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  Saturday, October 15th, 2253 — 7:20 AM

  The Mystical Menagerie

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  The bell above the front door gave a jingle as Jeremiah pushed his way inside, stifling a yawn behind his hand. Early light streamed through the windows, laying pale gold bands across the counter and polished tile. The air still carried the cool damp of yesterday’s rain, laced with coffee grounds and cedar oil.

  Before the door was even fully open, a blur shot through the gap.

  “Billy—wait—!”

  Too late.

  The little kraken burst into the room like a cannonball, his bubble armor shimmering like a thin blue halo. He zipped a tight circle around Jeremiah’s head, leaving a thin trail of condensation in his wake before veering off toward the right.

  Barking erupted a heartbeat later.

  Jeremiah winced, already laughing as he turned.

  Tish was fully awake, bouncing against the puppy pen gate, all floppy ears and indignant yips. Tosh ran frantic circles around her, his smaller body a blur, tail wagging hard enough to smear. Billy hovered just out of reach, rotating lazily upside down, three limbs dangling from his bubble as he teased the puppies.

  “Be nice,” Jeremiah chuckled.

  Billy wobbled slightly in midair, the emotional flicker through their bond translating as something close to innocence. Jeremiah snorted.

  “Yeah, sure.” He set his bag on the counter and rolled his shoulders. “At least let me open up before you wake everyone.”

  He crossed to the windows first, drawing back the curtains to let the soft morning light spill through. Dust motes glittered in the air, turning the shop’s warm tones richer: the honeyed glow of the wooden tables, the dark sheen of polished terrariums, the faint green shimmer from the wall planters by the cafe.

  The menagerie stirred around him in stages. Soft mews came from Sissy’s enclosure. The beetles rustled as their heat lamps flickered on. Autobrooms clicked to life, brushes spinning as they rolled off their chargers.

  Jeremiah paused mid-step.

  Something brushed against the edge of his budding mana sense — faint but distinct, like a whisper just out of earshot. He was certain it hadn’t been there yesterday. He turned slowly, scanning the shop, listening past the soft ticking of pipes and the drip gutters outside. Nothing shifted.

  His brow furrowed. Unease tightened low in his gut. “Strange…”

  It wasn’t wrong, exactly. If anything, it felt like something had just clicked into place, like a lock finding its key. But that didn’t make it any less strange. The warmth lingered for a heartbeat, humming quietly beneath his ribs — and then it was gone.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, still frowning. “Definitely telling Ulrick about that.”

  Only after the sensation faded completely did he move again, resuming his rounds with only the occasional glance toward the shadows of the room.

  Routine carried him forward. He scooped feed, checked temperatures, and reapplied the Twin Boundary barriers where needed. At Sissy’s enclosure, he passed a hand over the control panel and went over the report from last night. The kittens were growing fast, but it never hurt to be cautious.

  When he reached the eastern wall, the shop’s newest section gleamed under rows of heat lamps. Beetle enclosures lined the wall in neat order — glass tanks set with brass plates etched in rune channels, each marked with a small script tag awaiting the names of the species that would soon call them home.

  He crouched before the last enclosure in the row.

  The Matron’s habitat took up nearly twice the space of the others, an orderly spread of sculpted wood, dark soil, and curling moss. A mist cycle kept the air warm and damp. A thick mahogany log rested across the center, its bark marked with small flecks of amber resin.

  As Jeremiah drew closer, something brushed the edge of his awareness. It wasn’t a voice, nor was it the deeper, more meaningful pulses he would occasionally get from Maddie or Sissy — this was more of a sleepy awareness acknowledging his presence.

  “Morning, m’lady,” he smirked.

  The Ferrospark Matron shifted along the log. Golden plates caught the light as she moved. Her mandibles clicked once, and warm contentment bloomed in the back of his mind.

  Jeremiah leaned in, eyes scanning the ashy bedding within the log. Dozens of tiny, translucent orbs lay tucked into the soil, each no larger than a bead, catching the light like drops of colored glass. They were unlike any egg he had ever seen before, their contents swirling in mesmerizing patterns just below the surface.

  “Well, I’ll be,” he said quietly. “You’ve been busy.”

  The answering sense of pride made his smile widen.

  He straightened and made a quick note on the clipboard fixed to the enclosure.

  Behind him, splashing water and sharp barks broke the calm.

  Jeremiah turned in time to see Billy circling the puppy pen again. Tish leapt and nearly caught a tentacle. Tosh charged in from the other side, sending the bowl skidding across the tile.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Billy!” Jeremiah called, more amused than stern.

  The kraken chirped in clear delight and shot upward, out of reach of the puppies, who yipped in protest. Jeremiah sighed, shaking his head.

  “Alright. Playtime’s over. You’re on mop duty.”

  Billy’s bond pulsed once in mock agreement, and he shot toward Tres and began to tug the autobroom toward the mess. Tres, always the calmest of the autobrooms, went along with the tiny kraken’s antics without complaint.

  By the time Jeremiah refilled the bowl, the morning chaos had settled into a familiar rhythm. The smell of fresh coffee drifted from the machine in the corner as Lewis stepped inside and began brewing the morning’s first pot.

  Jeremiah took Milo’s leash and the puppy harnesses from the peg by the door, checking each strap.

  “C’mon, crew,” he called, clipping the last strap into place. “Courtyard time.”

  Billy spun an eager loop overhead. Tish and Tosh barked in unison, tails whipping back and forth like metronomes. Milo ambled out from the back of the cafe at his own pace toward the door, the very picture of canine patience.

  Jeremiah held the door open, letting the cool morning air rush in, and smiled as the lot of them spilled into the courtyard — Billy darting ahead in bright spirals, the puppies bounding through puddles after him, and Milo trailing after them at his own pace.

  The Menagerie’s day had just begun.

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  Jeremiah pushed the door open with his shoulder, one hand holding the puppies’ leashes while the other caught the edge before it could close. “Tosh! Get out of that box. That’s not for you!” he called behind him as he dragged the muddy puppies back into the shop. Billy hovered close behind him, bubble armor misting the air. Milo came through last, trying his best to stay clean, despite the puppies’ best attempts to rectify that.

  “Perfect,” Jeremiah muttered, eyeing the trail of paw prints already forming. “I should have expected you two to find the deepest puddle in the courtyard.”

  Tosh barked once, tongue lolling, utterly unrepentant. Tish answered with a low whine that might have been an apology — if not for the muddy paw that promptly landed on Jeremiah’s boot.

  He sighed and steered them toward the back, looping their leashes through the ring beside the Gentlebond’s Morphic Grooming Table. The enchanted wood rippled under his hand, adjusting height and shape as he tapped the control panel. The basin hummed to life, steam curling from the spouts as warm water filled the shallow trough.

  “Alright,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. “Hold still, and we’ll get this over with.”

  The moment his fingers touched the water, the Caretaker’s Vestments shimmered, forming a thin, clear film over his clothes from wrist to collar. Tosh chose that moment to shake, spraying mud in all directions. The mud struck an invisible barrier at the edge of the grooming table and slid harmlessly into the basin.

  Jeremiah smirked. “Nice try.”

  Tosh was unimpressed. He twisted and yipped as the first scoop of foam hit his back, trying to shake it off. Tish squirmed in sympathy, giving a plaintive howl that sounded far too dramatic for a simple bath.

  “Yeah, yeah. Tragic,” Jeremiah said, scrubbing the suds into Tosh’s fur. “You’d think I was boiling you instead of washing your belly.”

  Billy hovered nearby, trilling in quiet amusement. Milo had already claimed a spot by the heater, head on his paws, observing the scene with calm judgment.

  The bell above the front door jingled, cutting through the splash and whining. Jeremiah didn’t look up.

  “I’m sorry, we’re closed for the weekend!” he called, raising his voice over a sharp splash. “We open Monday at eight!”

  “What? We can’t even visit?” a familiar, youthful voice shouted back.

  Jeremiah’s shoulders sagged. He turned his head just enough to confirm what his ears already knew.

  Mani Grim stood in the doorway, a grin stretched far too wide over the thick black scarf he always wore. Stella slipped past him, laughing as she rushed toward the grooming table and dropped to her knees beside the basin to begin scratching the soapy puppies. Tosh yipped in delight. Tish tried to lick foam from Stella’s wrist.

  “Mani,” Jeremiah said flatly. “This isn’t a clubhouse.”

  Mani spread his hands in mock innocence. “Yet.”

  Behind them, Alan lingered by the door, shoulders hunched, looking like he wished he could disappear into the floor. “Sorry, Mr. Bridge,” he muttered. “They wouldn’t listen.”

  Jeremiah sighed and turned back to his work, running fingers through Tosh’s thick fur. “I noticed.”

  Unbothered, Mani wandered to one of the cafe tables and dropped into a chair, leaning it back on two legs. “Is that any way to treat a future business partner?”

  Jeremiah paused mid-scrub and glanced over his shoulder.

  He held the look for a long moment. “I don’t know what you’re up to… but I’m telling your mother.”

  Mani’s grin sharpened. He rocked forward, chair legs thudding as he slapped a weatherproof folder onto the table. “Too late. I already got her approval.”

  “This time,” Stella muttered, rolling her eyes as she helped rinse Tish.

  Jeremiah’s expression didn’t change. “Why doesn’t that make me feel better?”

  “Because you don’t appreciate genius when you see it,” Mani said, clasping his hands behind his head.

  “You’re twelve,” Jeremiah countered.

  Stella snorted, nearly earning another splash from Tosh’s vigorous shake. Alan rubbed the back of his neck.

  Jeremiah finished the rinse, shut off the water, and grabbed a towel. “Fine,” he said at last, drying the pups with quick, practiced motions. “You can tell me whatever brilliant idea you’ve cooked up—” He fixed Mani with a flat stare. “After I’m done.”

  Mani groaned and slumped in his chair. “You’re killing me, Jerry.”

  “Good,” Jeremiah said, unbothered. “Maybe now you’ll sit still for five minutes.”

  Mani sulked, but he stayed put. Stella hummed softly while toweling Tish’s ears. Billy trilled approvingly from above, the morning sun finally catching his armor in a soft gleam.

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  The shop had settled into one of those rare, quiet lulls. The puppies, clean and fed, were sprawled across the cafe rug in a loose knot of fur and twitching paws. Every so often, one let out a muffled yip in their sleep. Milo lay nearby with his head on his paws, keeping an idle watch.

  Sissy had claimed Jeremiah’s lap as her rightful place, tail curled neatly around her feet as she purred with contentment. Jeremiah stroked her back absently with one hand while flipping through a thick folder with the other. The papers inside were crisp and unnervingly organized: diagrams, layout mockups, even what appeared to be sponsorship proposals.

  He turned another page, brow tightening as he scanned dense paragraphs and bright charts.

  By the fifth page, he wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned.

  He closed the folder with a quiet thump and looked across the table. “Are you telling me you put all of this together in a week?”

  Mani leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head, his grin wide and smug. “Of course not! I’m not that slow! … Half a week. It took me a couple of days to get Mom to agree to let me pitch it!”

  Stella, sitting sideways in the next chair, coughed pointedly.

  Mani’s grin faltered. He scratched his cheek and added quickly, “—Stella and Alan helped too.”

  Alan looked up from his cocoa, startled. “Mostly the budget,” he said quietly. After a moment, he added, “And damage control.” His gaze went distant, a little too serious for his age.

  Jeremiah sighed and rubbed his temple with the hand not trapped beneath Sissy. “I’m not saying it’s a bad idea,” he said at last. “I’ll even say I’m interested.” His brow creased. “But I don’t see why this couldn’t have waited until Monday.”

  Mani’s grin returned full force. “Oh, that’s easy.” He reached into his bag and slapped a glossy flyer onto the table with a flourish. “We need a few days for the word to spread!!”

  Jeremiah blinked. “You what?”

  Mani slid the sheet of paper across the table.

  Jeremiah hesitated, then picked it up.

  The flyer’s bright neon colors nearly blinded him. A massive beetle dominated the center, half mechanical, half alien, its shell flaring open like wings mid-charge.

  ———?———

  Announcing the Crossroads’ First Ever Interstellar Coleoptera Battle League Tournament! (District Ranking)

  Sponsored by The Mystical Menagerie!

  Signup begins Monday, October 17th.

  ———?———

  Jeremiah’s eye twitched.