Page 15 of A Malicious Menagerie
The larger of the two horses is the color of the Atlantic Ocean, a deep green just tinted with blue, and its eyes are uniformly pale and reflective like moonstone. Its long mane and tail are white and intricately braided with interwoven river weeds. The smaller horse is black as pitch from its glistening obsidian eyes to its sleek coat to its mane woven into a waterfall braid, which makes the white water lilies threaded into its hair even more striking. Both horses’ coats are damp as if they’ve just been swimming, and the brackish scent of pond water follows them as they trot toward us. As I stare at them, mesmerized, they turn to the corner of the enclosure closest to us and come to a halt, their uncanny, pupilless eyes fixed on us.
Once they’ve arrived at the corner, John flips a switch fixed to one of the iron bars beside the door. The sound of rattling metal accompanies a chain-link divider as it slides diagonally across the corner from the adjacent wall. It comes to a stop by us, effectively enclosing the horses in a small triangle.
“How do they know to do that?” I ask curiously as John opens the gate and lets us into the enclosure.
“They know they won’t get fed if they don’t,” he grunts, which only partially answers my question.
I follow close behind as John drives the wheelbarrow inside, but I can’t help peeking back at the kelpies as we start toward the pond at the front of the exhibit. My heart lurches when I notice that the sea-colored kelpie’s eerie eyes are fixed on me. Its finely tapered ears are pricked, and its nostrils flare as it observes me. Unnerved, I scurry after John until the trees block my view of those luminous moonstone eyes.
Once we’ve dumped the fish in the pond, we retrace our steps toward the back of the enclosure, the empty wheelbarrow bumping along over partially exposed tree roots and rocks. My eyes immediately fall to the kelpies when we emerge from the trees, and my feet freeze to the hard-packed earth when I see that there are no longer two horses but one black horse and one man.
He’s tall and broad, his muscular build emphasized by the way he leans forward into the chain-link divider with his fingers curled in the mesh on either side of his head. Shaggy white hair just brushes his shoulders, the snowy strands adorned with green river weeds. His skin is pale, but in a certain slant of light, I notice faint blue-green dapples across his shoulders and over his hips. His verynakedhips with that prominent V, and sweet Jesus, I’d say the man was hung like a horse if it wouldn’t be too on the nose.
Realizing the inappropriate direction my thoughts have taken, I jerk my gaze up to his face only to catch him smirking. His lips are full and sensual and compellingly at odds with the harsh lines of his cheekbones and blade-sharp nose. His eyes are so pale a gray they’re nearly white, the only thing keeping them from fading into his sclera a darker gray outline ringing his irises. The overall effect is devastating, and it takes John’s derisive snort to shatter my trance and alert me to the fact that I’m at serious risk of drooling.
“Put that away,” John growls, scowling at the horse-turned-heartthrob. “No one wants to see that.”
“Agree to disagree,” the kelpie replies in a low rumble, his eyes never leaving mine. His voice is tinged with amusement and an Irish brogue that makes me shiver. His smirk turns into a full grin that reveals even white teeth with a set of canines just a little too long to be fully human. “Your new friend here certainly seems to like what she sees.”
Calling John my friend, more even than calling me out on my lascivious staring, is what finally makes me look away with a skeptical snort. “Friend is too strong a word. Begrudging coworker is closer to the truth.”
John throws me an exasperated look but doesn’t correct me or look overly offended. After all, it’s not like he’s particularly fond of me either.
“You’re new,” the kelpie observes, not a question. He releases the divider with one hand to press his palm to his (very firm) chest. “I’m Fionn. And you are…?”
“None of your business, horse,” John grumbles, but I ignore him. “Anna,” I supply, earning me another glower from John.
“Anna,” Fionn breathes, and the sound of my name on his lips is sweeter than any music I’ve ever heard. Unbidden, I take a step toward him, my whole being yearning to be closer. Before I can come within reach, a harsh grip on my upper arm halts me. I hiss in pain as I glare back at John.
“Don’t be an idiot,” he barks, yanking me backward so hard I nearly lose my footing. “This is what they do. Don’t you know the stories?”
“Let go of me,” I snap, but my command is drowned out by a snarl so vicious it makes all my fine hairs stand on end and all my muscles tense with the instinctive urge to flee.
Both John and I freeze and snap our gazes to Fionn. He has his lips pulled back to reveal fangs twice as long as they were a moment before. “Let. Her. Go,” he growls, his eyes swirling like liquid mercury as he stares John down.
John immediately lets go of my arm. I stagger away a couple of steps before rubbing away his touch with a vicious scowl of my own. Almost immediately after releasing me, John seems to realize what he’s done and levels Fionn with a taunting smirk. “What are you gonna do about it anyway, stuck in a cage?”
This time, when Fionn grins,allhis teeth are sharp and pointed. I suppressa shudder. “This isn’t your first offense, human, andeach-uiscehold grudges.”
John scoffs. “I’m shaking in my boots.” Still, despite his bravado, he keeps a wide berth around the kelpie, pointedly looking away from him but holding his shoulders stiffly as he continues to the door with the wheelbarrow.
When I glance back at Fionn, his eyes are still glued to John’s back. His massive body is held completely still except for the almost imperceptible tremor of tension you might expect to see in a wolf immediately before it lunges. I have not a shred of doubt that, given the chance, Fionn would tear John limb from limb and enjoy every gory second of it. While I can relate to his disdain for the callous caretaker, the intensity of the violence in the kelpie’s gaze makes me wary.
He may be able to look like a man, but there’s something feral in him that marks him asother. And, suddenly, I remember Nathan’s words that day in his office.“I won’t tell you that every animal is innocuous.”As if that wasn’t the understatement of the year. He must have known that any sane person would go running if he told them the whole truth. Not that I’ve ever been particularly sane when it comes to animals. Didn’t I get bit feeding that junkyard dog when I was twelve and still go back the next day to do it all over again?
And I wondered from the beginning why the job was so well-paid. Well, here’s my answer: there’s some hazard pay built in that no one wanted to tell me about. Like an underwater welder or one of those guys who collects lobsters on reality shows. And with that in mind… what are the chances I survive this job with all of my limbs attached?
Twelve dollars.Dammit, I can’t leave. Not yet. I need that first paycheck. I can at least make it until then. I have to.
Once John leaves the enclosure, Fionn turns his attention back to me and raises his eyebrows in surprise when he sees that I’m not running for the hills. After a long pause, I manage to school my voice into something calm and grateful. “Thank you.”
Some of the tension leaves his shoulders, and he quirks me a friendly, lopsided smile. “There’s no need to thank me. Foreach-uisce, the punishmentfor laying hand or hoof in anger on a mare is two days chained beside the water but unable to touch it. A fate you would only understand if you felt the call of the water as we do.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I tell him with a faint smile.
The black kelpie, who had been hanging back and watching the exchange with wary obsidian eyes, finally plods forward to nudge their companion’s shoulder with their nose. Fionn tilts his head with a slight grimace. “I know, Ciara, but I couldn’t help myself. He’s just such a gobshite.” I snort a laugh, and Fionn shoots me a wry grin. “Ahh, I almost forgot. Introductions. This is my sister, Ciara.”
The black kelpie shows no indication of shifting forms or wanting to chat, but she does incline her head slightly despite her wary look. I nod politely back. “It’s a pleasure, Ciara,” I say, making sure to repeat her name exactly as Fionn said it,kee-ra.“I’m Anna.”
