Hold Me Closer, Necromancer - Lish McBride [30]
Aengus laughed at that.
“Takes after her mother, too,” Brannoc said, finally glancing at Douglas. He slapped a few bucks on the bar. “Her ma would tear out your jugular as soon as look at you.” He seemed wistful for a moment. “Unless you were on her good side, of course. Then no worries.” He smiled before heading for the back. “But, then, there weren’t a lot of people on her good side. And there aren’t a lot on my daughter’s, either.”
Even to Douglas, the pride in Brannoc’s voice was unmistakable.
8
Hold Me Closer, Necromancer
I parked my car near the west entrance of Woodland Park Zoo thirty minutes before I had to be there. The promising weather from this morning had made a bipolar shift to gray and cloudy on my drive, so I dug around the back seat for my blue zip-up hooded sweatshirt. If you’ve lived in Seattle for any length of time, you carry a jacket with you anywhere, especially in spring. You get used to the moody weather and give up on umbrellas. Umbrellas are for tourists. Natives know that the rain doesn’t come straight down here like other places. Seattle’s rain slips in, tricky, like a ninja, and attacks from all sides. I pulled on my sweatshirt and dug out my wallet so I could pay for a day pass.
I loved the zoo. I hated seeing animals in cages, but I still loved to walk around listening to the grunts of sea lions and the bloodcurdling shrieks of peacocks, getting closer to a polar bear than I ever would on the outside. My mother used to take me and Haley all the time. The way the zoo used to be, before massive remodeling, many of the animals were in cramped cages smaller than my bedroom.
When I was a little kid, I asked my mom if the zookeeper ever let any of the animals out to run. My mom, tired from walking and carrying her pregnant stomach around, leaned into the railing in front of the tiger cage for support. She looked at my dad instead of answering me, a pleading expression on her face. Haden had only been my dad for a few years, but he was the only real dad I’d known. Before he married my mom, he told me I could call him Haden if that made me more comfortable. Adults don’t usually make those kinds of offers to kids. When they’d married, I’d asked if I could have his last name too. I didn’t want to be the only Hatfield in the house, a hazy connection to the past. LaCroix was my solid present. I had wanted to be a LaCroix so badly I would have asked Santa for it at Christmas.
My dad handed her a soda and fielded my question, giving her a much-needed breather.
“No, Sam,” he said, “they don’t let any of the animals out. Why, you afraid the tiger’s going to get out and eat you?”
“No, it’s just…” I dug around for words. “The tiger is so big, and the cage is so small. Doesn’t he get bored?”
My dad eased his giant frame down to my level so I didn’t have to crick my neck up at him. I loved it when he did that. It made me feel special.
He looked at the tiger pacing around and then back at me. The truth never seemed to be what I wanted when my parents had to think before answering me. It meant they were trying to figure out a nice way to explain something terrible.
“He probably does get bored, Sam. Real bored.” He scratched his beard. “Sometimes, we don’t treat other creatures like we should.” Dad pointed to the donation box by the cage. “That’s why the zoo has to go begging.”
The answer was ugly, which meant it was probably true. I was glad he didn’t lie.
“Can I give my money to the tiger?” I’d gotten five dollars for helping my dad stack wood.
“I thought you were going to get ice cream.”
“I was, but…” I twisted the bottom of my shirt. I wasn’t sure how to explain myself. Ice cream was good, but tigers were better. I looked at the ground. “I want to give it to the tiger.”
Dad nodded and stood up, pulling out his wallet. He handed me my five and a twenty. “Why don’t you put that in there, too.”
I shoved the bills into the box, and I felt better about