by Peter Nelson
Dedication
To David, a talented actor who played the role of
invisible little brother once upon a time, until I was
lucky enough to discover who he’d always been—a
teacher, inspiration, and great friend.—P. N.
To all the budding artists in my family
(you know who you are!). Keep drawing, painting,
and telling stories. Don’t give up! I can’t wait
to read your books one day.—R. R.
Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Acknowledgments
Back Ad
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
1
Jordan Grimsley stared at the dark stone in his hand. The bright, ruby-like gem he’d plucked from the snowy ground at the end of his last adventure had since turned a deep, dull red. Almost black. As if a light inside it had died.
Jordan tossed the stone into his duffel bag alongside a keepsake from another adventure: a hand-whittled wooden slingshot his friend Alistair MacAlister had given him. He looked around his tiny bedroom cluttered with his boxed-up belongings. One box was filled with books from his bookshelf: The Amazing World of Cryptids, A Guide to Mankind’s Most Amazing Mythological Monsters, A Complete History of Amazing Creatures. Jordan smiled. Nearly every book he owned seemed to feature the word “amazing” in its title. He wondered why he kept them. Given his recent experiences, Jordan could write an amazing book of his own. And the most amazing thing about his amazing book was that it would all be true.
He zipped his bag closed. Of course, he could never write his book. What Jordan Grimsley knew had to stay secret, forever. At least that was the plan.
Jordan and his older sister, Abbie, had been given a very important—and very secret—responsibility. They were put in charge of the underground organization their long-lost Grampa Grimsley had created—one that kept the world’s undiscovered mythical creatures happy, healthy, and hidden. Jordan and Abbie never got to meet old George Grimsley before he met his fate, but they knew his story. He’d sacrificed everything—his family, his freedom, and eventually his life—to protect and keep the cryptids safely secluded. This responsibility now rested with them—at a time when the Creature Keepers organization was in very real danger of being exposed to the world.
Jordan slung the bag over his shoulder and glanced around his small bedroom for the last time. He wondered if he would miss living in this city apartment. Then he thought about where he and his family were moving.
“Not a chance,” he said to himself.
Jordan’s mother and father had been left Grampa Grimsley’s old house, located deep in the Okeeyuckachokee Swamp at the southwestern tip of Florida, which they’d renovated into a retirement home. But the retirees who lived there weren’t just any old folks. They were the elderly support group who kept the Creature Keepers operation running smoothly, quite unbeknownst to Mr. and Mrs. Grimsley. Jordan’s parents would never in a million years suspect this friendly (if slightly odd) group of geezers ran a high-tech mission control center directly beneath their new home. And Jordan shuddered to think what might happen if they ever found out.
It was a strange time for the Creature Keepers. Earlier that summer, they had successfully defeated and captured a horribly dangerous cryptid known only as Chupacabra. This cryptid was like no other Jordan had ever encountered. He was mean, cunning, and dangerous. Chupacabra had hated Jordan’s grandfather, and now he hated Jordan—not because he knew they were related but because he thought they were one and the same. He was convinced Jordan’s grandfather had secretly de-aged himself using waters from the Fountain of Youth and that Jordan was actually the young George Grimsley.
This terrible creature had succeeded in robbing the three elemental powers from the world’s only special cryptids. He’d hijacked the Loch Ness Monster’s Hydro-Hide, stolen the Sasquatch’s Soil-Soles, and burgled the Yeti’s Blizzard-Bristles. The combination of these three gifts would have given Chupacabra the rare and dangerous power known as the Perfect Storm. But the Creature Keepers were able to stop him, capturing Chupacabra alive and imprisoning him in ice.
Before he was defeated, Chupacabra attempted to get good-natured cryptids to follow him by convincing them that they were meant to rise up against their Keepers and join him in destroying the human race and taking over the world. Luckily, none of them did. But a handful found the idea of living openly, freely, and peacefully more than a little interesting.
And so, on the very day when Jordan found the glowing red stone lying in the snow, four rogue cryptids respectfully thanked the Creature Keepers for their years of care and protection, then struck out on their own to live as liberated creatures.
Jordan shut the door to his bedroom as he thought about where those rogue cryptids might be. He and Abbie had been checking in regularly with Doris, an old friend of their grandfather’s and the head honchess down in Florida. Thankfully, they had yet to resurface, which was quite remarkable. These were not small or subtle creatures. Sandy was a full-grown, brightly glowing Sumatran Golden Liger. Paul, a West African Dingonek, was a dragonlike cryptid with scaly skin and a saber-toothed tiger’s head. Not exactly the kind of creature one might trip over if it were lying outside one’s door.
Wump. Jordan tripped over Chunk, Abbie’s overweight, lazy pet iguana, lying outside his door. Its fat face was munching away inside a half-empty bag of Crazy-Blazin’ Jalapeño-Heckfire Nacho Cheezy Puffs.
“There you are!” Abbie burst out of her room with a box of black clothing, which she shoved at Jordan. She gathered Chunk up in her arms and kissed the overweight reptile on its orange-dyed mouth, covering her face with Crazy-Blazin’ Jalapeño-Heckfire Nacho Cheezy Puff dust.
Jordan and Abbie’s father bellowed from down the hall. “Hello, Doris,” Mr. Grimsley shouted into a phone. “Nearly all packed up, yes. We’ll all be driving the moving truck down next week. What? I see. . . . Well, how many? Yes, yes, of course! And C. E. Noodlepen approved the funds for the expansion? So long as you’re overseeing the construction, Doris. I trust you and no one else, at least until the Grimsley caravan gets down there.”
Doris was the only old lady Jordan knew who was tough enough to pull double duty, running both the Eternal Acres retirement home and the Creature Keeper central command. She kept both operations running at the same time and one of them a complete secret. She also happened to be one of
Jordan’s most favorite people in the whole world.
Mr. Grimsley beamed at Jordan and Abbie. “If you think they’d be helpful to you, I’m sure they’d love to fly down ahead of us. They’re right here. Please hold.”
Mr. Grimsley shoved the phone into Jordan’s hand, then ran off to share the news with Mrs. Grimsley.
“Doris, is everything all right?” Jordan asked.
Abbie put her ear to his and listened in. “Did the rogue cryptids turn up?” she asked.
“No, they didn’t,” Doris replied to them both. “And no, things are not all right! I had to call on a normal telephone because our entire operation down here is off-line! We had to disconnect everything in the underground command center so we could install a new entrance to fit that Chupacabra-filled glacier in here! You couldn’t have just locked him in a small cage?”
“Doris, what’s the emergency?” Jordan asked. “Is Chupacabra secure?”
“Yes, yes. Of course he is! But I could use you both down here. I told your father I needed you to help me make more room for some new elderly retirees.”
“Ugh,” Abbie said. “More old people.”
“They’re Keepers! Active Creature Keepers, from all over the world, forced into sudden retirement and turning up on our doorstep!”
“But you said elderly retirees,” Jordan asserted. “Creature Keepers are kids.”
“Not anymore, dearies,” Doris said. “The last of their Fountain of Youth elixir finally worked its way out of their systems. Their bodies are catching up to their years, as mine did for me. They were bound to turn old. I just didn’t expect them to turn up here!”
Jordan felt an unpleasant wave in the pit of his stomach. Each Creature Keeper lived alone with his or her cryptid, and while they looked like kids, they were much older. Jordan’s grandfather had discovered a way to derive an elixir from the magical waters of the Fountain of Youth and used it to keep the Keepers young, so they in turn could keep their assigned creatures happy, healthy, and hidden. A powerful substance, it had an especially drastic effect the one time it was given to a cryptid. But the supply and source of the elixir had been destroyed by Chupacabra. Worse, it had been largely Jordan’s fault. Which he still felt pretty horrible about.
“Doris,” Abbie said, “if these Keepers are showing up at Eternal Acres, where are their creatures?”
“Best if I explain when you get here,” she said.
“We’ll catch a flight down as soon as we can,” Jordan said.
“Thank you. Oh, and one more thing. In that journal of your grandfather’s—is there any mention about . . . Face Chompers?”
Jordan and Abbie exchanged a look. “No,” Jordan said. “What is that?”
“Like I said, best if I explain when you get here.”
2
The Leisureville, Florida, municipal airport had no restaurants, donut stands, or gift shops. It didn’t even have an automatic carousel in the baggage claim area. There was just a big hole in a wall through which a man outside on the single landing strip tossed your bags. Jordan and Abbie found their backpacks in the pile on the floor and made their way outside.
“Who’s picking us up?” Abbie asked as they stepped outside onto the curb. “Please don’t say Bernard. I didn’t say good-bye to Chunk if this turns out to be my last day on earth.”
Bernard was a Skunk Ape—a Floridian Skunk Ape, to be specific—who was fascinated with human behavior and enjoyed attempting it, often poorly and sometimes quite recklessly, whenever he got the chance. He was very well-mannered, and not just for a cryptid. In fact, Jordan preferred his company to most humans he knew. And while many of the more humanlike skills Bernard had picked up were very helpful (he was a surprisingly skilled pilot, for example), riding in a car with Bernard behind the wheel was not something Jordan or Abbie was looking to experience again anytime soon.
“Doris said Bernard has been busy flying all over the world,” Jordan said. “Answering distress calls from Keepers. He’s the one who’s been bringing them in.”
Abbie scanned the near-empty parking lot. The only option she could see was the Leisureville Local Line, a public transportation fleet consisting of exactly one shabby-looking bus parked at the curb directly in front of them. It suddenly let out a loud HISSSSS, then slowly pulled away from the curb. Parked on the other side was a disheveled old van with a large foot bolted to the roof. Leaning against it was an equally disheveled old man in a T-shirt, cutoff shorts, sandals, and a headband holding back his long scraggly hair. Jordan and Abbie recognized both the van and the man.
“Hap!” Jordan said. “You made it!”
“Of course I did! When you told me what you needed and why, I drove for three days without stopping, man!”
“Wait.” Abbie looked concerned. “You haven’t slept for three days?”
“I said I drove without stopping.” Hap chuckled. “I didn’t say I was awake the whole time. Pile in, you guys. Roadtrip!”
Hap Cooperdock was a free spirit. For years he dutifully served as the Keeper of none other than the Sasquatch, commonly known as Bigfoot but who preferred the name Syd. During all those years, Hap never drank the doses of Fountain of Youth elixir that were delivered to him by the Creature Keeper central command. So unlike all the other Keepers, Hap had aged normally. When he got to a ripe old age, he decided it was time for him to quit creature keeping and hit the road. Jordan and Abbie had helped him out by Squatch-sitting until they found a very unlikely replacement.
“How’s Buck Wilde doing?” Abbie asked as they barreled along the Ingraham Highway, deeper into the swamp. “He’d better be taking good care of Syd.”
“You know those two dudes,” Hap said. “Buck loved searchin’ for Syd on his TV show, and Syd loved watching Buck on TV. So the two of them just wake up every day, point at each other, and can’t believe their luck. They’re like two peas in a pod.”
“How about you, Hap?” Jordan asked. “You still like being on your own?”
“I gotta admit, the open road gets a little lonely. I pop up to Canada to check in on those two from time to time, but it’s not my home anymore. To be honest, I’ve been thinking about settling down somewhere.”
“Hopefully those rogue cryptids will start to feel that way, too,” Jordan said. “And come home to their Keepers before anyone sees them.”
“That reminds me.” Hap nodded toward the rear. “I brought the stuff you asked for.”
Jordan leaned over the seat and pulled back a muddy tarp. A dusty old wooden box lay beneath it, filled with dozens of tiny glass bottles.
“What is that?” Abbie said.
“Concentrated elixir made from the Fountain of Youth,” Jordan said.
“Never touched the stuff myself,” Hap said. “Stashed ’em away for years. ’Fraid that’s all I could salvage. A bunch were smashed; some were leaking. A few had a snot-green color to ’em. Figured they might’ve spoiled.”
“Fountain of Youth juice has an expiration date?” Abbie said. “That’s ironic.”
Hap’s Bigfoot van turned off the Ingraham Highway and stopped short. A traffic jam clogged the entrance to the Eternal Acres retirement community, with construction delivery trucks lined bumper to bumper along the dead end road leading to the cul-de-sac where Grampa Grimsley’s old house stood.
Hap pulled up on the sidewalk and drove along the edges of the retirees’ perfectly manicured lawns, getting as close as he could to the great house at the end of the street. When he couldn’t go any farther, Jordan and Abbie hopped out, eager to see what was going on.
“You two go check in with Doris,” Hap said. “I’ll find you.”
Jordan and Abbie jogged to the black iron entrance gate to Eternal Acres. Unlike the little houses that lined the road leading up to it, their grandfather’s old house stood three stories tall, with beautiful alcoves, balconies, and windows. It was hard to recall how creepy it was when they first saw it. And now it seemed to be undergoing another facelift.
Jordan couldn’t help but grin when he saw her. “Hiya, Doris.”
“I know, I know, this place is upside down. And it isn’t just the remodel, believe me.” The front foyer looked like a hardware store clearance sale. Elderly retirees bustled about carrying lumber, paint, pipes, furniture, ladders, doors, tools, toilets, brackets, hinges, windows, light fixtures, and curtain rods. As busy as the old folks were, they all took a second to wave, nod, salute, or say hello to Abbie and Jordan as they scurried past. Doris led the two of them through the mayhem, pointing out old bedrooms, new bedrooms, and expanded bedrooms as they made their way down the long hallway toward the back of the house.
Jordan and Abbie stopped her as they reached the door to the back patio. “Doris,” Abbie said. “Where are the new guests? The Keepers—can we see them?”
“Right! Yes, yes, of course. They’re out here. After you.” She opened the kitchen door. The great brick wall that separated the thick Okeeyuckachokee Swamp from the backyard creaked and swayed, then gave way, crashing toward them, into the yard. Standing on the other side was Peggy, a twenty-foot-tall Texas Jackalope. A group of older folks tossed carrots to her and petted her while more loaded up the broken stones and wheelbarrowed them toward the swamp.
Peggy’s long whiskers twitched beneath her nose as she sniffed the air. After spotting Jordan and Abbie, she hopped up into the patio yard in one giant bound, then began licking their faces like an excited golden retriever.
“All right, all right,” Doris said. “That’s enough, you oversentimental furball.” She pointed past the crumbled wall into the thick of the swamp. “In the boathouse. Eldon’s keeping an eye on them, and keeping watch.”
“For what?” Abbie said. “For Face Chompers?”
