Page 36 of A Malicious Menagerie
Disappear.
Disappear.
So, where does that leave me?
“I can’t quit,” I tell her, the certainty of it solidifying in the marrow of my bones. I don’t even know if Mathis will let me anymore. Besides, I’m in this now. I’mwiththem now. All of them. “So, what next? What do I do to helpthe… elephants? Or the parrots? The monkeys?”
“Maybe there’s something they need that he’s not giving them. Exercise? Attention, maybe? Or a treat?”
It’s not a bad thought. What changed between the beginning and the end of the vampire’s attack? The only possible explanation I can come up with is the blood. John told me they only feed the vampire every few weeks, and in my ignorance, I believed that was because she only needed to eat that infrequently. But if Mathis is using her as an assassin to fund his philanthropy, it makes sense that he would want her hungry. If she were fed, would she be more like the vampires in the movies? Coherent, at least, and maybe even intelligent and powerful?
“Bananas,” I murmur at last, my mind whirling.
While I’m contemplating bad decisions, Nan regards me seriously. “But really, Anna, are you okay? Are you in trouble? These animals…”
Oh God, so much trouble. But I can’t tell her that, and I need to cut her off before she starts asking the right questions. I give her a smile I hope doesn’t look more like a grimace. “No, not at all! Everything is fine. I’m just being sensitive.”
Nan doesn’t look convinced. “You’ve never been a very ‘sensitive’ girl. More the suffer-in-silence type.”
“I’m not suffering!”
“I’m just putting it out there. If you’re only doing all this for me…”
“It’s for me, too,” I promise, but I wonder if that’s really true. I’m doing it for Nan, sure. But I’m also doing it for Fionn and Ciara. For the vampire. And especially for the werewolf, even if I’m not sure where we stand after he hid the truth from me. I pat Nan’s hand, hiding my unease behind a smile. “The job is stressful, but it’s rewarding. It’s worth it.”
Nan still seems skeptical, but she lets it go. For now. “Well, then. Bananas. That seems easy enough.”
Sure. Easy enough… if you used to work at a hospital.
These thoughts are how I find myself sneaking into the hospital on Sunday night in my old cleaning uniform that no one bothered to collect from me. Even though I quit weeks ago, it’s scarily easy to slip in through the opengarage door to the loading docks behind the hospital. I have to duck down a side hallway to avoid some old coworkers who might recognize me, but I breeze unnoticed past that same doctor who bumped into me the night before Rebecca called about the job at the menagerie. It’s incredible how much has changed since then. Even in such a short time, it almost feels like someone else’s life. As I ponder every bittersweet moment of my time at the menagerie so far, I continue through the hallways until I reach the blood bank.
I may not be a doctor or nurse, but I know enough not to take the blood that’s carefully labeled and organized in the refrigerated units. Those will be missed. The expired bags waiting to go for incineration, however…
I only take a few, not sure how much the vampire needs or what the expired blood might do to her. It would have been suspicious if I brought a bag up here when the cleaning staff usually leave their things in lockers in the basement. Instead, I pulled an old fanny pack from a trip to Disney about fifteen years ago from my closet and snapped it on beneath my shirt. Once I’ve filled the little banana-shaped bag and tugged my shirt down over it, I just look like I’m carrying a few extra pounds, or that I’ve got a bun in the oven. Much more plausible explanations than that I’ve got stolen blood sloshing around in there.
Once I get home, I stack the blood on the top shelf of my fridge. I pause to take in the sight of those bags with their official-looking labels and their cherry-red, viscous fluid next to a wilting head of lettuce and a small carton of coffee creamer. And I can’t help but wonder: how the fuck did I end up here?
20
The Truth
When I get ready for work the next day, I forgo packing a dinner so I can fit the blood bags in my floral-patterned lunch box. My stomach is such a mess of nerves and nausea that I doubt I could eat anyway.
I’m putting the box away in the refrigerator in the breakroom when a smug voice makes me jump. “So,” John says as I wheel around to face him. “What did you think of your first Mathis gala?”
He has his hands casually tucked in the front pockets of his cargo pants, and his expression is knowing in a way that sets my teeth on edge.
“It was… enlightening,” I murmur, moving to duck around him.
He shifts in front of me, blocking my exit. “You know he only invited you to be eye candy for his locker room buddies, right?”
“You know, I had figured that out,” I fume, still trying to get around him. “Given that I’m not an idiot and one of them grabbed my ass.”
I think I hear him murmur “lucky bastard,” and IswearI feel the lightest brush against my butt as I finally manage to squirm by him. When I spin back around, he’s opening the fridge like nothing happened. I open my mouth to call him out, but he beats me to it by grunting, “Stop stealing my damn yogurt.”
That pulls me up short. Did I imagine the whole thing? No, I’m not going to let him gaslight me. “I didn’t steal your fucking yogurt,” I snip, injectingmy voice with steel. “And don’t touch me again.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, princess,” he replies innocently, but I can just see the smirk tugging at one side of his lips as he peers into the fridge.
