Page 28 of A Malicious Menagerie
He shrugs again. “That’s not against the rules, either.”
Ugh. It’s like drawing blood from a stone. “So you’re… friends?”
“A guard can’t be friends with a prisoner,” he grunts, his expression darkening.
“Does that bother you? That she’s a prisoner?”
“You going to tell Mathis on me or what?” he asks abruptly, stopping to spin toward me.
Jeez, he’s tall. And, with him looming over me like that, very intimidating. I can imagine how his enemies felt facing him down in combat. Needing to defuse the situation, I snort skeptically. “Why would I tell Mathis anything? I’m no narc.”
“Even if he asks?” he presses. “Even if he asks about your grandmother again?”
“What if I tell you something Mathis doesn’t know about me? So we’re even?” I ask, my stomach swooping. Still, it will be worth the risk if I can getthis man on my side.I hope.
He chews over my offer for a moment, a muscle ticking in his square jaw. “Fine. Go ahead.”
Ugh. This is harder than I thought it would be. Finally, I force out, “The wolf and I are friends. I don’t use the divider to feed him anymore.”
Colby just stares at me for a moment, weighing my words, before he nods curtly. “Okay. You keep quiet about Ciara, and I’ll keep quiet about the wolf.”
And, just like that, I’ve made myself an ally.
* * *
I enter the breakroom at the start of a shift to find Nathan lounging in one of the folding chairs by our scratched plastic table. Somehow, he still looks like he’s holding court despite the chair’s rust-speckled legs and the dried coffee spilled on the table in front of him. “Oh, hi,” I greet him, confused and a little concerned. After all, the last time he visited, he needed me to put a kelpie’s arm back together.
“Ms. Carmichael.” Nathan stands and gives me a formal nod. “I trust everything is going well since our last phone conversation?”
Well enough that my exorbitant pay still makes doing my job worth it, anyway. Nodding jerkily, I rush to assure him, “Yes, everything has been great. John has been… well, he did teach me how to do all the tasks at the start, and I’m really getting the hang of things now.”
“That’s good to hear. You’re likely surprised to see me today. I’m here on behalf of Mr. Mathis.” His lips twist wryly in an expression I wouldn’t expect on his usually stoic, polite face. “As I so often am. In any case, he wanted me to give you this.”
Nathan reaches into his suit’s breast pocket and produces an envelope, which he holds out for me to take. Even from the quickest brush of my fingertips, I can tell the paper is expensive, with a lustrous, pearlescent sheen to it. I slide my finger under the flap carefully, loath to ruin the perfection, and pull out a card. I quickly read the graceful calligraphy, and my eyebrows shoot up. “This is… an invitation?”
“To one of Mr. Mathis’s galas here at the menagerie next weekend,” Nathan explains as he brushes an invisible bit of lint from his sleeve. “He’s been impressed by your work and how quickly you’ve adapted to working here, and he wants to show his appreciation. He is also hoping that you might help in educating his guests on the creatures here to elevate their experience. After all, the happier the guests are, the more they’ll want to donate or bet on the silent auction items. This gala is to benefit the American Humane Society.”
“Oh,” I reply dumbly. “That’s quite… nice of him.”
“Mr. Mathis is a charitable man,” Nathan agrees solemnly.
Never mind that he’s showing more goodwill toward some unknown strays than the people and animals directly under his care,I think with a mental snort. “Will John be there as well? He’s more experienced and knows more about the… creatures here.”
“John will be working behind the scenes. He has worked these galas before, and Mr. Mathis has found that he is more suited to caring for the animals and preparing the exhibits for the guests than for mingling.”
Translation: John is an unpleasant little troll.
“So,” Nathan continues, pulling me from my thoughts. “May I tell Mr. Mathis that you plan to attend? You will, of course, be compensated for your time in educating the guests.”
“Oh, I… I don’t know. I’d feel so out of place, and I don’t have anything appropriate to wear.”
Nathan waves off my concerns. “Mr. Mathis will be more than happy to supply attire.”
I imagine something along the lines of a server’s uniform of white shirt and black pants, and I find myself nodding. “Okay. Sure. I’ll go.”
Nathan gives me a small smile. “Mr. Mathis will be glad to hear it. If you can provide your measurements, I’ll have your dress delivered to your home before the gala.”
…Dress?
