Page 69 of A Malicious Menagerie
I glance over my shoulder at the specter haunting my back. Then, I shrug, trying to project more confidence than I feel. “That’s Job.”
“I am Job,” the creature confirms solemnly.
“That’s the wendigo,” Nathan points out, still reeling.
“We’ve made a deal. We let Job out, and he’ll let us go safely.”
Suddenly, a chill blooms through me. It starts near my neck and branches to my fingertips and toes, and when I glance to the side, I see Job’s hand curling around my shoulder. His claws make imprints in my skin but don’t draw blood. “And if you do not let me out, I shall eat your friends,” Job adds, his voice cool.
Nathan looks frantically from me to Colby to the dark entity that has me in his clutches. I’m frozen, terrified of setting off the wendigo. All I can do is stare beseechingly at Nathan because, good idea or not, I don’t want to die tonight.
“Goddammit,” Nathan mutters, and I have just enough wherewithal to be surprised by his cursing. We must have really stressed him out. “This goesagainst every FABLE protocol.”
“Yeah, this whole night hasn’t gone to plan,” Colby grunts. “So, what’ll it be? Are you gonna break the rules, or are you gonna watch him tear us apart?”
“The spleen is the best part,” Job informs Nathan cheerily. “So tender.”
The color drains from Nathan’s face, and he actually fumbles the key card as he moves to unlock the door. Apparently, all it takes to crack Nathan’s cool exterior is a wendigo. Who knew?
The moment the door swings open, Job flows smoothly past me and claims his freedom. “Finally,” the wendigo intones reverently as he peers into the trees surrounding his enclosure. Suddenly, he chuckles, the sound like claws raking down my spine. “It has been so long since I hunted.”
All I can do is watch, helpless, as the wendigo dissolves into the gloom and disappears.
“Now what?” Nathan asks grimly, still staring after the creature he unleashed.
“Now, we put our plan into action,” I say firmly. “Nathan, do you have extra key cards?”
We end up half walking and half sliding our way down the slope from the mountain region and into the woods. We stop to hide in the trees and survey the path for guards, which is when the first screams start.
There’s shouting followed by gunfire, and I wince. Can bullets kill a wendigo? If the guards take down Job, there won’t be anything to distract them from finding us.
A moment later, the shots end abruptly, the sharp reports still ringing through the air. As the sounds fade, I notice the rhythmic crunch of boots on gravel just as a familiar figure darts in front of us. It’s John, his face pale and his movements jerky and panicked.
An inky shadow dislodges itself from the shade of the trees on the other side of the path, and the wendigo easily swings one long arm to grab John by the neck and lift him into the air. John kicks frantically, but he can’t reach the grinning beast.
“This one smells delicious,” Job comments blissfully, the sound of aninhale followed by a low growl reverberating through his canine skull. The wendigo turns his silvery gaze toward us. “Do you approve of my eating him?”
“No,” I gasp, but Colby says, “Go for it.” I glare at him, and Colby only shrugs. “What? Tell me you don’t want to see him dead.”
“No, I mean…” I fumble my words. I am just soangryat him. For the stunt he pulled tonight, yes, but also for every slight and belittling word over the past weeks. “No, I don’t want to see him dead,” I finally declare, but there’s an ugly, slimy feeling in my chest that tells me I’m lying at least a little bit.
“We do have a tiebreaker,” Job notes, looking toward Nathan. Meanwhile, John’s face is turning purple, and he’s scrabbling desperately at the claws curled around his neck. “What say you, sir?”
“No,” Nathan replies immediately, and I huff out the breath I’d been holding.
But Job still doesn’t put him down, and there’s something maniacal in his mercury gaze. “Ah,” the creature sighs, “but what is freedom if not the ability to do whatever I like?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and look away, but that doesn’t save me from John’s panicked scream or the wet sound of flesh rending and blood splattering the ground. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Colby mutters, and I wonder if he regrets wanting John dead. His answer apparently never made a bit of difference to the wendigo, but still.
There’s a thud, and I force myself to peek through my eyelashes as if I’m watching a horror movie at home and can’t handle the jump scares. John’s body—or what’s left of it, anyway—is on the ground, and the wendigo sighs with pleasure as he pats his concave belly. “Still hungry.” He tilts his head at us. “Where is Mathis?”
Nathan clears his throat but still sounds hoarse when he replies, “He’s likely trying to run. His driver would pick him up at the front.” Nathan points in the direction of the carousel.
“Thank you,” the wendigo replies politely. “All the best.” And with that, he glides away to seek his revenge.
There’s a beat of silence as we all stare at John’s shredded remains. Finally,Colby curses under his breath and moves out onto the path. “Come on. We’ve got a plan, remember?”
We split up, Nathan headed right toward Delia and Colby left toward the kelpies. I split the difference and make my way back to the werewolf enclosure where this whole debacle started. Smarman’s body is gone, and I wonder grimly what Mathis did with it. He doesn’t seem like the type to leave evidence. Maybe the sea serpent or kraken got their meal after all.
