Page 67 of A Malicious Menagerie
“I feed her plenty,” Mathis disagrees with a vicious grin. “And straight from the source, too. How many dogs are fed such fresh fare?”
I’m debating if it would be worth getting shot just for the chance of punching him in his smug face.
My eyes find Nathan again, and now, he’s staring at me intently. Trying to communicate telepathically? Maybe that’s in his skill set, but it certainly isn’t in mine. Is it wishful thinking to believe he’s trying to tell me that he’s still on our side?
“So, the vampire is out,” Mathis continues, still musing over how best to murder us. “I could feed you to the sea serpent or the kraken, of course, but that would be so… quick.” I shudder at that word said with such distaste.
Suddenly, Mathis’s eyes light up. It’s the same ecstatic look that made me think he really was just an enthusiastic old man the night we met. Now, I know better. Only power and fearmongering make him that happy. “I think I have the perfect place for you two after all.”
30
The Wendigo
Two swine eye our group warily from one corner of the pig pen, their wiry hair bristling over their spines and their tusks tugging their stiff lips into menacing sneers. My nose wrinkles at the musky scent of boar and the more fetid scent of pig shit.
Then again, I shouldn’t judge. Tonight, Colby and I are the pigs.
I stare at the entrance to the chute with panicked dismay. How many pigs have I guided through this chute to meet Death itself? Maybe this is poetic justice.
“What are you waiting for?” Mathis asks gleefully from outside the pigsty. Of course, he wouldn’t lower himself to enter such a place. What if he got shit on his designer shoes? “Start crawling.”
Bob prods his gun into my spine to punctuate the point, and I debate with myself for a moment. Would I be better off convincing them to shoot me now or facing down a spirit known for its violence and taste for human flesh?
“I can monitor the other end of the enclosure, sir,” Nathan offers, and my ears perk up at his words. “Make sure there are no surprises at that end.”
“Yes, yes, fine,” Mathis agrees distractedly, waving him off. Nathan shoots me a meaningful look as he leaves, and this time, I don’t need telepathy to understand him.
“Let’s go,” I tell Colby as I force my reluctant limbs to move. Colby grumbles something under his breath but quickly ducks in front of me to gofirst. And here I thought chivalry was dead.
The chute tunnels through the wall before emerging into the mountain section. Despite my vision being blocked by the bars enclosing the space and the bottoms of Colby’s boots, I can feel and smell the difference in the air. It’s a small comfort as we scramble our way through the narrow space.
I’m tempted to just stop halfway to the cage, but what good will that do? Mathis’s henchmen will just shoot me here. At least there’s a sliver of a chance of survival if we can make it through the wendigo enclosure without encountering the beast. Of course, that’s assuming that Nathan will be there to let us out, but I’m trying to be optimistic. Otherwise, I might curl up in a ball and just give up.
Finally, the chute opens up into the enclosure, and I breathe a wavering sigh when I’m able to stand and stretch out my tense limbs. Colby is immediately on edge, his sharp sea-glass gaze cataloging every massive pine tree, craggy boulder, and alpine shrub. “Have you ever seen the wendigo before?” he asks me grimly.
“No. Have you?”
He shakes his head. “So, we have no idea what we’re up against.”
“Legend says that wendigos were once human but were transformed either due to extreme greed or resorting to cannibalism,” I rattle off, thinking of the library books back home that I might not live long enough to return. It seems silly to feel a little guilty about that. “They’re supposed to be endlessly starving but unable to appease that hunger. Though they certainly try their best to satiate themselves with human flesh. They’re also supposed to be huge and to have the power to possess people.”
“Any mention on how to detect one before stumbling up on it?”
“The stench of death,” I reply darkly. “And an unnatural chill.”
“That’s better than no intel. Let’s get going.”
We tiptoe through the coarse brush and over slabs of slate that are slick with moisture and, as we travel farther toward the heart of the enclosure, with ice. Soon, our breath ghosts out of us with every exhale, and I’m shivering in my torn dress. “Would you consider this an unnatural chill?” I whisper, trying to rub warmth back into my arms.
“Feels unnatural to me. Maybe we backtrack and try to go around?”
“No need for that,” intones a rich, baritone voice marked with just a hint of a reverberating growl. “Come closer. It has been so long since I’ve had visitors.”
Both Colby and I go still, looking at each other warily. “Do we have a choice?” he mutters, and I shake my head. No, we have no choice. We’re caught in the wendigo’s crosshairs now, and it won’t let us go unless we appease it. Maybe not even then.
Colby starts forward, and I follow him between moss-laden tree trunks until we find ourselves in a clearing. The earth is crusted with ice that crunches under our steps, and I wince as sharp crystals dig into my raw feet. Pine trees tower around us, their trunks bent into a cathedral of evergreen and gloom. Our footsteps are the only sound, but when I look toward the center of the open space, it becomes clear that we aren’t alone.
Sitting upon a throne of yellowed bones is a nightmare made corporeal. Even lounging casually in his ossuary, I’d guess he tops out at eight feet. Shaggy sable hair stretches taut across a lean, skeletal build, except where an iridescent ruff of raven-like feathers covers his neck and chest. His head is a bare coyote skull, and from within the dark orbits, luminous silver eyes swirl with mercury and madness. A crown of majestic antlers branches behind him in a regal sweep, and his tapered, lynx-like ears flicker as if they can sense my rapt attention. Fangs as long as a sabretooth’s and jagged molars give the appearance of a deranged, if welcoming, smile.
