“Sylas,” Royce said, calling him to heel. “I think I have a job for you,” he said, giving Satin a meaningful nod. 

“The hell you do,” I said out loud, surprising everyone else in the room—even me.  

Satin tilted her head, and an imperious eyebrows arched over her blindfold. 

“Aceon?” Royce asked, giving me a look.  

“But I’m here now,” Sylas said, rising himself up to loom. 

“And you can butt out—she got here at six-twenty-nine.” 

“Don’t you need to visit your mommy?” Serena whispered, in a tone of voice that said she knew I never should’ve lied. 

I glared at her, before deciding to ignore the three of them. “Not this year,” I said curtly. “What’s the job?”