The Menagerie #2 (5 page)

“And the protection of all other supernatural animals,” said Zoe's dad, looking stricken.

“No, it isn't,” Zoe said, suddenly remembering something. She'd read about a case like this in a SNAPA history guide—well, not exactly like this, but close enough.

“I beg your pardon?” said Dantes.

“Dragons are higher-order, sentient beings,” said Zoe. “Not like basilisks or kelpies—more like griffins or phoenixes. That means when they're accused of something, especially something with a death penalty, they're entitled to a fair trial. It's a SNAPA rule.”

Agent Dantes snapped her phone shut and pushed her hair behind her ears, frowning. With a snort, Runcible pulled out his tablet again and started tapping. After a moment, he sighed.

“She's right,” he said. “We'll need a SNAPA authority to be the judge. And lawyers. And—” He paused as if it pained him to say the next bit. “And a jury of his peers.”

“
What?
” Dantes and Mr. Kahn said simultaneously.

“Like, twelve other dragons?” Logan asked. Zoe couldn't imagine where they would put twelve dragons in the Menagerie, let alone how they would feed them, even for a day.

“No, no,” said Runcible. “No more than six mythical creatures, and they don't all have to be dragons—even Mostly Humans can serve as jurors. And we'll need a caladrius or a qilin.”

“A caladrius is a truth bird,” Zoe whispered, seeing Logan's puzzled expression. “A qilin is kind of like a Chinese unicorn.”

“That doesn't really clear things up,” he whispered back.

“Camp Underpaw lost their qilin this summer,” said Dantes. “And even if we could get the caladrius from the Oregon menagerie, who would want to represent this miserable creature?” She waved her hand at Scratch.

“We will,” Mr. Kahn said, and the agents both turned to frown at him. “Give us two weeks to investigate internally. Please.”

“You have until Thursday,” said Runcible, shoving his tablet back into his bag. “And we will be staying to oversee this ‘investigation.' Meanwhile, I will be writing my report on all the reasons this place should be shut down, which will go straight to my superiors once the dragon is found guilty.”

“I understand,” said Mr. Kahn.

“But if he's not guilty—” Logan interjected. “I mean, if we prove that Scratch is innocent, then you'll reconsider. Right?”

The agents exchanged glances. “We'll see,” said Agent Dantes.

“Don't worry,” Logan said to Zoe. “I'm sure Scratch had nothing to do with what happened to Pelly.”

I hope you're right, Logan
, Zoe thought. But she could see the looks on the SNAPA agents' faces, and it was hard to disagree with their skepticism. There was the broken anklet right there. There was Scratch's shifty, strange behavior and the blood on his teeth. And there was his history with Pelly, which the agents didn't even know about.

All signs point to guilty. And if this
was
all our fault and we lose the trial, that means the end of Scratch
. . .
and the end of this Menagerie.

“S
o what do we do first?” Logan asked, pulling off his fireproof helmet as he caught up with Zoe at the base of the cliff. He would have been happy to stay and watch the dragons all day, but the SNAPA agents had declared Scratch a Potential Class X Threat, whatever that meant, and sent everyone away.

“
You
should go home,” Zoe said. She tugged off her gloves and dug a small notebook out of an inside pocket of the suit. Logan recognized it as the one where she wrote her to-do list in code. “You haven't been home in forever.”

That was true. Friday night, Logan had stayed in Blue's room so the Kahns could keep an eye on him. That was before they decided to trust him and promised not to use kraken ink to erase his memories of the mythical creatures. And Saturday night he'd been stuck in a secret staircase in Jasmin's house with Zoe and the last missing griffin cub, hiding until it was safe to sneak out.

Now it was Sunday morning, and his dad would definitely think it was weird if Logan didn't get home soon, no matter how pleased he was that Logan had finally found a friend. (Meaning Blue. Logan hadn't said anything about Zoe to his dad. Being friends with a girl was too complicated for parents to understand.)

“I don't have to rush home,” Logan said, checking his phone. There weren't any messages from his dad yet. “We should make a list of suspects, witnesses, and possible alibis for Scratch. Hey, maybe the other dragons could testify that he was in his cave all night.”

“Not if they were sleeping,” Blue said. He'd already pulled off the whole suit and had it bundled under one arm, except for the giant boots, which looked pretty silly with his jeans. Logan started to do the same, unzipping his own fireproof jacket as Blue continued. “Dragons sleep pretty soundly. And they're unreliable witnesses because they'll lie just for fun. Most courts won't hear their testimony.”

“Oh,
no
!” Zoe yelped with dismay, dropping her helmet. She took off running down the path toward the lake, stuffing her notebook back inside her suit.

“What?” Logan called after her. “What is it?”

“It was my turn today!” Zoe called back. “According to the chore chart! I bet nobody else thought to do it!”

Logan gave Blue a quizzical look as he bent to pick up Zoe's helmet. “Really suddenly urgent chores?” Blue shrugged and they both hurried after her, although in the boots it was less like running and more like stomping on the moon.

Zoe turned to follow a path that wound around the giant lake. Ahead of her was a squat structure with a sloped roof. Snakes were carved all along the outside as if they were crawling out of the woodwork.

As she reached the building's front door, Blue stopped abruptly. Logan turned and saw a weird look on Blue's face.

“What?” Logan asked.

“Um,” said Blue. “You know, actually, maybe I should—uh—go . . . investigate . . . something . . . somewhere else.”

“Oh, come
on
, Blue,” Zoe called. “We have to feed them
right now
or else they'll turn on each other and probably burn down the Reptile House. I promise they won't bite. They literally don't even have teeth.”

“I know,” Blue said, shoving one hand in his pocket and shaking his hair out of his eyes. “I mean, that's not even why. I just think I could do something more useful—uh, elsewhere.”

“Whoa,” Logan said. “Something in there really freaks you out. What is it? Some kind of man-eating monster? Like a giant mythical flying crocodile?”

“Basically,” Blue said.

“Except for how it's the opposite of that,” Zoe said, rolling her eyes. “Blue, if you don't get in here, I'll steal your phone and text Jasmin about what a great time you had this morning.”

Blue pointed at her. “Low.”

He shook out his fireproof suit and started putting it back on.

“Should I do that, too?” Logan asked, alarmed.

“Totally not necessary,” Zoe said. “The gloves can be helpful, but they're really harmless, as long as you feed them on time every morning. Blue, seriously, of all the things in here to worry about—”

“I'm not worried,” Blue said, muffled through the giant fireproof mask. “Carry on.”

Zoe shook her head and pulled out her phone. She tapped a few buttons and stood looking at it for a moment, muttering, “Come on, come on.”

“Are you . . . calling the giant flying crocodile?” Logan asked.

“No, this is for the basilisk,” Zoe said. She tapped one more button, and her phone started crowing like a rooster. “There.” She hit the button again, opened the snake-covered door, threw her crowing phone inside, and slammed the door behind it.

There was a pause.

“Do I want to know what just happened?” Logan asked.

“That should be long enough,” Zoe said. She opened the door again cautiously, waited a minute, and then stuck her head inside. “Yup.” She glanced back at Logan. “Do you know what a basilisk is?”

“Some kind of lizard?” Logan guessed. “Wasn't there one in
Harry Potter
?”

“Right,” Zoe said. “Come on, I'll show you what they really look like.”

Logan glanced at Blue one more time and followed Zoe into the building. It was really dim inside, like a zoo or aquarium where the only light came from inside the animal cages. It took Logan's eyes a moment to adjust.

To his left, taking up most of one wall, was a glass enclosure that radiated heat. Its floor was covered in sand and a few large gray rocks. Conked out on the sand was a perfectly hideous giant lizard who was almost as long as Logan was tall. A spiky crest fanned out around the top of its head like a small crown, and its stumpy legs ended in thick claws. Its scales were grayish-green with white spots as if someone had splattered it with milk. Its eyes were closed and a weak snoring sound came from its snout, which lay on the sand in a puddle of drool.

“You're scared of that?” Logan said to Blue. “It looks like some kind of ancient grandpa lizard.”

“That's not what he's afraid of,” Zoe said as Blue made a muffled grumbly noise. “Although Basil is probably the most dangerous animal in the Menagerie.” She picked up her phone and crouched to peer at the lizard through the glass. “If you look a basilisk in the eye, it kills you instantly. If you hear a basilisk hiss, it kills you instantly. If you smell a wide-awake basilisk—”

“It kills you instantly?” Logan guessed.

“No, but you'll regret it for days,” Zoe said. “Trust me, I know. I couldn't eat for a week the first time I got a whiff of one.” She pulled a lever on the side of the cage and a small door opened in the enclosure wall. A pile of fruit—kiwis, apples, and figs—tumbled onto the sand by the basilisk's head, but it didn't even stir.

“So, the phone thing . . . ,” Logan said.

“The sound of a rooster crowing knocks them unconscious,” Zoe said. “So we all got rooster ringtones. You should get one, too.”

Logan liked the way she said that, as if she was sure he'd be sticking around.

“Once we check that Basil is still breathing—he's ridiculously old, like four hundred or something—and send his food in, we hit this button,” Zoe said. A panel slid down to cover the glass and hid the basilisk from sight. “It's soundproof, too, so we can work in here without worrying about him waking up. Although he usually doesn't, and even when he does he kind of wanders around bumping into the walls for a while before he finds the fruit.”

Blue was leaning against the wall in a way that looked sort of casual and nonchalant, but also like he might suddenly bolt out the door any minute. Logan turned and scanned the rest of the room, but the other two walls were lined with long tables that only had small cages on them, not much bigger than the terrarium Logan had at home for his mice.

“Where's the man-eating crocodile?” Logan asked Blue.

“Here,” Zoe said, lifting the top off one of the cages and sticking her hand in. A thin red lizard, about as long as a pencil and the same color as a tomato, emerged from the pile of pebbles inside and climbed up onto Zoe's glove. Its small red tongue flickered in and out and it tilted its head at Logan, studying him with bright black eyes.

Logan raised his eyebrows at Blue.

“I never said man-eating,” Blue pointed out.

“You never said adorable, either,” said Logan. “Are you afraid of all incredibly cute things, or only the ones smaller than your average banana?”

“Oh, sure, it's funny now,” Blue said as Zoe started laughing. “Pyrosalamanders are going to kill us all in our sleep one day. Look at that face. It's got an evil plan.”

The tiny lizard smiled serenely.

“Pyrosalamanders?” Logan asked.

“That's what we call the fire-eating kind of salamander,” Zoe said. “The kind that counts as supernatural and has to be protected from the rest of the world.”

“It's the rest of the world that needs protecting from them,” Blue muttered, eyeing the lizard suspiciously.

“They can be slightly bad tempered,” Zoe admitted. “Especially if they're not fed regularly. Sorry we're a bit late, little guy.” The salamander flicked its tail and stared at her. “But so far no menagerie in history has ever reported a salamander-related casualty.”

“That's because they're biding their time,” Blue said. “Can we hurry up and get out of here?”

Zoe nudged the pyrosalamander back into its rock pile. She unlocked a box on the table and took out a lighter, then picked up a twig from a pile of branches next to it, set it on fire, and dropped it into the cage. As she set the lid back on top, the salamander darted over to the fire and flung itself into the flames. Wriggling contentedly, it opened its mouth and started gobbling at the fiery air.