Part 5: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/126v2po/bonesaw_vics_cryptozoological_gardens_part_5/
The second week with Vic went a lot smoother. I just kept telling myself, “Everything is fine,” until I more or less believed it was true. I mean, aside from the ever-present possibility of being murdered by monsters or arrested by homicide detectives, it basically was true. After all, I was now under the protection of King Murkus, an economy-sized monarch from the land of the Fae. To be honest, it didn’t really make me feel any safer. I understood the sprites were powerful entities who operate outside our perceptions of reality, but… geez, they were so small and cute, you know? A King Murkus doll would absolutely clean house at Christmastime. Every kid would want one.
Friday finally arrived. All day long, I breathlessly hoped Vic was going to tell me I would be paired up with literally anybody else for the next rotation. I didn’t give a flying fuck who it was, as long as it wasn’t Victor Bonicelli. At the end of the day, Vic stopped me in the changing room and said, “Hold up a minute. I got a proposition for you.”
I nodded and tried to look casual. My stomach was suddenly knotted with tension. Vic smiled down at me and said, “I got a temporary position that I need to fill, and I gotta do it ASAP. I’m going to make you the zoo ambassador. Just for a couple weeks, maybe three. It would save me the trouble of coming in here at night. I don’t do late nights no more, not if I can help it. I like to get my beauty sleep. What do you say?”
I stared at him in confusion. God almighty, what was happening now? I rubbed my temples and muttered, “What fresh hell is this?”
Vic narrowed his eyes at me. He grunted, “What was that? You say something just now?”
“Oh, nothing,” I said quickly, and I hastily added, “It sounds interesting, for sure. And what would I be doing as the… um, what was it again? The zoo ambassador?”
Vic’s frown smoothed out, and he clapped me on the shoulder. He said, “As the zoo ambassador, you’ll be using your expertise to monitor the safety of a film crew. Just a small crew, nothing crazy. They’ll be working in the Terrestrial wing next week. Let ‘em into the habitats so they can do their thing, and make sure they don’t get killed. That’s about it.”
I thought about what happened with Harry, and my fake smile wilted. I didn’t want to babysit a bunch of outsiders. They wouldn’t know how to act or what to do. It would be a nightmare.
Vic saw my expression and said, “Hey, I know what you’re thinking over there, Billy. You’re thinking, ‘I thought this was all a big secret! Why is there a famous director nosing around with a film crew?’ The answer is simple. See, there’s a whole untapped market out there, just waiting to get… um, you know, to get tapped. There’s lots of people out there who can afford the price of admission, but for one reason or another, they can’t come here to the zoo. Maybe they gotta lay low because they’re wanted by the FBI. Maybe it’s Interpol who wants ‘em, or maybe they had to run off to another country to avoid getting indicted. All kinds of people can’t show their faces here in America. Drug cartels, dictators, war criminals, the list goes on. Long story short, there’s all these people out there with money in their pockets, and they can’t hand it over to Victor Bonicelli. Doesn’t seem right, does it?
“But then I get this idea, you know? I thought to myself, ‘Hell, they don’t necessarily gotta come to me, do they? I can just take the zoo experience over to them!’”
I felt a ray of understanding dawn in my brain. I nodded and murmured, “Ohhh, okay. I see.”
“Yeah, isn’t it great?” Vic exclaimed. “A literal gold mine, this idea. I had my people find a director we could trust. A good one, not some hack. We rounded up a production crew, got our funding all lined up, and now they’re hard at work filming my masterpiece. It’s gonna be called, ‘Bonesaw Vic’s Cryptozoological Gardens: the Movie.’ Got a nice ring to it, don’t it?”
I gave him a skeptical look and said, “I don’t know much about making movies, but I do know it’s super expensive. Your movie could only be shown at private events, so I guess the price of admission is going to be pretty steep.”
“Fifty thousand per head,” Vic answered in a crisp, cheerful tone. “I know it sounds like a lot, but they’re not just paying to see the cryptids. They’re also paying for the convenience! If even a thousand people watch this thing, I’ll make at least thirty million dollars. I think it’s doable.”
Faintly, I said, “God-damn, that’s a lot of money. I can’t believe there’s people out there who can throw that much money around like it’s nothing.”
“For those kinds of people, fifty large is nothing,” Vic chuckled. “They piss away fifty grand before noon and they don’t even give a shit. So they can send it over to me instead, right? I’ll take good care of it. Anyhoo, what do you say, Billy? Just do this thing for me, and I’ll be very grateful. Wait, I got something here that’ll… ah, wait a second. Where did I put that friggin’… oh, there it is. Here, take it. Go on, it’s yours.”
Vic pulled something out of the hip pocket of his designer track suit and shoved it into my hand. It was a chocolate bar. He gave me a knowing look and folded his arms across his chest.
“You like candy bars, dontcha? Sure you do! Young people fuckin’ love candy bars. Hell, I love ‘em, too! What’s not to love, right? You gotta treat yourself sometimes. Anyway, there’s lots more where that came from, believe me. I got a hookup. Hershey’s, Milky Way, Snickers… hell, I even got them Mr. Big bars from north of the border! You ever had one of those things? They’re pretty fuckin’ good! I’ll tell ya, them Canadians know how to slap together a candy bar!”
I suppressed a bout of wild, cackling laughter. Vic was trying to literally sweeten the deal with a fucking chocolate bar. Instead, I gave him a solemn nod and said, “Thank you, Vic. Look, I’ll think about it, okay? I can tell Len my answer by, like, Sunday morning? Is that okay?”
Vic snatched the candy bar out of my hands and snarled, “No, it ain’t okay. Read the fucking room, wouldja? I’m trying to be nice about it over here, kid, but I’m not gonna take ‘no’ for an answer. The word ‘no’ don’t exist for people like me. Not coming from people like you, anyway. You have two options, either ‘Yeah’ or ‘Hell, yeah.’ Got it?”
Victor glared at me, and I felt my throat go as dry as a desert. I squeaked, “I see. Okay then, yeah. Hell yeah. Better?”
“Much better,” Vic agreed, and he pushed the chocolate bar back into my hands. “Meet the other ambassador in front of the Caretaker entrance by eleven PM on Monday night. Get suited up and escort the crew into the service tunnel. Watch out for them and keep them alive.”
I asked, “Wait, who’s the other ambassador?” and Vic gave me an apologetic smile.
“The other one is Esmerelda. Hey, come on, you’ll be fine. She’s a tough nut to crack, sure, but I think she’s got a soft spot for you. I mean, she ain’t punched you out yet, right? That’s a good sign.”
I started to grumble, but Vic was already walking away. He called over his shoulder, “Just do me this one favor, okay? You got this, Billy. Don’t even worry about it.”
I whispered, “God-dammit,” at his retreating backside, and I sat down on one of the benches that lined the walls. I felt miserable and lonely. I missed working with Kazimir. I missed his constantly dour non-expression, a look that fell somewhere between a faint scowl and a vague sadness. I missed his complete bafflement whenever he would discover something new about Western culture. I even missed the harsh bluntness of his banter. That was just his way, and I couldn’t imagine him any other way. I wanted to pay the guy a visit, but none of the Caretakers or their assistants were allowed to meet up outside of work. It was explicitly forbidden. I could only hope the big guy was on the mend, because he was sorely missed.
#
There was a knock on my door that night at just after ten PM. I turned down the volume on the TV and peeked through the peephole. It was Len. I stepped away from the door and called out, “Are you here to kill me? Because I’m not gonna let you in if you’re here to kill me.”
Len growled, “If I was here to do something like that, I wouldn’t be knocking. I’d just let myself in.”
I snapped, “Does everyone know how to pick a lock around here but me?” and I opened the door.
Len walked past me and muttered, “I don’t gotta pick the lock to get in here, Dumbo. I got a key. Whatcha watchin’ in here? You watchin’ the game?”
I followed him and asked, “What game?” to which he responded, “Any game, kid. I’m a sports junkie. I love it all. I’ll even watch bowling championships, swear to God.”
Len eased his bulk onto my couch with a deep sigh. He dumped a thick stack of Pringles into his hand from the canister on the coffee table and put up his feet.
“Make yourself at home,” I said sarcastically, and I sat down on the lumpy easy chair across from him. Len nodded agreeably and picked up the remote.
“You don’t just got basic cable, do ya? What the hell for? Come on, kid, you got some money now. Spend a little, for Christ’s sake.”
“Sorry, I haven’t had a chance to call them,” I apologized in a listless tone. I sat in silence as Len devoured my potato chips and hunted for sports on my TV. He settled on a rebroadcast of a golf game from earlier that day. I silently simmered and looked on as Len shoveled chips into his mouth and watched golf.
Finally, I cleared my throat and said, “Hey man, I have a question. What the fuck? I mean, seriously. What are you doing here?”
Len looked over with an expression of mild surprise. He pointed at the TV with the Pringles can and said, “We’re watching the tube and having some snacks. You know, hanging out.”
I stared at him for a few moments, too stunned to even blink, and then I started to laugh. I clapped my hands over my eyes and wheezed, “Is this really my life? Fuckin’ really?”
“Whatcha mean by that?” Len demanded. “What? Why are you laughing like a supervillain?”
I pointed at him and spat, “Because this is not how people hang out, Len! They’re not all like, ‘I’ll kill you because that’s my job,’ and then drop by later to watch golf and eat Pringles! You fuckin’ psycho.”
I surprised both of us with the anger in my voice. Len gave me a considering look and said, “Take it easy over there. I got bored out in the car, so I came up here to hang out for a while. Sheesh, what’s up your ass?”
“You!” I screeched, and I snatched the Pringles out of his hand. I shook the container at him and hollered, “You are what’s up my ass, Len! You are up my ass literally all the fucking time! You, Vic, the cops, those little Fae motherfuckers, all of you! All of you pieces of shit are waaaaay up my ass, and I! Can’t! Shit! You! OUT!”
Len let out a sigh and slumped back against the couch. It groaned in protest beneath his considerable girth. He said, “I understand where you’re coming from, but you’re outta line, Billy. In my world, someone like you don’t ever talk that way to someone like me. But even still, I understand where you’re coming from. That’s why I’m not gonna smash your face in, kid. Once upon a time, many years ago, it would be a different story. But I’ve grown a lot since then.”
Len shook a finger at me and added, “I’m talking about personal growth over here, smartass. I don’t wanna hear no fat jokes from you. You’re already walking on thin ice.”
Despite my anger, I had to laugh at this, and it was a genuine laugh. I felt my anger drain away, and suddenly I felt a little bad about yelling at him. I chuckled, “I wouldn’t dare. And thank you for not beating me up. I appreciate that.”
“Hey, don’t mention it,” Len muttered. He curled his fingers in a beckoning motion and grumbled, “Now give them Pringles back, wouldja? I’m starvin’ over here.”
I passed the canister over and said, “Hey, we could order some pizza or something, if you want. I already had supper, but I could definitely eat again.”
Len nodded enthusiastically and shoved a two-inch stack of chips into his mouth. He covered his mouth as he chewed - a curiously delicate gesture for such a Neanderthal-looking fellow - and he said, “Now you’re talkin’, Billy! Have you ever ordered from Gino’s? They’re over on Eighth Avenue. Delicious pizza and great calzones. Gino happens to be my nephew, but don’t hold that against him. Ha ha.”
Len was right; his nephew Gino made a great pizza. It’s a good thing we ordered two extra large pies, because Len demolished one of them all by himself. I dropped a chunk of crust on my plate and groaned, “That’s it, man. No more. I’m stuffed.”
“I’ve seen starving kids who’d knife you for that pizza crust,” Len admonished. “You should never waste food. It don’t matter how rich you are, wasting food is a sin.”
“You’re not wrong,” I agreed, “but I’m not the one making those kids starve. It’s the system.”
“People always blame the system, but we made the system,” Len countered, and he opened up another can of cola. He drained most of it in one go and let out a soft belch. “Back when I was collecting for Jimmy Nickels, we had this one guy who was a real piece of work. He was always getting himself in trouble. Cards, basketball, the ponies, the guy was a certified gambling addict. It was pretty sad. It got to the point where he was into Nickels for almost eighty grand. Don’t forget, there was the interest on top of that, too. There was no way in hell he would ever be able to dig his way out. Nickels took me aside and said, ‘Don’t worry about the money. He ain’t got it, and he ain’t never gonna get it, neither. Not that stupid prick. Just bring me his hand.’
“Well, I didn’t understand the point of doing that, but it wasn’t my place to question his orders. I just nodded and asked, ‘Which hand?’ Nickels said, ‘His dominant hand. Have you ever tried to wipe your ass with the other hand? It ain’t easy.’
“So I go over to this guy’s house early in the morning, and I wait for his wife to leave for work. The guy started crying and begging for his life as soon as he opened the door. I shoved him back inside and told him, ‘Relax, I ain’t here to kill you. Let’s talk in the kitchen.’ So we go to the kitchen, and I ask him, ‘Which one is your dominant hand?’ Turns out the guy’s completely ambidextrous. I made him demonstrate by signing his name with both hands. It was pretty impressive. So I flipped a quarter. Heads was left hand, tails was right. It came up tails, so I held the little prick over the sink with my gun to his head, and I chopped his right hand off with a meat cleaver.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair and murmured, “That’s fucking awful. Jesus Christ. How does this even relate to your original point?”
Len said, “Just a minute, kid,” and heaved himself up from the couch. He took both pizza boxes to the kitchen and called out, “You got a plate and some cling wrap in here? I’ll take care of this for ya.”
Len washed his hands in the sink and came back to the living room with another can of cola in each hand. He handed one to me, and then sank back onto the couch with a satisfied grunt.
“Anyway just before I swung the meat cleaver, the guy starts bitching that it wasn’t his fault he got into hot water. He blamed the system. Said it was making it impossible for him to realize his dreams. He said gambling was the only way the common man could ever hope to get ahead in life. I looked him in the eye with the cleaver hanging in the air, and I told him, ‘You can’t blame the system. It was us who made the system. We could all join together and stage a revolt at any time. Nothing’s stopping us. No matter how you slice it, it’s still your fault.’ And then I chopped his fuckin’ hand off.”
I grimaced and said, “That’s fuckin’ horrible. I mean, yeah, I guess it was his own fault, but still. What did Nickels do with the hand?”
“He gave it to his border collie,” Len said placidly. “Cute little guy. His name was Patches. As I recall, Patches ate a piece of the thumb and threw up on the carpet. Nickels tossed the hand in the incinerator after that. Poof! Gone.”
“Yeah, that’s grim,” I muttered. “Hey, I have another question for you, Len… um, that whole ‘Lenny the Barber’ thing…”
Len shifted in his seat and looked down at this lap. He said, “Back then, everyone was always hopped up on coke. It was everywhere. All the wiseguys were doing it. Not the older ones, the Mustache Petes, but a lot of us younger guys were flying almost all the time. It was the lifestyle, you know? Us guys would get too fucked up, and sometimes things would get out of hand.
“Anyway, I was out at a club with some of the guys one night, all of us coked up to the eyeballs. Mario Gibaldi gets into it with some asshole at the bar. I recognized the guy, and he wasn’t anything to worry about, if you know what I mean. Just another greasy mook with a big mouth. I wandered over and told him to make himself scarce. He turned away like he was about to leave, and then he took a swing at me. Well, that wasn’t gonna happen. Me and Mario cleaned his clock. Just went off and stomped the nuts and guts out of this prick. There was blood all over the bar, the floor, it was everywhere.
“So I go to yank him up by his hair and drag him out, right? And his friggin’ scalp almost comes off. I guess he musta had a pretty good split across his hairline, because it peeled back all the way to the crown of his skull.”
I stared at him in silent horror, Gino’s delicious pizza rolling in my guts. Lenny shook his head and rumbled, “Yeah, I know. It was pretty bad. The guys, though… the guys all thought it was the best thing they’d ever seen. They kept egging me on to do it again. After a while, it kinda became my trademark.”
I made the ‘time-out’ symbol with my hands and said, “Okay, that’s… that’s really bad. Just… ugh. Let’s stop right there.”
“You’re right,” Len said quietly. “It is really bad. But that’s who I was, and there’s no use pretending otherwise. Like I said, I’ve grown since then. I quit snorting the nose candy and got serious about the job. I started chasing a promotion in the ranks. And now here I am, babysitting your stupid ass, Billy. Some promotion, huh?”
“It’s better than ripping people’s scalps off,” I shot back, and Len gave me a wry grin.
“Fair enough, kid,” he murmured. “Anyway, I need to get serious here for a minute. Now, as Vic was saying the other day, the cops have been swarming around the past few weeks. They’re asking questions and busting balls. I didn’t think much about it at the time, because that’s just what cops do. Busting balls is kinda their thing. But Victor’s been getting curious about the whole thing, and that ain’t good. He wants to know who got rid of the hippie, and he wants to know why. Now, I ain’t gonna tell nobody what happened, and I’m sure you aren’t gonna be blabbing about it, either. But that don’t mean he won’t find out. He’s got a source on the outside, if you know what I mean.”
I gave him a puzzled frown and said, “No, I honestly have no idea what you mean. Like, I’m sure he’s got eyes in a lot of places, but that’s not what you’re talking about, is it?”
“Nah. I’m saying he’s got a source on the outside of reality. I’m talking about the succubus. Whenever Victor really wants to know something, he’ll feed someone to the succubus in return for information.”
“How would she know anything?” I demanded. “She’s locked up in a vault made of lead, for Christ’s sake.”
“Not all of her,” Len corrected. “She exists in two realities at once. She’s here in our world, and she’s also in the other world.”
Len was looking at me like I actually knew what he was talking about, which I certainly did not. I asked, “What other world? Are you talking about the afterlife?”
Len shrugged and said, “I dunno. If anyone’s ever gone there, they sure as hell didn’t come back. As I understand it, the other world is right beside us, but it’s also very far away. It’s kinda hard to explain, but trust me. She can see.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” I demanded, and I opened my soda can with a savage yank on the pull tab. “It’s not like I can sit down and ask her to stay quiet. I’d probably get eaten alive.”
Len stared at the TV, his eyes glinting beneath the heavy ridge of his brow. After a while, he said, “You’ll be working nights with that film crew for the next few weeks, right? There’s not many people around at night. Lots of opportunities, if you get my drift.”
I felt my heart miss a beat in my chest. I narrowed my eyes and asked, “What do you mean?”
“Well, maybe you should beat Vic to the punch. Offer the succubus a trade of your own.”
I gaped at him with growing dismay. I shrank away from him and said, “No freakin’ way. I can’t do that, Len. That’s too far.”
“Seems like you don’t got much choice,” Len observed in a dry tone. “If you can get her to stay quiet about the situation with the snitch, you’re golden. She always keeps a promise. If Vic gets there first, you’re a dead man. And unfortunately, I’ll probably be the one who makes you dead. So with all that in mind-“
I asked, “What about you?” and Len’s frown turned into a slanted smirk.
“I’ll be fine. I toldja already, you can’t touch a made man without permission.”
I snorted, “Really? Because I kinda doubt Vic got permission to turn Sal into a fucking vampire, my man! No, he just went ahead and did it. And what about Nickels? Did he get the green light to kill the boss and take over?”
“He didn’t have full support across the board, no,” Len admitted. “But that’s a whole different can of worms. What are you tryna say here, kid?”
“I’m saying he did it to Salvatore and Nickels, so what’s stopping him from doing it to you? Don’t act like you haven’t already thought about this.”
Len gave me a tired look. Reluctantly, he said, “Yeah, I’ll admit it crossed my mind. Look, kid, don’t get self-righteous on me. Don’t forget, the only reason I got rid of Vincent in the first place was to keep you out of trouble. Maybe I was right, maybe I was wrong. At this point, it doesn’t matter. It boils down to this, okay? We need to guarantee her silence, and we need to do it as soon as possible. If Vic gets there first, we’re gonna disappear. He’ll consider it housekeeping. Just keeping things clean and tidy.”
I jumped out of my chair and started pacing around my living room. I snapped, “I can’t believe you! You’re all like, ‘I know, we’ll cover up our involvement in this murder by committing another murder!’ What the fuck is that? I’m not gonna friggin’ kill somebody, okay? Are you crazy? The answer is no, Len, and I cannot stress that enough! Just fucking no! Nope! There’s gotta be another way.”
“Well, there ain’t,” Len countered wearily. “Listen to me here, okay? I can’t do this thing myself. If I could, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation right now. Thing is, I got no business hanging around the zoo after hours. If I went to the zoo at night, Vic would be wondering why. Nah, it has to be you. Look, I’ve met these people. Believe me, most of ‘em are douchebags. Just pick the one you hate the most and let nature take its course. Say it was an accident.”
I spun around to face him and choked, “An accident, Len? How the hell would that ever be an accident? You literally gotta punch in the code and pull the fucking door open! What am I gonna tell Vic? That I tripped and accidentally pressed all four buttons on my way down?”
“No, dumbhead,” Len grunted. “This is what you’re gonna do. On your first night, go talk to the succubus and make a deal. Don’t listen to any of her bullshit, and for Christ’s sake, don’t look in the friggin’ window. Just stand outside the door and do the talking in your head. When you reach an agreement, bring in the target and find an excuse to leave ‘em standing by her door. Maybe you forgot something, maybe you gotta take a piss, whatever works. The succubus will take care of the rest.”
I rubbed my temples and groaned, “This is fucked up. Okay, let’s say I actually go through with this. How and when do I give ‘the target’ the door code? There’s cameras and microphones all over the place.”
“I toldja, the succubus will take care of it. You don’t think she knows the door code? Of course she does. She knows just about everything.”
Len heaved himself to his feet and started heading for the door.
“Thanks for the pizza, kid. We should do this again sometime.”
I chased after him and exclaimed, “Are you not listening to me? I’m not going to do it!”
Len paused in the doorway and gave me a heavy-lidded stare. He said, “Do what needs to be done, Billy, or else. That’s all I can say. Have a good night.”
#
I sat in the indent Len had left in my couch and brooded for a long time. I didn’t think I had it in me to commit murder, especially not in cold blood. I didn’t know what to do. I was backed into a corner with no place to run.
I thought to myself, here goes nothing, and I yelled out, “Hey, King Murkus! It’s me, your loyal subject Billy Whitebread! You said I was under your protection, right? Well, I could use some help right about now, Your Majesty! Hello? Helloooo? Come on, where are you? I gave you my fealty and I fuckin’ really hope that actually means something! Come onnnnn, I need some protection over here!”
A low, raspy voice piped up by my elbow and asked, “What seems to be the problem, loyal subject?”
I flinched away in surprise and almost fell off the couch. There was a humanoid creature standing beside my couch. He was a bearded, scowling little guy that stood about two feet tall. My diminutive visitor was dressed like a working man from the early 1900’s, right down to the flat cap and suspenders. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to reveal hairy, muscular little forearms. One of them sported an anchor tattoo, and the other was adorned with a crudely drawn mermaid. He looked like a cross between a toddler and a dock worker.
I demanded, “Who are you and what are you?”
He gave me an incredulous look and asked, “What do you think I am, a giraffe? I’m obviously a gnome!”
He held out a tarnished badge that was pinned to his shirt and added, “Sheriff Bloddo the Brave at your service. How can I be of assistance?”
I held up my hands and said, “I’m still learning about all that stuff. No disrespect.”
The gnome rolled his eyes at me. He muttered, “Why are humans so ignorant of the natural world? Well, what is the nature of your emergency?”
“Someone’s going to kill me.”
“Who?” the gnome demanded. “I don’t see anyone but you and myself. Why do they want to kill you, and when?”
“Not just yet,” I admitted. “I mean, no one’s trying to hurt me right at this very moment, but it’s probably going to happen soon.”
Bloddo gave me a withering look and growled, “Did you know it’s a crime to abuse the King’s protection? You’re too pretty for the dungeon, my boy.”
I shook my head violently and said, “No, this is real. Uh, how do I explain this? So, I have to make sure my boss doesn’t find out about some stuff that happened. If he does, he’ll probably kill me. The only way I can do that is to feed someone to a succubus. I really, really don’t want to do that. Does that make any sense?”
Bloddo gave me a sour look and said, “No, none at all. Nonetheless, I can already tell this is a waste of my time. If you aren’t already being attacked, there is nothing I can do.”
I felt my heart sink. “So what am I supposed to do?” I demanded. “You won’t help me until after I’ve already been murdered?”
“I’m afraid so,” Sheriff Bloddo agreed. “This individual hasn’t committed a crime. I can’t protect you from an act of violence that isn’t happening, can I? Our laws don’t work that way.”
“Look, all I need is for King Murkus to intervene somehow,” I pleaded. “Can he talk to the succubus for me? I mean, he’s King of the Magic Folk, right? He’s gotta have some pull out there.”
“Demons and demigods have their own government,” Bloddo interjected briskly, and he started for the door. “Sorry, but King Murkus isn’t the Supreme Ruler of All Creation. He has his own subjects to worry about, and I think he does an excellent job. This sounds like a matter for the civil courts. Call me if you’re being murdered.”
I watched with my mouth hanging open as Bloddo walked through the wall beside the door and disappeared. I couldn’t believe it. Even in the world of magic creatures, bureaucracy was the real king.
I croaked, “Well, fuck me then, I guess,” and, for the first time in my life, I attempted to punch a hole in the drywall. I hit a spot that was supported by a wall stud and banged up my knuckles instead. My anger instantly evaporated in a wave of pain. Swearing to myself like a sailor, I cradled my bleeding fist against my chest and rinsed my wounds in the kitchen sink.
As I watched the spidery threads of crimson swirl down the drain, I tried my damndest to not start blubbering like a baby, and I failed miserably. It appeared there would be no way around this horrible dilemma. In order to save my own hide, I would have to sacrifice someone else in the worst way possible. Kaz had told me the succubus devours her prey completely, mind, body, and soul. I could barely even think about it without feeling sick to my stomach.
But therein lay the true dilemma; I didn’t want to die, either. So just how far was I willing to go in order to save my own hide? It appeared I was about to find out. I had never felt so incredibly alone before. This situation was too big to face on my own, but who could I turn to?
Kazimir, that was who. I had to find Kaz. He would know what to do. It was forbidden for the Caretakers to speak to each other outside of work (not to mention that I didn’t even know where he lived) but I desperately needed to hear his voice. I had roughly seventy-six hours to find him - lots of time, really - but I had no idea where to start looking.
A light bulb flickered inside my stressed-out brain. The zoo, that’s where I could start. They might have a record of our addresses at work. According to Victor himself, nobody paid much attention to the cameras on the weekend. I would just tell the guards that I left something in my changing booth, and then I would sneak into the office to talk to Miss Dahlia. There was no guarantee she would tell me where to find Kaz, but it was probably the best place to start. Ah yes, the beautiful Miss Dahlia with her raven hair and enormous eyes, the achingly gorgeous and compelling Miss Dahlia…
“Shut up, idiot,” I said out loud. “She can definitely do better than you, so calm down.”
The main problem was Len. I wasn’t often aware of his presence, but I knew he was probably following me around. I would have to shake him off my trail before I could visit Kaz. But how?
The light bulb gave me another flicker, and I smiled to myself. I knew exactly how I could make him forget about tailing me for a while. It was risky, but it would work.
It was best not to dwell on that. I was learning many lessons during my time at the zoo, but the most important lesson was this: don’t think too hard about what might go wrong, or you’ll never get the courage to get out of bed in the morning.
Softly, I murmured, “I’m coming to see ya, Kaz. I sure hope you have some ideas over there.”
At that moment, the phone began to ring. I answered it and accidentally opened another Pandora’s Box of sheer insanity. Such is life when you’re a Caretaker’s Assistant…