Unsympathetic Magic - Laura Resnick [50]
Jeff looked dumbfounded and glanced at me, as if hoping I’d know what to do now.
Max pulled a clean white hanky out of his pocket and handed it to Puma. “Here, my dear. Take this.”
“Thank you, Dr. Zadok.” She sniffed, wiped her long-lashed eyes, and swallowed hard. “I caught up to Biko, but we couldn’t find Gilligan. Not at first. But then . . . we found the trail of blood.”
I made an involuntary sound, picturing the scene.
She continued. “It was dark out, but there was some light from the streetlamps, and Biko’s got good eyes. We followed the trail into the park. And we found what was left of Gilligan, right by that big stone staircase that leads up to the old watchtower.” She struggled with the memory for a moment, then said, “They had eaten most of his little body.”
Feeling almost as if I could see what Puma had witnessed, I covered my eyes with my hand while she finished her story.
Gilligan’s collar lay nearby. The Garlands had taken that to remember him by, then had scrounged a big enough piece of plastic from a park garbage can to wrap up what was left of their dog. They had taken Gilligan’s remains to a twenty-four-hour animal clinic and paid for proper disposal.
Puma gave a watery sigh as I looked at her now. “He lived a long and good life, and he died quickly and bravely, fighting something evil. I guess that’s not so bad, all things considered.”
“No, indeed,” Max said gently. “I hope the same words might be said of me, one day.”
After a moment, she said in a firmer voice, “So last night, Biko went hunting the baka again.” She shivered a little. “It had to be done, of course. But I was so scared for him, I was pretty relieved when he came home without having seen them.” She looked at me and added, “But you saw them.”
“I’m glad I didn’t know about Gilligan at the time,” I said honestly. “I’d have been even more scared than I already was.”
Jeff said skeptically, “Esther, you’re telling us you really saw these things? These growling, green gargoyle things that, uh, ate Puma’s dog?”
“Yes, Jeff, I really saw them. I fought with them.”
He looked appalled. “Why did you do that?”
The phone rang, startling us all. The caller was Biko, telephoning to tell his sister that his class had just ended. He had to put away the training equipment and pack up his swords, and then he would come straight here.
After she hung up the phone, Puma set aside her sorrow and briskly offered us cold drinks, which we accepted with gratitude. She pulled some bottled water and canned soda out of a little mini- fridge behind the sales counter. I felt so sticky and dirty by now, I wanted to pour my water over my head, but I settled for drinking it. Thirstier than I had realized, I drained it within minutes. My empty stomach responded gratefully to the feeling of something—even if it was only water—filling it.
Since Biko would be here soon, Max proposed that we wait until he arrived before we dissected the events of last night or discussed what to do next, so that we wouldn’t have to repeat anything after he got here. Clearly eager to change the somber mood of the group, and perhaps also motivated by the natural instincts of a merchant, Puma encouraged us to ask questions about the stock in her shop while we waited for her brother.
Jeff seemed interested in some of the voodoo dolls that were stocked within easy reach of his perch on the sales counter. There were wooden dolls, as well as ones made of different colors of cloth: red, brown, blue, green, tan. They had yarn for hair, and they wore a variety of little outfits, such as smock dresses or drawstring trousers. One even wore a suit and had little spectacles on its painted face.
“Hey, here’s one that looks like you,” Jeff said to me, holding up a pale burlap doll with tangled brown yarn hair and button eyes and wearing a smock dress.
“I fail to see the