by Lija Fisher
“Sure did,” Amelia said proudly. “And I’m sure you figured out that they are not the good guys.”
“Eventually,” Clivo responded, a shiver going up his spine as he pictured Thomas trying to shoot him.
“They’re actually with the Luxembourgian government,” Amelia went on. “They’re part of a burgeoning secret program to train cryptid catchers. Apparently the new grand duke, a slight man with horrible teeth and breath that smells like burned bacon, wants to secure his legacy as the most powerful monarch to ever hold the grand duchy by giving his people the gift of immortality. He doesn’t really trust anyone outside of his family, however, so he recruited two of his cousins to become part of the Order. Fortunately for us, they were chosen based on their blood ties, not their smarts, so they’re not a huge threat in terms of finding the immortal first, as evidenced by them mistaking teddy-bear fur for the Otterman.”
“Yeah, I feel kind of stupid myself for buying into their theory,” Clivo said, blushing.
“Which brings us to something we wanted to discuss,” Stephanie said, her eyes downcast and thoughtful. “The fact that governments are involved in the search for the immortal takes this thing to a whole other level.”
“Big level,” a soaking-wet Hernando said from behind her.
“From this point forward, we have no idea who we can trust. So we’ve simplified it: trust no one.” Stephanie’s face was more serious than Clivo had ever seen it. “You need to work with us, and us alone. We can’t risk sharing our information if you give it to people like the Order again. It’s just too dangerous.”
“I totally agree,” Clivo said, nodding. “You guys are the ones I want to work with, anyway. You’re the best. I don’t need anyone else.”
Amelia picked at her fingernails and casually glanced at him. “You don’t need anyone else except, perhaps … Douglas Chancery?”
Clivo’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Is there anything you guys don’t figure out?”
Stephanie smiled at him sympathetically, as if he should have known better than to ask that. “It was really simple. We just traced the Diamond Card that you were using to Douglas Chancery—”
“What do you mean, you traced it? I never gave you the number.”
Stephanie smiled. “You showed it to Charles at the museum and he memorized the number.”
“I showed it to him for, like, a second, and he barely looked at it.”
“His memory is like a steel trap, especially when it comes to numbers. When he turns twenty-one he’s going to try his hand at counting cards in Vegas.” Stephanie said it as if that were the most natural thing in the world. She looked down again, and her voice sounded hurt when she continued. “How come you never told us about him?”
Clivo squirmed uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, I should have. He’s the person who funded my dad’s catches and now funds mine. I would have told you about him; it’s just that my dad never did, and I thought I should do the same. He’s also not a very nice person, so I guess I was kinda protecting you from him.”
“Do you trust him?” Amelia asked with a pointed glare.
Clivo thought about it. “I do. And more importantly, my dad did, too.”
“Okay, we’ll let it ride since he’s Mr. Moneybags, but from now on, no more secrets,” Amelia said. “We’re obviously dealing with stuff way bigger than we thought, and if we’re a team, we need to be one all the way.”
“Absolutely.” Clivo nodded. “I’m sorry, guys, I was just trying to do what I thought was right.”
“What’s right is what we tell you to do,” Adam said, handing Hernando a towel to dry himself off with. “It’s best if you don’t think too much for yourself from here on out.”
“Got it,” Clivo agreed, stifling a laugh. “I’ll keep my thinking to a minimum.”
“All right, Clivo,” Stephanie said with a smile. “We’re going to get some rest, but we’ll be in touch when we’ve got your next catch.”
“Thanks, guys. Talk soon,” Clivo said.
“Oh, and Clivo?” Stephanie added quickly. “Good job. Catching two cryptids in one week is pretty amazing. Be sure to take some time to celebrate that.”
“I will, thank you, Stephanie. Not bad for a remedial kid, huh?” Clivo said.
“Not bad at all,” Stephanie agreed. “Looks like you’ve found what you’re good at.”
Clivo turned off his computer and was considering how he would mark such an accomplishment when he immediately fell into a deep sleep right at the table.
Epilogue
Clivo sat in his father’s study the next evening after school, quietly doing his math homework. The front door creaked open and two cats came running in and jumped on his lap.
“Hi, guys,” Clivo said, rubbing the purring cats. “It’s good to see you.”
Aunt Pearl tentatively poked her head into the room, trying to hide a giant trophy behind her back.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Aunt Pearl said slowly. Her eyes swung around, obviously looking for some kind of destruction. “It doesn’t look like you set anything ablaze while I was gone. Or pawned our belongings for snack money.”
“Nah, Aunt Pearl, no rotten teenage behavior for me,” Clivo assured her. “How was your week?”
Aunt Pearl quit looking around and glanced at Clivo, a distinct sparkle in her eye. “Oh, you know, nothing too exciting, either.” She seemed to consider something for a moment, and then, with a happy sigh, she pulled the trophy out from behind her back. “Actually, I’ve been bad. I wasn’t at church camp. I was at a salsa competition. Don’t laugh at your auntie! I won first place!”
Clivo covered his grinning face with his hand. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you, Aunt Pearl. It’s just—I knew that. And I think it’s great, and I think you should salsa dance as much as you want.”
Aunt Pearl’s face melted in relief. “You do? You don’t think I’m naughty for leaving you alone so I can mambo my cha-cha?”
“It’s totally fine. And I hope you don’t feel like you have to lie to me about it anymore.”
Aunt Pearl leaned over and kissed his head. “You’re right, sweetie. It’s better if there are no secrets between us, don’t you think?”
Clivo pictured Nessie and the Otterman and decided that for now, some secrets needed to be kept. “Absolutely, Aunt Pearl, no secrets.”
“That’s a sweet boy. Have a good night, okay?”
“Good night, Aunt Pearl. I love you.”
“Aw. Love you too, sweetie.” Aunt Pearl began to exit the room.
“Aunt Pearl?” Clivo asked.
“Yes, sweetie?”
Clivo wasn’t even sure what he wanted to ask; there was just something that was still bothering him. He understood the world of cryptid catching, as much as he could, anyway. He understood the necessity of finding the immortal before anyone in the evil resistance did. He just still didn’t understand why his dad had kept everything a secret from him. “Did my dad enjoy being away from me as much as he was?”
“Enjoy?” Aunt Pearl asked, her beak nose twitching with surprise. “Oh, sweetie, he hated it. Every second of it. Before he left on each trip, he would tell me that he was hoping this would be the last time. That he would find whatever treasure it was he was searching for so he could just stay home with you.” She let out a long sigh. “Unfortunately, he never found it.”
“It must have been something pretty important,” Clivo said, looking down at the desk.
“I guess.” Aunt Pearl sighed again. “I do know he was always concerned about keeping you safe, though. He would tell me, ‘Make sure to keep C safe.’ He wanted me to shake that rattle thing over your head, but I always thought it was rather silly.”
Maybe that was it, then, Clivo thought. Maybe his dad hadn’t told him anything simply to protect him. It didn’t seem like the whole answer, but at least it was something.
“Thanks, Aunt Pearl. I was just curious,” Clivo said.
“See you in the morn
ing, sweetie.”
Clivo went upstairs to his bedroom and shut the door, petting the cats as they huddled happily on his bed. He went to his closet and pulled out the leather-bound photo album of his dad’s cryptid catches. He flipped through the pictures, pausing longer on the one where he and his parents were all together with the gunni. He smiled and allowed himself the wish that they could still have been together as a family.
He took some photos from under his mattress—the ones of him with Nessie and the Otterman—and noticed that his smile in each picture was exactly like his father’s. Smiles of wonder, joy, and knowing, one hand always resting comfortably on the beast.
Clivo placed his photos in the album, recognizing how well they fit in with the rest. The legacy of the cryptid catcher was continuing with him. Whether he was ready or not, it was what he had inherited from his father. And he realized that he willingly embraced the journey ahead.
“I don’t understand everything, Dad, but I understand what I need to do. And I promise you, I’ll do it. You trained me well and I’m proud to follow in your footsteps. Thank you for being one of the good guys.”
Clivo slowly closed the photo album, gave it a tight squeeze to his chest, and returned it to its hiding place in the closet.
He collapsed in his bed, the cats snuggling up around him, and fell into a deep sleep as his father’s words whispered in his head: “Some things are meant to be hidden. It’s much better for the world to have its myths and its magic.”
Acknowledgments
As a debut author, I’d love to thank everyone who has ever lived or ever will live, and also specifically these people: Maura Malloy, who was the first person to read my writing and who told me to keep going, which meant everything. Joe Spieler and Krista Ingebretson for being the next people who read my work and who also told me to keep going. Annie and Chris Parnell for supporting me in so many ways so that I could keep going. Thank you to Juliana and Sean Crouch, Rachel Fowler, and Elena Momich for taking the time to read my stuff when it really wasn’t any good at all. Matt Love, because hand-sword-hand forever. To my bb for always cooking dinner as I sat with my head in the laptop. To my youngest readers—Maggie and Lilah Hayes and Patrick Stupearceski—who always gave me the best notes. Thank you Mom, Dad, Wayne, and Joel for always encouraging my flights of fancy. Thank you to Aspen Words and the Catto Shaw Foundation for a dreamy writing residency. Big, huge, eternal thanks to my agent, Jason Anthony, for believing that my original story about a Delta Force soldier hunting a dragon had potential. And last but most definitely not least, to Angie Chen for acquiring me, and to all the wonderful magicians at FSG BYR and Macmillan Children’s Publishing Group—including editorial staffers Wes Adams, Jennifer Sale, Megan Abbate, and Melissa Warten, copy editor Nancy Elgin, designer Aimee Fleck, production manager Jie Yang, and publicist Heather Job—for waving their wands and turning my words into this book.
Also, to Richard.
About the Author
Lija Fisher was born in Istanbul, Turkey and raised at the foot of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. She graduated from the University of Colorado, Boulder, with a BFA in Performance Studies and has performed in regional theatres across New York, Florida, Alaska and Colorado. In 2017 she was a Writer in Residence with Aspen Words. Lija has lived in London, LA and NYC but now calls Colorado home. The Cryptid Catcher is her first novel. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Prologue
Sunday
I
II
Monday
III
IV
V
VI
VII
Tuesday
VIII
IX
X
XI
Wednesday
XII
Thursday
XIII
Friday
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
Saturday
XVIII
XIX
Sunday
XX
XXI
XXII
XXIII
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
Farrar Straus Giroux Books for Young Readers
An imprint of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010
Copyright © 2018 by Lija Fisher
All rights reserved
First hardcover edition, 2018
eBook edition, August 2018
mackids.com
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Names: Fisher, Lija, author.
Title: The cryptid catcher / Lija Fisher.
Description: First edition. | New York: Farrar Straus Giroux, 2018. | Summary: Thirteen-year-old Clivo Wren learns that his recently deceased father was not an archaeologist as he was told, but rather a cryptid catcher, known for finding elusive mythological creatures, and now Clivo must pick up where his father left off and track down a cryptid whose blood grants immortality before the knowledge falls into the wrong hands.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017042496 | ISBN 9780374305543 (hardcover)
Subjects: | CYAC: Animals, Mythical—Fiction. | Secret societies—Fiction. | Adventure and adventurers—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.F5684 Cr 2018 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017042496
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eISBN 9780374305550
