Symphony of Blood, A Hank Mondale Supernatural Case (20 page)

The bug flew lower. The creature didn’t move, its dull skin made it hard to spot against the dark backdrop of the tank. The bug flew lower still. The creature’s tongue lashed out, and the bug stuck to it, and was quickly curled back into the scaly creature’s mouth.

It launched out its own tongue into the air, finding itself joyful at the crafty creature’s success.

What an odd and wonderful place.

It marveled at how well they seemed to get along. The monkeys grooming one another. The lions procreating while their cubs frolicked. Even the pigs seemed to enjoy each other’s company.

Yet the scaled creature seemed to live all alone and be quite content. Was the creature always alone, the way It was?

It reflected back on its own origins, and remembered It was not always alone. It began as one of at least a dozen hatchlings, all crammed together for warmth in the cool, damp crawlspace of the music school. It was there that It first learned to love the symphony. Some days, the finest students played beautiful music for hours on end. The little hatchling would listen intently, knowing that when the music ended, there would be a flock of students to hunt. The more out of tune the band was, the more excited It became; the youngest students were always the most out of tune, as well as the easiest to catch. It was never truly easy though, and It was the only hatchling to survive. Most of the others couldn’t find enough food to satisfy their body’s needs, while some met with violent ends at the hands of men in dark blue shirts who came in to spray filthy poisons into the crawlspace.

It despised humans for their sentimentality, but staring at the lone creature—whose skin color was back to bright green now that it had caught its prey—gave It a newfound understanding of the silly needs of the humans.

The sobering smell of the girl hit its nose. She was close, perhaps closer than It should have let her get. It followed her scent out of the small manmade tree, back out into the open air.

The stone path sloped downward slightly; she was still out of sight, but she couldn’t be far. She’d walked down the path just moments before. She was ahead of It, and not by much.

Swaying maple trees stood ahead as It walked north up the path, further and further away from the rest of the animals. The path turned at a lazy angle, now heading northwest. It took a glance back; the small manmade tree and animal cages were almost out of sight. It still didn’t see her, but It smelled her. She was close.

It followed the stone path, slowing its pace. Was she alerted to its presence? Had she seen the vagrant walking up her stone path? Would she call for the two large men to help her?

The human scent was fresh and distinct. She was near, and she was alone.

To the north and east was nothing but woods and brush. The path twisted west. On each side of the path was slightly overgrown green soft ground, as if cut regularly, but not recently. The path wrapped around a clearing, and a whitewashed wall that was the back of a low manmade tree stood ahead. The wall ran about fifteen yards across, and at the back, just slightly to the left side stood a door. The door was open just a crack. It walked towards the door, slowly and very cautiously.

It stopped at the door and touched the handle, dull in color but made of a sturdy metal. A small bit of cobweb stuck to its hand as It pulled away. It licked its hand. She’d touched the handle recently.

Pushing forward the door, It walked inside. It took a few steps in, then heard the door slam shut behind it.

Sickness rose up from the pit of its stomach. Anxiety rushed through its veins. Ten yards in front of It were rails that formed a semicircle, each rail just a few inches apart from the next. It wheeled around, but the door had already shut. There was no handle on this side. It touched the door, scratching from top to bottom and from side to side, but there were no weaknesses in the structure.

Coming around from the back side of the cage, It smelled her, then saw her. It realized the huge mistake It had made in thinking she was the prey and It the predator. A human had never reversed the roles on It before. It had always waited for the human to make a mistake, and then pounce. Suddenly, its own mistake had left It open to whims of the girl, just like all the other animals she possessed.

Already tired and hungry from travel, It suddenly felt incredibly weak.

It no longer had the strength to maintain the cover on its eyes. Its tail was still tucked in tight, but the humanlike skin that covered its appendages was loosening.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

It turned away, and said nothing.

“How did you get in here? You don’t belong here.”

It still said nothing, shielding its face from her, trying to keep its camouflage intact, but feeling the receding hairline recede further.

“I am going to get my daddy down here and he will call the police. You are going to jail tonight, mister.”

It sat down on the floor and crouched down, curling up in a tight ball. There was a strong odor of a hairy mammal in the enclosure; the remnants of whatever had occupied it previously.

“Do you hear me?” she said. Then louder, “I am talking to you!”

The pressure was more than It could stand. Its face began to peel.

“That’s it. I am calling the police.”

“No.” It muttered in a pitiful, guttural tone that had no guise of humanlike quality.

She stepped closer to the rails. “What did you say?”

“No police,” it croaked. It recalled the angry man in blue clothing at the footbridge, and the blue and white wheeled box underneath the tracks that stood above the hard ground. Were they police?

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“You look at me right now or I am calling the police. You hear me?”

It sat up. It was hungry, but the fear was much worse. It cupped its hands over its face.

Her voice was softer than before as she said, “Move your hands. I want to see your face.”

Slowly, It moved its hands, revealing its narrow black eyes with garnet-red pupils.

“What are you?” she whispered.

“Hungry.”

She made a short joy-noise. “Oh, you poor baby,” she said in the same tone she’d used when speaking to her monkeys, “You’re hungry.” She shook her head, grimaced and squinted, then said, “No, I mean what are you?”

It took a deep breath, not wanting to give in, but It was weak, hungry and very fearful. It could no longer preserve the camouflage; the price in energy was too high. It grabbed its peeling face and ripped it off.

“My goodness.”

Nausea turned its stomach in knots, and It had to purge.

“Yuk,” she said as green fluid spewed from its mouth and nose, coating the hard ground floor of the cage.

Slowly and systematically, It shed the entire human façade. The hair, the skin, the nails and the teeth. The ritual much the same each time, and every bit as painful. It cried out and rolled in pain as she cried along with it, her noises alternating between sympathetic and horrified. Then It walked, four-legged, and curled up behind a nature tree stump that sat in the far corner.

“You poor thing. Don’t be frightened. I won’t hurt you.”

It tried to curl tighter and squash down lower behind the three-foot stump, hoping to disappear from the girl’s sight.

“I’ve seen you before, haven’t I? In the woods.”

There was unbearable silence as she stopped talking. It tried to hide. If only the stump was larger.

“You ate Bobby. You followed me.”

It kept trying to curl tighter, but she could still see It.

“You followed me all the way here? That is amazing. You must have quite a sense of smell.” She paused. “Aren’t you going to talk to me? I’m Mackenzie. I’ll be your friend, and you’ll be mine. Understand?”

“Understand,” It replied.

“You do understand!”

“Yes.”

She walked around the side of the cage, as close to the corner as she could get, while still standing outside the cage. It got up to its knees and slowly crawled towards the middle of the cage.

“No, sweetie. Don’t run away from me. Come closer.”

It turned, then slowly walked closer.

“Closer. Come on.”

It moved a little closer.

“I am Mackenzie. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“Ma-ken-
zeeeeee
.” The last syllable hung in the air, then tailed off.

“Do you have a name?”

It didn’t reply.

“Name? What should I call you?”

“No name,” It said. It had walked among them, watching the red, hot ball shine and disappear countless times, but It had never been asked such a question before.

“You don’t have a name? Well, I’ll make one for you. You need a name. What do you like? Besides eating…”

“Like?”

“What makes you happy?”

It took a moment to process her question. What did It like? The beautiful sounds of the music school filled its head. Despite its hunger, fear and weakness, the thought of the music was soothing.

“Music.”

“Music! You like music?” Her enthusiasm was uncontained. It wished It could grab the energy she gave off and eat it. “What kind of music? Rock music? I like Hip Hop. I’ll get you some. I want you to like your new home.”

“Symphony.”

“You like the symphony?”

“Symphony.”

“Okay, Symphony, I will get you some music. Symphony. I think that is a perfect name for you.”

“Hungry. Very hungry.”

“Yes. I know. I will get you some food too.”

* *

The red, hot ball in the sky went away, then came back, then went away again. It huddled in the darkest corner of the cage when there was light; the hidden edge of the nature tree stump served as its bed. When the hot ball appeared again, It hunched in the far corner of the cage; despite its love of the red ball’s comforting heat, It didn’t want to be seen.

An unfamiliar odor hit its nose. The smell of a man, near, coming towards the cage. Mackenzie was with him.

Who was she bringing?

It curled up tighter, trying to twist itself into a ball that could somehow bounce out of the mess It was in. The dark corner of the large cell was the only place It could bounce to.

“This way, Mario,” she said. It could hear her voice, but she wasn’t in view.

“Boy, Mackenzie, we need to get a mower up here. This grass is really overgrown.” The man spoke funny; his words were distinct, but he didn’t pronounce them the same way she did.

“You can do that later, Mario. I need you to help me clean the cage.”

“I know, you told me. I help you, Mackenzie.”

“Here, I’ll open the cage.”

The jingling sound of keys fumbling sent It further into the corner, curling up as tight as It could. As far out of the red ball’s light as It could go.

The door opened, and a man stepped through. He was a short and thin man, looked to be many years older than Mackenzie; his messy skin looked rotten like it had seen too much of the red, hot ball.

Instead of following the man into the cage, Mackenzie quickly shut the door behind him. Then It heard the door snap shut.

“Mackenzie!
Whadya
doing?” He was facing the door and making joy-noises. It was confusing how the humans made the same joy-noises when they were happy or scared. But the man’s body movements were clear: he was uncomfortable.

Despite the pains of hunger It felt, It stayed curled in the corner. The man wasn’t big, but he seemed fit. If It conserved energy, the man would get hungry and weak too, soon enough.

Patience and discipline were its friends. A xylophone belted out a mellow jazz tune softly in its head as It remained still in the corner.

“Mackenzie! This isn’t funny. I have work to do. Let me out.” The man banged at the door, still not looking around the cage.

Mackenzie came around to the side of the cage closest to It. Her body language also looked uncomfortable, or unhappy; It wasn’t quite sure which.

“What are you waiting for?” she whispered. “Eat him. Eat him the way you ate Bobby.”

The man heard her whispers and turned towards her. His face widened to expose teeth that were yellow and bent as he began walking over. “That’s enough, Mackenzie. Open the door now. Be a good girl and open up.”

As he walked closer, he saw It huddled in the corner.

“Ah! What’s that?” He sidestepped away from It while twisting his body awkwardly. “Mackenzie! What is that?”

“What are you waiting for?” She was no longer whispering. “You said you were hungry. Eat. Eat him. I brought you dinner. Eat him, now!”

“Mackenzie! This isn’t funny. Now, open the door! Right now!”

The hard ground inside the cell moved as the man pounded on the door. It didn’t like it, but It knew the man was panicking, wasting precious energy, allowing his heart to beat rapidly. His wavy hair was turning grungy with sweat.