by Ruby Loren
Mr Avery smiled over the rims of his bifocals.
“Excellent. Well, there’s a zoo in Little Edging, Shropshire, who seem to think their meerkats are clinically depressed and their emus hell bent on homicide. I recommend you start there. Always start with the hardest tasks first. They’re the ones where you’ll find out what you’re really made of.”
I nodded, hardly able to think over the fizzing in my brain. A group of animals who needed my help beckoned and I couldn’t wait to get started!
The Silence of the Snakes
Prologue
Darkness was an old friend to the man dressed in black. He slid between shadows, blending seamlessly with the exotic shrubbery which bordered the manicured lawns. On the brow of the hill, Dracondia Manor looked down on its domain. A few lonely lights still twinkled at windows, but it didn’t concern the man in black. He knew that the lights probably belonged to those long since travelled to dreamland. People who feared the dark.
He nearly pitied them.
A peacock cried out as he was crossing the paving slabs, but he didn’t flinch. No one had their eyes on the man using the servant’s entrance to get in. He reached the simple oak door and pressed down on the latch. It swung open without so much as a squeak and beneath his moustache he smiled. The one element he had left to chance had worked out and had it ever really been a question of chance when he’d offered that kitchen lad a whole Crown for his trouble?
The man wet his lips with his tongue as he silently stalked the empty corridors. The kitchen boy had also been kind enough to advise him on the best route, but he wasn’t fool enough to take too much for granted. Instead, the man had found the original building plans and meticulously plotted his route from there. Only when he was sure he knew the inside of Dracondia Manor as well as any servant did he make his move. And it would be this patience that yielded the prize of a lifetime.
He walked through corridors so silent he could hear his own heartbeat in his ears and climbed up narrow staircases that any person of breeding wouldn’t countenance setting foot on. Darkness and silence had always been his companions but even he was beginning to feel it turn oppressive. The shadows were starting to move in front of his eyes and his muscles were tensed to jump up and run. The man took a couple of deep breaths and realigned himself before pushing open the heavy, carved double doors.
Although he couldn’t see it, he could sense the particles of dust swirling around in the large room. The air felt thick and heavy, as though no one had been here for a long, long time. Another thief might have begun to doubt, but the professional had done his research. He knew that it was here.
He walked across the vast rug, stepping over the swirling pattern. If he’d been more observant, he might have noticed that the undulations of the pattern were unusually random. The tip of every swirl had a yellow circle embroidered on it, completed with a black strip of thread down the centre. It had the uncanny effect of making it appear as though the rug was always watching whoever walked across it.
The man’s attention was elsewhere. Next to a grand piano made from flawless ebony, an ornate walnut table stood proudly next to it. There, at the centre of the table, was the priceless Serpentine Emerald.
He moistened his lips again and strangely felt rather scornful. The gem he had poured so much of his patience into stealing was left out on a table, like a common ornament. He reasoned that it could be there to deliberately mislead the casual thief, who might overlook it as a shiny rock. Or perhaps the owners of the emerald believed the stories about the jewel being cursed. He nearly chuckled aloud. They were fools like everyone else if that was the case.
Ever since the term ‘treasure’ was coined, he reckoned that the stories of terrible curses attached to such items had existed. People liked to believe that there was some magical power at work that kept shiny things in the hands of their rightful owners, and brought the wrath of hell down on those who dared to steal. His moustache twitched up as his lips curved into a rare smile.
They were all wrong. The only real curse was that of a poor thief who got caught and sought to blame his incompetence on a piece of jewellery. It did make for some good stories though, he allowed, as he stretched out his hand and plucked the jewel out of its stand. His fingers spasmed for a moment and he only just avoided dropping it. A dull pain throbbed in his wrist and he was reminded of his ever advancing years. It was just as well that this was his last job. Turn the emerald over to his unscrupulous buyer and a wealthy retirement beckoned.
A narrow stream of light suddenly showed beneath a small door in the far corner of the room and the man felt a jolt of raw panic snap through him. How could he have been so careless to stand around mooning at the emerald, contemplating his retirement? Hadn’t he always said that it was celebrating success too soon which got good thieves caught? Now he was about to fall prey to the same flaw he’d criticised.
By the time the door swung open, the man in black was already concealed within the heavy, velvet drapes. If he were a child, playing hide and seek, he would be caught in seconds. All he could hold onto was the hope that no one was looking for him. He tightened his grip on the large emerald and prayed that its disappearance would also be overlooked at this late hour.
That was a more dangerous roll of the dice.
His heartbeat seemed to double and then treble as he listened to the sound of footsteps walking around the room. Sometimes they came so close, he was sure they were only inches away, separated by the luxe fabric. Were they toying with him? He wondered, as sweat started to pour from his brow. He was really panicking now and he knew it. Behind the heavy velvet curtains it got harder to breathe every minute and there was a strange metallic tang in his mouth. Any moment now he would pass out and fall to the ground, revealing himself and the emerald to whoever had interrupted him.
And then they were gone.
The man in black wasted no time breathing a sigh of relief. As soon as the light had faded and the footsteps were no longer audible, he slid out from behind the drapes. His normally light footsteps felt strangely sluggish as he stepped back across the unusual rug and eased himself back through the double doors. Back in the silent darkness, his heart continued to race. Another bead of sweat joined the steady stream running down his temples and he tried to shake himself out of it. He’d nearly been caught. So what? It had happened to him a thousand times. Admittedly, not recently, but he could forgive a little drama on his last ever job. It would be something to tell the kids about. Or it would have been if he’d ever found another human tolerable enough to spend long enough with to warrant children.
It was only when he was once more in front of the small oak servant’s door that he finally admitted to himself that something was wrong. His limbs were shaking uncontrollably. It was a supreme effort just to keep the emerald fixed in his slippery palm, but he never took his eye off the prize until the job was done. Too many riches fell from pockets during hasty exits.
I must be coming down with something, he thought, as he stumbled through the door. He hardly winced as it banged against the stone wall - a mistake he would normally have found unforgivable. He didn’t care anymore. All he wanted to do was get home and get to bed, so he could ride out whatever this thing was.
The black spots started appearing in front of his eyes when he was only a quarter of the way down the garden. The man who’d slid from shadow to shadow now staggered across the lawn like a local drunk. His heartbeat kicked up another gear and he felt certain it was simply going to explode any second now. He fell to his knees as the black spots turned to arctic white and he lost vision, collapsing onto the dew kissed grass.
He barely heard the laughter of the man who walked towards him. He felt the kick, though - swift and painful to his left ribs.
“There are always thieves who want to try their luck with the Serpentine Emerald. Don’t you know it’s cursed?” he said.
The man on the floor moaned. It was the only sound left to him.
“N
ow, I’m sure you think you’re a smart man. You don’t believe in curses, but you should have believed in this one.” He knelt down and listened for a moment to the strains of increasingly laboured breathing. “The curse is real you know, but it doesn’t have a thing to do with the emerald.” He grabbed hold of the man’s legs and dragged him, semi-conscious, across to the centre of the lawn, directly beneath the imposing glare of Dracondia. “And everything to do with me,” he finished.
With one swift movement, he kicked the dying man off the ledge and into the circular pit. Far below, the black mambas hissed and struck at the unwelcome new addition. Their fangs pierced skin, injecting their deadly venom straight into the veins of their victim. The thief made no move to fight back. He was already dead.
Lord Snidely pulled a handkerchief from his pocket before he bent down and picked up the Serpentine Emerald. One side of his mouth twitched up as he listened to the enraged hissing that emanated from the pit of snakes. It sounded like scalding water spilling out from an overheated pot.
“I really must get around to fencing that off one of these days. It’s just an accident waiting to happen.”
1
Paws and Claws
I pointed to the litter tray and then back at Lucky. The five week old black and white kitten tilted his head, quizzically.
I sighed. “I suppose it’s just as well we spend most of our time outside.”
After I’d been persuaded to leave my job as a zookeeper at Avery Zoo and become an animal welfare and breeding consultant, I’d taken bookings for zoos with animal problems - problems I specialised in solving.
My first ever job at a zoo in Shropshire had turned out not to be the challenging case I’d been expecting from their initial plea for help. Once I’d arrived at the zoo, it had been clear that the aggressive emus and the depressed meerkats were suffering from the same thing - a lack of stimulus. It was a simple matter to pen some brand new enclosure designs and also suggest plants, toys, and creative challenges for the animals to complete to receive small, food rewards. The zoo had been pleased with the progress that they’d immediately seen, and my second job had already begun.
Things had moved so fast, I’d barely had a moment to reflect back on what had happened at Avery Zoo.
Avery Zoo’s troubles had started when a serval had died after eating a poisoned rat. Then, I'd been the unlucky person who had found the penguin keeper’s body at the bottom of the penguin pool.
Things had gone downhill from there.
In the end, the truth about the goings-on at Avery Zoo had come out and I was still counting my lucky stars that I’d managed to avoid the same fate as the penguin keeper. After a change of zoo management, it had been brought to my attention that there were other zoos who’d heard of my success with Avery's breeding programme. The zoo had been home to several animals who rarely bred in captivity. My greatest success was with the echidnas.
My secret? I thought it all stemmed from being able to understand animals’ needs. You could tell a lot from an individual's behaviour, and I also knew that the habitat provided made a world of difference. At Avery Zoo, I’d made it my mission to make sure every animal in my care was as happy and healthy as she or he could be. The results spoke for themselves and it had been enough to get me noticed by other zoos. That was when the owner of Avery Zoo himself had suggested I become a consultant. I still retained my ties to Avery, but now I travelled around, working with different animals and solving their mysteries to give them the best future possible.
My second case was an interesting one. Snidely Safari and Wildlife Park was, for all intents and purposes, your average British animal park. I was already finding it fascinating working with the larger animals that hadn’t been present at Avery Zoo. Snidely had lions, tigers, gorillas, elephants, giraffes, and many more besides. I had been tasked with reviewing every single group of animals and submitting a report on my findings to the owners of the safari and wildlife park.
But the job had one twist I wasn’t as confident about. The safari and wildlife park was not the only place that housed a large collection of animals. Dracondia Manor, the residence of the Snidely family, was partially open to the public. What made it a shade different from your average historical manor was the large collection of reptiles and amphibians it housed. Most notably - snakes.
The manor’s slithery inhabitants had been included in the job request, but I was already finding them a challenge. Every zookeeper has their specialty and mine had been, well - anything with fur of some kind or other. I also had a fair amount of knowledge of birds, having cared for them when the resident bird keeper at Avery Zoo had taken a holiday, but snakes were something I hadn’t really encountered and didn’t know nearly enough about. I had explained all of this to my new employers, but they hadn’t seemed to take it to heart. They’d assured me they expected me to report on all of the animals. The objective was to come up with a review of current animal welfare levels, suggestions for improvement, and then to lead a discussion on what to do moving forwards.
I could understand why the Snidelys wanted one person to do the whole job, but it meant I was going to have my work cut out for me. On the plus side, my employers hadn’t given the job a deadline, and it was an excellent opportunity to expand both my animal knowledge and my resumé. I also had a secret plan for how I was going to be able to give feedback on Dracondia Manor’s cold-blooded collection. The manor was a draw for reptile enthusiasts the world over. I’d already written and placed a questionnaire for visitors to the Manor to fill out, which included asking for suggestions for improvements to the reptiles’ enclosures and care.
Sometimes I surprised even myself.
I pushed my glasses a little higher up my nose. Today, I’d worn a red-rimmed pair to try to add a splash of colour to my otherwise English rose face and short, overly wavy blonde hair. I also hoped the glasses would draw attention away from the army of freckles that had invaded my face. It was the price I paid for working outside during the summer.
The printer in the little office area I’d been given coughed to life and spat out a piece of paper. I surveyed the worksheet I'd created that would enable me to give a standard report for every enclosure.
I’d been at the zoo for a week. In that time, I’d already completed my review of many of the more familiar animals’ enclosures. The wild boar and ponies, who roamed the wildlife park with a giant gathering of deer, had needed no further comment from me. However, I did have a problem with the deer. They were quicker and bolder than their counterparts and - frankly - greedier.
To encourage animal engagement, Snidely allowed visitors to buy cups of animal feed to pass out to the animals in the wildlife park on their drive through. It hadn’t been hard to notice that the deer had been the main recipients. They were all fat. I was suggesting a review of the food given to them. Instead of pellets, perhaps vegetables and popcorn could be mixed and given.
I snorted at the thought of putting an entire herd of deer on a diet.
Lucky started meowing and kicking up a fuss to let me know he was hungry. I obligingly poured him out a bowl of milk formula. He was just starting to get the hang of drinking out of the bowl, although I thought more milk ended up around his mouth than in it.
“Isn’t it great that we get to hang out together all the time now?” I said to the little kitten, who continued to stuff his face. One of the benefits of labelling myself as a consultant was that I got to make a few rules of my own. Lucky was a non-negotiable part of the Madigan Amos consultancy package - not that anyone had complained so far. That was the benefit of working at zoos - they were pretty accepting of animals.
“Well, Lucky, I’m off to see some of your bigger cousins,” I said to the black and white kitten. He yawned luxuriously and nearly fell asleep in his milk. It was a cat’s life all right.
I popped him back into his basket and made sure I shut the office door behind me. Lucky had just begun to explore his surroundings and I definitely didn
’t want him wandering around - especially in a place that specialised in snakes! Even a kitten as lucky as Lucky could come unstuck if he met one of them.
If I were being really honest, I was worried about coming unstuck myself.
Dracondia Manor’s collection stood out from every other zoo's for one reason - the reptiles and amphibians they kept were all venomous.
I drove a little way off the main track in the lion’s enclosure and killed the engine of my Ford Fiesta. It didn't exactly blend in the way one of the safari’s zebra striped vehicles would have done, but the Snidelys had suggested I use my usual car for two reasons. The first was so that I wouldn’t be bothered by any members of the public asking questions, and the second reason was that all of the animals reacted to the striped vehicles. They knew it meant food was on the way and my review of their natural behaviour would be skewed if I turned up in a familiar vehicle.
A people carrier stuffed with children slamming their hands up against the windows passed by. The parents threw me a dirty look out of the window, probably thinking I was being reckless by breaking the rules and driving off the designated track.
At least, that’s what I assumed, until they turned off onto the grass and drove closer to the pride of lions I was currently observing.
I waved to them through my windscreen, motioning for them to return to the track. In return, they flipped me a rude gesture, and I saw their kids howl with laughter in the back. To my horror, the back window rolled down and a child leaned his elbows over the glass. A horrific news story in which a person had been wrenched through the window of a car and torn to pieces by a lion flashed through my mind. Left with no other choice, I rammed my hand down on my horn, sounding the alarm.
I only hoped it wouldn’t be too late.
One of the young adolescent males had stood up when I’d beeped my horn. I watched as he lifted a paw and glanced at me before turning his head in the direction of the people carrier. The child wiggled his hands in excitement. I felt a bead of sweat slide down my back. Were his parents crazy? Their child could be moments from death!