Page 9 of A Malicious Menagerie
What the hell else lives in this place? Bigfoot? The Loch Ness Monster? Unicorns? I glance up at the white, horned horse tethered to a gilded pole a few feet down from my seat and frown. Okay, probably a unicorn or two. Totally no big deal. Right? Right.
As my deep-breathing exercises do their job, my anxiety begins to fade into something else. Something a lot like…excitement.How many people have seen a—the—Thunderbird in person? Really, what the hell else lives here? I can’t wait to see.
After a couple more steadying breaths, I use the wolf to pull myself up and give him a fond pat on the shoulder. Then, I step off the carousel to twirl around and survey all my possible paths. Choices, choices. Do I do thissystematically, or go with my gut?
Well, if Iweregoing to go with my gut, it would tell me to take the second path to the left. I hesitate, then shrug and start that way. I’m going to end up taking all of the paths at some point, so does the order really matter?
As I approach the pathway, I notice for the first time that there are small signs marking the way; this one says ‘The Woods.’ As I keep going past the sign, the cheerful flowers and groomed topiary of the main garden are quickly overtaken by towering trees that block the light from the glass dome above and cast thick, dappled shadows. Between the trees is a carpet of ferns broken up by decaying logs and mushrooms that vary from the classic red with white polka dots to a nearly translucent white to a jelly-like aquamarine. Somehow, I instinctively know that every one of them is poisonous and stay well away.
The first exhibit comes up, this one surrounded by a wall of iron bars intermittently adorned with vines of tenacious green and purple ivy. I pause in front of the cage and peer into the gloom, my heartbeat inexplicably accelerating as if my body is aware of a danger I can’t yet see. For a moment, the only sound is the delicatehushof leaves waving in some artificially constructed breeze.
Then, suddenly, there’s the sound of something darting through the brush. I take a hasty step back just in time for a body to collide with the front of the cage at full speed with an angry cry, one hand outstretched and reaching for me through the bars. And when I say hand, I do meanhand, because the limb reaching for me has five fingers with ragged nails and brown skin. My eyes travel from that hand up an arm to a very human face.
It’s awoman.She has dark skin and a mane of thick, matted black curls that tumble into her eyes and wind around her bare, dirty arms. She’s wearing an olive-green T-shirt dress that has obviously seen better days—it’s tattered, dirty, and marred by large russet stains—and her legs and feet are bare.
“Oh my God,” I blurt. I get as close as I dare with her still reaching for me and making desperate, frantic sounds. “Are you okay?”
At the sound of my voice, she stills and looks through her disheveled hair directly into my eyes. I freeze, my blood draining from my face at the sight ofher crimson irises staring back at me, her wide pupils glinting yellow-green in the dark like a cat’s. There’s an ominous rumbling sound, and I jolt when I realize that she’sgrowling. I’m frozen, unable to look away as the growl transforms into a snarl, her lip curling back to reveal long, wickedly pointed fangs.
Holyshit. She’s a fuckingvampire!
An involuntary squeak escapes me, and I slap my hand over my mouth. Unfortunately, the damage is done, the small prey sound inflaming her. She roars, the sound an unholy combination of a human scream and an incensed lion, and renews her attempts to reach me through the bars. She doesn’t even seem to notice that she’s bashing her body against the impenetrable surface over and over.
Somehow, I manage to force my legs into motion, and I sprint away down the path as fast as my wobbly knees will allow. When her strangled shouts finally fade away, I allow myself to slow and then finally come to a stop, my back to a tree trunk to keep from collapsing. As I pant and clutch at my chest, which feels bruised from the inside from the strength of my pounding heart, I let myself consider the implications of what I just saw.
This madman is keeping avampirein here! A very angry vampire that would happily rip me apart and suck me dry, no doubt.
My overwrought brain scrambles to dredge up anything I know about vampire lore. Weren’t they humans at one point and were transformed by a bite? That seems to be the consensus from what I remember. So that vampire… was she human once? Just a regular human woman? Do all vampires become mindless beasts once they’re turned? That’s not whatTwilightwould have had me believe, but then, who knows what’s real and what’s bullshit?
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.Fuck.” Nan would be horrified to hear me take the names of the whole holy family in vain, especially when linked so closely to such profanity. Then again, if any situation could possibly warrant it, it’s this one. “Fuck,” I repeat more loudly, because it feels good and there’s no one around to hear me.
At least, I don’tthinkthere’s anyone around until I hear a small soundbehind me. It’s barely anything, the slightest rustle of a leaf. I might not have noticed it at all if all my senses weren’t fueled by adrenaline and on high alert. I freeze in place, even my lungs grinding to a halt, not daring to draw any attention. But I need to know.I need to know what’s stalking me.
Turning so slowly, so carefully, I peek around the trunk of the tree that’s been holding me up… and meet a pair of topaz eyes that cut through the gloom like moonlight.
Letting out another involuntary squeak, I rear back and stumble away from the trunk and onto the path. Still, there’s no rush of footsteps or clang of a body against metal bars. Instead, the creature slowly prowls forward into a shaft of light that manages to pierce the thick, leafy canopy. That light illuminates the shape of a massive wolf with midnight black fur that gleams with an iridescent blue tint. He’s maybe twice as long as I am and taller than me at the shoulder, and while he’s broad and packed with muscle, he moves silently as he stalks closer.
My instincts are at war, part of me demanding that I run for my life and the rest warning that running from a predator will only encourage him to chase me. Frozen with indecision, I choose the latter by default, my body locked in rigor as he approaches the front of the cage and sits.
For about one hundred of my hummingbird heartbeats, we both remain still, sizing each other up. Though his body is tense and his ears pricked, he makes no move to attack. Instead, he stares into my eyes with an intensity and intelligence that seem beyond what I would expect from a normal wolf.
When he continues to regard me steadily with no hint of aggression, I tentatively say, “Umm, hi?” His ears flick once before returning to alertness. “I’m Anna?” He tilts his head in a way that would almost be cute and puppyish if not for his size, stern gaze, and proud bearing. “And you are…?” He only regards me solemnly, that gemstone gaze never once leaving mine. I rack my brain for any large wolves in mythology. “Are you a dire wolf?” I guess, trying not to blush at pulling information fromGame of Thrones.Well, except for the last season, which I never bothered to watch.
His head tilts the other way, and I decide to take that as confirmation. “You’re beautiful,” I blurt, then slap a hand over my mouth, mortified. “God,I hope you can’t understand me.”
He chuffs, which might be laughter or a response to some dust drifting into his nose. Who knows? “Then again,” I say, feeling more confident the longer he keeps his distance, “why shouldn’t I tell you that you’re beautiful? It’s true.” Is it just me, or does he sit up a little straighter at that? I glance around the enclosure, looking for other wolves. Don’t they normally live in packs? “Are you alone?” I ask gently when I don’t see any other bright eyes peering out from the gloom.
He doesn’t visibly react, and maybe I’m just imagining an almost imperceptible tenseness to the space between us. I’m probably just projecting what I’d expect to feel if I were asked such a question. Anthropomorphizing him. “I’m alone, too,” I murmur, the words leaving me unbidden. I mean right now, in this moment, but also in a more general sense. I cross my arms over my chest, feeling oddly vulnerable after my confession even if it is to a creature who can’t understand me. “Maybe we can keep each other company,” I offer with as much cheer as I can dredge up. “I’ll be here most nights, now.”
He continues to stare at me avidly, and I decide to take his continued presence as agreement. I find myself edging a step closer, curiosity and awe fighting with my common sense. A little closer now, I can see the dull silver glint of a collar amidst the ebony strands of fur at his neck. He pins his ears and lifts his lip an inch at my approach, revealing the tips of his razor-sharp fangs. I freeze in place, raising my hands in an I-come-in-peace gesture. “It’s okay, I get it. Boundaries set.”
He relaxes again when I stop. After a moment, he leans forward and raises his nose, his nostrils twitching as he presumably draws in my scent. I wince at the thought. “Sorry if I stink,” I apologize with chagrin. “It’s been a weird night, and I’ve had the nervous sweats since before I left home.”
Still, I must not smell too bad because a few seconds later he chuffs again and wags his tail. Just once, but the dog-like behavior makes me grin. “Is that a good thing?”
Instead of answering, he suddenly stands, causing me to stagger back a couple of steps at the unexpected movement. Instead of stalking closer, heonly plants his front paws in the soil and curves his back into a long, luxurious stretch, showing off his glimmering black fur and rippling muscles. His black claws curl, digging deep furrows into the soft loam, and I gulp as I imagine those daggers slashing into my skin. Every inch of this beast is a well-honed weapon. How did old man Mathis manage to capture him? Or, more likely, how did his henchmen manage to capture him?
Before I can ask the wolf—not that he’d be able to understand me, let alone answer—he shoots me one last glance out of the corner of his eye before trotting off between the trees. His shoulders are relaxed and his tail held with a slight curl, and I interpret that as pleasure at our encounter. “Have a good night!” I call after him, waving. “I’ll see you later!”
