The Menagerie #2

by Tui T. Sutherland

  Is Pelly’s murderer out here right now?

  And are we heading straight toward him?

  EIGHT

  Logan flew along the dark streets of Xanadu on his bike, glancing up at the round silver moon overhead. It was much later than he’d hoped. He kept imagining Zoe and Blue alone in the woods with a werewolf, where he had sent them. He was trying very hard not to think about the sheep or Pelly.

  Not that my being there will be much help . . . but still, I would rather be there.

  Keiko could just turn into a fox and escape if she needed to. Logan wondered if she’d stay to help if the others were attacked. He found that a bit hard to imagine.

  Finally the trees of the reserve loomed up ahead, and he skidded into the parking lot on his bike. Zoe waved him over to where she, Blue, and Keiko were crouched in the shadows behind the restroom building.

  “Sorry,” he whispered as he joined them. “My dad was up typing on his computer for an hour longer than I expected. I finally stuffed pillows in my bed and went out the same window Squorp came in, except it turns out that’s a lot easier with wings, because there are these dumb hedges right out there that tried to eat me alive.” He brushed leaf debris out of the short, dark fuzz of his hair.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re finally here,” Zoe said. She plucked a twig off the shoulder of his jacket.

  “Me, too,” said Blue.

  Logan tried to squash his grin. He shrugged. “I’m not a hundred percent sure I can get back inside in one piece, but I guess we worry about that after we catch a werewolf.”

  “I’m not going to worry about it at all,” Keiko said. “Let’s go already.” She took a few steps into the field where the grills were, stopped, and took a deep breath.

  “What do you smell?” Zoe asked.

  “Parking lot,” Keiko said. “And burned charcoal. Blech.” She took off running toward the nearest hiking trail, and the others ran after her.

  “Hey,” Logan said to Zoe, panting as he ran. “Anything new about Pelly or Scratch?”

  Zoe shook her head. “Just that we have to pick a jury on Tuesday. And Mom and Dad are arguing about whether we can afford a fancy SNAPA lawyer to defend Scratch, which we clearly can’t, because Pelly’s golden eggs were pretty much our entire income.”

  Keiko stopped again after about twenty minutes of running. She wasn’t even breathing heavily. Logan and Blue collapsed on a boulder while Zoe crouched and gasped for air.

  “You are being unreasonably loud,” Keiko said crossly.

  “You’re being unreasonably nonhuman,” Zoe said.

  Logan shivered, cold again despite how much he was sweating. Beside him, Blue’s blond hair shone like silver in the darts of moonlight that made it through the trees. Branches creaked in the wind, and little paws seemed to be skittering all around them.

  “What do you smell now?” Logan asked Keiko.

  She wrinkled her nose. “It’s really strange out here.” She tilted her head, turning slowly as she inhaled. “The forest is busy tonight.”

  “You mean with people?” Zoe asked. “Can you tell the difference between people, werewolves, and regular wolves?”

  Even in the dark, Keiko’s glare was icy. “Of course I can. Werewolves smell like both, no matter what form they’re in. But there’s more than one werecreature out here.”

  Goose bumps raced across Logan’s skin.

  “More than one?” Zoe whispered.

  Blue touched the button that lit up his watch. “It’s almost midnight. If they haven’t changed already, that’s when it happens whether they want to or not.”

  “Most of the ones out here have changed already,” Keiko said, closing her eyes and reaching her arms out to either side. In the moonlit shadows, she looked like a horror-movie scarecrow.

  “How many do you smell?” Logan asked.

  Keiko shook her head. “I think there are . . . eight.”

  Zoe inhaled sharply. “Eight unregistered werecreatures? That could be a pack—a whole pack of werewolves in Xanadu! Hunting sheep and sneaking into our Menagerie!”

  “They’re not all werewolves,” Keiko went on. She glanced up at the trees. “As far as I can smell, perhaps only one werewolf, and then a whole variety of other things. Like, there’s a weresquirrel about ten minutes that way.”

  A weresquirrel? How does that even happen? “We’re looking for something a bit bigger than that,” Logan said.

  “Although maybe if we catch one of the werecreatures, he or she can lead us to the others,” Zoe suggested.

  “One is still in human form, not far from here,” Keiko said, sniffing the air. “So he’ll be slower and easier to catch, if we hurry.”

  “Let’s go,” Logan said, jumping off the boulder.

  They followed Keiko, diving off the trail into the snapping arms of the trees, fallen leaves crunching under their shoes, wind tugging at their clothes. Logan ducked under a branch and tried not to think about who—or what—they might find out here in the dark.

  “Here!” Keiko held up her hand and stopped suddenly. Logan tripped over a tree root and sprawled into a pile of leaves. The ground was still wet from the previous night’s rainstorm, and his knees slid through mud. Damp leaves stuck to his hands as he climbed to his feet, trying to brush them off.

  He had never been out in the woods at night like this. Late-night activities in Chicago usually involved a lot more streetlights and taxicabs. And Dad. Dad had taken Logan to a couple of jazz club shows that went until midnight, but that was nothing like this. This was millions of stars. This was eerie whispering trees. This was oh, we might get eaten by a werewolf at any moment.

  A twig cracked not far away, and they all whirled toward the sound. Logan peered into the dark. Was that—someone moving?

  At the same moment, Keiko flung up her arm and pointed. A shape broke from the shadows and bolted into the forest.

  “He’s seen us,” Blue said, but Logan and Zoe were already running after the mystery figure.

  And what do we do now? Logan had a moment to think. Catch the werewolf right before he turns into a wolf? No flaws in that plan . . .

  A bramble bush clawed painfully at his arm as he ran by. And then, up ahead, the fleeing stranger ran smack into a tree branch and keeled over like a cartoon character.

  “OWWW,” moaned a vaguely familiar-sounding voice.

  Logan slowed down and scrambled his flashlight out of his jacket pocket. Flicking it on, he approached cautiously. He could sense Zoe at his elbow, and he was pretty sure Blue and Keiko were close behind.

  “Who are you?” Logan called.

  “Oh, no,” the person groaned. The flashlight beam played across the back of a red sweater as he sat up and glanced at the sky. “No, no, no. Please go away. Don’t come near me right now. Please, I’m really serious.”

  “Why?” said Logan. “What do you turn into?”

  The stranger froze, then whipped around abruptly to stare into the light.

  Logan and Zoe both gasped, and Logan dropped the flashlight.

  “Marco?” Zoe said as Logan scrambled for the flashlight through the leaves.

  Marco Jimenez, Logan thought. From our class at school. He suddenly remembered seeing Marco and his family in the reserve on Saturday, climbing into their minivan, while Logan and Zoe were out trying to lure a griffin.

  The class clown is a werewolf?

  “Who is that?” said the boy in the red sweater, shielding his eyes. “Do I know you?”

  “Only since kindergarten,” Zoe said, stepping forward as Logan shone his light up again. “Marco, what are you doing out here?”

  Marco looked at the sky again and shrank back, waving his hands. “You have to get out of here. I can’t explain, but—”

  “You’ll become something dangerous?” Zoe guessed. “How did this happen to you? Who else is out here? Anyone who really likes to eat geese?”

  Marco blinked at her like she was crazy.

  “Uh, Zoe,”
said Logan. “Maybe now isn’t the best—”

  “Aaaagh,” Marco yelped, clutching his stomach.

  “Too late,” Blue said from behind them. “He’s changing.”

  Logan and Zoe both took a step back, but neither one ran. Logan imagined that Zoe felt the same way he did—he wanted to know the truth, and he wanted to see what happened.

  But as Marco doubled over with a yell, and his skin began to writhe as if snakes were going to explode out of him, and his head changed shape and his whole body shrank, Logan felt his legs shaking. He wasn’t sure he could run now even if he wanted to.

  And then, suddenly, Marco seemed to vanish right in front of them. All that was left was his red sweater, which lay in a strange heap on the ground on top of Marco’s jeans and sneakers.

  The sweater moved.

  “Too small to be a wolf,” Zoe whispered, relief flooding her voice.

  “Maybe a raccoon,” Logan guessed. “Or a badger? Are there werebadgers? Okay, actually, I have no idea how big a badger is.”

  “Nothing quite so impressive,” Keiko said, strolling past them. She walked over to the pile of clothes and lifted up the sweater with a flourish.

  A pair of beady black eyes blinked in the light. Black and white feathers floated around knobbly clawed feet.

  “AWK,” said Marco.

  “Oh, didn’t I mention that part?” Keiko said. “Marco Jimenez is a wererooster.”

  NINE

  “So, just to clarify,” said Zoe. “You have literally known that Marco Jimenez was a wererooster since the first day of school, but at no point did that seem like a useful thing to tell the Menagerie.”

  “Why?” Keiko said. “So you could do what? Lock him up? Because he’s such a menace to society?” She arched her eyebrows at the rooster Logan was chasing around the clearing.

  Catching a rooster hadn’t sounded quite so difficult in Logan’s head. After all, Logan was a lot bigger than the bird. Advantage: Logan.

  “Don’t let him peck you,” Blue said for the fifth time. “Not all forms of lycanthropy are spread by biting, but we don’t know what kind he has.”

  Advantage: rooster.

  Logan jumped back as Marco flapped his wings at him. He really, really did not want to be turned into a werechicken.

  “Why can’t we leave him here?” Keiko asked. “You realize you can interrogate him at school in about eight hours.”

  Zoe flinched, and Logan guessed she was thinking of how little sleep she’d get tonight.

  “We can’t abandon him,” he said. “This forest is crawling with dangerous things; you said so yourself.”

  “Well, I said werecreatures,” Keiko said with a shrug. “I didn’t actually say they were dangerous.”

  “Keiko, could you try to be just a little helpful, for once?” Zoe asked. “Are they all squirrels and roosters? Is there anything that could have eaten Pelly?”

  “I think I have been extremely helpful,” Keiko said frostily. “But if you would like to sniff out your own werecreatures, be my guest.” She turned and flounced away through the trees.

  “Keiko!” Blue called, hurrying after her.

  “You know, I blame your mom for this,” Zoe said to Logan. “It was her idea for us to adopt Keiko in the first place, and why? Because she’d been kicked out of both Japanese menageries. Which apparently didn’t set off any warning bells for my parents, oh no.”

  “Gotcha!” Logan flung his jacket over the rooster and tackled it. A hurricane of frenzied flapping went off under his arms, but he buried his head in the jacket fabric and waited, and finally Marco went quiet. Logan was able to scoop up the whole bird, keeping it carefully wrapped.

  “Now what do we do?” he asked.

  “We take him to your house,” said Zoe. She gathered up Marco’s clothes and shoes and set off in the same direction as Blue and Keiko. “And when he turns back into Marco, we ask him what he knows about the rest of the pack out here, and hopefully one of them was the werewolf who ate Pelly, and then we can prove Scratch is innocent and save both him and the Menagerie.” She nodded, as if convincing herself. “Yes. That could all definitely happen.”

  Logan shivered. It was freezing without his jacket. He was glad to be heading indoors, but—“Wait, my house?” he said. “That’s a terrible idea.”

  “Listen, Marco might have a reason for being unregistered,” Zoe said. “I don’t like it, but if we want his cooperation, we should at least listen to his side of the story first. But if we take him to my place he could get spotted by anyone—my parents, Matthew, Blue’s mom, the SNAPA agents—”

  “Whereas if I take him home, the only person who might see him is my dad,” Logan said with a sigh. “Okay, fine. I get it.” Not sure how I’ll explain a new pet rooster to Dad, though.

  Soon they found a trail to follow, but it was a long, cold walk back to the parking lot. Blue was waiting by their bikes, leaning casually against the wall as if he were posing for a movie poster.

  “I’m sure you’ll be shocked to hear this,” he said, “but Keiko has stormed off in great outrage and may never speak to us again.”

  “I only asked a reasonable question!” Zoe protested. “Mythical creatures are so touchy.”

  “I’m not,” Blue said with a grin.

  “Guys, how am I supposed to carry a rooster home on my bike?” Logan asked. His jacket had been making sleepy chicken clucks for a while, but he didn’t want to let go of it even for a minute, just in case a beak escaped and pecked him.

  Blue scratched his head. “Here,” he said, taking off his own jacket. Using Marco’s sweater as well, the three of them tied the rooster bundle into an awkward sling around Logan’s chest. He still had to hold on to it with one hand, but the other was free to steer. The rest of Marco’s clothes went in a plastic bag that Logan could hang from the handlebars.

  “We’ll ride back with you,” Zoe said. “To make sure you get home okay.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Logan said. “Go get some sleep.”

  Zoe hesitated. Even in the half-shadowed moonlight, he could see the rings of exhaustion under her eyes. They hadn’t exactly slept well the night before, trapped in the Sterling mansion’s secret staircase.

  “Seriously, I’ll be fine. Come over in the morning,” he offered. “What time will Marco turn back?”

  “Dawn,” said Blue.

  “Awesome.” Explaining a rooster in his room would be one problem; explaining a whole seventh grader would be another. Logan really hoped tomorrow morning would be one of the ones where his dad left early and their only communication was a note on the kitchen counter.

  He rode home slowly, wobbling and off balance with the weight on his chest, but at least the wererooster didn’t wake up. By the time he made it back, he thought it had to be at least two o’clock in the morning. His dad’s window was dark. Logan leaned his bike against the garage and looked at the hedges around his own window for a minute before deciding that wasn’t going to happen. There was no way he could climb through them without accidentally poking Marco, and he could just imagine how loud that reaction would be.

  So he slipped in the front door instead and tiptoed to his room. The glow from Warrior’s fish tank cast blue light on his bedroom ceiling. On his bed, Purrsimmon’s eyes glinted green as she glowered at him.

  “You’re not going to like this much, either,” Logan said to her. He carefully unwrapped the sling and carried the rooster, still in his jacket, over to his closet.

  Purrsimmon hissed and arched her back, her hindquarters waggling back and forth, ready to pounce. Chasing birds was one of her specialties.

  “No,” Logan said firmly. “You leave this one alone.” He kicked all his shoes and sports stuff out of the way and gently put the rooster down on his closet floor. No movement from under his jacket. Quickly he bundled up Marco’s clothes and left them next to the rooster.

  It was going to be a really, really weird morning. Logan felt bad for Marco, waking up in a st
range guy’s cramped closet. The two of them had barely ever spoken before. He hesitated, glancing around his room, and grabbed a Post-it note from his desk.

  Don’t panic! We’re friendly. We just want to talk.

  He stuck that to the inside of his closet door and left his flashlight on, propped up on Marco’s shoes and pointing at the note.

  He couldn’t think of anything else to do, so he closed the door on the rooster and went to bed.

  “COCK A DOOOOODLE DOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

  Logan struggled awake through a fog of confusion.

  “COCK A DOOOOODLE DOOOOOOOOOOOOOO- OOOOOO!”

  Logan squinted at the window, where the dim gray light still had that presunrise feel. What evil neighbor decided to get a rooster?

  His bedroom door flew open. His dad stood in the doorway, blinking wildly.

  “Did you hear that?” Dad asked.

  “Hear what?” Logan rubbed his eyes.

  “A rooster,” his dad said. “It sounded like it was coming from in here.”

  That woke Logan up in a hurry. He forced himself not to look at his closet.

  “Oh, uh, sorry,” he said. “It’s my new . . . alarm clock.”

  “Good lord, Logan,” said his dad. “I know you sleep like the dead, but we’ll be run out of town if you let that thing go off again. I’m pretty sure it woke all of Xanadu.” He peered around the room. “Wait, what new alarm clock?”

  “Blue loaned it to me,” Logan said quickly. “He warned me it was loud, so I put it in the closet.” Aaargh, why did I say that? Don’t look in the closet. Don’t look in the closet.

  “Well, please give it back.” Dad yawned hugely. “If you’re still having trouble getting up, I’ll rearrange my meetings so I can always wake you. Deal?”

  “Don’t worry, Dad,” said Logan. “I can get up. I’ll return the rooster today. Uh, the rooster clock.”

  “The things they think of,” Dad muttered, starting to close the door behind him.