The Cryptid Catcher

by Lija Fisher

  Thomas scoffed. “That’s why it’s a secret order, chief. Our information is so classified that I have to wear this briefcase chained to my wrist.” He rattled the handcuffs dramatically.

  “Is that supposed to make you look official?” Clivo asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “The lab coat makes me look official, the handcuffs just make me look cool.”

  Clivo rolled his eyes.

  “Moving on,” Lana continued, clearing her throat, “we’re here because we want you to join us. The search for cryptids is an extremely crucial endeavor. I’m sure you understand why.”

  Clivo wondered if she was referring to the immortal, but he didn’t say anything for fear he’d be revealing something she didn’t know. There was something about Lana and Thomas that made Clivo’s hair stand on end, as if he shouldn’t completely trust them.

  “Moons of Jupiter, just say it!” Thomas interrupted. “The immortal! The ultimate! The elixir of eternal life!”

  Clivo shifted his feet uncertainly. “You guys know about the immortal?”

  “No, we traveled all the way from England to this bizarre little house hidden on a mountain to talk about fairies!” Thomas yelled.

  Clivo gritted his teeth and glared at Thomas. Did everyone in the cryptid-catching world have to yell at him all the time?

  Lana put a calming hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “Again, what Thomas is trying to say, is that, yes, we know about the immortal. But what you may not understand is how fraught with peril the search for it is.”

  “What do you mean?” Clivo asked.

  Lana’s voice got quieter and her long eyelashes cast shadows that looked like spiders’ legs down her cheeks. “There’s an evil resistance gathering whose only goal is to find the immortal and take over the world. And they’re getting stronger.”

  Clivo thought about his mom shaking the old Egyptian rattle to protect him from the God of Storms and wondered if she’d known about this gathering storm of evil.

  “I’m listening,” Clivo said.

  Lana’s voice picked up speed. “There are many people searching for the immortal, and most of them want to use it for their own villainous purposes. There’s only a handful of us who want to use its power for good, but we’re sorely outnumbered. We’ve decided the only way to find the immortal before the nefarious ones do is to band together and help one another. That’s why the Order was created many years ago.”

  “And how did you become a part of it?” Clivo asked, his brow furrowing. “You’re a little young to join something like this, aren’t you?”

  “Says the world’s youngest catcher,” Lana said with a slight smile. “Thomas and I are cousins and our family has searched for the immortal for generations. When you come from a long line of catchers, going to school and studying arithmetic seems a little unimportant, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Clivo was still eyeing Thomas and Lana warily. “And how do you know I’m one of the good guys? How do you know I’m a catcher at all?”

  “Because you’re Russell Wren’s son,” Thomas said. “He’s legendary in the legend world. And as far as we know, he’s the only person to have actually caught a cryptid. Unless you’re some kind of rebelling brat, we’re pretty sure you’re following in his footsteps.”

  “Speaking of which, is that his study?” Lana asked, gazing eagerly toward Russell’s den.

  Clivo nodded but quickly added, “But there’s nothing in there. Nothing that would tell you how he caught cryptids.”

  “Still, may I? Like Thomas said, he’s a legend. It’d be an honor to see where he worked,” Lana persisted.

  Clivo figured that letting Lana and Thomas take a peek in the den couldn’t hurt. There was nothing in there—nothing that he hadn’t gone through a hundred times already. “A quick look, just don’t touch anything.”

  Lana and Thomas tore into the den like hungry wolves would a steak. They frantically scanned the room, as if searching for some clue. Thomas reached out to take a book, but Clivo grabbed his wrist firmly. “I said no touching.”

  “Ow! Message received, tough guy!” Thomas said, rubbing his wrist.

  Lana and Thomas continued wandering around the room, desperately searching for something that Clivo already knew wasn’t there.

  “It’s amazing in here,” Lana finally said, “like standing in the room of a genius.”

  “I like the smell in here, too,” Thomas agreed. “It smells like success.”

  Clivo leaned against a bookshelf and crossed his arms. He was wary of Lana and Thomas, but curious whether they could reveal something about why his dad had kept it all a secret from him. “So, um, did you know my dad? Was he part of the Order?”

  Lana walked over to him, her face taking on a sad expression, though her eyes remained trained on him like a hawk. “To be honest, he wasn’t part of the Order. He didn’t want to be. He felt like he could do better on his own, and he had a very, very hard time trusting other people.”

  “Bad move, Russell, very bad move,” Thomas said, shaking his head.

  “If he had been a part of the Order, we could have protected him,” Lana continued, “and he’d still be alive.”

  “How could you have protected him from getting killed by the chupacabra?” Clivo asked, confused. “Going after dangerous beasts is pretty much part of the job, isn’t it?”

  Lana seemed taken aback. “You don’t know how he really died, do you?”

  Thomas sauntered out of the room. “This is about to get awkward, so I’m going to retire to the kitchen.”

  Clivo’s hair stood up even more. He didn’t like where this conversation was going.

  Lana squeezed his arm in sympathy, though her nails felt like claws. “Your dad wasn’t killed by a chupacabra, Clivo. He was killed by a fellow cryptid catcher.”

  Clivo’s mouth dropped open and his stomach froze. “That’s not true.”

  “I’m so sorry, but it is true. The Order tried desperately to protect him, we really did, but he refused our help. Everyone knew that he was the best catcher, and it was just a matter of time before someone from the evil resistance came after him.”

  Clivo’s head was spinning. His father had been murdered? He felt a confusing mixture of sadness and anger burning in his chest. “Who killed him?” Clivo could barely get the words out through his tight throat.

  Lana sighed, “We actually don’t know. There were a lot of people out there who wanted him gone; we just don’t know who was able to get to him. But the point is that these same people are going to come after you, and the good guys can’t afford to lose another Wren. Please don’t make the same mistake your father did. Let us protect you. Join the Order.”

  Clivo bit back his tears. He was having a hard time focusing on what Lana was saying. He knew he should be asking more questions, prying more into who exactly Lana and Thomas were, but all he could think about was his father.

  Lana’s quiet voice shook him out of his thoughts. “Clivo? Do you understand how much danger you’re in?”

  Clivo gripped the edge of his father’s desk for support. He wasn’t concerned about his own safety anymore; all he could think about was how he didn’t want the immortal to ever fall into the hands of the person who had killed his father. But Clivo couldn’t ensure that if he was dead himself. “If I joined the Order, how could you protect me?”

  Lana smiled patiently. “Like this.”

  She quickly swung her right arm toward Clivo, who jumped into action and easily blocked it.

  He brought his face right up to hers. “Sorry, but you’re going to have to do better than that if you want to protect a Wren.”

  Lana winked at him. “Actually, I haven’t started yet.”

  In a heartbeat, she unleashed a flurry of maneuvers on Clivo. He recognized her throws, traps, clinches, and strikes as something like jujitsu, but she was much stronger and faster than he was. They whirled around the small den, grappling on the rug, finally wrestling themselves into the dining room jus
t as Thomas exited the kitchen.

  “Oh boy, chief, did you ask for a demonstration of how she could protect you? She loves it when people do that!” Thomas said gleefully.

  Clivo began sweating profusely from the effort of defending himself against Lana’s relentless attack. In the end, he found himself sprawled on the floor, pinned in a one-armed lock, Lana’s other arm pulled back, ready to strike.

  “You win!” Clivo exclaimed.

  “Is that your safe word?” Lana asked, her breath coming quickly.

  “Whatever, just get off me, please,” Clivo huffed.

  When she had released him he hauled himself to his feet.

  Lana stood up as well and pushed a few stray hairs out of her face. “So, to sum up, we’d like you to join the Order because not only are we the good guys, and not only can we protect you, but there’s also something else.”

  “I can hardly wait to hear what it is,” Clivo mumbled, straightening his clothes and feeling embarrassed about being fully outfought.

  Thomas held up the briefcase and shook the handcuff chain dramatically. “We discovered who the immortal is.”

  XVI

  Clivo stood at the dining room table, the only sound the rattling and banging of the furnace downstairs. He was having a hard time thinking properly. Within an hour he had learned that his father had been killed by a fellow cryptid catcher and that this secret organization he had never heard of knew who the immortal was.

  Thomas finally cleared his throat in a dramatic fashion. “A simple thanks for figuring out who the ultimate is would be appropriate here, chief.”

  “How do you know?” Clivo replied, more sharply than he had intended.

  Lana took a seat at the table. “The Order hasn’t been wasting time going after every cryptid out there. We’ve used our time more wisely by focusing on exactly which one is the immortal.”

  “And how do you know someone hasn’t already found it?” Clivo asked, remaining standing. “You probably don’t even know which cryptids my dad found.”

  “We don’t know that, that’s true,” Lana explained. “Your dad was searching for the immortal, but he also wanted to protect the other cryptids, so he never let anyone know which ones he caught. But not everyone is so noble. A legendary creature could fetch a lot of money in a sale to either science or a zoo. If anyone else ever found a cryptid, they’d make sure the whole world knew about it. Most people would do anything for the notoriety, and the money, that came with it. Only the members of the Order have agreed to keep it a secret.”

  “Speaking of which, chief, how many cryptids did your dad find, anyway?” Thomas asked, taking a seat, kicking his feet up onto the table, and placing the briefcase handcuffed to his wrist on the floor next to him.

  “Twelve,” Clivo said proudly.

  Thomas whistled. “Legendary.”

  “Do you know how he found them?” Lana asked, a little too casually.

  Clivo stared at her. He still didn’t trust them, secret order or no. Until he fully did, he knew it was his job to protect the Myth Blasters, and even Douglas, although he wouldn’t have minded watching Lana give the cranky old man a good butt kicking. “He worked alone, like I do.”

  “So how did you find Nessie?” Lana pressed.

  Clivo smiled. “After we find the immortal and it’s safe from the bad guys, I’ll tell you.”

  Lana narrowed her eyes just a fraction, but moved on. “Anyway, the Order has been digging through legends and folklore for decades, figuring out which creatures are just stories and which actually exist. But we didn’t try to find the cryptids themselves, just things they left behind.”

  “Like what?” Clivo asked, his interest causing him to take a seat.

  “What we all leave behind,” Thomas said, picking at his teeth with a fingernail. “Strands of hair. Flakes of skin. Droppings.”

  “Is that what the lab coat is for? To analyze poop samples?” Clivo asked, not attempting to hide the mockery in his voice.

  “Don’t knock it, chief, everyone’s poop tells a very interesting story.” Thomas pulled a bag of nuts from the lab coat’s pocket and popped one in his mouth.

  Clivo was about to respond but stopped when he saw Lana’s eyes shooting daggers at him, so he sank in his seat and motioned for her to continue, which she promptly did.

  “Over the years, we haven’t found an actual cryptid because we didn’t need to waste our time finding every single one. We just needed to find the one that mattered, the immortal. So we examined what they left behind, figuring that if the cryptid was the immortal one, something in its hair or nail samples would indicate so.”

  Clivo considered that. It all made sense, that was for sure. “So, who’s the immortal?”

  Thomas kicked his legs off the table and, with a flourish, laid the briefcase on top, like a magician preparing for his final trick. Lana pulled a key from her pocket and opened the sturdy locks. Clivo tried to peer inside, but Thomas moved the case so he couldn’t see anything. Clivo sighed and waited as Thomas slowly pulled out a plastic bag and laid it on the table. Clivo instantly reached for it, but Thomas slapped his hand away.

  “No touching, please,” Thomas chided.

  Clivo rolled his eyes and leaned in for a closer look. Inside the plastic bag was a ball of what looked to be brown fur. “What’s that?” Clivo asked.

  “A sample.” Thomas grinned. “The immortal is none other than the Otterman, otherwise known as the Kooshdakhaa.”

  “I still have no idea what that is,” Clivo replied.

  “It’s a mythical creature, half man and half otter. Legend says it either saves people from freezing to death or eats small children,” Lana explained, applying a fresh coat of red lipstick. “We found that sample in a southeastern Alaska rain forest. It tested as fur belonging to no known animal and—”

  “Let me! Let me!” Thomas said, snatching the bag. He carefully pulled out a sample of fur and held it in front of Clivo’s face. “Watch this.” He grabbed a lighter from his pocket and set fire to the fur, which promptly turned a bright silver and flashed like a sparkling firework. Thomas lowered his voice to a whisper. “All creatures, one blood. Some remain hidden, others come fore. In one who is hidden, the blood is gone, replaced by the spring of life. A silver lightning drop of eternity.”

  Clivo let out a laugh of disbelief. “That’s your proof? A bit of sparkling fur?”

  Thomas threw the fur on the floor in frustration and stomped on it with his foot, leaving a burned spot on the carpet. “What more do you want, chief? We can’t drag the Otterman in here and have him confirm it to you personally!”

  “The proof is good, Clivo,” Lana said, leaning toward him with a glint in her eye. “But even if we’ve made some kind of mistake, which we haven’t, the worst that will happen is you’ll cross another cryptid off your list.”

  “Or it’ll eat my face off,” Clivo mumbled. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a heavy exhale. “So, I guess you’ve come to me with this information because you want me to find it?”

  Lana smiled. “We’re here to help each other. We discovered the immortal; now you need to catch it.”

  “With our protection of course,” Thomas added.

  “How are you going to protect me?” Clivo asked him. “What skills do you have, besides an unhealthy interest in fur collecting?”

  Thomas cracked his knuckles. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

  “Time is of the essence, Clivo,” Lana continued. “There’s an evil resistance out there searching for the immortal. It’s only a matter of time before they find it.”

  Clivo looked at the bag of fur. Was it possible? Was the Otterman really the immortal? Lana was right, though. Even if it wasn’t, it was another cryptid crossed off his list. But if it was, he had to get there before someone from the evil resistance found it. Especially the person who had killed his father. “Come back tomorrow afternoon. I’ll try to find out where the Otterman is by then.”<
br />
  “How will you do that?” Lana asked, her eyes once again probing him, as if trying to read his mind.

  “Like I said, once the immortal is in safe hands, I’ll be happy to tell you.”

  * * *

  Clivo waited until Lana and Thomas’s rental car was far down the driveway before Skyping Stephanie. With the time change it was probably close to her bedtime, but he hoped she was still awake. It took a few moments, but eventually Stephanie’s face appeared on the screen. Clivo knew she was in her room, as evidenced by the large bed behind her and the poster of Stephen Hawking on the wall. She was wearing flannel pajamas, her hair was sloppily pulled back, and she was munching on takeout Chinese food with chopsticks.

  “Hi, Stephanie,” Clivo said, relieved that she had picked up.

  Stephanie’s eyes suddenly snapped to the screen. With all the noodles dangling out of her mouth, she looked like a walrus.

  “Clivo? Hey! Everything okay?” she mumbled as she quickly swallowed her food.

  “Yeah, everything is fine. I think.” Clivo told her everything Lana and Thomas had told him about the Otterman. He left out the part about his dad being murdered because he didn’t want to scare her. As long as he didn’t tell anybody about the Myth Blasters, they should be safe.

  “Oh, boy, I may have to sedate Charles when he finds out. He loves the Otterman,” she said, wiping her face with a napkin.

  “What do you think about that? Do you think it’s possible this creature is the immortal one?” Clivo asked.

  The sun was setting, casting long shadows in the forest outside. His house creaked and groaned, like ghosts were dragging their chains across the floor upstairs—a horrible reminder of the gathering storm of evil.

  Stephanie scratched her head. “Honestly, we’ve spent all of our time discovering which cryptids exist and how to find them. We haven’t even begun to consider which one might be the immortal.”

  “I’m in a rush, Stephanie. Do you have any information on the Otterman?”

  “We’ve researched it a bit. When do you need the intel by?”

  Clivo winced. “Tomorrow?”