Page 27 of A Malicious Menagerie
The locals had a legend they liked to tell, andespeciallyif they could shock the wide-eyed son of a diplomat. They called the beast the Grootslang, a massive serpent with the head and trunk of an elephant. It was rumored to guard a hoard of diamonds the likes of which no mere mortal could possibly fathom. The way they spoke of this creature, they believed it to be something supernatural, or maybe even divine. And so, of course, I was hooked. I wanted to see this beast for myself, and, maybe even more so, I wanted to see its treasure.”
Mathis is silent for a minute, lost in his memories. I try not to fidget, feeling that nothing good can come of his story. He finally continues, “It took me weeks, but I finally found the cave the locals had hinted to in theirstories. While my slight build had earned me the ridicule of some of my classmates as a youth, it was to my benefit now. It was a tight fit through that cavern, but I managed to slip all the way down to the heart of the grotto. And there, I found it. The Grootslang.”
“What did it look like?” I blurt, drawn into his story in spite of myself.
“It was as described, its scales as sharp and glittering as the diamonds it guarded. And there were diamonds—so many that it boggled my young mind. I had never seen anything so beautiful as the riches before me. But the Grootslang would not let its collection go without a fight, which is how I ended up in a death match with a fifty-foot serpent.” Mathis pauses to roll up his sleeve, revealing a round scar on either side of his forearm. “Nearly lost my arm. But I was quick, and I had my father’s rifle. In the end, I took it down by attrition. Suddenly, the diamonds were all mine, and my fortune was secured. Still, do you know what I thought in that moment?”
“What?” I ask, enthralled.
He smirks, his dark eyes glittering like the diamonds he claimed all those years ago. “I thought to myself that the serpent might have been the bigger prize than its hoard. To possess such a creature, to have all its strength under my thumb… More than money, that would have beentruepower.”
“And so you built the menagerie,” I surmise, bile burning my throat.
“And so I did,” he agrees, meeting my gaze. “And true enough, these beasts are the most precious treasures I own. So you see why I take their care—and their secrecy—so seriously.”
“I do, sir,” I agree, with the sudden sinking certainty that I am inwayover my head. What’s the life of one young woman and her grandmother to a man who has slain a legend in the name of greed?
“Then you understand that I will eliminate any threat to my very own Eden?”
I tense at his words, my muscles still but my mind racing. Did he hear what I said to the wolf? Not that he could possibly think I have the guts or the resources to free a dire wolf, but his warning is clear. “Yes, sir.”
He smiles now, the dark cloud haunting him lifting abruptly. “Good. Then carry on. I’m sure you have much to do.”
14
The Invitation
Over the next couple of weeks, I volunteer to take the woods section of the menagerie, and John is more than happy to let me have it. He can’t stand Fionn, the Mothman freaks him out, and he’d much rather hoist sharks into the sea serpent aquarium than scoop rotting fruit into a trash bag. I don’t mind those things, so long as I get to see my wolf. And since forgetting the divider once, I’ve never bothered with it again.
He always greets me by the door, and I spend the first couple of minutes rubbing his ears while I tell him about something rude John said or about Nan’s recent bout of flu that left me paralyzed with fear. I also tell him about the good things, too. Like the mama raccoon and her two babies that have come to visit a few nights to eat the cat food I leave out for them, and how I had time to reconnect with an old high school friend that I’m making plans to grab lunch with. Whatever random thoughts that pop into my head, the wolf listens with rapt attention. Meanwhile, I soak up the attention like a sad, needy sponge.
The wolf gives me a tour of his enclosure, which isn’t very large but is at least full of enough tall trees to give the illusion of privacy. There’s a small pond that burbles with fresh water from a filter and a boulder with an overhang that leaves room for a small den.
Still, every time I catch a glimpse of the iron bars through the trees, my stomach gives a nauseous lurch. I can’t help but wonder where he camefrom and how he ended up here. I also can’t help but imagine him roaming the wilds somewhere rugged and untamed, flowing through trees or over a snowy mountainside like the shadows he resembles. I imagine there might be a pack there, too: a motley assembly of graceful creatures in every shade of black and silver and umber. I start to wonder if he might be as starved for companionship as I am.
I was serious when I told him that he should be free, but Mathis’s warning acts as an effective deterrent to those kinds of thoughts. Every time I start to imagine Fionn back home in Ireland or the wolf reuniting with a pack, Mathis’s words obliterate those daydreams like a wrecking ball.“Then you understand that I will eliminate any threat to my very own Eden?”
Ugh. How did I get myself into this mess? I’ve trapped myself in a cage of my own making, with bars of duty, fear, and compassion rather than iron.
I’ve just finished visiting with the wolf and am musing over these thoughts when the sound of a low, rumbling voice further up the path draws my attention. Is that John? He doesn’t usually come to the woods on the nights that I’m here.
Curious, I head that direction and find myself in front of the kelpie enclosure. I recognize Colby immediately by his red hair and imposing build. I see him most nights, and though he’s always polite when I greet him, he hasn’t said much more than “hello” since we met. I’d hoped to find an ally in him, but I gave up that hope when he made it clear he had no interest in the same.
Though I recognize Colby right away, it takes me a little longer to piece together who he’s speaking to. The thing I notice first about the woman is her nudity. Her skin is so pale it almost seems to glow in the shade of the trees. Her hair, by contrast, is coal black and hangs in loose waves to the small of her back. I’m struggling to sort out what a naked woman is doing inside the kelpie enclosure when I notice the white water lily tucked behind one of her ears. It’s the same type of bloom that Fionn’s sister Ciara wears woven into her mane as a horse.
I hang back, not sure if I should approach. As I debate, I watch Ciara say something to Colby before reaching out to wrap her fingers around his handwhere he’s gripping one of the iron bars. The ex-soldier doesn’t strike me as one for dramatic displays of emotion, but there is the slightest softening of his eyes at her touch. Suddenly, my mind flashes back to theEncyclopaedia of Irish FolkloreColby was reading the night we met. Mathis asked him if one of his creatures had prompted his reading, and I get the feeling I’m looking at his inspiration.
Ciara’s dark eyes flick my way, and she goes still when she notices me gawking a few yards away. She withdraws her hand quickly before stepping back, her human body already giving way to her pitch-black equine form. As she trots away, Colby aims a scowl toward me.
I clear my throat. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“Nothing to interrupt,” he grunts, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning away to follow the path toward the back of the menagerie.
Not able to let it go, I scurry forward to fall in step beside him, nearly jogging to keep up with his long strides. “It didn’t look like nothing,” I venture, hoping I’m not about to bypass ‘ally’ straight to ‘enemy.’
Colby only shrugs. “We talk sometimes. That’s not against Mathis’s rules.”
“And hold hands?” I ask slyly.
