Chapter 18 #2
Moro doesn’t stick by my side for long. She explores the courtyard, her tail waving like a flag when she pauses to investigate something of interest now and then. Stopping to watch her calms me down, since in my mind, there’s nothing here to be afraid of if she’s acting like everything is okay.
“Moro?” I call, standing at the top of the front stairs, where the large double doors were ripped off of their hinges. I have no idea how anyone explained this as an animal attack, unless an army of bears had shown up here to cause a coordinated scene.
I haven’t looked for any news on what happened in days, though.
Not since I talked to Laura Simms. What’s the point?
The truth isn’t going to come out, anyway.
Anyone who knows isn’t saying anything, for fear of being called crazy and being locked up somewhere else with better security and less monsters.
The only other things that know what happened here aren’t human.
The lobby is free of bodies, but I can see where blood had pooled and sat on the old hardwood before anyone attempted to clean it.
Which wasn’t done very well, judging by the dark stains.
It was here I saw Hattie for the first time, and I curiously stride to the corner she’d been standing in that day, looking up to the ceiling high above us in the cathedral-like room like she did.
But there’s nothing anywhere. Nothing now, anyway, though I suppose I can’t rule out that back then there may have been something more interesting than dust. Moro’s nails click on the hardwood, and as I walk around the room, I watch as she sniffs at pooled bloodstains, one after the other, her ears going back to lie against her head as the fur of her neck slowly rises.
Judging by her attitude, this place makes her uneasy, too. At least where the bodies were before they got cleaned up.
“Me too, Moro,” I whisper. I walk over to the desk with one larger stain and streaks across the wood, and stare down at it, remembering this is where Esther had been. Where her sightless eyes stared up at me, wide with fear and confusion.
I hope she died fast, at least.
Before Cairo ate her.
Had he done it right here? Sat on the floor and ripped her apart, feeding on her flesh and marrow while waiting for something to attack me outside? Or did he drag her away, to a darker corner, like a leopard with its kill when it takes the bodies into trees to eat in peace?
I don’t know what prompts me to, but I look up suddenly at the open doors, my gaze instantly going to the figure standing there, framed by the shattered doors and lit from my headlights that barely reach this far.
The lobby is dark, for the most part, given the lack of electricity, so I can’t tell who it is at first.
“Cairo?” I ask, unsure. It doesn’t look him him, from what I can see.
But Moro isn’t growling or freaking out, so I’m unsure if it could be any of the other creatures that were here that night.
Surely if whoever is standing there intended to do me harm, Moro would be doing more than just watching, her fur on end and one ear cocked forward like she’s unsure.
“Not quite.” The voice is familiar, but I still can’t see the person’s face. Judging by their tone, it’s a woman, and I see her lift up a hand, finger beckoning to me. “There’s nothing to find in here, little bird. Just the smell of old death and the start of decay.”
“Who…?” I follow her out into the moonlight, where I can see it’s the barefoot woman from town, when I first saw Dr. Radley outside of this place.
“You,” I breathe. When she turns her head, the moonlight reflects off of her eyes, giving them a greenish hue and making my heart jump in my chest. “You aren’t human. ”
“No,” she agrees, a smile touching her lips.
“But I’m starving enough to pass as one.
” At my confusion, her brows lift, and a small, almost pitying smile appears on her full lips.
“He really hasn’t told you anything, has he?
He’s talked so much to me about you, about what he wants. But he’s keeping you in the dark.”
Her words send a chill down my spine. “I don’t know what any of that means,” I have to finally admit. “Do you mean Cairo?” She nods, so I think about my next question, or rather all the ones I want to ask, before continuing with, “What’s your name? Were you here that night? When…you know.”
“No.” The word is decisive, and I can sense disgust in her tone. “ He called them here, because he knew they were starving and wanted to make a point. But I cannot be called. My name is Agatha,” she adds belatedly, like she almost forgot I asked.
Her answer is just as confusing as my question had been, and I don’t feel any more informed on the subject than I did before.
“I’m sorry.” I tuck my hair behind my ear as Moro edges toward her, looking intimidated for the first time since I’ve had her. Unsure, I reach down to wrap my fingers in her collar, only for Agatha to snort.
“I won’t hurt your dog, little bird.” It’s so strange to hear Cairo’s nickname coming from her. “And she knows better than to try to hurt me. You don’t have to hold onto her.”
Slowly I let go of Moro’s collar, and my wolf dog edges forward to lightly, nervously sniff at Agatha’s fingers before darting warily back.
“I didn’t think she was afraid of anything,” I admit as I watch her submissive tail wagging and head down as she circles me, though it’s Agatha she’s looking at.
“She’s a predator. She knows when something is higher than her on the food chain.” Agatha shrugs.
“But she’s not afraid of Cairo,” I comment, confused by her words. “If it were just that, why wouldn’t she be afraid of him?”
Agatha doesn’t answer. She just looks at me, searching my eyes with her dark gaze.
In the moonlight, the shadows under her eyes look ghastly, though they don’t take away from her beauty.
She’s dressed similar to me, in shorts and a t-shirt.
Though she’s barefoot, standing on the stone stairs perfectly balanced and seemingly unbothered by the cold, night air, unlike me.
“Aren’t there other things you’d like to ask me? Maybe you’ll find me a bit less evasive than Cairo if you ask what you really want to know,” she invites unexpectedly. “Or are you just going to stand there and marvel at your dog wanting me to know she’s not a threat?”
While I am amazed and confused at why Moro is acting the way she is, I make a conscious effort to let that go for now. “What are you?” I ask, though I asked Cairo the same thing. “Cairo told me you were cursed, but that seems vague. There has to be a better answer, right?”
Agatha tilts her head first one way, then the other.
She looks thoughtful instead of irritated.
Like she’s figuring out what to say to me.
“You’re not asking for a name.” I shake my head, though her words are a statement not a question.
“And he won’t tell you what you want to know.
He wants to protect his little bird, how quaint.
” A smirk flickers over her lips, and she studies my face curiously.
“If you don’t tell her, I will,” she says suddenly, her voice a little louder, though not by much. She’s not yelling, and the level of volume is still conversational. “I don’t have the same interest in keeping her in the dark as you do.”
“Who are you talking to?” I ask, wondering if she’s just as crazy as Hattie and possibly me. But Agatha doesn’t respond. Instead she looks over my shoulder, prompting me to turn, until I’m facing the lobby doors once more, even though we’ve walked far enough to be halfway to the parking lot.
Cairo stands there, brooding. His arms are crossed over his chest, and even in the dark, I can see the displeasure on his expression as he stares at Agatha, though there’s no outward aggression or challenge in his body.
“She’s talking to me, Fern,” he says, voice quiet. “And you shouldn’t be here.”