by Lija Fisher
Amelia nodded, her voice solemn. “We would become the monsters.”
“I don’t like monsters very much,” Hernando whispered.
Clivo thought about everything that had just been said. “Okay, so it sounds like in order to fight evil, we need to make sure we do the opposite of what evil would do. Which means that when we find the immortal, we keep it a secret and make sure nobody else ever discovers it.”
Charles shifted in his chair. “Do we do that after we make ourselves immortal?”
Amelia slapped her hand on the table. “Charles! Let it go! We’re not going to make ourselves immortal!”
“I demand a vote!” Charles whined.
“Charles is right,” Clivo said. “We’re a team. We all need to agree on this.”
Amelia sat back in her chair. “Okay, all in favor, of keeping the gift of immortality a secret?”
Everyone raised their hands.
Stephanie added, “And not using it on ourselves?”
Everyone except Charles raised their hands.
Charles furrowed his brow. “Hang on, I’m thinking, I’m thinking.” He silently ticked things off on his fingers and engaged in an obviously very heated discussion with himself. Finally, he reluctantly raised his hand and let out an exhausted sigh. “I just don’t see how I could become immortal and not turn into a total jerk. But if I discover how, I reserve the right to change my vote.”
Clivo grabbed the vial and the blood sampler. “Okay, team, looks like we have a plan. We find the immortal and keep it and the elixir of life a secret. From everybody.”
Stephanie put a hand over his to stop him. “What about Douglas?”
After his conversation with Douglas, Clivo still had a nagging feeling that something wasn’t right; he just wasn’t sure what. “We need to make sure he agrees with this vote,” Clivo said. “Until we’re sure he does, we keep it a secret from him, too. Agreed?”
Everyone nodded.
Charles rubbed his hands together. “Looks like we’re going rogue!”
Clivo uncorked the vial of blood and brought it toward the sampler. He paused, wondering if he was ready for this. He glanced at his team, and when they all gave him nods of reassurance, he knew in that moment that, without a doubt, they’d all remain the good guys, even in the face of great power.
He delicately placed a drop of blood on the needle and waited as it traveled up the chamber, the screen blinking like a ticking time bomb.
The basement went eerily quiet. Nobody seemed to breathe as they kept their eyes locked on the sampler—except for Hernando, who had covered his face with his hands.
After an eternity, a beep sounded and two words flashed on the screen: NOT IMMORTAL.
Everyone exhaled loudly in relief and collapsed back in their chairs. Adam flapped his arms as if shaking off a spider. “Whoa, dude! That was intense!”
“I may need a nap,” Hernando agreed.
Charles ran his fingers through his nest of curly hair. “Yeah, I’m definitely gonna have to prepare myself better emotionally next time.”
Amelia spun her nose ring with her fingers in thought. “Focus, guys. All this means is that we have to go back to finding the immortal, except now we’re all out of clues.”
Clivo stood up, thoroughly exhausted from the events of the past three days. He felt like he needed to rest for a month before going on another catch. “I’ll let you guys get to your research. If you need me, I’ll be in the shower or in a catatonic sleep.”
Clivo headed over to the stairs, but stopped at the first step. “Oh, and while you’re working on saving the world, can you also please do your dishes?”
VII
Clivo took a hot shower, washing all the sand off of him, then lay in bed. It wasn’t even noon, but the exhaustion of traveling around the world while in mortal danger with very little sleep had done him in.
He was sure he would immediately fall asleep, but too many things were rumbling through his mind. What had happened to the cryptids he’d caught? Who was the immortal? And why was Douglas so irritated that he hadn’t actually caught the Salawa, even though he’d still gotten a sample of its blood?
Clivo thought back to his Ugly Merman catch and the feeling he’d had that someone was watching him, or was at least close by and knew what he was doing. He knew there was an evil resistance out there that was working hard to find the immortal, and even to find him.
But what if someone had already found him? And if he had been discovered, why hadn’t the people captured him and tortured him for information? What if they were simply tracking him? But tracking him for what?
He sat bolt upright in bed and ran downstairs to the basement, where the Blasters were all hunched at their workstations either reading books or tapping away on their computers, once more diving into the hunt for the immortal. Jerry was in a corner, fiddling with some wires.
“Dude, I told you not to touch those!” Adam yelled to Jerry.
“Relax, man! Do you want a security system or not?” Jerry shot back.
“A rope swing is hardly a security system!” Adam retorted.
“Hey, guys,” Clivo interrupted, his brain spinning. “Do you think it’s possible that someone is stealing the cryptids I find?”
Six pairs of eyes shot up and looked at him. Amelia put her book down. “It’s a possibility. But how? And why?”
“I don’t know,” Clivo said, wandering around the room in thought. “I know the Luxembourgers wanted to sell them to science or to a zoo. Maybe someone’s been profiting off my catches?”
“Cryptidnapping?” Charles asked. “That’s a cold thought, man.”
Stephanie said the next part carefully. “Douglas is the only person, besides us, who knows about the cryptids you’ve caught.”
Clivo had thought about that, too. “I know. But I can’t imagine he’d do something like that. My father wanted the cryptids protected just like I do, and he never would have worked for Douglas if Douglas was harming them.”
“Are you sure about that?” Adam asked, popping some grapes into his mouth.
“I am,” Clivo replied almost defensively. “My dad was one of the good guys, and he wouldn’t have trusted Douglas unless he was, too. Douglas yells and swears a lot, but he’s one of us.”
“So who might be taking them?” Stephanie asked.
“I don’t know,” Clivo said. “You guys are the problem solvers. How do we solve this?”
Amelia tapped her chin with her finger. “How long do you hang out after you’ve caught a cryptid?”
“Not long,” Clivo replied. “I wait, at a distance, until the creature wakes up so I don’t just leave it there unconscious. Then I go.”
“So that’s the one variable we have to change, the only one,” Stephanie said, nodding at Amelia as if she understood where this was going. “We need to send you on another catch, one for a creature that is hopefully not dangerous to you and definitely not the immortal.”
“But this time,” Amelia continued, “you need to stick around and see if anyone comes and claims the cryptid.”
Clivo thought about it. “That sounds like a good plan. I hate to take time away from looking for the immortal, but if the cryptids are being taken, we definitely need to put a stop to that.”
“Like I said,” Charles said with a wink, “we’re going rogue.”
“Give us a couple of hours,” Stephanie said, cracking her knuckles. “We’ve discovered a lot of cryptids in our research. We’ll find a harmless one for you.”
Clivo was about to exit when Jerry pulled him aside. “Hey, man, why don’t you let me come with you? You don’t need to do all this by yourself. It wouldn’t hurt to have a bit of muscle on your side.”
“You wanna be my wingman?” Clivo asked, surprised that the idea had never occurred to him.
Jerry gave him a sly smile. “Always have been, always will be.”
Clivo thought about it. It would be nice to have company on his world travels.
And with the cryptids becoming more dangerous, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone else by his side.
But what if something happened to Jerry? Sure, he was athletic and great at sports, but he wasn’t trained in martial arts like Clivo was. Clivo had to protect the cryptids, but he also had to protect those around him. He couldn’t risk Jerry’s life just because he wanted some company.
“Thanks, Coops, but why don’t you stay here?” Clivo said, coming up with a good reason so he wouldn’t hurt his friend’s feelings. “I really need you to fortify the headquarters, and I won’t be able to keep you a secret from Douglas if he starts asking why I had to buy two plane tickets.” He leaned in close and whispered, “Besides, these guys need your muscle more than I do.”
He pointed toward Charles, who was exuberantly practicing some kind of sloppy karate moves in the middle of the room.
Charles saw them looking at him and held his arms out wide in challenge. “What? It stimulates my thinking mechanisms!”
Jerry turned back to Clivo, studying him closely. “All right, man. I see what you mean. Just be careful out there.”
* * *
Several nights later, Clivo was lying in a bush in southern Germany, his tranquilizer gun at the ready. Right before leaving on this catch, he had spent a whole day alternating between sleeping, showering, and sleeping again. He could have used a few more days of rest, but he couldn’t waste the time. He had to find out if someone was stealing the cryptids.
Now Clivo was on his third day of waiting patiently, despite his growing exhaustion, for the creature to arrive. He mentally went over the cryptid he was seeking—the Elwetritsch, a chicken-like creature with a long beak and antlers. Adam hadn’t had time to write up its origin story, so the Blasters just told him the legend: the creature was a mixture of a chicken and a goblin. Because the Blasters hadn’t been able to prove the existence of goblins, Adam had balked at endorsing the idea, saying that it was “awesome, but cheesy.”
The Elwetritsch definitely wasn’t the immortal, because it had only been sighted since the mid-1900s. Nostradamus, the French seer whose prophecy spoke of the immortal, had lived in the sixteenth century, so the immortal had to be at least that old. The cryptid Clivo was waiting for should also be relatively easy to catch and, hopefully, harmless … It was a chicken, after all.
Clivo hated the idea of using a cryptid as bait, but it was the only way to find out if someone was taking his catches.
He watched the glow of several blue lanterns placed in a clearing in front of him. Going on Elwetritsch hunts was a favorite tradition for the locals, although they used it more as a joke. The locals would place lanterns in the forest because the creature was supposed to be curious, then leave a watcher to wait for it while the others went to flush it out of the brush. But the “flushers” would just retreat back to the pub, leaving the watcher waiting for hours for a beast that never came.
However, there had been times when the Elwetritsch did appear, and it was always when a blue lantern was used, so Clivo had surrounded the clearing with nothing but a blue glow.
Clivo slapped a mosquito that had been nibbling on his neck. He hoped he didn’t have to spend a week searching for the chicken—he’d be sucked dry by all the mosquitos. More than that, he didn’t want to wait a whole week to figure out what was going on. The summer would be over before he knew it, the Blasters would return to their homes in Maine, and he’d go back to searching for the immortal on school breaks. Needless to say, it was a little tough to focus on his homework when he knew the world was in danger.
Clivo yawned, then shook his head to stay awake. His eyelids began to droop, so he shifted to a less comfortable position. Just as his head began to loll, a rustle sounded in the shrubbery right next to him. He turned his head to find the Elwetritsch standing right there, staring curiously at him.
It was indeed a chicken, with an abnormally long beak and a full set of antlers. Clivo had to stop himself from laughing. The creature definitely looked harmless and was actually kind of cute.
“Whatcha looking at, buddy?” Clivo asked.
The Elwetritsch hopped forward and pecked at Clivo’s watch, which glowed with blue numbers. Well, at least the Blasters were right about the creature liking the color blue, Clivo thought.
Clivo slowly swung his gun around. He was too close to the creature to actually shoot it, but perhaps he could just gently prick the beast with the dart. He wanted to scare the creature as little as possible.
“Hey, friend, I’m sorry to have to do this to you, but I need your help.” The chicken kept pecking at Clivo’s watch, a little squeak coming from its throat. “And if someone takes you, I promise that I’ll come and find you, okay? So just hang on. You may be going on a journey somewhere, but I’ll have you back here in no time.”
The chicken lifted its head, blinking its round eyes curiously.
Clivo lifted his gun, prepared to tranquilize the poor creature. “This may sting just a little bit, but then you’ll just go to sleep.”
Clivo brought the needle closer to the chicken and was just about to prick it when the beast went from being very cute to very aggressive. It rose up on its feet and spread its wings, flapping them with enormous speed and intensity. Feathers flew around Clivo’s face, blinding him, as the chicken let out a squawk so shrill it pierced Clivo’s eardrums.
Clivo recoiled away from the flapping monstrosity in front of him just as the Elwetritsch jumped forward and stabbed him with its sharp beak.
“Ow!” Clivo exclaimed, looking at his hand, where a droplet of blood was forming at the stab wound.
The cryptid lowered its wings and began running through the brush as fast as its little legs would carry it.
Clivo ignored the stinging of his hand and brought the gun up in one fluid motion, firing a dart that thankfully found its mark. The chicken fell over in an explosion of feathers.
“So much for you being harmless,” Clivo said, then groaned, shaking his hand, which was beginning to throb something terrible.
He ran up to the chicken to check its blood. Even though the Blasters were sure it wasn’t the immortal, Stephanie had said he needed to do everything exactly the same as he did on every catch. The only thing that would change was that he would wait to see what happened after.
He checked the Elwetritsch’s blood, and the sampler, sure enough, said the chicken wasn’t the immortal. Then he took a selfie that he sent to Douglas.
His head was beginning to hurt and he was having a hard time thinking all of a sudden. Had he done everything the same? What else was he supposed to do? Oh yes, retreat a bit and wait.
Clivo trudged toward a small hill, where he would have a view of the part of the forest the chicken lay in. His legs felt heavy, and he was sweating more than he knew he should be in the cool night air. What is wrong with me? he wondered. Am I getting sick?
He made it to the top of the hill after what felt like forever and collapsed onto the ground, well hidden in the heavy undergrowth. He took out his binoculars and waited, though every time he looked through them he felt like he was going to be ill. The world shifted and blurred, and he was having a hard time focusing on the forest in front of him.
The next thing Clivo knew, he was flat on his back completely unable to push himself upright. His limbs felt jellified and his tongue was like a cotton ball. He looked at his hand where the chicken had pecked him and saw an angry red welt that burned like it contained a hot coal. Had the chicken poisoned him? If so, it was probably a good idea to let someone know what had happened.
He pulled the phone from his backpack, his fingers feeling like they were twice their size. He fumbled with the buttons on the device, but couldn’t remember how to operate it. Even if he could have, his fingers had all of a sudden become completely useless.
He collapsed onto his back as he went completely limp, and he stared at the stars that danced above him like fireflies on a string. His brain had gone foggy, and he couldn’t remember whe
re he was or why his hand hurt so much.
* * *
He didn’t know how long he had been lying there—it could have been hours or days—when he heard a jangling, as if his mom were above him, shaking the ancient Egyptian rattle to protect him from the god of storms. The rattling got louder and more intense and he knew his mom was there, doing everything she should to protect him.
Clivo reached toward the stars. “Mom? Dad? Are you up there? I can’t see you.”
He swept his hand across the sky, reaching for the sound, wishing that his parents would appear and whisk him away from wherever he was. He knew he needed help, but he couldn’t remember why. All he knew was that he felt totally alone and didn’t understand what was going on.
“Mom? Dad? Where are you?”
The rattling got louder and Clivo was sure his mom was about to appear, her smiling face arriving to remind him that everything was going to be okay, that she had blessed him with protection and nothing could harm him. Clivo reached up to the sound that was now filling his ears as a bright light suddenly was flying above him, like an angel.
“I found you, Mom,” Clivo said, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I finally found you.”
Wind blasted across Clivo’s face as a low-flying helicopter swept directly over his head. Bits of dirt hit him in the face like a slap and for a moment the grogginess drifted from his mind. Wasn’t he supposed to be watching for something? he wondered.
He flopped onto his side, pushing through the fogginess of his brain, his body still feeling as heavy as a wet carpet. He picked up the binoculars and held them between his wrists because his fingers had completely stopped working.
He watched as the helicopter landed in a clearing. The door opened and a person jumped out, a gun in their hands. They disappeared into the shrubbery and returned a moment later holding an unconscious chicken, its antlers sticking out from under the crook of the person’s arm.
Clivo’s brain shifted into focus. The cryptid! He was supposed to be watching for someone stealing it! He tried to get a good look at the person’s face, but they had on a hat and a scarf that obscured most of their head.
