Hell's Menagerie Read Free Page A

given yours, my dear?” he asked, eyeing Brim’s collar.
    â€œ He decided. It was his choice. You don’t give your animals a choice. You condemn them to die for sport, for fun.” Her voice choked on the last word.
    A smug smiled curved his black lips. “I suppose that’s true. Such is the nature of our people and my business. I’m Baasîl, ringmaster, beast master, proprietor of Hell’s Menagerie.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out two tickets. “Please be my guests tonight at the performance. I insist. I’m sure you’ll find it most . . . enlightening.”
    From the look in Baasîl’s calculating eyes, Rex was pretty sure the ringmaster had figured out that Em and Brim could communicate in some way. Not good. Not good at all, he thought as the ringmaster left, disappearing through the flap and out into the lovely Telmath air.
    Rex exhaled, releasing the tension in his body. “Come on,” he said, starting down one of the rows, “let’s see if the pups are here.”
    The cages were on wagon wheels, their bars made of thick iron crusted with years of dirt and grime. Their height put the beasts inside almost at eye level with Rex. He’d been to plenty of zoos in his time and plenty of carnivals, too, and these types of cages were always the most intimate, the animals right there in front of you, staring you in the face.
    Emma stopped in front of each cage, giving each occupant her acknowledgment and respect. There were animals from all three worlds. Bears, hellhounds, nithyn, massive sand dragons similar toearth’s Komodo dragons, screechers—hellish monkey-like creatures with webbed hands tipped with long, razor-sharp claws. They had small, useless milky-white eyes and lived deep inside of caves, hunting at night, using their hearing to detect prey. There was a winged griffon from Elysia—rare indeed, and lonely, Rex thought, as the beast stared back at them with sad, regal eyes. There was a huge violet-eyed, gray-haired cat similar to a lynx, but the size of a lion. He’d never seen one before, but he knew they were said to exist high in the Charbydon Mountains.
    Rex was surprised by the rarity of the creatures Baasîl had collected. It must have taken him aeons to gather this many, and it made Rex wonder how long some of the beasts had been there.
    At the end of one of the rows, a massive cage faced them. It was five times the width of the others and nearly as high as the tent ceiling. Huddled in the back corner of the cage was a mountain troll.
    They stopped, both amazed by the sight.
    It was all muscle under thick gray skin. Huge hands, a bald head with a thick skull, and small black tusks that curved down over its mouth and lower jaw like massive fangs. Its wrists and ankles were ringed with wide iron shackles.
    Emma approached the cage. Rex followed, the stench of the beast reaching him long before he came to a stop in front of the bars.
    The troll kept its shoulder to them, shunning them after a quick, solemn sideways look. It closed its eyes as though pretending they weren’t there.
    â€œSo sad,” Em barely uttered beside him. She started to place her hand on the bars. Rex reached for her. He didn’t want her touching anything or getting that close. In that split second, the troll lunged. It happened so fast, Brim yelped in surprise, and Rex’s first reaction was to grab Emma’s shoulders and pull her back.
    But the troll had grabbed the bars and trapped one of Emma’s hands beneath its thick fingers.
    Fear swept arctic and instant through his veins. “Emma,” he said calmly.
    The beast’s face was smashed against the bars. Its head was lowered, eyes level with Emma. Its small nostrils flared in and out in loud, snorting puffs.
    â€œCan you slide your hand out?”
    She didn’t answer. There was no pain on her face, no fear. Rex wasn’t quite sure what she