Chapter Thirty-Seven #2
Mom wrapped her free hand around Imani’s wrist as if to keep her from moving toward it. Imani could almost hear her mother trying to think her way past her unbelief.
“You belonged to Mazelle, didn’t you?” Imani asked. “Mazelle Washington?”
The Beast’s whine issued from its throat with an odd metallic hum. Then it chittered, a sound Imani had learned to hate—but now she wondered if she had misunderstood the meaning of the sound. She didn’t understand the Beast’s sounds, but she felt certain that it was saying Yes.
“Lord have mercy…” Mom whispered, her grip so tight that it hurt. Bone on bone. “Stop agitating it, Imani.”
“I don’t think it’s mad when it makes that sound,” Imani said. “It just sounds scary to us.”
“You don’t know that,” Mom challenged her like Sharise.
“Well, it was making that noise when it brought us the water…” Imani whispered. “Why would it bring us water if it’s mad at us? Or it’s planning to eat us? How did it know to bring us water? I told you it’s smart, Mom. Maybe it’s keeping us as pets.”
“Imani, hush,” Mom said, sounding breathless. “I need to think.”
Imani thought Mom probably meant she couldn’t think, the way everyone had stood motionless in the living room when Dad said they had to leave NOW and Imani had been the first one ready to go.
It was the opposite of the times when it took her longer than everyone else to decide on a take-out order, or what movie she wanted to watch when it was her night to choose; an avalanche of confusing possibilities.
But in the moments that paralyzed other people, Imani sometimes was the only one who wasn’t confused.
To her, all other possibilities sometimes vanished and left only one thing to do, like a flashing red sign.
Like when she knew they needed to rescue Mom instead of going back to the lodge. And like now, when Imani’s heart was banging in her chest like someone kicking in a door.
Beast is an unknown, intelligent life-form. The words rocked in Imani’s head.
Imani had suspected it before, but she knew it now.
Mazelle Washington must have known it too—and maybe that was why she had kept it secret, hidden in the caverns and woods of Mount Shasta.
Authorities would have considered it dangerous and might have killed it or at least locked it in a cage.
And it was dangerous, according to the story told by all those bones: Most of them might be animals, but at least one of those skulls had been human, maybe more.
But why hadn’t it killed them, then?
“Imani…” Mom whispered, pulling herself out of her stupor. “Hand me one of those bottles, please. Carefully.”
Quickly, trying not to make too much noise, Imani tugged one of the water bottles out of the package. She could barely feel her fingers as she unscrewed the cap for her mother, keeping her flashlight propped under her arm so she could see Beast.
Mom drank in gulps, tipping the bottle up as she kept her eyes on Beast. Imani was thirsty too, but she didn’t want to miss her chance to learn what had happened—and why.
“Why did you take my mom?” Imani said. “And me?”
The Beast lowered its snout in a way that seemed contrite.
Was it possible? Or was it only what she wanted to see?
With what sounded like a sigh, the Beast scooted forward and laid its head down on top of the newspapers Mom had collected in a pile, its snout only ten feet from them.
Mom clutched Imani, her water bottle splashing.
“Because of Mazelle?” Imani said, testing her theory.
The Beast chittered again, more loudly this time.
“Imani, stop—” Mom said.
“Did you take Mom because she’s wearing that robe?”
Beast went stone-silent. To Imani, the silence was a confession.
She tried to make her voice gentle, like talking to a young child. The words flowed out of her the way she imagined Sharise would try to reason with the Beast if she were here. As if she were telling Beast a bedtime story.
“Well, it’s not her—because Mazelle is dead.
I bet you know that already, because she died a long time ago.
You miss her a lot, and that’s why you keep so much of her stuff in here.
And you got fooled by that red robe, huh?
And maybe you just wanted to be close to her because she smells like her too?
Well, this is the mother of her great-grandchildren—like me.
And she’s pregnant with a baby right now.
Mazelle Washington is dead, but she definitely would not want you to keep us here, to hurt us in any way. ”
Mom spoke up next, her voice loud, speaking slowly as if she believed there was a chance that Beast might understand her. “This is my daughter—she’s Mazelle’s legacy. A legacy is how to keep someone alive after they’re gone. That way, it’s almost like they never died.”
Imani glanced up at her mother, surprised. Did Mom know how special Beast was too? But Mom didn’t meet her eyes, still focused solely on the creature.
Beast’s body shivered, its mighty tail swishing.
The motion seemed scary because its tail was so long, but Imani thought it didn’t look much different from a dog with a wagging tail.
It seemed excited, not angry. And Imani shared its excitement, her heart dancing.
She couldn’t know for sure, but Beast might understand every word she spoke.
“Do you have a name?” Imani whispered.
She didn’t know why she asked. Just because she thought Beast might understand her didn’t mean that she could conduct an interview. Did she expect it to start talking like a parrot? But why not? She didn’t know what it could do.
A warm tickling sensation wrapped itself around Imani’s temples.
She heard something like the buzzing when Beast whined, except…
it was in her head. A gentle static shock inside her skull.
She gasped, taking a step back behind her mother.
The sensation didn’t hurt, but it was jarring.
Within the static, an image flashed in her mind that might be a memory, but it felt unbidden, beyond her own will.
Her mind displayed the newspaper headline she’d seen in the debris: LITTLE MAZY & SCOUT THE WONDER DOG SIGN HISTORIC DEAl! !!
Her mind crackled with the headline and photograph of a Black girl and her white dog.
Beast stared at Imani with soft eyes in her flashlight beam, still resting its snout on the newspapers celebrating its dead master.
When Imani was little, they had a black cat named Django, and when he died they got another black cat and named it Django before it ran away.
Imani wondered if Mazelle Washington had given this creature the same name as—
In a blink, the creature coiled upright, an oversized cobra moving so quickly that Imani could only think of it as Beast again.
It growled with such a loud, deep timbre that the cavern wall trembled.
Imani’s stomach seemed to fall through the floor, rumbling with the terrible growl.
She and her mother screamed in ugly harmony.
For the first time, she wondered if the cavern could collapse like an old mine.
Beast whipped its head around to look in the dark passageway. As it turned to face the dark, the growl grew louder. Loose pebbles showered them from a ledge above.
The chittering had never been angry. This was its angry sound.
“Stay behind me,” Mom said, nearly crushing Imani against the wall with her weight. Mom was pushing herself as far from the Beast as she could. Why hadn’t she listened when Mom said to stop talking to it? Had she triggered some kind of hunting response?
“I’m sorry,” Imani said. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”
And then she did know, a revelation that cleaved her in two.
Someone was coming. Someone had invaded its nest.
Imani’s flashlight beam’s white light was all that was left with them in the nook. Beast was gone, racing away in a motion she had barely seen from the corner of her eye, like the halo after a flashbulb.
Imani and her mother looked at each other, mirrored distress. Mom knew too. They should have told Beast everything while they had the chance. Even if it couldn’t truly understand them, maybe they could have explained enough to matter.
“Johnny! Sharise! Watch out!” Mom screamed, and more pebbles fell from above.
Imani grabbed her backpack, where she knew she had a knife. Not a big one—but at least it was sharp. This time, she remembered to throw in one of the water bottles too. She slung her backpack over one arm, turning to run.
“Imani!” Mom called with such urgency that she stopped cold. Mom looked like a ghost hunched against the rear cavern wall, draped in the remains of Mazelle Washington’s life.
“Mom, I have to—”
“Take this with you.” Mom held out her sharpened stick, the only thing she could offer. Her red-rimmed eyes commanded her to listen. “It’s not your friend,” she said. “It’s an animal. A killer, Imani. Do you hear me? Don’t forget that for a second.”
Imani took the spear, which looked sharper now that she might have to wield it herself.
She had fantasized about killing Beast with the rifle and the ski pole, but now the thought of hurting this remarkable, mysterious creature twisted her stomach.
The elation she’d felt when she believed they were communicating (Maybe in their heads!) soured to wretched grief.
Tears blurred Imani’s vision as she followed her light, racing to save her family.
And, just maybe, to try to save Beast.