Menagerie
Page 37
No!
The room jostled him again, and that time Rudolph recognized the motion and racket for what they were. Road noise. The harsh bounce of low-quality shocks. The squeals and groans of one of his custom-built wide-load cryptid transport trucks.
“No!” Rudolph shouted aloud that time, but there was no response. “Gallagher, let me out of here, you son of a bitch!”
His voice was reflected back to him from the steel sides of the cavernous cargo trailer. He was alone. But as the trailer sped toward the Mexican border, Rudolph Metzger understood that the blessing of solitude would not last much longer.
And if he was very, very lucky, neither would he.
Delilah
“Here they come,” Zyanya whispered as she approached the ticket booth, staring over my shoulder at the first few cars as they pulled into the gravel parking lot. She tugged at the elastic hem of her sequined leotard, where it met her thick black tights. “Why is there no music? They’ll never believe this is a real menagerie if there’s no calliope music, Delilah.”
“We’re having technical issues. Abraxas is on it,” I assured her.
“Great.” Zyanya rolled her eyes, which looked very dark, but human, thanks to Alyrose’s contact lenses. “Put the kid in charge of all the technical equipment. How could that possibly go wrong?”
“He’s the only one who’s ever seen it run,” I reminded her, powering up the ancient credit card machine in my booth. “And anyway, kids always know how to work new technology before adults do. It’s like their birthright.” I neglected to tell her that the broadcast system was at least a decade older than Abraxas and hopelessly outdated, just like everything else at Metzger’s.
Zyanya nodded, but her left hand strayed into her apron pocket to fidget with her emergency sunglasses. I’d given them to her in case she lost a contact lens, and she kept touching them to reassure herself that they were still there.
“Are you ready?”
She nodded again, her lips moving silently as she went over the prices in her mind. Zyanya had never gone to school, and after a week of lessons, she still couldn’t spell her own name, but she’d picked up simple change-making very quickly, earning herself a place in the cash-only booth. She was the first disguised cryptid our customers would see—a test case of sorts—and I could practically hear the anxiety in her voice.
A door slammed shut in the parking lot, and she jumped. “Maybe you should have put Lenore here. Or Finola.”
“You’re gonna be fine,” I said as she stepped into her booth. Besides, I needed them taking tickets at the bestiary and the hybrid tent, which were unsupervised positions. “Just don’t open your mouth very wide.” So the customers wouldn’t see her sharp canines.
“Are humans so easy to fool?”
I shrugged. “People see what they expect to see, and you look the part.” She was stunning in the glittery costume and makeup Alyrose had fixed up for her, and as long as she kept her gestures grand and her smile small, she’d be just fine. We’d already fooled the independent contractors who’d provided the game booths, pie carts, and rides. In comparison, customers should be easy.
“Delilah!” Lala skidded to a halt next to my booth, kicking up a cloud of dust around her sparkly black slippers. She would spend the evening as a talker for Mirela in the fortune teller’s tent. “The berserker’s cage clasp broke, and he won’t let us chain it shut. He seems to truly think we won’t let him back out again.”
“Okay.” That was understandable. Most of the former captives viewed their freedom as a tenuous state, and for some, the illusion of captivity was still too realistic to be endured. “Turn his cage around, so that the door’s on the back side, and leave it closed, but unlatched. If that doesn’t satisfy him, remove his cage from the lineup and let him work as a handler tonight. Alyrose left extra red shirts in the supply trunk. If the customers notice him missing, tell them the vet pulled him from the exhibit because he’s sick.”
Worry melted from Lala’s expression when it became clear that I wasn’t going to kill the messenger. Time was the only thing that could heal the flinch response they’d all acquired from years of abuse, and that fact broke my heart on an hourly basis. “Okay. I’m on it!” She smiled and turned to run back the way she’d come. Lala ran everywhere she went, now that there was no cage to restrict her.
“Lala!” I called, with a glance at the parking lot, where the first families were already heading toward us. “Hurry. The hybrid tent will have customers in less than five minutes.”
She nodded and raced back the way she’d come. I laughed as I watched her go.
“Family of four,” Zyanya mumbled, as the first group approached. “That’s four tickets, at one hundred four dollars each. If they pay with four hundreds and a twenty, I’ll give them back four one-dollar bills...”
“Relax.” I smiled at her from across the space between our booths. “You’ve got this.” And most people would pay with a credit card anyway.
“I hope you’re right.”
Before I could insist that I was, static buzzed from the speaker over our heads, followed by a loud burst of calliope music, adding the sound track necessary to complete our illusion. Zyanya visibly relaxed. She ran one hand over the top of her head, toward the bun pinned at the back of her skull, and gave me a small smile. “I’m ready.”
“All right. Let’s do it!” I whispered as the first family approached. The father wore a skeptical frown, but the mother looked excited. The kids—a boy and a girl—had wide eyes and timid smiles.
I reached into my pocket for a wad of flash cotton and a flint wheel, mentally crossing my fingers as I prepared the only magic trick I knew. When the kids were about five feet away, I lit the cotton and presented my handful of flames with a flourish. In my open palms sat four shiny red tickets.
The children’s eyes brightened and their jaws dropped open.
I smiled and waved them through the gate. “Welcome to the menagerie, where beauty and grace shine from every cage and peek from every shadow. You’ve never seen anything like the exotic wonders within, so keep your eyes open, ladies and gentlemen, because in our world of spectacle and illusion, what you see isn’t always what you get.”
* * * * *
Acknowledgments
Thanks first and foremost go to Mary-Theresa Hussey, whose initial confidence in this project got the ball rolling. Your influence and excitement continue to mean the world to me.
Thanks also to Michelle Meade, my new editor, whose enthusiasm and guidance have been nothing short of brilliant. Your vision for this project is stunning, and I only hope I’ve risen to meet the challenge. Thanks for ideas and rapid-fire brainstorming phone calls, and for bringing everything together.
Gratitude, as always, goes to my agent, Merrilee Heifetz, who’s never dropped a ball in her life. She even picks up mine, when my juggling falters.
Thank you to my critique partner, Rinda Elliott, for being the world’s best sounding board, and for all the crazy text messages she answers, at all hours.
Thank you to the amazing art and production teams at MIRA Books. I am honored to say I work with the best!
And finally, a big thank-you to Holly, Sarah, and Kelley, for talking me through the initial mental roadblock I erected in spite of my own efforts. You ladies are amazing, and I am in your debt!
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ISBN-13: 9781460330395
Menagerie
Copyright © 2015 by Rachel Vincent
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