Krakens and Lies (18 page)

“Yeah, sure. Whenever I get around to it,” Blue mumbled in his sleep.

Logan felt around on the carpet with the hand farthest from the animal until he found something he could throw at Blue's head, which turned out to be a paperback copy of
Holes
.

“OW,” Blue protested, pulling the comforter over his head. “Duuuuuuude. Uncalled for.”

The creature wiggled its snout at Logan as if it was
amused. Or possibly preparing to suck his brains out through his ears.

“There's something in here,” Logan said urgently. “Something with claws.”

Blue poked his head back out and squinted at the furry blue tapir. “Oh,” he said. “That's just Mochi.”

“And on a deadliness scale from qilin to basilisk,” Logan asked, “where does he fall?”

“Completely not deadly,” Blue said, burrowing back into his pillows. “They eat nightmares, that's all. Go away and let me sleep.”

Reassured, Logan held out his hand to the little animal. “Hey, Mochi,” he said. “Is that what you were doing here? Eating my crazy nightmares? Is that why I slept so well?”

Mochi blinked again, slowly, then turned and snuffled at the door, where Logan spotted the shadow of two feet. He got up and opened the door to find Zoe on the other side.

“Oh, hey,” she said, as if standing in the hallway in her pajamas was totally normal. “I see you met our baku.”

“Yes, he's great,” Logan said. He paused, then tilted his head at her. “Did you send him in to eat my nightmares?”

“Well,” Zoe said, fidgeting with the hem of her pajama shirt. “I thought maybe . . . after yesterday . . . well, there were more than a couple things you might be having nightmares about.”

“Thanks,” Logan said, smiling at her. He felt completely
different from how he'd felt last night. He wondered if the baku had gobbled up his worries and despair along with his nightmares of a basilisk tongue in his ear. Suddenly he had 110 new ideas about how to start looking for his mom. If he could track missing griffin cubs and a qilin, he could find a kidnapped Tracker with a Chinese dragon. He could do this. He
had
to do this.

“I want to talk to Nero,” he said. “And Scratch. And the unicorns.” He grabbed his sweatshirt from the floor. “And maybe Ruby knows more than she realizes. And maybe Jasmin can find something we can use. And—”

“We need to make a list!” Zoe said excitedly. “I'll get my notepad. Meet you downstairs.” She darted off to her room with the baku ambling behind her.

Logan got dressed quickly and headed downstairs. It was early, probably not even eight o'clock in the morning yet. Out in the Menagerie, near the unicorn stables, Keiko was doing some kind of martial arts maneuvers by herself. Logan could also see the golf cart zipping around the lake toward the Reptile House, so someone else was up and probably on their way to feed the pyrosalamanders. He wasn't sure what the Kahns had done to contain Basil while they fixed the hole in the wall, but he hoped it was something incredibly secure.

Logan's dad was asleep on one of the couches in the living room, stretched out under an eggplant-colored blanket with his feet sticking over the edge of the couch. It was kind
of awesome that he'd agreed to stay over. Logan hoped that meant he'd decided to fully trust the Kahns.

A small snuffling sound by the stairs made him turn around. Mochi was descending slowly on his little tiger paws.

“Hey,” Logan said, beckoning. Mochi wandered up to him and wuffled around his shoes. Logan pointed into the living room, at his dad. “Do you think you could help him, too? I bet his nightmares are as bad as mine.”

Mochi's eyes lit up and a little pinkish-gray tongue slipped out of his mouth to lick his nose. The baku prowled quietly across the pillows and books scattered around the big room.
That's what the tiger paws are for
, Logan guessed.
So it can sneak up without waking the sleepers
. It reached Logan's dad and gently began feeling his head with its snout.

“I wish I could take a picture,” Logan whispered to Zoe as she came down the stairs. “Dad has never looked sillier.”

She grinned and went into the kitchen. Grabbing two bananas and her shoes, she led the way out through the garage and into the Menagerie.

“Just in case the sliding doors woke your dad,” she said once they were outside, handing Logan one of the bananas.

“Thanks,” he said. “Who can we talk to first?”

“The unicorns will be asleep right now, after their usual midnight run,” Zoe said. “And they will be EXTREMELY unhelpful if we wake them up. We could try Nero, but it might not work—he's calmed down a bit, but he still bursts into
flames any time we bring up the night Pelly was abducted.”

“Maybe we could get Marco over to do some birdish bonding with him,” Logan suggested. “He is kind of the closest thing we have to a bird expert, right?”

Zoe pushed her hair back behind her ears. “He is going to start thinking we only like him for his rooster side,” she said.

“I'll tell him Keiko is awake already,” Logan said, pulling out his phone. “That should make up for it.”

“Tell him to meet us at the dragons,” Zoe suggested. “We can talk to Scratch while we wait. Maybe I can even brush his teeth, since the SNAPA agents seemed
really
serious about us doing that.” She wrinkled her nose.

The dragons lived in a set of caves in the cliff at the back of the Menagerie. Zoe stopped first at a small shed near the base of the cliff and brought out a green toothbrush that was taller than Logan, with curved bristles that looked designed to get around the dragons' fangs. She also pulled out a giant silver tube marked
DENTAL HYGIENE—FOR DRAGONS ONLY
and passed it to Logan to carry.

They did not stop for fireproof suits, Logan noticed. For someone who worried about almost everything, Zoe was unexpectedly not concerned about a dragon setting her on fire.

As they started up the rocky path, Marco texted back:
Save the day AGAIN? Oh, all right, if I must. This better involve pancakes.

Awesome, thanks
, Logan texted back.

His phone buzzed again:
I'm dead serious about the pancakes!

And then again, a minute later:
Ask Zoe if Keiko likes blue or red better.

“Tell him Keiko likes running in the woods at night, ripping the heads off of birds, and hypnotizing dopey middle schoolers into doing anything she wants,” Zoe said.

Red,
Logan guessed.

They were halfway to the dragons when a hideous noise suddenly split the air.

“DDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYY YYYYY!!!!!!!!”

“Oh no,” Zoe said, stopping with a grimace. She sat down on a rock and covered her ears. “You'll want to do this, too!” she shouted.

Logan copied her, but the caterwauling was so loud that it didn't seem like anything could block it out.

“BROKEN ARE THE CLOUOUOUOUDS! RISEN IS THE SUUUUUUUN! ARIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISE ALL YOU BEINGS OF MUUUUUUUUUUUUD! GREETING THE DAAAAY IS FIREBELLA! SINGING UP THE
DAAAAWN IS FIREBELLA! SOON TO BE CRUSHING AND EATING HER FOES IS GLOOOOOOOOORIOUS THE FIIIIIIIIREBELLAAAAAAAA!”

“Hey, did she say something about crushing and eating someone?” Logan shouted at Zoe.

“Ancient dragon tradition,” Zoe yelled back. “They sometimes sing a dawn song to announce to the world how menacing and magnificent they are, and they're as loud as possible to show they're not afraid who hears them. Firebella's the only one of our three who still does it sometimes.”

The piercing, ear-rattling noise went on for another minute, then finally ended with another dramatic “DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Several moments later, Zoe slowly took her hands away from her ears. “I think it's safe,” she said. “Firebella usually makes up for her volume by at least being succinct.”

“How,” said Logan, “in the name of dragons have your neighbors never heard that? I'm fairly sure my neighbors in
Chicago
just heard that.”

“It's our thing,” Zoe said with a little shake of her head. “You know, Bob.” She started up the path again.

“Wait—it has a name?” Logan said. “I thought your thing
was a machine, like some kind of cloaking device.”

“We shouldn't talk about Bob,” Zoe said. “She doesn't like it.”

“Who doesn't like it?” Logan asked. “Bob? Bob is a girl?”

“Do you have your questions ready for Scratch?” Zoe asked, as if she hadn't heard him. “Dragons are notoriously difficult to interview. They absolutely cannot stay on topic.”

You should talk
, Logan thought, but he was already starting to forget what he'd asked about. With enormous mental force, he dragged his mind back to their conversation and thought,
Bob. Bob. Bob. This must be its power; it's a creature with some kind of magic that keeps people from noticing it, talking about it, or remembering it. And it works on the whole Menagerie, probably because if its home is safe, it'll be safe, too. I've never heard of a mythical creature who could do that . . . well, oh, right. That's the whole point of its power
.

Firebella, the enormous black dragon, was sitting on the edge of the cliff, staring out at the Menagerie. Her wings were spread and smoke spiraled slowly from her nostrils. She looked like she was waiting for someone to come challenge her to a fight.

Her vast, SUV-sized head turned toward them, catching Logan and Zoe in her yellow glare.

“Good morning, Firebella,” Zoe said. “Your dawn song was beautiful, as always.”

The dragon regarded them with slitted eyes.

Zoe elbowed Logan.

“I liked it, too,” Logan said quickly.

“Quaking with fear are the foes of Firebella,” the dragon mused, sliding more smoke out her nose. “Brimming with cowardice are the foes of Firebella. Wheeling about us are the stars in endless time and more-time, and yet never coming are the foes of Firebella.” A dark forked tongue slipped in and out of her huge, sharp teeth. “Ever so dismal and moreover-so thwarted for the lack of crushing and eating is Firebella.”

Logan wasn't entirely sure he'd understood that right, but he was pretty sure he didn't like the sound of it.

“Firebella, a friend is coming to the Menagerie in a few minutes,” Zoe said, glancing at her watch. “His name is Marco Jimenez, and you've met him before—we cleared him to come to the jury selection for Scratch's trial. So please don't set off the intruder alert when he comes in, all right?”

There was an unsettlingly long pause.

“Unfamiliar with this medieval torture device is Firebella,” said the dragon unexpectedly. Logan realized that her malevolent gaze was trained on the toothbrush Zoe was holding. “But sensing are we all of the sinister plan of it. Dark is the nefarious purpose of yon bristle stick. Fooling Firebella are you not. Full grim is the outlook for she who approaches teeth of Firebella for any other reason than being eaten.” The dragon thought for a moment. “Grim also for those who approach to be eaten, truth is.”

“Don't worry, I'm not going to brush your teeth,” Zoe promised. “This is Scratch's toothbrush. Yours is purple. I'm sure Dad will show it to you one day.”

“Hmmmmm,” said Firebella. “A more noble color is purple, yet near the teeth of Firebella shall bristle stick never come, even of regal hue. Full warned are puny humankind.”

“Okay,” Zoe said. “I feel full warned.”

“Me too,” Logan agreed fervently.

“So,” Zoe said. “You're all set for Marco? Then we'll go brush Scratch's teeth now.”

“Hmmmmmmm,” Firebella said again. Logan could feel her gaze pricking along his spine as he climbed up to the next cave, where Scratch lived.

The rust-colored dragon came bounding out of his cave, beaming with delight at the sight of them.

“Favorite visitors of Scratch!” he declared happily. “Friends of small stature and smart eyes! Saviors of Scratch! Beholden is Scratch for ever and evermore! Even forgiving is Scratch for unfortunate return of nasty honk-bird!”

“We did have to bring her back to prove you were innocent,” Zoe pointed out. “The two were connected.”

Scratch waved this away with a dismissive claw. “Mountain-soaring high is the heart of Scratch. Gratefully committed to earth are talons of Scratch. Safe forevermore from Scratch are vast tragically wasted hordes of fluff on legs.”

“That's good,” Zoe said. “Nice work not sneaking out and
eating sheep, although not that you could anyway, now that your restraints are fixed and your electric collar is working and we'll be checking them every night.”

“Thoroughly unnecessary these precautions of dragon attendants,” Scratch said with dignity. “Ever and ever-so good will be Scratch for always.”

“Sure, okay,” Zoe said. “Logan has some questions for you.”

Scratch inclined his head graciously toward Logan.

“We're trying to figure out who let you loose,” Logan said. “Like you said, you were set up. Someone broke your chain and disabled the electric collar so that it would look like you killed Pelly. They wanted you to go on trial and—uh—” He paused, not wanting to remind Scratch of the Exterminator. “Well, they were trying to disrupt the Menagerie, clearly. They did the same thing with the griffin cubs and the basilisk, making sure they were able to get out. So we need to figure out who it is, and we're hoping you can help.”

“Yearning to help is Scratch,” said the dragon, “but not so rotund with wisdom is Scratch.”

“Just tell me what you remember,” Logan said. “Like who visited you the day your ankle chain broke.”