To Die Fur (A Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Mystery) (14 page)

“I don’t know what that is.” Whiskey can identify just about any smell, but that doesn’t mean I always know what he’s talking about.

[It’s a variety of marijuana. Very distinctive piny aroma.]

“Oh. Well, it is almost noon … but you didn’t answer the question. Emperor Augustus?”

[Foxtrot, please. The Great Crossroads is a transit point, not a kingdom. And Augustus is not a stable boy secretly destined to grow up and rule the land, any more than a random tourist stranded in New York is destined to one day rule the Port Authority bus station.]

“Well, when you put it that way … Afghan Kush, huh?”

[I’m surprised you couldn’t smell it yourself.]

“I’m a little distracted at the moment.”
Tango? Is he still there?

Stay with him!

And once more, we were off. Traffic was heavier in this part of the graveyard; we ran through an ankle-high, intangible carpet of multicolored hamsters and guinea pigs, while rows of sunshine-yellow canaries regarded us curiously from headstones lining the path.

I wondered how long we’d have to do this, and what we expected to accomplish. Augustus didn’t need to eat or sleep, but I sure did. It was pretty close to lunch, too.

And then I heard the roar, and all thoughts of food fled my brain.

I skidded to a stop, though I was hardly aware of it. That roar filled my ears, my head, my whole world. It was the deepest, loudest, angriest sound I had ever heard or imagined, a sound that would make a
T. rex
crap itself. When a heavy-metal bass guitarist washes down a handful of peyote with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, this is the noise he hears inside his skull at 3
AM
in the overdose ward. It was the roar of an apex predator so high up that he used the entire food chain to floss his teeth.

It wasn’t Augustus.

It was something much, much bigger.

C
HAPTER
N
INE

The roar sustained for what seemed like years. When it finally died down, even the echoes were terrifying. I found myself backing up without looking, just instinctively moving in the opposite direction of whatever had made it.

I heard Whiskey whine. Which was a funny sentence when you thought about it, but I didn’t because I was a little too shook up by the sound of the world ending. Okay, that wasn’t really the sound of the world ending, but it probably
was
the sound you heard just before the actual event, after which you wouldn’t hear anything except maybe harps or heavenly trumpets or if you were a dog then the canine equivalent. Dog trumpets. They have dog whistles, so why not dog trumpets?

[Foxtrot. Snap out of it.]

The reassuring sound of Whiskey’s deep, British-accented voice helped bring me back to earth. “Sorry,” I murmured. I sat down on the nearest headstone, feeling light-headed and a little dizzy. “What
was
that?”

[Something ancient, and very powerful. Simply hearing its voice can have a profound effect on the living. Are you all right?]

I shook my head experimentally, and was relieved to discover it didn’t topple off. “It—it came from the center of the graveyard. From where Augustus was headed.”

[Yes. But that was not him.]

“I know.” I got to my feet. “Come on. We have to get there.”

[Are you sure?] He sounded worried.

“Whiskey, this is my job. Not a job I actually applied for, but it’s mine now and I take it seriously. So yeah, we’re going to go check out the extremely loud scary noise and see who made it and what they’re doing in
our
graveyard.”

Then I heard Tango in my head.

There was something in Tango’s voice I’d never heard before—and it wasn’t fear.

It was awe.

Whiskey and I marched along the path and over the next rise. What we saw down below, in the natural bowl at the center of the graveyard … was a lion.

But not just any lion. Most lions weren’t the size of elephants, and I’m pretty sure hardly any of them were white as snow or had manes made of fire.

Augustus sat calmly in the middle of the path, staring up at the lion. Tango crouched a few feet behind the liger, peering out from behind a grave. Ben was nowhere in sight, and I hoped he hadn’t just been eaten.

People had been interring animals here for over a hundred years. We had all kinds, including stock from circuses or zoos. There was at least one lion grave, and I assumed that was where our new arrival was from—but he wasn’t a ghost.

I knew what he was the second I laid eyes on him. He was a god.

I should have seen it coming. If different animals had different afterlives, then why not different gods? Okay, so maybe a hamster god or a goldfish god sounded a little ridiculous, but that was just human egocentrism.

A God of Jungle Cats, though? That’s someone you don’t disrespect.

Which was why I approached him very, very cautiously. He turned his head to regard me as I drew near, and I saw that his eyes were a deep golden color.

“Um,” I said, stopping about ten feet away. “Hello.”

Which was when he opened his mouth and roared again.

And if I thought the first time was bad … well, this was kind of like being at ground zero of a sonic A-bomb. It wasn’t just the loudness, though—it was the
depth
of the sound, if that makes any sense. It was like hearing a noise in more than three dimensions, like I was hearing every lion that ever roared echoing up through history in a great, swelling wave of leonine fury. It reverberated in my bones and my brain and my soul.

But this time I was expecting it, which means I dealt with it a little better. I didn’t back away or cover my ears or do much of anything other than just stand there. But believe me, that was a lot.

I heard another whine and risked a glance downward. Whiskey was crouched as low as he could go, ears flattened, tail between his legs. I really couldn’t blame him.

I AM APEDEMEK. I AM HERE TO CLAIM ONE OF MY OWN.

His voice inside my head was exactly what a lion god’s should sound like: deep, regal, and arrogant. I was all set to say,
Yeah, sure, fine by me,
when I realized he wasn’t talking to me.

Eli flapped his way down from the sky, landing right beside Augustus. He looked up at the huge lion and said, “Greetings, Apedemek. Welcome to the Great Crossroads. I am Eli.”

I KNOW WHO YOU ARE, WINGED ONE.

“And I know you, Lion God. Now. Shall we discuss this?”

THERE IS NOTHING TO DISCUSS.

“And yet, here we are. Discussing it.” Eli’s tone was friendly but firm. All I could think of was that Apedemek could eat him in a single bite, and might just choose to end the discussion by doing so.

But he didn’t. He didn’t even get angry. He just boomed,
VERY WELL. LOOK AT HIM. LOOK AT ME. HOW CAN YOU DISPUTE MY CLAIM?

“I
don’t
dispute your claim, Apedemek. Yes, the resemblance is uncanny. But Augustus himself must make the choice, and he has yet to do so. If you are so sure he’s yours, why rush matters? Surely he will come to you in time.”

FOR A LESSER BEAST, I WOULD BE CONTENT TO WAIT. BUT HE IS MORE THAN THAT—AS YOU WELL KNOW. I WOULD TAKE HIM TO HIS TRUE HOME WITHOUT DELAY, AND WOE TO ANY WHO WOULD OPPOSE ME.

Eli glanced to the side, at Augustus himself. The liger was sitting on his haunches, gazing up at Apedemek as if entranced. Eli reached out one long, white wing and grazed the liger’s leg with it. “Stop that,” Eli said, but I didn’t think he was speaking to Augustus.

The liger gave a little start, then shook his head in a very human way. He looked back up at the lion god—then quickly looked away.

“For one who’s so sure of his claim, you’re acting a little strangely,” said Eli. “And lion god or not, you’re in
my
territory. I repeat: This is Augustus’s choice to make, and in his own time. Until he does, he’s welcome to stay here as long as he likes. Is that clear?”

Apedemek gazed down at Eli.
I UNDERSTAND. NOW UNDERSTAND ME: I WILL SPEAK WITH HIM, SO THAT HE MIGHT KNOW WHAT AWAITS HIM IN MY REALM.

Eli considered this for a moment, then bobbed his head in acquiescence. “Very well. But you will do so in my presence, and none of that enrapturing you were trying to pull before.”

Apedemek settled himself on his haunches, mirroring Augustus’s pose. The liger still wouldn’t meet his eyes, but at least he wasn’t running away.

AUGUSTUS. CHILD OF THE SUN. DO YOU NOT KNOW YOUR OWN FATHER?

Warily, Augustus looked up at the lion god. His voice, when he spoke, was similar to Tango’s but even raspier, with a strange accent I couldn’t place.
{I have never met the one who sired me. Are you he?}

I AM ALL LIONS. THUS, I AM YOUR FATHER AS WELL.

{What do you want from me?}

YOUR PRESENCE. I REIGN OVER A PARADISE, THE LIKES OF WHICH YOU HAVE NEVER KNOWN. PREY IS ABUNDANT, AND THE WATERING HOLE NEVER DRIES UP. YOU WILL BE THE LEADER OF A MIGHTY PRIDE, WITH MANY FEMALES TO BRING YOU FRESHLY KILLED MEAT. YOU WILL LAZE BENEATH THE SHADE OF A BANYAN TREE, AND RUT AND EAT AND SLEEP FOR ALL ETERNITY.

Augustus considered this.
{What’s a banyan tree?}

IT IS A TREE. IT HAS MANY BRANCHES AND GIVES GOOD SHADE
.

{Better than an oak? They’re pretty good.}

I DO NOT KNOW. I AM THE GOD OF LIONS, NOT TREES.

{How big will my pen be?}

YOU WILL NOT HAVE A PEN. YOU WILL BE FREE TO ROAM AS YOU WISH.

{No pen? What if it rains?}

IT DOES NOT RAIN IN PARADISE.

{No rain? But I like the sound it makes. Sometimes I even like to feel it on my fur.}

YOU ARE AN ODD AND SINGULAR CREATURE, TO BE SURE
. Apedemek sounded more amused than annoyed: an indulgent father, putting up with the whims of a child.

{What about pumpkins? I used to get pumpkins on special occasions.}

PUMPKINS? WHY WOULD YOU WANT PUMPKINS?

{I like pumpkins. They’re fun to play with and chew on.}

THERE WILL BE NO SHORTAGE OF THINGS TO CHEW ON.

{Squeaky toys?}

WHAT?
For the first time, Apedemek sounded baffled.

{What kind of squeaky toys are there in your Paradise? I hope they last awhile. I usually destroy mine within a day.}

AUGUSTUS. LISTEN TO ME. I AM OFFERING YOU HEAVEN. YOU SHALL HAVE ALL THINGS THAT ARE DEEMED FIT FOR YOUR HAPPINESS, AND SHALL HAVE THEM IN ABUNDANCE FOREVERMORE. YOU WILL KNOW JOY AND FREEDOM AND PEACE
.

He paused.

IN SUCH A PLACE, YOUR DESIRE FOR EARTHLY OBJECTS WILL FADE, AND YOU WILL DISCOVER YOUR TRUE INNER NATURE. YOU WILL BE HAPPY AT LAST
.

Augustus stared up at the lion god. He blinked. His ear twitched.

{So,}
he said at last.
{No squeaky toys, then.}

NOT AS SUCH, NO.

“Hoo, boy,” I muttered to myself. How had Hunter S. Thompson put it? “When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.” I was pretty sure I now qualified as a professional in the field of weird; when part of your daily responsibilities was eavesdropping on a conversation between a dead liger and his god over the existence of squeaky toys in Heaven, I really doubted I could find anything stranger to put on my résumé.

My phone rang.

I answered it quickly, not even checking who it was. “Yes?” I said quietly.

It was Ben. “Foxtrot. Hope I’m not interrupting the great liger hunt.”

“No, I’m looking at him right now. He’s not going anywhere, for the moment.”

It was funny; once I started talking to Ben, the mental voices of Apedemek and Augustus just faded away, like I needed to concentrate in order to actually hear them. I hoped it worked both ways; the last thing I wanted was to be
shush
ed by a god.

“Good to hear,” said Ben. He sounded a little stressed. “Got a minute to talk?”

“Well—”

“Eli kicked me out of the graveyard.”

“What? Why?”

“For my own good. Not permanently. He said I wasn’t really ready and he was sorry to just throw me into all this and I needed to ground myself.”

Huh. I wasn’t sure how to take that.
I
hadn’t gotten an apology from Eli when he yanked me into his world; more like a frank questioning of my abilities before getting tossed into the deep end. Oddly enough, that made me kind of proud. “It can all be a bit much, I know. You’ll adjust.”

“That’s what I thought. And then I saw the flying turtle.”

I sighed. “That’s Ambrose. It’s how Eli summoned me to the graveyard the first time, too.” Ambrose was a sea turtle, the kind as big as an armchair, with flippers instead of feet. He was this gorgeous blue-green, like the color of a tropical lagoon, and swam through the air like it was water. Watching him glide slowly along six feet above the ground could make you feel more than a little dazed. “Look, I understand. It’s overwhelming. It’s surreal. But the actual, physical world is still here, too. You just need to immerse yourself in that for a bit.”

“That’s what Eli said. Go back and cook something, he told me. Good advice for a talking crow, I thought.”

Now I could hear just a little edge of hysteria in his voice. I’ve heard it before, usually from some academic guest of ZZ’s who finds themselves starstruck because they’re sitting across the dinner table from a famous actor. The cure is pretty simple: You just get them to focus on you instead of the star, and talk to them in a soft, calm voice about something they know a lot about. Familiar ground is always more stable.

“I’m glad you brought that up,” I said. “I was meaning to talk to you about the menu for tonight’s dinner.”