by Erin Johnson
Quincy paled but nodded, then hurried off, leaving the servant behind. I watched him go for a moment, wondering what this meeting was about.
Peter’s scroll and quill magically appeared beside his head. “What’s your name, sir, and how long have you worked for the Rutherfords?”
I rose up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear. “I’m going to snoop around a bit—interrogate some lemurs. Cool?”
He grinned at me and nodded, then turned back to the servant, who stood wringing his hands. I left them and Daisy behind on the platform and wandered among the dense plants, soon feeling like I was alone in the jungle.
I knew magical barriers kept the animals inside their enclosures, but as I passed plaques with “lion, saber-clawed jungle wolf, and spider monster” on them, I shuddered, wishing there was a more visible fence between me and them. I definitely didn’t want to talk to these guys.
I passed by the lemur enclosure—they’d been no help—and finally, I found the plaque marked “monkeys” and stopped in the middle of a rope bridge. The phoenix’s cage was directly behind me. I looked around, and finding myself alone, cleared my throat and let out some loud hoots and shrieks. Hey, monkeys! Anyone want to chat?
I waited a few moments. The hair on the back of my neck pricked at the sound of rustling branches. I held still, listening to the crickets, distant hoots, and rustling leaves. Was it getting closer?
“Gah!” I jumped back, clutching at my pounding heart as a light brown monkey flew onto the branch right in front of me, its narrow, pale eyes boring into me.
The branches bobbed and swayed with its weight, its long tail curled up and over its head. I blew out a heavy breath, then stepped forward and gripped the rope railing.
I let out some shrieks. Did you see two women come through here last night? I raised my brows. Maybe they looked like they were arguing or fighting?
It cocked its head, blinked, then scratched one of its pointed ears. It bared its teeth and shrieked at me. One woman. Going to there. It pointed to my right in the direction of the phoenix’s cage, toward the entrance to the second-story viewing platform. Dead.
I frowned and edged closer. Do you mean you only saw one woman? Or you saw one woman die?
The monkey’s eyes grew wide. You talks?
I bit my lip, frustration tightening my jaw. What was up with this? The lemurs and now the monkey? Did none of the animals in here talk to each other? Maybe Zane Perez had been right and there was some sort of mistreatment happening that was damaging their ability to speak? Or could my powers be misfiring? I frowned—I was having no trouble speaking with Daisy, though I wouldn’t mind some of her snark going over my head.
Angry voices startled me from my thoughts. The monkey spun around to look behind it, then sprang from the branch and disappeared into the vine-covered trees. I held still, listening. It sounded a little far off, but two men were arguing—and the voices sounded familiar. Unfortunately, they appeared to be coming from among the trees.
21
THE JUNGLE
I crossed my arms and tapped my fingers on my elbow. If I had magic, I could just use a spell to amplify the sound of the voices, but I was unfortunately cursed. Wah wah. Magic kept the animals enclosed, but would it keep people out? Only one way to find out.
I tied my jacket around my waist, crouched down, and lowered myself over the edge of the bridge so that I hung from the planks, my toes dangling over the soft, dark earth below. The rope bridge swung gently, and I let go, dropping onto the ground with a soft thud. I took a deep breath and headed toward the trees.
The other night at the party, Quincy had needed to spell the magical barrier to allow him in. But the phoenix had been about to combust, with hundreds of guests milling just outside the cage. No doubt keeping people out was a greater security concern then.
I was sure it took a ton of magic to keep these force fields running day and night. They probably only had enough power to enchant the animals to stay in. With guided tours, people would be supervised. Plus, nobody would be dumb enough to try and get to the animals. I grinned as I dipped under a low branch. Nobody except this girl. Wait….
I closed my eyes and stretched my arms out as I approached the slightly shimmering magical force field. I was about to get quite a jolt if I was wrong. I winced and stepped forward.
Cool, tingly magic brushed my fingers, but they passed through. I peeled my eyes open, grinning, and stepped through with the rest of my body. I followed the sound of the voices, climbing over twisted roots and pushing aside leaves the size of my torso.
I silently whispered a prayer that I wouldn’t inadvertently cross over into the spider monster’s enclosure—whatever that was. I froze as Mark and Quincy came into view, then ducked quickly behind a thick tree with smooth bark before they could see me. I crouched down and eased back out, peeking through the feathery stalks of a fern.
Quincy’s chest heaved, and a deep red flush covered his face and neck. His voice shook as he scowled at Mark. “I’ve been going through the records.” He raised his thin brows. “Malorie always took care of everything, but now that I’m looking into it, I see she let you have too much freedom.”
Mark stood in front of Quincy but didn’t face him. He held one arm across his chest, the other at shoulder height, a smoking cigarette between his fingers. “What are you talking about?” He took a puff of the cigarette, his glasses slightly fogged from the humidity.
Quincy bristled and pointed a trembling finger at him. “Now—now I know you’ve been stealing potions. The numbers aren’t adding up.”
I raised my brows. Come again now? The veterinarian was stealing from the sanctuary? I remembered how surprised Quincy had been when we opened the chilled cupboard in the sanctuary’s office the other night and found so many potions missing. He must’ve looked into it and thought Mark was behind it.
I glanced back, suddenly wishing I hadn’t been so eager and gone to get Peter and Daisy. Was I about to witness another murder… and was I next?
Mark scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Quincy.” He looked him dead in the eye and spoke in a tone that said he clearly did know. “I believe you’re mistaken.”
Quincy stomped a loafer-clad foot. “I’m not mistaken!” He huffed. “I’m tired of everyone around here treating me like a simpleton and keeping secrets.”
Mark snorted. “Are you? You want to stop keeping secrets?” He tapped his cigarette. “Trust me, I know more than you have any idea of. You want me to keep my mouth shut about your little collections of ‘animals’ here, then you’ll just overlook those discrepancies, got it?”
I shifted in my crouch. What did he mean, keep his mouth shut about the animals?
Quincy’s face grew redder and splotchy. “What the shell’s that supposed to mean? Huh?” He shook his head, jowls bouncing. “I—I could have your license revoked.”
Mark barked out a laugh and sneered at him. “Oh, Quincy, it already was. Why do you think I’m working in this eel hole? I lost my license for being addicted to potions, and I’ve been doing my job just fine on them around here, so you keep looking the other way, and I will too.”
Quincy spluttered as Mark dropped his cigarette and ground it out with his toe. He patted Quincy on the shoulder as he walked off into the trees. “There is no one else you could get to do this job without asking a lot of questions.”
He disappeared into the jungle, and after a few moments, Quincy stalked after him.
I slowly rose to my feet and bit the inside of my cheek. What the shell? What could Mark mean? Were the animals being illegally trafficked? Was that what Malorie was hiding from Quincy?
I was lost in my thoughts when a hand closed around my shoulder from behind.
22
SLOTH
I let out a strangled cry and spun around, my hands raised like I was ready to karate chop my attacker.
Instead of a cold-blooded murderer, I found a tiny face with a smile and a little we
t nose inches from my own. Two round black eyes lazily blinked at me.
I lurched back, my heart pounding in my throat, and attempted to suck in a breath as I took in the sloth, hanging upside down by both legs and one arm from a branch. It slowly retracted its shaggy arm and wrapped the fingers that had just been on my shoulder around the branch as well.
I glanced back over my shoulder—had Quincy or Mark heard me when I cried out? Those two were definitely up to something, and I didn’t fancy confronting them in the thick of the jungle, all alone. I curled my lip, wishing again that I’d gone and grabbed Peter and Daisy before exploring the enclosure. I sighed—then again, I might have missed that fishy conversation I’d overheard.
One hand pressed to my tight chest, I blew out a heavy breath and slowly approached the frankly pretty adorable animal. I crossed my arms as it rotated its head and looked at me upside down.
I let out a couple of squeaks. Hey, little fella. You scared me.
It squeaked. You.
I nodded, encouragingly.
It squeaked again. Speak.
I licked my lips.
Sloth.
Oh, boy. So it didn’t just move slowly, apparently.
I nodded and let out a couple of quiet “meeps.” I do indeed. I had a sudden thought. Hey—did you see two women come through here last night? Or anyone who seemed suspicious, for that matter?
The sloth’s round, shiny black eyes grew wider. It reached for me again and let out some painfully slow squeaks and chirps. We’re... trapped… in… here…
Come again? I stepped closer, frowning.
It continued, looking as though each word were a struggle to get out.
Please… help… us…
My breath caught in my chest. Help them? Was this just an animal who wanted to be free, or was there more going on?
I let out some cheeps. Are they mistreating you here?
Its globular eyes bored into mine, as though pleading with me. We’re… not… really…
“Hey!”
I jumped and spun around. Quincy, thin brows pulled together, stomped toward me, pushing aside large leaves and high-stepping over exposed roots. I’d been so focused on the sloth, I hadn’t heard him come up behind me.
“What are you doing back here? This is a restricted area.”
I glanced at the sloth hanging from the branch, and, not wanting to get it in further trouble if the animals were being mistreated, stepped away from it before Quincy noticed.
“I, uh—” I couldn’t very well tell him I’d come back here to spy on him. My heart picked up its pace as I looked around—nothing but dense foliage surrounded us, and I was sure he knew his way around these enclosures better than I did if I tried to run. Maybe Peter or Daisy would hear me if I yelled for help?
The man stomped closer, then stood a few feet away with his hands on his hips, pointy elbows jutting out to either side. I decided to try and use my only power, given I had no magic, and try to talk my way out of it. It’d worked sometimes as a lawyer.
“Oh, I was just—” I had a thought and pressed my fingers to my temples. “—uh, following the psychic vibes.”
Quincy frowned deeper. “Where’s the officer?” He looked around.
“Uh… nearby.” Daisy would’ve growled at me for that lie, but I didn’t want him to know I’d ventured into the enclosure alone.
As if on cue, Peter called out, “Jolene? Jolene?”
I breathed a sigh of relief, and my shoulders slid away from my ears. A few moments later, Daisy emerged from behind a giant fern, followed by Peter.
He grinned at me, then grew confused as he looked between Quincy and me. “Where’d you go? Daisy smelled you out.”
Oh, great. I was sure I’d never hear the end of what Daisy had to endure by tracking my scent. But to my surprise, she canned her insults and edged between Quincy and me, her back to me. She stood with her hackles raised, and my lips twitched toward a grin. Was she protecting me?
She glanced over her shoulder at me and huffed. You reek of fear. Are you okay?
Reek might be a bit strong of a term, but I grinned back at her and nodded. Aw—we were bonding.
She growled. Good thing you rarely wash your hair—I was able to follow the smell of pizza grease easily.
There it was.
With Peter’s concerned gaze darting between me and Quincy, his wand in hand, I felt it safe to confront Quincy about what I’d overheard. I raised my fingers to my temples again and closed my eyes.
“Yes. Yes, I’m getting something from a nearby bird—something about Mark not having his license or…?” I peeled an eye open to gauge Quincy’s reaction.
“W-what?” He gaped at me, then Peter.
I didn’t blame him. I mean, the pet psychic thing was pretty thin at best, and how would a bird even know about licenses?
He crossed his thin arms. “Of—of course he has his license. What kind of second-rate common zoo do you think we’re running—”
Daisy barked, and Quincy jumped, pressing his mouth closed tight.
Lies!
Peter sidled up beside Daisy, his arms at his sides, but wand still in hand. “Mr. Rutherford, do I need to remind you that Daisy can smell lies?”
The thin man paled, and he looked like he was about to protest, but then his shoulders slumped. “Fine.” He shook his head. “I had no idea this was the case until moments ago.” He splayed his palms. “I assure you, the situation was remedied immediately—I just fired him!”
I sucked on my lips, not quite ready to let it go. “I’m getting something else…” I squinted one eye. “Something about him being the only one who can do this job or…?”
Quincy huffed. “I’m sure the bird is just referring to the fact that it’s not every veterinarian who knows how to care for such rare magical creatures.”
I fought a grin. The way he said the bird made it pretty clear that he knew I’d overheard his conversation.
Daisy whined. Mostly true…
Quincy threw his hands up. “I might as well tell you everything.”
Peter crossed his thick arms. “I think that’d be best.”
I grinned and came up beside him. I loved when he let out his tough cop side.
Quincy looked pained. “I have no idea what leverage Mark thinks he has, but I recently discovered he was stealing animal potions from the chilled storage in the office and using them himself.” He shook his head. “He admitted it was the same reason he lost his license in the first place. He claims my wife knew about this, but I have no idea why she’d condone such a thing.”
Daisy wagged her tail. True.
Peter narrowed his eyes. “Mark didn’t have some piece of blackmail he was holding over her? He wasn’t being asked to do anything illegal that a licensed veterinarian would balk at?”
Quincy removed his glasses, fogged by the humidity, and cleaned them with the hem of his shirt. “I have no idea. Since Malorie’s death, the more I learn, the more I realize I didn’t know squat about the business.” He replaced his glasses and squared his shoulders. “While magical creature veterinarians are difficult to find, it’s not impossible. I’ll make sure our animals receive the best care possible.”
I glanced back toward where the sloth had been and caught sight of a toe disappearing up toward the top of the foliage. I turned back to Quincy, thinking about the cryptic message it’d given me. “Do you have any reason to suspect these creatures are being mistreated?”
Quincy scoffed. “Not at all. This is a state-of-the-art facility.”
Daisy wagged her tail. True.
I frowned. The sloth had said something about the animals not really being… something.
I cleared my throat. “Could they be… different in some way from other magical creatures?”
Quincy frowned, and Peter turned to look at me.
“In what way?”
I scanned back through everything the sloth had said and found myself just as confused as Quincy. I
shrugged. “I’m… not sure. Sorry.” I tapped one temple. “Don’t always get the clearest signals.”
He raised one brow, looking skeptical.
Peter kept his gaze on me a moment longer, as if mulling over my words, then turned to Quincy. “You’ve got the required permits for all these creatures?”
I grinned up at his handsome face—that was a good thought. Brains and the looks.
Quincy paled. “Yes, well at least my wife assured me so.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m afraid it may take me some time to sort through the paperwork if you’d like to see them—she was in charge of all that.”
Daisy whined. True.
Peter nodded. “We’ll be back to check on it in the coming days.”
Quincy nodded. “Fine. Well, in the meantime, I’ve got animals to see to. We’re short on staff and Malorie has been an… unforeseen loss.” He clasped his hands together.
Peter nodded. “Alright, thank you. Will you show us out?”
Quincy waved at us to follow, then led the way through the jungle. I glanced back at the tree the sloth had been on but couldn’t see it anymore. I bit my lip, itching to speak with it some more. But I doubted it would talk to me in front of Quincy, and who knew how long it’d take the creature to get its message out. It’d have to wait for the next time we came back to check into the permits.
Daisy trotted ahead, nose to the ground, but Peter fell back to walk beside me. “Edna set an appointment up for us at WWAAC, that animal rights group. We’d better head out now to make it.”
I nodded. Hopefully that would help us fill in some of the gaps on this confusing case.
23
WWAAC
Peter’s magical scroll appeared beside his head. He grabbed it out of the air and scanned the notes his enchanted quill had jotted down. I slid closer and looked over his shoulder.
“Is this the place?”
