Page 33 of A Malicious Menagerie
Once it seems that the entire party has stuffed itself in the small clearing in front of the vampire cage, Mathis separates himself from the group and steps up on a flat boulder just off the path to address the crowd in a booming voice. “Welcome, one and all, to Mars Mathis’s Mystical Menagerie! For those who have not been here before, I hope you were suitably impressed by the wonders you have found. I have spent many years researching, hunting, and capturing these beasts for your amazement.”
I bristle at hearing every resident here lumped in as a ‘beast,’ but I grit my teeth and wait for him to get to the point.
“Before we conclude our evening, we have two items left to address from our previous gala’s silent auction. Thank you to those who bid, and congratulations to the winners. All proceeds from tonight’s auction will go to the American Humane Society to help the organization provide care and find homes for unwanted and neglected animals.”
There’s a spattering of polite applause while I fight not to roll my eyes at the hypocrisy.
“Our previous event’s proceeds went to a local battered women’s shelter. Your generous contributions will help women in desperate situations escape their abusers and start new lives for themselves and, in many cases, their children. The first item we have left to address will be a public display. The second will be private for the winner’s eyes only. And with that, the winner of the vampire prize from last month’s gala goes to…” Mathis slips an envelope from the breast pocket of his tuxedo and carefully slides a card from inside. “Rutherford Williams.”
Another polite round of applause, and an older man with white hair and a slim build under his well-made jacket steps forward to shake Mathis’s hand. “And for your prize, you have chosen an up-and-coming rival, a young man who has not shown you the appropriate respect since coming onto the scene.”
“That’s correct,” Rutherford Williams replies, his voice low and solemn. Now, I recognize him as a news anchor who works for one of the largest political TV news networks. He breaks big—and I meanbig—stories.
“Then let us begin,” Mathis replies, and they turn avid eyes toward the dense shade between the trees in the vampire’s forest.
I watch as well, not daring to blink. I’m not sure what I’m waiting for, but I’m scared to miss it even as some visceral part of me is screaming to run far and fast. Then, after a dozen of my rapid heartbeats, there’s a slight tremor that runs through the ground and carries up through my ridiculous heels and sore, throbbing toes.
Close to the iron bars that make up the front of the vampire enclosure, there’s a patch of dirt that begins to shudder before the soil falls away into an expanding square hole. A trapdoor? When the hole is about six by six feet, the trembling stops. I let out a surprised squeak when a head suddenly appears in the opening. At first, all I see is disheveled, short black hair, then a tanned face with wide, panicked blue eyes, followed by a mouth covered by a length of silver duct tape… and I realize with dawning horror that this man, with his gag and hands bound behind his back, is being raised into the cage like a sacrifice.
Once the platform comes level with the leaf-strewn ground and the captive is fully revealed, everything is still. Then, the man begins making desperate sounds from behind his gag and runs toward us, his feet clumsy on the uneven ground without his arms free to balance him. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and athletic shorts, like he was out for a jog when he was nabbed. My heart wrenches at the vulnerability of that, of going for a run and winding up trapped with a bloodthirsty beast.
Because if any of the residents of the menagerie has earned the title in my mind, it’s the vampire.
The bound man makes it maybe half a dozen steps toward us when he’s intercepted by a dark blur that comes at him from behind and takes him to the ground. And it’sher, the vampire, with her tangled mass of black curls, her russet skin, her blood-red eyes, and her tattered green dress.
The man puts up a good fight, kicking and writhing. He manages to dislodge her for a few seconds and wriggle a foot away before she captures him again. She flips him over and pins him down by his shoulders like he’s not nearly twice her size and young and fit. He tries to buck her off, but she straddles his waist, her dress riding up her thighs. Then, without any more fanfare, she snarls, leans down, and bites into his neck.
It’s not like the movies where the vampire sinks their fangs into their victim and drinks from the dual puncture. No, it’s much more vicious than that. She rips into him, and he emits muffled screams until he can’t, until the sound is converted to a wet gurgle as blood floods his airway and mouth. Crimson droplets splatter the ground, darkening the soil and staining the cracked, dry leaves while a metallic, coppery scent perfumes the air. Now with unimpeded access, the vampire latches her lips to the ruin of his throat, her eerie eyes closing in what looks like ecstasy as she feeds directly from his pulsating carotid. The man gives a couple more jerky convulsions before finally going still, his eyes frozen wide in horror.
Mathis turning to Rutherford Williams and shaking his hand startles my attention away from the macabre scene and back into my body, and I’m aware that I’ve clamped my hand over my mouth to hold back bile as my entire body trembles.
They just… and he… and the vampire… and…
My thoughts are a chaotic jumble, but all around me, guests are resuming their conversations like nothing ever happened. Several stroll back toward the carousel, and laughter floats out behind them as they go.Laughter.Like we didn’t just witness a man murdered using a vampire as the weapon.
Unbidden, my gaze is drawn back to the bloody massacre. The vampire is still straddling the man’s body, but she sits back and stares down at his face, her messy hair hiding her expression. Blood drips from her chin and splatters onto his white shirt to create a morbid Rorschach on his chest. Then, slowly, she turns her head toward me, and we lock eyes, blue-gray on ruby. She raises an arm up and harshly swipes at the mess on her face with her forearm before pushing herself to stand, careful not to step on the body beneath her. She fixes her dress, covering her exposed legs, before leaning down over the man’s face. I see her lips move as if she’s whispering something, her expression mournful and almost reverent, before she carefully reaches out to close his eyes.
As she straightens again, she glances up and freezes when she sees me still watching, my body frozen in disbelief and awe. After a moment, she raises her hand in a silent gesture of parting before she turns and walks back intothe gloom between the trees.
Leaving me to accept that the vampire isn’t the beast she first appeared. She’s a victim.
18
The Man
I’m frozen to the spot, still trying to process what I just witnessed, when a familiar voice draws my attention. There are a few stragglers who haven’t moved on yet, most engaged in their own private conversations. Among the leftovers are Mathis and the Bollywood actress Radha Gupta. “Ms. Gupta,” Mathis calls cheerfully as he approaches her where she’s chatting with another stunning woman.
Radha says her goodbyes to the svelte brunette and meets Mathis partway, her smile serene. “Mr. Mathis,” she greets him warmly. “It’s been a pleasure getting to experience your collection of rare creatures. They are beyond imagining. The mermaids are particularly fetching.”
“Favorites of my daughter as well,” Mathis notes with a nod. I can’t even begin to unpack that particular statement and what it implies about the whole damn family. “Though you may find you change your mind after you receive your auction prize.”
The actress’s chocolate-brown eyes gleam. “Yes, I have been counting down the minutes. Is it time?”
“It is.” Mathis offers his arm to her. “If you’ll allow me?”
She accepts his offer, and the two stroll off further into the woods. My hackles immediately go up. I can’t prove that they’re going to see my wolf, but if there’s even the slightest chance, I have to follow them and try to protect him.
Keeping a discreet distance is easier than it would otherwise be when I can’t move very quickly in heels and especially with the way my feet ache and my blisters rub after a whole night in these torture devices. Still, I manage to keep the pair in sight until they stop in front of the wolf enclosure. My heart sinks into my belly. I can see the dire wolf standing close to where I last saw him, his stance stiff and eyes guarded and watchful. Hoping my presence might keep them from doing anything unsavory, I feign nonchalance and stroll up behind them.
