Wrath and Bones (56 page)

“This is the part where I wish I had kept Umayma’s gun.” He sighed. “What now, Dr. B.?”

“We’re going back, and I’m getting my yeti nail.” I pointed out, “We know where the yeti is, now.”

“I don’t think the fight club folks are going to let you saunter in and take their prizefighting yeti.” Declan grimaced. “Do you have a plan?”

“I have a splendid plan,” I assured him, showing him a flex and some finger guns. When he shook his head in disbelief, I put one hand on my hip and wiggled in a sexy fashion. He became visibly distressed by the ineptly suggestive spectacle, like he’d just won a lifetime supply of deep fried scorpions. Maybe my milkshake drove all the boys from the yard. “Look, do you wanna get killed backing me up, or do you wanna get killed hauling my body out of there?” 

“I’m going with you,” he said, as if it was a silly question.

I didn’t think it was.
I
didn’t even wanna go with me; I couldn’t imagine anyone else would.

We retraced our path into town, double-checking Dev’s map to make sure we were on the right track following the arrows back to Sarmeela’s neighborhood. We dropped the Jeep off a few streets down, locked it, and struck off on foot with just our go-bags, wondering what Dev’s “green” notation on the map meant. We wandered alleyways on our approach to Sarmeela’s, and found a green door. I'd kind of been hoping for a Rhuby Rhod impersonator.

“Just, you know,” Declan said, “get the nail and get out. Don’t be a hero.” I stared at the side of his face until he felt it; he did a double take at me. “What?”

“When have I ever been a hero?” I said, and gave him an admonishing cuff upside the head. His unruly black curls tousled further.

“Good point, Dr. B.” He nodded in the direction of the door. “How do we get them to let us in?”

I considered giving him another hip wiggle and finger guns, and scrapped the idea. “We tell them we have a great fight proposition.
Gigantopithecus giganteus
against the one and only living
dhampir
.”

“Oh, please tell me you’re joking, Dr. B.”

“You’ll move around a lot. It’ll be fine. And while you’re distracting everyone, I’ll find where they keep the yeti, find a good spot to hide, and wait for them to bring him back. Then presto-poof, I get a nail clipping, easy-peasy, and we amscray.”

“Just like that?” Declan said. “Presto-poof?”

“And easy-peasy. Don’t forget that part. Are you with me?”

“Aradia’s Great, Swaying Diddies, I do hope you know what you’re doing, Glenda.”

It didn’t look like a fight club, but the green door made me think of an old song from the fifties, and I did wonder what was going on behind it. Only one way to find out. We knocked loudly, faking like we belonged there, that
of course
we were expected. When nobody answered, we tried the door, figuring it would be locked. It squealed open. Declan and I exchanged worried glances and poked our heads inside. The stink of animals hit us immediately, and as DaySitters, our sense of smell was particularly sensitive; fur and urine and kibble and feces and straw all blended to make quite the zoological funk. The stairs went down. So did we, closing the door solidly behind us. I took my mini Cougar out and held the gun behind the small of my back, just in case.

The cellar hall was lit by flickering fluorescent lights; a thick wire strung along the low ceiling ran a few long bulbs.

“You play lookout. Maybe I can get the nail without having to talk to anyone.” I told him, double-checking my clip and my safety. “Stay right here. Call out if you see anything.”

Declan nodded, putting his go-bag on the floor.

I pressed on, hearing animals huffing and breathing; some primal instinct begged me to flee. Cages ahead were shadow-filled until I got closer.

Five tigers.
Panthera tigris tigris
, the Bengal. One of the big males had a radio collar on. Each pen was metal, secured with locks and chains. The tigers slept. They didn’t even flick an ear as I passed.

There were two crates that leaked fluid next. The fluid smelled like a mix of blood and urine, and I tiptoed past, avoiding the darkest spots. One of the crates was open and there was a clipboard on top of it without papers. I found two sedated snow leopards next. The second to last cage held a Red Panda.

Finally, there was a giant wooden pen, simple bamboo tied with rope. Inside lay a giant grey lump, snoring away.
Gigantopithecus giganteus.
The very simple peg-lock on the door was held closed by a gold-colored nail.

The gold seed pod of Lilith’s Heart
.
The Golden Sap of Huxtahotep
. Both of my rescue-artifacts so far had been gold, just like the nail was. Was this, in fact, what I needed? I had assumed a “nail from the yeti” meant a nail clipping from the yeti’s claw. I hadn’t considered a fastening-type nail. What happened if I took it out? Would the yeti attack me? It seemed sedated, matted grey fur rippling as its slow breath puffed its chest and then deflated. I surmised that it
must
be heavily and frequently sedated if it was held in this flimsy bamboo pen by a tiny nail and some rope. I was pretty sure even Bob, my cat, would have been able to paw that makeshift catch open.

I slid the nail out of the lock with my left hand while gripping my gun with the right. When the yeti didn’t stir, I tucked the nail in my pocket, aiming the point away from my groin.
Okay, time to slip out
, my cautious side said. I hated to leave all these creatures here, and I reeeeeally hated leaving the yeti to poachers. What were they planning to do to it? Devarsi hadn’t seen a yeti in this area for three years, he’d said, though he may have been lying. Still, they were so rare and should be protected.

The yeti lay like a fur lump in the pen. If I poked him with my foot, would that wake him? I tried it, just a gentle nudge at first and then a few swift, rapid kicks with my Keds. Nothing. If I could wake him and run, maybe he’d just escape town on his own? Something caught my eye beside the cage on the floor in a coil. Rope? I bent to inspect it with a gloved finger. A whip. Damn, why hadn’t I had this in the mummy’s tomb? I grabbed it and wrapped it in an awkward lump in my go-bag. If I was rescuing something today, this whip was comin’ with me. The whip handle clicked aside the canopic jar lid and I adjusted it… then cocked my head in consideration, looking between the jar and the yeti cage
. Hmmmmm
.

I heard Declan’s stage-whisper coming up the hall. “Company, Dr. B.”

That settled that. I whipped off a glove and fished around in the sticky goo with a bare finger until I snagged a little flake of mellified man. It was like fishing an egg shell chip out of a bowl of eggs; my finger pushed the flake around in the goo until I managed to wedge it against the side of the jar. I slid it up carefully, then crouch-shuffled close to the cage, trying to find the yeti’s face in all that curled up fur. I looked for the movement of fur under an exhale and spotted it. Sticking my bare hand near a sleeping yeti’s mouth might not have been the brightest thing I’d done this week, or it might have been a stroke of genius; I’d find out when I left the cave with or without my right hand.

“Company!” Declan whispered more frantically. I wiped the honey against the yeti’s lips.

There were shouts in the hallway; he’d been spotted. I hurried in his direction, but the sound of guns being cocked stalled my feet. A man with a clipboard stepped forward and two men dragged Declan around the corner.

“So, you wished to have your friend here ambush me,” Clipboard Dude said.

“Right. I’m a criminal mastermind,” I confessed. “You should just give me what I want before anybody gets hurt.”

“Foolish person,” he said, which struck me as funny.
Point: Clipboard Dude
. “What are you after? My money? You want my shoes? You can’t have them!”

“I don’t—what? Shoes?” I looked at his feet. His shoes were nice, but who steals someone’s shoes? “No. I just want a toenail, honest!”

“You lie. You lie to me! Now, you shall both face the challenges of the cage.”

Urk
. “See, I’m kinda busy,” I said. “I’m already on three challenges. They’re like quests, only shittier.”

“I do not care about your problems,” he said.

I huffed. “Rude. Quick, Declan, get him with your mad skills!”

Declan screwed up his face at me and said, “Huh?”

I sighed at him defeatedly.

Clipboard Dude said, “He is soft and awkward. He is no fighter. You! You will face the yeti!” He declared this with a finger in my face, up close and personal. 

I gave Declan what I hoped was the
okay-change-of-plans
look. Specifically, the
get-me-the-fuck-out-of-this
look. My mouth, on the other hand, was saying, “You’re damn right I will. I challenge you and your yeti to a match, Fight Club Guy!”

The gunman to the left offered, “He is called Arun.”

I brightened. “Oh hey, I knew an Arun in University. Your name means ‘sun’, right?”

“And I saw a Great White Shark in a newspaper! And then I saw one at my good friend Devarsi’s house,” Arun said, and he looked like he was hop-pouncing at me, though he was already right in my face. 

“Oh, you’ve heard of me.” I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

 “Get in the crate,” Arun demanded, pointing to one of the wooden boxes from which smelly liquids had leaked.

“It’s kinda small,” I told him.

“So are you. Get in the crate.”

“It’s ooky in there. Can we hose it down first?”

“Get in!” he yelled.

“Okay, okay,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Why doesn’t he have to get in?” I motioned at the
dhampir
.

“He’s coming with me.” Arun pointed at my Keds. “So are these.”

One of the gunmen took my shoes and socks off and nudged me with the butt of an AK-47 until I crawled into the crate. I tried not to look at my go-bag, sitting abandoned beside the unlocked yeti cage, and after they locked my crate up, I held my breath and prayed they wouldn’t notice it. They did not. I watched a very nervous Declan get led down the hall with the gunmen. Clipboard Dude scowled at me, said something in another language, and marched off.

TIME HAD BEGUN TO DRAG
, and after hours and hours without food, stuffed in the fetal position in the crate, with only a few fluorescents for light, I lost track. They had brought me only bottles of water, which I guzzled before I learned that this wasn’t a bright idea; no one was letting me out to use the ladies’ room. If I got out of this one alive, I’d brag to Golden about my pee gymnastics. I was sure she’d beam with pride.

I listened to the breathing of the other animals in the crates and cages, and indulged in some self-pity. I wasn’t sure how long I was crunched up in the stinking crate before I heard a familiar voice.

“’Nuik. You there?” A shuffle.

“Dev?”

He came into view, walking on two legs, and I breathed a sigh of relief, trying to shift in my crate. My knees ached. My jeans were sticky with fluids, most of them not my own. My werefox bite ached and my makeshift underwear-bandage was starting to smell funny. I still had a lump on my head from that shovel smack in Skulesdottir. I was tired, hungry, and had to pee again. “Dev, they took my shoes.”

“They took my leg. They’re obviously the bad guys.”

“Why did they take my shoes?”

“How should I know?” Dev whispered, “Listen. It’s sorted. They returned my prosthetic. I can get you and your monster friend — terrible liar, him, worse than you — set free if you take a dive in the second round.”

“A dive?”

“I told them who you are. I had to. They saw you steal my Jeep. They would have never given my leg back, maybe would have taken the other. I did some fast talking. They stand to make a killing on a fixed fight. Go down in the second, yes?”

“Marnie Baranuik goes down for no man!” I proclaimed. Then I heard it. “Wait…”

“’Nuik, just dodge the yeti for the first and fake a TKO in the second. The yeti will stop if you lie still. Like a bear, but with manners.”

I didn’t trust him as far as I could spit a hippo. “No deal. I want the yeti released to my custody. And I want to go down in the first. How much time do you think I have, for fuck’s sake? I’m probably already late. How long have I been here? What the fuck day is it?”

Dev said, “Saturday.”

I felt my eyes bulge. I did some quick math over the sound of boots behind Devarsi, lots of boots. “January
third?
I have less than forty-eight hours to get back to I-can’t-say-where with all my I-can’t-say-whats!”

Arun returned, still holding his clipboard in front of his belly like a shield or a kid’s favorite blanket.

“It’s time,” Arun told me, shoving Devarsi out of the way and opening the crate. I tried to stand up and my aching legs said otherwise, tumbling me in an inglorious heap. I stumbled against Arun, who grabbed my arm where I'd been bitten. I roared at him and tried to pull away. He slapped my shoulder with the clipboard and snarled. I hobbled down the hall barefoot toward the propped door, where two gunmen waited.

Declan was waiting just inside, also shoeless, shifting from one stockinged foot to the other in nothing more than a pair of light blue boxers. His pale, soft pecs were brushed with a light patch of dark hair and his bright green eyes were troubled.

“Get moving,” Arun said, and the gunmen gave us stern glares. “Both of you.” Declan and I put our shoulders together and shuffled through the door.

I scanned the room; in the center was a depressed, circular pit covered with a dome of what looked like chicken wire. On the bleachers around the cage, there were only about twelve people on benches that would seat maybe a hundred, clusters of people talking in hushed tones.

“This is the kind of crowd I draw?” I said.

Declan said out of the corner of his mouth, “Are you actually insulted about that?”

I was, a little. “So this brawl. Is it two-on-one?”

Declan nodded as guns prodded at our lower backs. There was a small door which squealed when Arun opened it. He stepped back for us to move past him, and, after a moment’s hesitation, we did.