The Menagerie #2

by Tui T. Sutherland

  Her sister came barreling through the kitchen and flung her arms around Zoe, picking her up as if Zoe were still five years old.

  “Ruby?” Zoe wriggled free. “What are you doing here? What about college?”

  “Oh, Hampshire can survive without me for a few days,” Ruby said, waving her hands airily. Her ruby nose stud twinkled in the light, matching her deep red fingernails. “As long as I’m back by the time rehearsals start for Ontological Uncertainties. But I had to come when I heard about all the disasters happening here. Nobody told me your hair was one of them, though. Are you doing something different? It looks awful. And I’m pretty sure we’ve talked about the utter wrongness of this shirt before.”

  Zoe touched her hair self-consciously and avoided looking at Logan. The only thing she’d done differently that morning was forget to brush it, and the truth was, that probably happened more often than it didn’t.

  “Poor, poor Scratch,” Ruby went on, fluffing Zoe’s hair and making hopeless dismayed faces at it. “Of course I simply had to fly back to help.”

  “Using the emergency credit card,” said Zoe’s dad from the corner where he was studying a folder full of spreadsheets. “Again.”

  “One of our dragons being tried for murder is clearly an emergency,” said Ruby. “And I am clearly the right person to defend him. After all, I am pre-law.”

  “More like pre-pre-pre-law,” said Matthew as he closed the fridge door and twisted open a juice bottle. “You’re barely halfway through your first semester of college.”

  “And I thought you wanted to be an actress,” said Zoe.

  “Yes, but my Diction and Dialect class is superb,” said Ruby. “It’s the perfect preparation for playing a lawyer. I’ll be marvelous, wait and see. And luckily I got here in time for the voir dire tomorrow.” She patted her blond pixie cut and stared daggers at Logan. “Who is that? Zoe, didn’t we talk about this?” She gave the secret stash of kraken ink a meaningful look.

  “Ruby, this is Logan,” Zoe said. She braced herself for an embarrassing lecture about bringing boys home, but like a miracle, the dragon alarm suddenly went off and drowned Ruby out.

  “INTRUDER! INTRUDER! INTRUDER!” It sounded like Clawdius was on duty today. Ruby closed her mouth and settled for frowning at Logan instead.

  Zoe’s dad rubbed his forehead and pulled out his walkie-talkie. “Holly, can you please go up and check on the dragons? They might have forgotten that Logan is allowed to be here. Or perhaps they don’t recognize Ruby now that she only eats organic strawberries.”

  “Sure thing,” Mom’s voice crackled back.

  “Couldn’t have made all this noise two nights ago instead,” Zoe’s dad muttered grumpily. He swiped one hand through his hair, accidentally making it stand up in tufts, and slapped the folder shut. “I have to go talk to Melissa,” he said to the kitchen at large before vanishing in the direction of Blue’s mom’s office. Zoe realized Agent Runcible and Agent Dantes were sitting at the dining room table, working on their tablet computers.

  “Poor Dad is so stressed,” said Ruby, perching on a kitchen stool and helping herself to a white-chocolate-chip cookie from the plate on the table. “It’s a good thing I’m here to help him calm down.”

  Matthew rolled his eyes expressively at Zoe.

  “Well,” he said into the silence as the dragon alarm cut off. “I’m going out. You two play nice.” He started toward the garage door.

  Blue poked Zoe, and Logan made a wide-eyed face at her. Zoe jumped in her brother’s way.

  “Uh, where are you going?” she stammered.

  “None of your beeswax,” he said. He turned back to the pass-through to grab his keys off the counter.

  Zoe panicked. She knew it was terrible timing with the SNAPA agents and Ruby right there, but she also knew that if Matthew left, she might not see him until the next day, and she needed to know if he was really a werewolf now, tonight, before he went out and ate another sheep and maybe hurt somebody because he hadn’t learned control yet.

  “SHAZAM!” she shouted, flinging the contents of the ziplock bag in his face.

  Glitter flew everywhere. Silver sparkles went up Matthew’s nose (and Zoe’s as well), coated his hair, drifted across his shoulders, scattered all over the floor and the pass-through and the living room beyond, and basically covered everything within fifteen feet of Matthew. It sure hadn’t looked like that much glitter when it was in the bag.

  There followed an extremely shocked pause. Zoe felt like a basilisk had just stared her in the face. Logan had his hands over his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to see what would happen next. Ruby’s mouth hung open like a hungry salamander’s.

  Matthew blinked several times and held his glitter-covered arms out from his sides. A shower of more glitter hit the kitchen floor as he tipped his head down to glare at Zoe.

  “What. The. Hellhound,” Matthew said, articulating slowly. “Zoe. Have you lost your mind? Did you just glitter bomb me?”

  So apparently he’d heard of glitter bombing, anyhow.

  “Um,” said Zoe. “Yes? Because it’s . . . hilarious?”

  “I am going to murder you,” he said. “Slowly. Wendigos will probably be involved.”

  But there was good news. Zoe studied his face and neck and arms. No sneezing. No hives. The silver dust was having no effect on him. Matthew wasn’t a werewolf after all.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  “‘Shazam’?” said Blue. “Really, Zoe?”

  “ZOE!” Matthew yelled, stomping toward the garage in a cloud of silvery dust. “I’m going on a date tonight! And now I’m going to show up covered in glitter!”

  “I didn’t know that!” she cried. “You could have said something!”

  “AAACHOO!”

  Zoe whirled around.

  “AACHOO! AACHOO! AAAAACHOOOOOO!”

  Some of the silver dust had floated through the pass-through and landed on the SNAPA agents on the other side.

  And now one of them was sneezing like he’d inhaled an entire tree full of pollen.

  “Agent Runcible!” Zoe gasped. “You’re a werewolf!”

  FOURTEEN

  “Of course he’s a werewolf,” Dantes said. Agent Runcible was sneezing too hard to reply. He doubled over as everyone piled into the living room to stare at him. Glitter exploded from him with each violent sneeze.

  His partner took his arm and led him to one of the couches, nearly stepping on Captain Fuzzbutt as they went by. The snoozing mammoth snorted and rolled over to flop against one of the pumpkin-colored floor pillows.

  “Agent Runcible has been registered as a werewolf ever since he was bitten on an assignment four years ago,” Dantes said, trying to brush glitter off his arms. “He’s closely monitored by SNAMHP, especially during full moons, and is a model of werecreature comportment. Edmund, are you all right? Can you breathe?”

  “AAACHOO!” Agent Runcible answered.

  “I’ll get him some water,” Logan said, hurrying back to the kitchen. Although he didn’t have the warmest feelings about the agent who’d come looking for his mom in Chicago, he still felt bad for Runcible. The agent’s eyes were streaming and small bumps were appearing along his hands and neck.

  “I had no idea that would happen,” Zoe said, wringing her hands. “I’m so sorry, Agent Runcible.”

  This isn’t going to improve SNAPA’s attitude toward the Menagerie or the Kahns, Logan thought regretfully. He handed the agent a large glass of water and Runcible drank the whole thing in one gulp.

  “What is going on out here?” Blue’s mom came out of her office with Zoe’s dad right behind her.

  “Your daughter,” gasped Agent Runcible. “Attacked me. Silver dust.”

  “Zoe!” Mr. Kahn clutched his hair. “Why would you do that to a harmless werewolf?”

  “I didn’t know he was one!” she protested. “I thought—well, we were just—”

  “You thought I was a werewolf,” Matthew said, piecing it
together. “Good grief, Zoe.”

  Logan reached over and squeezed Zoe’s hand, trying to get the tragic look on her face to disappear. “It wasn’t her idea,” he said. “The rest of us thought maybe . . . well, there was a werewolf in the woods last night, and we thought perhaps he’d come here the night before and eaten Pelly.”

  “Agent Runcible was in the woods last night,” Dantes said, pulling out a device with a small screen on it. “But as you can see, he is carefully monitored while in wolf form—by me, in fact—and this map can tell you exactly where he was at all times on Saturday night.” The map on the screen had a green trail on it that ran in large circles through Roosevelt Park. They could all see clearly that the trail had not left the park, and certainly it had gone nowhere near the Menagerie.

  Melissa Merevy leaned toward the screen, frowning. “I haven’t memorized all the SNAMHP regulations, but a relatively new werewolf running free in the woods—even monitored—doesn’t sound like a good idea. What if he encountered and attacked a human?”

  “Who would be out in the woods in the middle of the night?” Agent Dantes scoffed.

  “Us,” Blue offered casually. “We—” He saw the look on his mom’s face and stopped. “Oops.”

  “My office, now,” said Melissa, pointing. Blue slunk through the door and she followed him, closing it with an ominous click.

  Logan glanced at Mr. Kahn, but he seemed too worried about Runcible to notice Blue’s slip. Zoe’s dad hurried into the kitchen and came back with several wet washcloths. Agent Runcible leaned back and Dantes draped the wet cloths over his face and neck. His breathing became less wheezy and his sneezing slowed down.

  The device with the map on it was still flashing on the corner of the couch. Logan peered at it, then edged a bit closer. If Runcible had stayed on this track inside the park . . .

  “Then who ate the sheep?” he wondered before realizing he’d said it out loud. Zoe and the agents turned to look at him.

  “Sheep?” Runcible muttered. “Disgusting.”

  “A sheep was attacked Saturday night, kind of around here,” Logan said, pointing to the map. The green trail flashed, a fair distance away from where his finger was. “Dad said there have been a bunch of sheep attacks recently. We thought it was a werewolf—we figured the same one who came after Pelly. But if the werewolf in the woods was Runcible, and he didn’t eat the sheep, then who did?”

  “Never eat sheep,” Runcible muttered from under the layers of wet fabric on his face. “Too woolly. Sticks in my teeth.”

  “Probably an ordinary coyote,” said Dantes.

  Zoe met Logan’s eyes and tilted her head at the Menagerie on the other side of the sliding glass doors before turning to the SNAPA agents and her dad.

  “We should have thought of that. Again, I’m so sorry, Agent Runcible.” Zoe’s voice was still regretful, but she was edging toward the Menagerie. “Can Logan help me feed the griffins?” she asked her dad.

  “Yes,” he said, “but we’ll be talking about this later tonight, Zoe.” He went into the kitchen to get more washcloths.

  “And it’ll be going in my report,” Runcible growled, and Logan’s heart sank. The report about why to shut down this Menagerie, he thought. We can’t let that happen.

  “You are in so much trouble,” Ruby proclaimed as Zoe grabbed Logan’s wrist. “I can’t believe you did that. This is exactly why I came back, to make sure crazy things like this don’t—”

  Zoe yanked Logan out the door and slid it shut again to block out the sound of Ruby’s voice. Logan shook his head—although Marco’s family had seemed like fun, meeting Ruby definitely made him glad he didn’t have any siblings. Especially older-sister-type siblings. He didn’t know how Zoe could stand it.

  She took off running down the hill toward the lake and he had to sprint to keep up.

  “I forgot to bring something for Squorp today,” he panted.

  “We’re not going to the griffins,” she said. “We’re going to see Scratch while the agents are distracted. I bet he’s the one who ate the sheep—I just don’t know how he got past the electric fence.”

  She stopped at the Reptile House, opened a metal box attached to the outside wall, and took out a small black stick that looked like a wand, with a green light at one end. Then she took off running up the cliff-side path to the dragons.

  “Um,” Logan called. “Fireproof suits?”

  “There’s no time,” she called back. “They’re just a precaution anyway. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

  Logan was not even a little bit sure of that, but he wasn’t going to let her go up there alone.

  “Don’t worry,” she added as he caught up to her. “We don’t always wear them. That was mostly for the SNAPA agents.” Zoe ducked behind a boulder and pulled him down next to her. “Do you see Firebella?” She peeked over the top of the rock. “I think she’s in her cave. Hopefully sleeping. She’s the one most likely to accidentally set us on fire.”

  Logan snatched a glimpse of the caves, but all he could see was Clawdius, standing guard and sniffing the air in a decidedly bored kind of way. “I don’t see her,” he said.

  “Good. Then let’s run,” said Zoe. She sprinted up the hill and right past the two main dragon caves. As he ran by, Logan saw Clawdius lower his head to stare at them, and a shiver traveled down his spine. But Firebella remained out of sight, and a moment later, Zoe and Logan stood outside Scratch’s cave.

  The accused dragon was the very picture of woe. His wings slumped under the weight of all the chains wrapped around him, and smoke puffed gloomily from his snout where it rested on the rocky ground. He rolled his eyes toward Zoe in a miserable way and didn’t even bother to raise his head.

  “Hey, Scratch,” Zoe said. She shoved her hands in her pockets and crouched beside his head. “How are you feeling?”

  “Tragic is life of Scratch,” said the dragon mournfully. “Mother exterminated. Sister exterminated. Now-soon Scratch to be no more.”

  “We’re not going to let that happen,” said Logan.

  “Inevitable is fate,” sighed the dragon. He gave Logan a curious look, like he was weighing Logan’s good and bad qualities.

  “But you didn’t kill Pelly, did you?” Zoe asked. “Even though you wanted to?”

  Logan raised his eyebrows. “He wanted to?”

  “Pelly gave Clawdius and Firebella each one of her golden eggs for their treasure hoards,” said Zoe. “But she said Scratch wasn’t worthy of one. They kind of hated each other.” She ran her hands through her hair. “Don’t tell the SNAPA agents that.”

  “Dreadful was the honk-bird,” said the dragon. “But not eaten by Scratch was the honk-bird. Deserved to be eaten by Scratch was the honk-bird. But most restrained was Scratch. Downright noble was Scratch. Vile the honk-bird grief-causing for Scratch, dead and pre-dead and post-dead.”

  “Hmmm,” Zoe said. She got up and went to look at his claws. The earlier anklet had been taken away—as evidence, Logan guessed. New, thicker anklets had replaced it on all four of Scratch’s legs. “Scratch, how did you unlock your restraints?”

  “Unlocked it never,” protested Scratch. His scaly tail twitched with a clank. “Touched it never, even sniffed it never. Broke itself did the anklet. Boom in the foreweek down and off.”

  “It just fell off?” Zoe puzzled out. “Sometime in the last week? That’s . . . worrying. They’re really, really not supposed to do that.”

  “Maybe someone messed with it,” Logan suggested.

  “Free was Scratch,” said the dragon with a dramatic sigh, “but so-ever good was Scratch.”

  “Really?” said Logan. “You didn’t, say, fly out of the Menagerie and eat some sheep?”

  Scratch squinted at him thoughtfully. “Mostly so-ever good was Scratch.”

  “Oh, no,” Zoe said. “Scratch! You really ate those sheep?”

  He clawed at the ground and looked pathetic. “Came back to cave, did not Scratch? Fat the empty-head of
fluff on legs overtaking planet. Asking to be eaten was the fluff on legs. Hardly to miss among the horde. Plus also and plus hungry was Scratch.”

  “We feed you plenty,” Zoe said, putting her hands on her hips. “I guess that’s why you haven’t been eating your dinner this last week—you’ve been full of sheep.”

  “But not full of honk-bird,” said Logan. “I mean, goose. Right, Scratch? It doesn’t make sense—even if he didn’t like Pelly, why bother climbing into the Aviary to eat her and risk getting caught when he had a steady supply of sheep outside the walls?”

  “And that’s why you didn’t set off the intruder alarm,” said Zoe. “You weren’t even here.”

  Scratch hunched his shoulders and made a snuffling noise. “Abject failure as alarm system is Scratch. Remorseful is Scratch the day long.”

  “The sheep eating also explains the blood on his teeth,” Logan pointed out.

  Zoe flicked a switch on the black wand and waved it over Scratch’s neck. “And your chip isn’t working, either. So no electric fence. How did that happen?”

  The dragon shrugged. “Technology of mankind puny. Out went the zap. Surprised and flying and glamour-unseen was Scratch of a sudden pow.”

  Logan flashed back to his first morning in the Menagerie, on Saturday—walking from the griffin enclosure to the lake in the quiet predawn, when he’d felt something like a shadow pass overhead, along with a breath of hot wind. That must have been Scratch returning from his nocturnal wanderings, invisible and full of sheep.

  “But it was working a week ago,” Zoe said, frustrated. “I know the SNAPA agents checked everything—your anklet, the electric fence chips. How could both of those things break in the same week?”

  “Somebody must have broken them,” Logan said. “On purpose. Knowing that SNAPA was coming back, and trying to get you in trouble.”

  Zoe stared at him openmouthed.

  “Aha,” said Scratch, the first glimmer of hope appearing in his dark eyes. “Perhaps not the fault of Scratch is all things. Perhaps set up was Scratch. Perhaps all innocent and noble still is Scratch and plus also not for extermination might be Scratch.”