by Peter Nelson
He twirled his new mustache and glanced up at something in the rafters. At the foot of the stage, Jordan and Eldon peered up as well. They could just make out Harvey Quisling hiding in the shadows. The old man held long handles attached to wires, like a puppeteer. Chupacabra nodded to him, then turned back to his audience.
“And I can do something the creature captors never bothered to do before they asked you to trust them. I will prove to you that I can protect you—by destroying before your very eyes the one human that even they couldn’t stop from stealing the greatest powers from the greatest cryptids among us! I give you—Señor Areck Gusto!”
Quisling began to manipulate his puppet sticks up in the shadows, and Señor Areck Gusto awkwardly walked out onto the stage.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Eldon said. “That’s the worst hoax I’ve ever seen.”
“Looks like it’s good enough to work on this crowd,” Jordan said. The cryptids squawked and growled at the sight of the Gusto puppet. Its stuffed arms reached out clumsily as it stumbled toward them. They tried to shuffle backward, away from the stage. But Chupacabra silenced them.
“Stop! Look at you! You are the most magnificent, most powerful beings on the face of the earth, and yet you cower before a mere human! Watch and learn, my fellow cryptids—I will show you how we creatures deal with weak and puny men! Witness the power you hold inside each and every one of you!”
Chupacabra strutted up to Gusto and got in his face. “Gusto! You, like all humans, have tortured and terrorized my kind for long enough! Prepare to taste what all of your kind will soon know—cryptid revenge!”
Chupacabra reared up and lashed out at Gusto. His sharp claw flew toward the puppet’s face—but the puppet ducked. Whiff! Chupacabra spun around, nearly falling over. The audience erupted. “Ooooh!”
Chupacabra regained his balance and glared at Gusto. The puppet stood still as a scarecrow. He leaped into the air, his Soil-Sole flying straight at the puppet’s chest. At the last second, the puppet calmly took one step to its left.
CRASH! Chupacabra smashed into the solid stone sidewall of the amphitheater, his massive club foot blasting straight through it. Chupacabra angrily tried to pull his foot out of the wall as the Gusto puppet stepped up behind him, reached down, grabbed his tail, and yanked. Chupacabra went flying across the stage.
SMASH! The audience gasped as Gusto hit the opposite wall.
“I take it back,” Eldon said to Jordan. “That’s one heck of a puppet.”
Enraged, Chupacabra pulled himself up off the floor, marched across the stage, and shot Harvey an angry look, then took a deep breath. He blew a wintry blast through his Blizzard-Bristles—not at the puppet but at its handler up in the rafters.
Harvey was hit with a sofa-sized snowball. It snapped the wires holding the puppet and sent the little puppeteer flying over the trees, landing somewhere in the jungle.
Chupacabra turned back and noticed the puppet wasn’t where it should have been, lying lifelessly beneath its broken strings. In fact, it wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Then Chupacabra felt a tap on his shoulder.
He spun around. Standing directly behind him was the Gusto puppet, grinning at him with its stitched-on pillowcase smile. Chupacabra lifted one of its arms and dropped it, letting it flop loosely at its side. He took the wire at the end of its sleeve and ran his fingers along it, following it down to the floor, where it connected to nothing.
WUMP! The Gusto puppet kicked Chupacabra so hard in the tail, it sent him stumbling forward, falling flat on his newly mustached face and knocking his head against the stone wall.
All cryptid eyes were glued to the puppet as it lumbered forward, toward the front of the stage. It raised its arms and pulled its pillowcase head off its shoulders. The cryptids gasped, then fell silent, then broke out in a loud cheer. Standing there before them was the mysterious and legendary Yeti of the Himalayas. They rushed back toward the stage as Wilford tore off the rest of the Gusto clothing. As they cheered and howled, at the foot of the stage, Eldon smiled at Jordan. “Nice bit of hoaxing there, Elite Keeper Grimsley,” he said.
The tone of the crowd shifted. Eldon and Jordan looked up. Onstage, Chupacabra had regained his wits and was charging toward Wilford. The Yeti spun around and grabbed hold of the Blizzard-Bristles, squeezing them together beneath Chupacabra’s snout, just as the angry cryptid was taking a dangerously deep breath.
“Ah-ah,” Wilford said. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Sure, you’ll blast me, but it’ll also cause a blowback that will freeze you from the inside out, old friend.”
Chupacabra slashed at the Yeti, knocking one of Wilford’s paws away. Then he lifted his Soil-Sole and pressed it against Wilford’s midsection. “That’s the beauty of having more than one weapon,” Chupacabra said. “You keep the element of surprise!”
THUD! He pushed off with his mighty foot, sending Wilford flying into the ancient stone back wall of the stage, which crumbled down on top of him. Chupacabra stumbled back, too, but regained his balance and slowly stood at the front of the stage to face the crowd, victorious.
There was a second of deadly silence. Then the entire cryptid audience burst out laughing. Chupacabra had half a mustache hanging under his right nostril, and he looked more than a little silly, even to this collection of odd creatures.
“How dare you laugh at me! I may not have destroyed Gusto, but I created him! And now I possess the stolen elemental powers! Do not think for a moment I won’t hesitate to use them on any cryptid who refuses to follow me!”
“They do not wish to follow you,” a voice boomed from behind him. Chupacabra spun around. Wilford stood atop the pile of rubble that had fallen on him. Hanging beneath his nose was the other half of his mustache, which looked much more natural on his face than on Chupacabra’s. “Who would follow an old fool with half a mustache?”
Chupacabra felt under his snout, giving Wilford the upper hand—or in this case, the upper lip. Before the thieving cryptid could take another breath, Wilford blasted him through his half of the Blizzard-Bristles. A wash of snow slammed into Chupacabra, sending him tumbling off the front of the stage. The cryptids backed away, forming a circle around the thick, wet stream of white that viciously pummeled him. The concentrated squall pinned Chupacabra to the snow-covered ground.
Within seconds, it had mercilessly dumped what looked like a ton of snow on top of him in the center of the amphitheater field, sealing him beneath a freezing tomb of white.
30
A cheer of howls, growls, squeals, and snarls rose up from the cryptids as they circled in on the heaping snow pile in the center of the amphitheater field. Wilford hopped down off the stage and was met with backslapping and loud thanks and congratulations. Jordan rushed to join them.
“Great ’stache-slinging, Wilford!” Jordan exclaimed. “You got the drop on him!”
“Thank you,” Wilford said. “That snowpack should hold. It was a real wet one.”
Meanwhile, Eldon beelined toward the snow pile to keep the curious cryptids back. “Everyone, I need at least a twenty-foot perimeter!” He patrolled the field, keeping the cryptids away from even the wide apron of snow covering the ground all around the small white mountain.
Jordan stepped back and let out a deep breath. He finally felt he could breathe easy, for the first time in a long time. Looking around, he smiled at the celebratory mood that had suddenly entered the amphitheater. The scene had taken on the air of a family reunion. A weird one, in which everyone looked like they weren’t from the same species—never mind the same family—but a reunion just the same. And if this was a big, weird family, Eldon looked happy in the role of its patriarch. Once the Badger Ranger had responsibly secured everyone’s safety, he loosened up and started mingling. He knew every single cryptid by name. And now that the creatures weren’t hypno-leashed with Chupacabra’s homing device, they all recognized him, too. Jordan smiled as he watched. He knew how much this meant to Eldon.
Sa
ndy, the Sumatran Golden Liger who’d ignored Eldon earlier, was standing with a few other cryptids. They were huddled close together, talking quietly, until Eldon approached. They suddenly broke up their huddle and stood stiffly, grinning at him awkwardly. Jordan noticed this and thought it seemed strange.
Eldon, of course, didn’t notice. He put one arm around Sandy’s neck and the other around Paul’s (the Dingonek he’d been wrestling earlier). “Isn’t this great, you guys? It’s such a shame we can’t get everyone together like this more often, but you know the Creature Keeper vow—help, hide, and hoax. I’m afraid it’s just too risky!”
As Jordan looked on, his feeling that there was something odd going on grew stronger. Nothing dangerous or ominous, just awkward. It wasn’t as if this small group of cryptids felt unhappy or upset, it just seemed like they felt . . . guilty. But of what?
“Don’t worry,” Eldon continued. “We’ll all say our good-byes and have each of you back with your Keepers!” At this, the cryptids traded paranoid glances, signaling to Jordan that something odd was definitely going on. At the same time, another thought suddenly occurred him.
“Keepers.” He glanced around. “Where are Abbie and Morris?” He broke away from the Yeti admirers and began frantically scanning the field. He spotted them on the opposite side of the grounds. Abbie and Morris were moving at a strangely slow but determinedly steady pace, straight toward the snow pile. Jordan could see by Abbie’s worried expression that something was wrong. And Morris looked drowsy, almost as if— “Oh, no.” Jordan spotted a murky green liquid sloshing around in Morris’s bowl-head.
Jordan bolted toward them, weaving his way past groups of socializing cryptids. As he got closer, he could smell the valerian root. Horrible memories came rushing back from the last time that vile liquid came in contact with snow on the ground. And the two of them were nearly to the snow that surrounded the slope entombing Chupacabra.
“Abbie!” he cried out as he approached. “Abbie, stop!” She looked up at him but continued, determined to save Morris by replenishing his poisoned sara with the pure snow.
“Hey!” Eddie the Indonesian Ebu Gogo’s voice suddenly cried out. “The snow pile is melting! It’s turning all smushy!”
The massive white pile of packed snow began to sag and change shape. As it melted under the sun, it transformed into a great, big, bluish blob of slush. Cryptids panicked and stumbled away, cutting in front of Jordan and knocking him to the ground. Through the limbs and tails dashing before him, Jordan thought he spotted a ruby-red light, glowing deep within the base of the melting mountain. Then a split second later, the blob gave way, collapsing into an avalanche of watery ice.
Jordan helplessly turned toward Abbie and Morris, who were closest to the sloshy tsunami. She blocked the turtle cryptid’s body with her own, bracing for the impact that was about to deep-freeze them both. Then, nothing happened.
The rapidly melting ice water suddenly gathered itself back up as if it were alive. It formed into a massive vertical tube, rising fifty feet above the snowy field. Jordan knew exactly what was happening. He’d seen this too many times before. It was one of Chupacabra’s favorite Hydro-Hide tricks. His only thought was to get his sister out of danger.
As he ran toward her, the water arched over him like a giant tree bending in the wind, scooping Abbie and Morris high off the ground. It rose up again, balancing the two of them as it straightened into a pillar of water, towering above the amphitheater field.
Eldon and Wilford ran to Jordan’s side. “It’s Chupacabra!” Jordan shouted to them. “He’s using his Hydro-Hide to manipulate the melted snow! We have to do something, or he could kill them both!”
Wilford quickly assessed the situation. He drew a deep breath and blew through his half of the Blizzard-Bristles. A fierce, arctic gust struck the base of the water pillar with a sharp CRACK, freezing it from the ground up. Inside the shaft of water, a blurred shadow swam straight up the center, as Chupacabra raced against the freezing effect, staying just ahead of the ice, emerging at the top of the spout.
“It seems once again I have come out on top!” Chupacabra stood atop the ice tower beside Abbie and Morris, looking at the crowd below. He glanced at Abbie, then sniffed the air. He scanned the gathered cryptids below. Then he found who he was looking for. “I knew it! Old Georgie, beneath me as always!”
“Let them go!” Jordan yelled up to Chupacabra. “If it’s me you want, come and get me! But those two have nothing to do with your plans!”
“Ah, but they do! Your granddaughter is my insurance policy! And the cryptid is my plan B! You see, that Mongolian Death Worm was useless once she finished digging those tunnels for me. I needed a fresh cryptid helper, one just as simpleminded and easily manipulated!”
Abbie was using all her strength to hold Morris steady, and all her concentration not to slip off the icy top of the newly frozen fountain. “You brainwashed them,” she yelled. “You’re a monster!” The turtle cryptid was swaying drowsily, and she held him tighter. “Morris! Stay awake, please!”
On the snow-covered ground, Wilford stepped forward. “All right, I’ve had quite enough of this overgrown mongrel. I put him up on that pedestal, and I can take him down.”
“No, you can’t!” Eldon exclaimed. “Morris’s up there. And if he spills his sara before the last-quarter moon rises, he’ll turn to stone, forever.”
“Not to mention his sara is currently filled with that valerian-root juice,” Jordan added. He pointed to the ground. “The second that stuff hits this snow, it vaporizes. Then it’s nap time for everyone here. Remember what it did to your mountaintop?”
Wilford stepped back. The frightened cryptids panicked as they saw their hero couldn’t help them. Some of them began to move toward the edges of the jungle. But Chupacabra stopped them in their tracks.
“No one move, or the Grimsley granddaughter is done for!” The cryptids turned and looked up. They all slowly began to shuffle back toward the center of the field.
Chupacabra sneered. “Just as I suspected. You’re pathetic, all of you! You actually care about these humans! I see now that you’ll never join with me willingly. So be it. Your choice will be made for you, and for your own good. Time for plan B.”
The cryptids gasped as Chupacabra reached out and put his claw around Abbie’s neck. He looked at Morris with his glowing red eyes. “Now, my dim-witted little friend, you’re going to step off this platform and drop to the snowy ground below. Think you can handle that?”
“No!” Abbie could feel his sharp claw against her neck. “He’ll die!”
“For a good cause. There’s enough liquefied valerian-root powder in that empty head of his to put that entire crowd into a lovely stupor. I’ve given those crypto-sheep every opportunity to join me and rise against the humans of their own free will.”
Jordan, Eldon, Wilford, and the others stared up in silence, helpless to do anything. Eldon stepped forward. “Don’t be a monster, Chupacabra! Let her go! It’s me you want revenge against—I’m the leader of the Creature Keepers! Make an example of me to win them over! You can’t get your way by controlling their minds!”
He snarled back at Eldon. “You call me a monster for controlling their minds? It’s you and your Creature Keepers who brainwashed them, long ago, to hide themselves from the world, to cower in the shadows like they should be ashamed of their magnificence. I’m just fixing a broken system, by any means necessary!” He turned and smiled at Morris, and spoke in a sly, soothing voice. “It’s all right, my friend. You’re just going to help me put them all to sleep, in order to wake them up, don’t you see? It’s time we all wake up and stop following these pathetic humans. Come, now. I need you to take this one small step for a cryptid, but one giant leap for cryptid-kind.”
Morris’s big eyes were locked on Abbie’s. She recognized and remembered his expression. It was the same look of fear and confusion as the day they first met, when he was torn between leaving the river and coming with
her.
“Master? What do I do?”
“No human is your master,” Chupacabra suddenly snapped. “I am! And I would push you off this platform if I could! I cannot kill you, but I can kill her! Is this getting through that thick-shelled skull of yours? Now I command you to jump, or she will die!”
“Listen to me, Morris,” Abbie said softly. “He can’t push you off, because he can’t kill another creature. You need to think for yourself, now. You need to be your own master. I thought you were the special one with a rare power. I still believe you have something special inside you, Morris. You have the power of a good and pure heart. Choose now. Do what you know is right. Use your power.”
“Enough!” Chupacabra yelled. “Jump now, or the girl dies!”
Abbie smiled through her tears. “It’s okay, Morris. Whatever he does to me is okay.” Morris smiled back at her. “As you wish”—he turned his gaze to Chupacabra—“my new master.”
“What?” Abbie’s eyes grew wide. “Morris, no!”
“Silence!” Chupacabra’s grip tightened on her neck, and he put his other claw over her mouth. “This cryptid is smarter than he looks. And he’s made his choice! Now take that step and show everyone who your true master is. Oh, and how about a cannonball. I do love a good cannonball.”
“Of course. But first, I must bow to my new master. It is tradition.”
Abbie’s eyes grew wide. She squealed under Chupacabra’s claw. “Excellent,” Chupacabra sneered. “At last, some respect!”
Morris stepped back, closed his eyes, and quickly lowered his head. The murky green valerian-root liquid came splashing out of his sara, onto the ice platform at Chupacabra’s feet. It burst into a thick plume of green fog as it hit the ice, engulfing them.