by Erin Johnson
“No.” Peter shook his head. “We’d never do that.”
Heidi looked unconvinced and smiled knowingly. “Maybe not officially, but maybe Malorie and Maria were friends and they worked out a deal.”
Will scoffed. “If they were friends, why would they kill each other?”
Heidi shrugged. “Falling out?”
I waggled my brows. “More like a falling in.” I looked around the room. “Get it? ’Cause her stepdaughter pushed Malorie, and she fell into the cage?”
Will shook his head. “Oh, girl.”
“Okay, going back a sec though.” I pointed at my bear shifter friend. “Will, you said before—why didn’t Maria Begin just shift back into human form?”
“Mm-hmm.” He spat out another olive pit.
I held up my hands, my jumble of thoughts taking a vague shape. “What if she couldn’t? What if she couldn’t shift because of the same reason I can’t shift?”
Heidi gasped. “Because her coworker cursed her?”
I grinned. “No—because Ludolf cursed her. Biddy and Jan heard a rumor that Maria Begin crossed him years ago and that’s why she disappeared.”
Will narrowed his eyes. “But you’re trapped in human form….”
I nodded. “Exactly—so what if Ludolf tested a different potion on Maria, and it had a different effect. She got trapped in animal form—as a phoenix.”
Peter nodded, that thinking crease between his brows. “Then how’d she end up in a cage at Malorie Rutherford’s sanctuary?”
An icy-cold chill flooded my stomach as I thought over my talk with Madeline and the conversation we’d had with Zane Perez from WWAAC. I spun to face Peter. “We need to go back to the sanctuary and look at that paperwork you asked Quincy for.”
28
Underground Animal Rescue
Peter, Daisy, and I didn’t waste any time booking it back up the mountain to the Magical Animal Sanctuary. A servant showed us in, and we surprised Quincy and Mark in the zebra enclosure. One of the black-and-white-striped creatures lay, sedated, on its side, while Mark held its eyelid open and used his wand to shine a light into its eye.
I frowned at Mark, then at Quincy. “Didn’t you just fire him?”
Quincy rose from a crouch beside Mark and adjusted his buttoned shirt. He shot a disapproving look at the servant who’d shown us in, then licked his lips and cleared his throat. Mark, cigarette hanging from his full lips, rolled his eyes and went back to examining the zebra.
Finally, Quincy found his voice. “I, uh—changed my mind. We’re working on getting his license reinstated.”
Peter widened his stance. “Why did you change your mind?”
Daisy, at Peter’s side, fixed her intense gaze on Quincy.
The tall, thin man scratched at his neck. “You know, I, uh—” His thin chest heaved, and he stared at Daisy. “Mark was right, of course. It’s not easy finding someone who’s able to take care of these animals and their—” He choked and had to clear his throat. “—unique needs.”
Daisy whined. True.
Peter and I exchanged doubtful looks. My cop boyfriend narrowed his eyes at Mark. “In the meantime, I assume you’re not performing any procedures that you’re not licensed to?”
Mark held up his palms. “Of course, Officer.”
Daisy whined. True.
I glared at the veterinarian. It might be true… so far. But he’d been operating without a license for who knew how long already. “We’ll be reporting that you’ve been working for years without a license to the board.” I didn’t know what board exactly, but I hoped my threat sounded credible.
The vet’s face split into an infuriating smile. “Report away. But I should tell you, Quincy here has already helped me submit an appeal to the Board of Veterinary Magic and Medicine. Considering Malorie was a prominent member of it, I’m sure we won’t run into any issues in that department.”
Quincy frowned. “Is that why you came back?” He glanced at Mark. “To check on him?”
Peter shook himself. “No, actually. Earlier, we mentioned we’d be back to check over your permits for these animals.”
Quincy lifted his thin brows. “I assumed you meant in a few days’ time, not a few hours. I—I haven’t even looked for them. Like I told you, Malorie handled all that. I don’t even know where to begin.”
I flashed my eyes at Peter. We’d tried to think up a way for me to be able to question that sloth again, or any of the animals really. I had a theory that I needed to test. This seemed to be a good chance.
Peter gave me a slight nod, then turned to Quincy. “I’ll help you look.”
Quincy’s face flushed red, and he opened his mouth as if to protest, but snapped it shut again. He turned to Mark, who still crouched beside the zebra’s head. “You’ll be alright without me?”
Mark rolled his eyes. “Have been for the last fourteen years. I think I’ll manage.”
Quincy huffed, set his jaw, then muttered, “Fine.” He took off along the suspended bridge walkways that threaded through the enclosures. Peter grinned at me, and I winked. “I think I’ll stay behind.”
Quincy didn’t even react, and Peter and Daisy took off after him toward the office. I waited a moment, then turned to Mark, who’d bent back over the zebra and was looking inside its ears. “I’m gonna—just—look around….”
He didn’t even look my way. “Whatever.”
I wandered around the maze of wood bridges, the humid air making the tendrils of hair at the back of my neck cling to my skin. I held my elbows out wide and grimaced. I’d need another shower when I got back to Peter’s place.
Finally, I found the sloth enclosure again, and as I had earlier, I climbed down from the walkway and pushed through the tingly magical barrier. I had no idea how to find the animal again, so I just cupped my hands to my mouth and, in sloth squeaks, called out for it. Hey, sloth! It’s me, Jolene. I wanted to finish our conversation from earlier.
I tromped a little deeper into the jungle foliage, climbing over giant roots and pushing through thick, waxy leaves I could’ve used as umbrellas, they were so large. I found a little clearing that seemed familiar and stood there, calling for the sloth for what felt like ages. Finally, I heard a little squeak in return and turned my face skyward. The dense trees blocked out the view of the glass atrium ceiling, thick vines trailing down to the soft dark earth.
I got dizzy looking up and turning and then finally spotted my sloth friend. He hugged the trunk of a tree about twelve feet above my head. I grinned and waved at him. He smiled back—but that was probably just the expression he always made.
I let out a series of squeaks. Hey, buddy! You were trying to tell me something earlier, and I think I might know what it was. I took a deep breath, my stomach and chest tight. Snakes, I hope I was wrong.
It blinked its dark, globular eyes at me.
I squeaked again. Are you a shifter?
It seemed to freeze—then again, it was a sloth. That could’ve been its normal speed. Then it slowly opened its little mouth and squeaked. Yes.
An icy cold washed over me. Holy shell. It made sense now. The lemurs too, I suspected were shifters. My powers weren’t fading. Shifters typically weren’t as fluent in their animal forms as a native animal speaker. For instance, when I’d been able to change into an owl, I’d been able to exchange pleasantries with other owls, but couldn’t manage much beyond that.
I edged closer, my head tipped all the way back, and spoke sloth. Do the people who work here know you’re a shifter? Are all the other animals shifters, too? Are you trapped? Are you unable to change back?
As I waited for the sloth to respond, I realized I probably should have asked more succinct questions, but my heart was racing, and I could barely stand still.
It squeaked. Ludolf… Caterwaul…
My hands trembled and I shoved them in my pockets. Hoo boy. This was big. Big and horrible. A mix of terror and rage rushed through me.
Peter’s vo
ice filtered through the foliage. “—not so bad. I appreciate you finding these.”
“Where’s your associate?”
Quincy sounded irritated.
Oh, I’d show him irritated. I bounced on my heels, debating if I should try to get more information out of the sloth, but decided I wanted to confront Quincy.
I squeaked up at the sloth. Don’t worry. We’ll be back, and we’ll figure out a way to free you. Then I took off back the way I’d come, following the sound of Peter’s voice. They were nearly right in front of me when I wandered back out of the magical enclosure and knocked on the invisible force field.
Peter and Quincy whirled in my direction, and Daisy barked.
There she is!
Quincy gripped the rope railing of the swaying walkway. “What’s she doing in there again?”
Peter grinned at me, then turned to Quincy. “Please lower the magical barrier so she can get back out.”
He obliged, begrudgingly, and I stepped forward. The magic rushed back into place as soon as I was free of the enclosure. Peter withdrew his wand and gave me a magical boost back up to the swaying rope bridge.
I grinned my thanks at Peter and grabbed the lapel of his uniform. “A word, Officer? In private?’ I shot a scathing look at Quincy, who spluttered in response. Typical.
“Uh, sure.” Peter and I moved a few feet away, and he muttered a silencing spell so we could talk with candor.
I pointed at him. “You first—what’d you find?” My heart still pounded in my chest. I felt like I could rip a few trees out of the ground.
He frowned as he looked me over, clearly concerned, but he cleared his throat and spoke. “We found the permits. The phoenix was from the Underground Animal Rescue, the one Zane Perez told us about.”
My nostrils flared as I huffed. “The mysterious one that no one in the animal rights world knows anything about?”
Peter nodded. “Just from a cursory glance at the papers, I’d guess they get about 90 percent of their animals from the UAR.”
I shook my head, jaw tight. If I kept this up, I’d probably grind my molars down to nubs. “It’s Ludolf Caterwaul!” I flashed my eyes at him. “The Underground Animal Rescue is Ludolf! The sloth, the lemurs, probably 90 percent of the animals here—they’re shifters!”
Peter blanched. “That’s—”
“Depraved?” I nodded.
A red flush spread up Peter’s neck and cheeks. He whirled and marched up to Quincy, me right behind him. “Who’s your contact?”
Quincy frowned and pointed at one of his large ears.
Peter huffed, irritated, then waved his wand and ended the silencing spell. “Who’s your contact at the Underground Animal Rescue?”
Quincy scoffed. “I—I don’t know…. It wasn’t my business to handle.”
I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess— Malorie handled it?”
Quincy lifted his weak chin. “Actually, I believe Libbie did for a while, until she left us.”
Peter and I exchanged looks. We’d be paying Libbie a visit soon, I had no doubt. I turned back to Quincy, adrenaline making my hands and voice shake. “Did you know that all your animals are shifters trapped in animal form?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
Daisy growled, and I grinned. “You’re lying.”
Quincy bristled. “These are outrageous claims!”
Oh. I’d show him outrageous. I balled my trembling hands into fists, ready to attack, but Peter clamped a warm hand down on my shoulder and pulled me toward him. I spun to face him.
“Come on, Jolene. We need to leave this for now.”
“What the shell?” I scoffed. “We have to shut this down and free those people!” I threw an arm toward the jungle-like enclosure.
Peter’s blue eyes bored into mine, his brow pinched, expression pained. “I know. And we will. But we need proof.”
I gawked at him. “Uh, the sloth told me it’s a shifter!” I threw an arm toward the German shepherd. “Daisy will back me up.”
Peter sighed. “No offense, but there’s still a lot of skepticism about a pet psychic and a dog who can supposedly smell lies.” He shook his head. “You two are invaluable for getting to the root of things, but we always have to find that concrete proof or get a confession. I’m sorry.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Let’s go talk to Libbie Brown and see if we can find out more about where these an—I mean, shifters came from.”
I set my jaw, shot one more fiery glare at Quincy, then turned back to Peter and nodded. I’d meant what I’d said to the sloth—there was no way I was letting these people rot in here. One way or another, I was going to see justice for these fellow shifters.
29
Photo Finish
After a call to Edna up at the station, Peter, Daisy and I trekked all the way back down the mountain to a run-down apartment building just a few blocks over from my place. The sky was lightening with the first faint rays of dawn peeking through the thick clouds and mist that hung over the sea. The chill in the air and the walk helped calm my nerves down a bit, but every time I thought of those dozens, maybe hundreds, of shifters trapped in cages, I could feel the heat of anger flare up in my chest again.
Peter knocked on Libbie’s door, the faded green paint peeling. The hallway was open to the elements, and rain fell behind us in a steady curtain. The open railing looked out over a central courtyard with a green fountain and pots full of dead plants. The door opened a crack, and Libbie peeked out at us. “Officer.”
“We’d like to come in and have a few words with you, if that’s alright, Ms. Brown?”
She glared at us. “Is this about Cassie? ’Cause no take backs.”
I planted a hand on my hip. “Not sure the law works like that, but no, that’s not why we’re here.”
“Fine.” She grumbled to herself but unlatched the chain and held the door for us as we entered. She hugged Cassie, the wombat, to her with one arm, resting the animal on her hip like a large baby. I nodded my hello at it and settled beside Peter on the shabby couch. Not that I was judging—mine was way shabbier. And not in the chic way.
The apartment was small and dark, with a short hallway leading to a couple more rooms with closed doors. Libbie grabbed a wooden chair from the dinette table in the kitchen and dragged it over in front of the couch. She sat down and cradled her wombat in her lap.
“Alright, if you’re not here for Cassie, what do you want?” She wore sweatpants, a hoodie, and her dark hair wrapped up in a silk scarf. She looked like she’d been just about to go to bed. I stifled a yawn behind my hand, suddenly realizing how long a night it’d been for me, too.
Peter leaned forward and laced his fingers together between his knees. “What do you know about the Underground Animal Rescue?”
Libbie snorted. “Not much.”
Cassie sniffed her chin.
“It was sort of a ‘don’t ask questions’ kind of scenario. As in, Malorie told me not to ask any questions or ask for any paperwork. A wagon from UAR would show up with a cage, usually at night, some animal in there, and we’d just take them.” She shrugged.
Peter narrowed his eyes. “What questions would you normally ask?”
She smirked. “Look, when I had my own zoo, if I bought an animal, the breeder would give me paperwork and permits certifying it was legal. And if they didn’t…” She lifted her palms, and Cassie circled in her lap like a dog settling down. “They probably weren’t legal.”
Peter frowned. “I just came from the Magical Animal Sanctuary. Quincy showed me paperwork.”
She smirked again. “That’s the sanctuary’s paperwork, just tracking the animal and where it came from. That’s not the same as the animal being registered with the government certifying the animal is legally a rescue or comes from a legal breeding facility.”
I nodded. “So you’re saying the Underground Animal Rescue is likely supplying the sanctuary with illegally obtained animals?”
She nodded. “Exactly.�
�
Peter and I exchanged looks. Just further evidence to support my theory. If Ludolf was behind this, why was he supplying the sanctuary with shifters? My stomach clenched. Fifty years ago—that was around the time of the Monster Wars. If Ludolf hadn’t banished those activist leaders to Carclaustra—maybe he’d found an entirely different sort of prison for them.
Libbie frowned at me. “You okay? You look like you’re going to be sick?”
I waved her off. “Just having an existential crisis, that’s all.”
Peter shot me a concerned look, but I gave him a reassuring nod. I’d fill him in on my theory later. He turned back to Libbie. “Who’d you meet when the animals were delivered? Who was your contact?”
She stroked her wombat’s head. “It varied. We never got names. The guys didn’t seem like they wanted to talk. Not the friendliest.”
I sighed. Of course Ludolf wasn’t going to do grunt work himself—he’d distance himself, like he did with all of his underhanded dealings. But the more we learned, the more convinced I was that he was behind this.
Libbie shrugged. “Look, Malorie was up to all kinds of shady stuff—my two merkles? She had it coming. Plus she paid terribly.”
Peter frowned. “I thought she gave you a big severance payment when you left??”
Libbie snorted. “I asked for a raise and she said no. Then last week, I found that old photo of Malorie and the gang, and her tune changed.” She looked sheepish. “I, uh—didn’t exactly tell you guys everything the other night.”
Peter and I exchanged looks. He withdrew his wand and muttered a few words. The manila folder (which I’d given back to him) magically appeared in his free hand. He picked through it and withdrew the old photograph we’d found in the safe in the sanctuary’s office, the one from the first Night of the Phoenix party fifty years ago. He turned it around and showed it to Libbie. “This photo?”
