The Menagerie (7 page)

Too late,
Squorp cried.

The beautiful red bird burst into flames.

ELEVEN

“N
O!” Logan yelled. He leaped forward, yanked off his hooded jacket, and threw it over the fire. Flames burst right through the fabric, taller than him, and he staggered back in the face of the blazing heat.

“What do we do?” he shouted to Zoe. She looked too astonished to react. A large palm frond was lying beside the nest, and Logan snatched it up and began beating at the fire. They'd had a fire scare at his apartment in Chicago once, soon after Mom left, when something got stuck in the toaster and small flames started shooting out the top. But this time there wasn't a fire extinguisher under a nearby sink.

And then, all at once, the fire collapsed and went out. The only thing left was a pile of charred black ashes as high as Logan's knee.

“Oh, no,” Logan said. He crouched beside the ashes, feeling sick. The palm frond slipped out of his fingers. “That beautiful bird.”

“We should videotape this,” Matthew said to Zoe. “Nero hasn't gotten a reaction like that in about six hundred years. It would totally make his century.”

“Nasty, horrible creature,” Pelly the goose spat from her nest. “Did you see that? He
deliberately
tried to set my nest on fire.”

“I can't believe you did that,” Zoe said, her thin hands fluttering toward Logan. “I mean—your jacket . . .”

“It's not important,” Logan said. He could feel heat coming off the ashes, with curls of smoke that smelled like vanilla and dates. “I can't believe we just watched something amazing die. Are they terribly endangered?”

“Well, in a way. Nero's the only one in the world.” Zoe's dad stepped through another vine curtain on the far side of the nest. “But he's all right, young man. He's a phoenix. He'll be back.”

Logan blinked as Mr. Kahn crouched beside him and stirred the ashes with a stick. “See?” Zoe's dad said. “There's an egg in here.” A shimmering golden-white eggshell glinted through the black ashes. “Nero will be reborn from that in about . . .” Mr. Kahn checked his watch. “Half an hour.”

“So if you could hang out beside the egg until then, sobbing with despair, it'd be really great for his self-esteem,” Matthew suggested.

“I'm not sobbing with despair,” Logan said crossly. He thought someone might have mentioned this was a magical regenerating bird before he'd burned up his jacket. Dad was really not going to be psyched about that.

“It used to happen only every five hundred years,” Mr. Kahn explained, “but over time Nero's worked out how to speed it up. He's quite an expert at incinerating himself whenever he's upset about something.”

“So, like, three or four times a day, at least,” Zoe added.

Logan felt his cheeks getting warm. No wonder nobody else had reacted. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Well, you didn't know,” Zoe's dad said, helping him to his feet. “But it was brave of you to try to help. So . . . who are you?”

Zoe and Matthew both started talking at once, and Squorp took the opportunity to wriggle out of Matthew's arms and bound over to Logan. The warm griffin wings brushing his hands made Logan feel less self-conscious. He picked up Squorp and scratched under his chin the way Matthew had.

“Mork,” Squorp gurgled, nestling into Logan's chest. His beak poked around Logan's collar, and Logan felt a tug. He looked down in time to see one of his shirt buttons disappearing into the griffin cub's mouth.

“Hey, quit that,” Logan said. “I need all the clothes I have left.”

“It's really not my fault, Dad, I swear,” Zoe was saying. “I promise I didn't tell him anything at school, and I definitely didn't let him into the house. I don't know how he got in. I've barely ever spoken to him.”

“These things happen,” Mr. Kahn said. “He's not the first townie to accidentally get in here. We'll deal with it the usual way. But then, I must say I've never heard of anyone talking to griffins at this age before.” He scratched his beard, looking at Logan as though he were able to whistle under­water. “What did you say your name was?”

“Logan Wilde.”

“I see. And what do your parents do?”

“Nothing important.” Logan didn't want to admit that his dad was with the wildlife department in case that scared the Kahns. “It's just me and my dad now.”

Zoe's dad shook his head, watching Squorp. “Most unusual, your connection with the griffin. What's he saying now?”

Logan glanced down at Squorp. “He's kind of mumbling about delicious buttons. Don't even think about it, cub.”

“Hey, little fellow,” Mr. Kahn said. He bent down to meet Squorp's eyes. “What were you doing outside the walls?”

Much delicious food outside walls! But not much treasure. Thought there'd be more. Clink PROMISED us treasure.

At Logan's smile, Mr. Kahn looked up. “What did he say?”

“He said he liked the food, but there wasn't as much treasure as he'd thought there would be. He also says someone named Clink promised him treasure.”

“Interesting. Who's Clink, buddy?”

Big furry bossy furry BOSSY. Escape her idea! And THEN outside, Clink all Okay BYE and leaves us! Probably found all the treasure and keeping it for herself. Bossy bossy.

Logan relayed this to the Kahns, more or less. Zoe snapped her fingers. “The big black griffin cub,” she said. “I bet that's who he means. She always pushes the others around and decides who eats when and what they're going to play.”

Bossy BOSSY,
Squorp grumbled.

“So they're out looking for treasure,” Mr. Kahn said. “That is useful to know.” He frowned. “Maybe you're right, Zoe—maybe they're all in town, not out in the wild where we've been looking.”

“I think so, Dad,” she said. “I mean, we saw at least four different kinds of feathers between school and the library and the post office.”

Her dad sighed. “That makes things a lot harder. Well, let's get you back to your parents, at least,” he said to Squorp.

Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo,
Squorp wailed, burying his head in Logan's neck. His beak jabbed uncomfortably into Logan's collarbone, but Logan didn't mind.

“It'll be all right,” he said, stroking Squorp's golden fur. “Maybe I can come back and visit sometimes. I can even bring you hamburger meat, if they let me.”

He looked up and caught Matthew shaking his head at Zoe. That didn't look promising. But now that he knew about the Menagerie, would they really keep him away from it forever?

Cow for me,
Squorp gurgled wistfully. He draped his wings over Logan's shoulders.

Mr. Kahn carefully arranged palm fronds around the phoenix ashes. “Pelly, when Nero emerges, please tell him we hope he's all right and we'll come back to check on him later.”

The goose was indignantly huddled on the far side of the nest from the ash pile. “Oh,” she said, “I
suppose
it makes sense that I should also start delivering messages for everyone, since I'm already the
only
reason this menagerie can survive. It does seem
logical
that I should do even
more
work around here. Especially when it involves talking to
serial arsonists
. Don't worry about
my
feathers or
my
beautiful nest at all. No, no, I'll just sit here in the thick toxic clouds of smoke until he crawls out and fails to apologize.” She coughed dramatically.

Logan looked down at the tiny wisp of smoke curling up from the ashes. Zoe shook her head at him, like,
Don't bother saying anything.

Squorp clung to Logan as they followed Mr. Kahn out of the Aviary and back around the lake toward the griffin enclosure. The sun was drifting low in the sky, turning the high trails of clouds cherry and tangerine.

Another golf cart came zipping down the path from the house. Strapped to the back was a crate of gardening tools: long shears, a rake, trowels, some empty pots. In the front, driving, was an abominable snowman.

Logan pushed Squorp's feathers out of his face and stared as the cart came closer. The driver was at least eleven feet tall and covered in shaggy white fur, stained with dirt and grassy green smudges, particularly around the knees and paws. He wore a pair of enormous dark sunglasses and a safari-type sun hat on his head. His mouth was a wide gap in his furry face, like a Muppet's.

“Hello there, Mooncrusher!” Mr. Kahn called. “How are the rosebushes?”

“BLAAAARGH!” answered the creature. The golf cart reached the road around the lake and turned to drive away from them.

“Did you see the hole by the cellar door? I think Jaws has been trying to bury protein bars again. We need to get that filled before SNAPA returns.”

“BLAAAAARRRGH!” The cart followed the curve of the lake, getting smaller.

“And don't forget the Captain's exercise!” Zoe shouted. “His ball is in your yurt!”

“BLAAAAAARGH!” A massive white paw emerged from the cart and waved. Then the cart bumped off onto another fork in the path and sped into the distance.

Mr. Kahn saw Logan's expression and smiled. “Our groundskeeper is, let's say, a yeti of few words,” he said.

“Unlike all those super-chatty yetis,” Matthew joked. At least, Logan guessed he was joking. “I'll go feed the hellhounds and catch up to you guys later.” He whistled for the four hellhounds, who were still flopped on the ground outside the unicorn stable. They lumbered to their feet and raced him up to the house.

The door to the griffin enclosure was a solid black metal gate with unicorns facing each other on the two sides, outlined in gold. Three deadbolts punctuated the center gap like menacing buttons. Logan noticed that Zoe watched her father intently as he opened the gate, and Mr. Kahn gave her a quick, worried look at the same time.

The doors opened inward a few feet from the large, flat boulder where the white griffin was sprawled, sunning herself in the last rays of daylight. She opened one eye to a slit and peered at Squorp.

Oh,
Logan heard her say.
Fantastic.

SON!
The black griffin came galloping across the rocks, flapping his wings wildly like flags in a hurricane.
You're ALIIIIIIIVE!
He braked in front of Logan and snatched the cub out of Logan's arms, crushing Squorp fiercely against his black chest.

“Mmmmmrrrk,” the muffled cub objected, squirming.
Hi, Dad.

Logan felt as if a runaway train had just careened by an inch from his face. He shoved his hands into his pockets to stop them from shaking. The black griffin's claws were as long and sharp as hunting knives, and he towered over Mr. Kahn by a few inches.

Was this how big Squorp would get?

NIRA!
the black griffin bellowed. From the way Mr. Kahn and Zoe winced, Logan guessed everyone could hear the adult griffins in their heads.
Behold! One of our beautiful perfect cubs has returned to us! He's ALIIIIVE!

That's not even remotely surprising,
the white griffin answered. She closed her eyes and shifted her wings so the feathers underneath could get a bit more sun.

Come rejoice with us!
Squorp's dad insisted.

Maybe later,
said the white griffin.

HUNGRY!
Squorp chirped.

That's not surprising, either,
said the white griffin.

Your mother is thrilled that you're home,
the black griffin said to Squorp.
She's been worried sick about you.

Yes,
said the white griffin without opening her eyes.
I'm definitely the one who's been tearing my feathers out all day.

Logan glanced around. Large black feathers were scattered across the boulders.

“Logan, this is Riff,” said Mr. Kahn, indicating Squorp's dad. “And that over there is Nira.”

“She's usually a bit more . . . upright,” said Zoe. She tilted her head at the sleepy white griffin. “Are you all right, Nira?”

It's all the anxiety,
pronounced Riff.
It's worn her out.

Nira didn't bother to respond.

What about the others?
Riff demanded.
Where are my other precious cubs?

“Maybe I could help look for the other griffins,” Logan jumped in. He didn't want to go home to his empty house, and he really did not want to get shut out of this amazing place.

“I have some questions first,” said Mr. Kahn. “Logan, could you ask the cub how they all got out?”

Beside him, Logan felt Zoe tense.

Clink found gate open,
Squorp answered readily.

“He says the gate was unlocked,” Logan said. “Then they swam out through the moat—that's how he got me in here, too. There's a hole in the grate on the outside wall.”