by Kyle Shultz
It took me a few seconds to realize what he was talking about, and I almost burst into laughter once I did. It struck me that ever since Basile, I hadn’t really thought about my curse that much. Regaining my humanity used to be the singular focus of my every waking moment. Now, it crossed my mind far less frequently. I had bigger problems to worry about.
But would I give up my life now for what I had back then? I couldn’t imagine a world in which I’d never met Cordelia, of course. But all the same…magic had changed our lives forever, sometimes in less than desirable ways. And my curse wasn’t the only magical problem we faced.
Crispin threw an arm around my shoulders. “Come on,” he said. “What’s bothering you, eh?”
“I’m worried about Cordelia,” I said automatically. This was true, of course, though I had enough confidence in her ability to take care of herself that I wasn’t too worried about something terrible having befallen her—not yet, anyway. No, what was really bothering me was a memory of something I’d seen in a future I could only hope would never happen. I’d tried so hard to forget it, but every time I looked at Crispin—happy, laughing, carefree Crispin—I couldn’t stop myself from remembering that terrible figure swathed in blinding white, drifting above a devastated world as reality shattered around him.
“Bow before the White Ki—”
“Oi.” Crispin had grabbed my left ear and was now speaking directly into it, in a loud, obnoxious monotone. “Nicholas Aloysius Beasley. Wherever you are, come back. We have a mystery to solve.”
I gave him a light shove. “Get off, you clown. And don’t shout my middle name in public.” I couldn’t help but smile as I spoke.
He shoved me back. “I’m your little brother. I have an exclusive right to shout your middle name in public. It’s in the Little Brother Contract.”
“There is no Little Brother Contract.”
“Yeah, there is. But don’t worry, it’s fair. It gives you certain privileges as well—like, I have to name my firstborn child after you, assuming I have one and it’s not a girl. Though I guess I could name her Nicole or something.”
“Try not to hate me for what I’ve done.”
“Dad, you’re scaring me. I don’t understand.”
The memory was so vivid that it overwhelmed my senses, and I walked straight into a lamp-post.
Crispin applauded. “Bravo. I thought your Beastliness gave you really good coordination. What’s the matter with you?”
“No,” I whispered to myself. I remembered the older Crispin—weary, sorrowful, broken. And then gone completely, eaten by that…thing, whatever it was. I wasn’t going to let him become either of those people. Not the scarred warrior, and not the soulless wraith. Which meant that Crispin could never know the full truth of what had happened. I wasn’t going to lose my Crispin—not even for Alice’s sake.
“Nick, it’s okay.” Crispin patted me on the back. “We’ll find her.”
He still thought this was about Cordelia. Fine with me. “You’re right,” I said, squeezing his shoulder. “Thanks.”
“So, what are we doing to do, exactly?” he asked. “Just wander around the city until we see something significant?”
“No, I have something else in mind.” I motioned to a paperboy standing on the curb across the street. “Oi! You there! I need a paper.”
He turned to look at us, and just then, a bus drove by, hiding him from view. When it passed, he was gone. Or rather, that’s what I thought until I looked down and spotted a confused-looking Grimman shepherd where he’d been standing.
“Ninety-nine,” I remarked. We bounded across the street to where he stood. “Here,” I said, tucking a coin in the pocket of his sagging shirt. “We’ll get all this sorted out as soon as possible. We’re Beaumont and Beasley—or Beasley and Beasley, for the moment.”
The dog gave a bark which could either have meant “Thank you, kind sir,” or “It’s all your fault I’m a dog now, you and your stupid Revelation,” and trotted down the street, his shirt trailing behind him. He had left his newspapers, his pants, and his shoes behind.
“Don’t the clothes normally vanish when people transform?” Crispin pointed out.
“Not every time. Depends on the spell, I suppose.” I unfolded the paper. The front-page headline read “DOGGED DUVILLE’S DEVOTED DARLING,” and the photo showed a tearful Rilla with her arms thrown around Gregory’s furry neck. Skimming the article, I noticed that it didn’t mention the rash of additional changes that had swept across the city. It was only a matter of time, though—the police couldn’t keep it secret forever, especially since most of them were probably dogs by now.
“I don’t mean to question your great detective wisdom,” said Crispin, “but how is reading about it in the paper going to help us solve the case?”
“It’s not,” I said, turning the page. “I didn’t get this to read about our case. I want to see if there are any other clues in here. Since Circe escaped fairly recently, maybe there’ll be some hint to her whereabouts in here.” I handed him a section of the paper. “Look for anything that might be significant. Any weird stuff that could be connected to her, even if it’s not particularly bizarre. She’s bound to have drawn attention somehow.”
We browsed the paper in silence for a while without any luck. There were quite a few headlines about things related to magic or magical creatures—the orcish labor dispute, the potion trade laws, the dryad forest-conservation protests—but nothing that seemed to have any bearing on what we were dealing with.
Then a headline caught my eye—oddly, one of the most “normal” ones on the page. Nothing to do with magic at all, at least on the surface. “Look at this,” I said to Crispin.
He folded up his own portion of the paper and peered over my shoulder. “Dr. Yrsa Michi, zoologist specializing in exotic species and activist for the prevention of animal cruelty, has put her unorthodox philosophies to practical use as the new manager of the Talesend Zoo. In so doing, she has breathed new life into one of the city’s most iconic—”
“Yes, thank you,” I interrupted. “I can read for myself; I don’t need you to narrate the whole thing in my ear.”
“But how is it important?” he argued. “All it says is that she’s made some changes in how the animals are cared for, helped them acquire some new specimens…” His voice trailed off. “Oh.”
“Exactly.” I nodded. “Unorthodox, eh? I wonder how unorthodox?”
“You think this is where Circe ended up after she escaped? Passing herself off as a zookeeper so she could take over the place and then stock it up with her victims?”
“It’s plausible,” I said slowly. “But…no.” I shook my head. “No, it’s too much of a long shot. Forget it. We’re barking up the wrong tree; no pun intended.”
“What do you mean?” Crispin protested. “It makes perfect sense!”
“No,” I said, “that’s just it, it doesn’t.” I tapped the paper. “Exotic species; that’s what it says. You don’t put dogs in a zoo. Why would she bother with dogs? And for that matter, why would she start changing people openly like this when she’s clearly gone to a lot of trouble to cover up what she’s doing? Assuming Michi and Circe are the same person to begin with.”
“They rhyme.”
“No, they don’t.”
“They sort of do.”
“Even if they did, it wouldn’t mean anything!”
“It might.”
I growled in his face. “The point is, this business with Michi could be completely non-magical and above-board.”
“Oh, of course it isn’t,” said Crispin impatiently. “Don’t be ridiculous. Nothing’s ever above-board.”
I quirked an eyebrow at him. “A little extreme, wouldn’t you say?”
“This stuff always happens the same way. If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s probably a human who got cursed by the Duck Fairy or something.”
I stared at him. “The Duck Fairy?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I honestly have no idea what you mean. Who’s the Duck Fairy?”
“It was only a hypothetical example!” he shouted. “For Pete’s sake, don’t overthink it.” He reached out and rattled the paper. “All I’m saying is, we need to look into this Peachy woman.”
“Michi. Okay, fine.” I crumpled up the paper. “We’ll do it. But let’s be discreet about it, all right? No need to go barging in with some wild, ridiculous scheme that’s just going to make everybody suspicious.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” said Crispin, smiling and rubbing his hands together. “I’ve got the perfect idea.”
I cringed. “Oh, no.”
Chapter 7
Wrong Button
“GET HELP!” yelled Crispin as we staggered through the front gate of the Talesend Zoo. “My brother, he’s dying!”
I closed my eyes. “Crispin, stop it,” I whispered, as I pretended to lean against him for support. If I’d actually leaned on him, I’d probably have flattened him.
“My brother needs urgent medical attention, urgently!” Crispin shouted. “He’s at death’s door, and the only one who can save him is the brilliant zoologist, Dr. Yrsa Michi!”
People all across the zoo stared at us in disbelief, as did the animals. There was dead silence following Crispin’s proclamation, except for the splashing of a few penguins as they cavorted in their pool. The rain had abated, but it was still quite foggy, and there were puddles everywhere.
“Crispin, in the name of sanity, stop,” I murmured. “This was a terrible idea. If I have to endure your horrible acting for one more second, I really will need help. And so will you.”
“Quiet,” he hissed.
A diminutive woman in a white coat hurried over to us. I don’t like to make snap judgments, especially given how many people have fled in terror at the sight of me. But I had to admit…Dr. Michi did look like a witch. She was wizened and skeletal, her features sharp and angular. She had made a valiant attempt to disguise her age with copious amounts of makeup, but this only worsened her appearance. Her too-large eyes gleamed beneath her fake lashes as she took me in, and she tapped her gnarled fingertips together in excitement.
“Well, well, well,” she said, in a throaty purr. “What have we here?”
“Gah!” Crispin yelped as he laid eyes on her. He abruptly let go of me, causing me to overbalance and fall flat on my face.
“You idiot,” I grunted from the pavement.
Crispin coughed behind his fist and regained his composure. “Ah, Dr. Michi,” he said, flashing her a winning smile and offering her his hand. “Just the person I wanted to meet. I’m Crispin Beasley, and the hairy chap on the ground is my brother Nick.”
Dr. Michi smiled. “Such a pleasure, Mr. Beasley. I’ve heard so much about you both.”
“As we, about you…have,” Crispin stammered, losing the thread of his sentence.
Michi looked confused. “Pardon?”
“What I mean to say is, your fame precedes you, Dr. Michi.”
“Please, call me Yrsa.” She glanced at me as I stood up. “I…hope you won’t find this question insulting, but…how exactly are you brothers?”
“Magic,” said Crispin, twiddling his fingers in the air. “A terrible curse transformed my brother into the hideous creature you see before you.”
I growled at him.
“I imagine you’re very familiar with cases like that, aren’t you?” He gave Yrsa a wink, increasing my desire to strangle him.
“I can’t say that I am,” said Yrsa smoothly.
“Ha ha. Sure you can’t.” Another wink.
“Look,” I said, trying to seize control of this train wreck. “The fact is, I’m feeling a bit poorly, and given my…unique biology, and your stellar reputation, we thought that perhaps you might be able to help.”
“Yes!” said Crispin. “We could go to your office, where all the magic happens. Figuratively speaking, of course.”
“Wink at the old bat again,” I hissed in his ear, “and you’re the one who’s going to need medical attention.”
Yrsa touched a finger to her thin lips and gazed pensively at the two of us for a moment. “I’m not sure. I don’t normally allow strangers into my lab.”
Her calling it a “lab” didn’t make me feel any less uneasy.
Crispin gasped in shock. “Would you really turn away a sick animal in his hour of need?”
“I’m not an animal!” I protested.
“Can’t you see he’s on the brink of death?” Crispin jabbed me with his elbow.
I swallowed my pride and doubled over, clutching my chest and moaning.
Yrsa winced, more from embarrassment than sympathy. “Fine, fine. I’ll see what I can do.” She looked around and waved at the zoo guests. “Perfectly all right, everyone! Nothing to worry about. PATRICK!”
Her sudden shriek made both me and Crispin jump in surprise. Seconds later, a tall, broad-shouldered man came thundering towards us. His muscular build nearly led me to mistake him for an escapee from the gorilla cage.
“Sorry, Yrsa!” he said in a deep voice, flashing the elderly woman a toothy grin. “Got a bit tied up talkin’ to the polar bears, they’re still on about their fur bein’ hot and itchy, but I told ‘em, ‘Mates, you’ve got to ‘ave the fur, whole point of bein’ polar bears after all, innit?’ I mean, ‘oo wants to see a bald polar bear, am I right? After all—”
“Patrick,” Yrsa interjected. “We have a new patient.” She motioned to me.
Patrick looked at me, and his face lit up. “Oh, brilliant! It’s a—well, we’ve wanted one of those for years, haven’t we, it’s—I think the scientific name’s something beginning with ‘q,’ but—obviously, it’s—” He stared blankly at Yrsa. “What is it, then, some new kind of monkey?”
“I am not a monkey!” I shouted, balling my hands into fists.
“He’s actually a human being,” said Crispin. “In a roundabout way. And he’s ill.”
Patrick’s eyes widened. “I’ll say he is. What’s he got—the hairy measles or somefin’?” He backed away a few steps. “Hope it ain’t catchin’.”
I flexed my claws, then reminded myself that I needed to keep up the pretense. I’d have to postpone eating him alive until later.
“It’s not his fur and claws that we’re worried about,” said Yrsa. “His sickness is of a different nature.”
“Oh.” Patrick breathed a sigh of relief.
“Would you bring him to the lab?” said Yrsa. “Calmly and quietly?”
I resisted the urge to shove Patrick away, and allowed him to wrap an arm around my torso. He was nearly as tall as me, which was saying something. I hobbled along convincingly beside him and Crispin as Yrsa led us to a small building in a corner of the high walls surrounding the zoo. It didn’t appear large enough to house much of a lab—or even to house the four of us, for that matter. Yrsa unlocked the door with a rusty key, then motioned for us to get inside as it slid open. The little square chamber was dark aside from some glowing buttons on the walls. I realized that it was a lift.
“Push the button, Patrick,” said Yrsa.
He pointed to a button that glowed bright green. “This one?”
“No!” She shuddered. “Wrong button. Why do we even have that button? There. The red one.”
Well, that was certainly another hint that we were on the right track. As Yrsa and Patrick tried to get the lift working, I spotted a confused-looking border collie in ill-fitting clothes near the hippopotamus swamp.
“One hundred,” I muttered, as the lift shuddered to life and the doors slid shut.
Chapter 8
Nice Kitty
Some moments later, the lift doors slid open and we stepped into Yrsa’s underground lab. The place was far too smelly for my liking; the scents of various animals mixed with the harsh aroma of disinfectant—as well as a few other smells I strongly suspected were due to the use of magic. It was dingy and poorly-l
it, more like a cave than a doctor’s examination room.
“Don’t mind Jeremiah,” said Yrsa.
“Jeremiah?” I stared at her in confusion until I realized that she was pointing to a big cage in the corner of the office. To my surprise, there was a lion inside. His mane and fur were dark-brown, and there was a scar across his left eye socket. Otherwise, however, he appeared to be in good health. He lifted his head and gave me and Crispin a look of disinterest before rolling over and going back to sleep.
“He’s real friendly, honestly,” said Patrick.
“Oh, I’m sure he is,” said Crispin sardonically. “Aren’t animals remarkable? Sometimes they’re almost human.”
“Will you stop it?” I said in a low voice.
Yrsa seemed not to be paying attention to Crispin. She looked far more interested in me. “All right, Mr. Beasley,” she said, “you’re a bit more unique than most of my patients, but I’ll give this my best shot.” She patted the large examination table in the center of the room. “Pop your shirt off, and sit down here.”
“Er…” I stammered.
She laid a hand on my arm and ran her long fingernails through my fur. “Also…I don’t suppose you’d be interested in a job?”
I pulled away from her. “Look, I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but I think we’ve carried on this charade long enough.”
“I agree,” said Crispin.
Yrsa placed her hands on her bony hips and gave the two of us a censorious look. “Well, I wouldn’t know, Mr. and Mr. Beasley. You’re the ones carrying on a charade, after all. Are you quite finished?”
“Don’t play innocent with us,” said Crispin. “We know everything, ‘Dr. Michi.’ Or should I say…Circe!”
She batted her eyes in a show of innocence. “Sir Who?”
“Crispin,” I said, “you don’t have to be so melodramatic about it.”
He ignored me. “Oh, you were very clever,” he said to Yrsa. “Hiding your nefarious operation in this zoo. The perfect cover, wasn’t it?” He strode around the room like a detective in the last chapter of a cheap goose-flesher. “But then, you got careless. Started changing people right and left, and thought nobody would notice.” He spun on his heel and wagged a finger at her. “Well, they noticed! Or rather, Beaumont and Beasley did!”