Chapter 5
Chapter Five
The museum loomed overhead, a massive structure indicating many displays, but Phoenix had to wonder if they wasted time because it seemed unlikely any of the exhibits would reveal the location of the tiger shifters in the jungle.
At the same time, he had no better idea other than wandering around aimlessly in the jungles hoping to find out if the Malaysian legends were true.
“Get back on,” Nadirah ordered, pocketing her phone and straddling the moped.
“Why?” he asked as he climbed on behind her. “Is your friend not able to help us get in?”
“Khalid is going to meet us at the service door in the back.”
It took them only a few minutes to get around the building and park by a dumpster.
A portly man in overalls waited with his foot wedged in a door to keep it open.
He spoke rapidly at Nadirah in their mother tongue, and she replied in kind.
“Let’s go.” She stepped inside, and Phoenix followed, offering a nod and “Thanks” to the fellow.
“Wel. Come,” was the heavily accented reply. Khalid then launched into more chatter as they entered the building and headed up a utilitarian hall to another door, which opened onto the museum’s atrium, an eerily empty space with only some of the lights illuminated.
The custodian pointed to an archway and said something Phoenix couldn’t understand.
Nadirah translated. “I asked Khalid if we had anything about the harimau on exhibit, and he says there is a piece on public display that might be of interest.”
“Hope it’s a good one.” Hard to not sound disappointed.
“We will soon see. Khalid also mentioned there’s more items that might be related to the tiger shifters in one of the storage rooms.”
“Why would the museum hide them?”
“Lack of space?” She shrugged. “The museum is constantly shifting its displays, and it could be they haven’t been catalogued or authenticated yet. While we go see the work Khalid suggested, he’s going to retrieve the storage room keys.”
Phoenix bit his tongue, lest he blurt out, Why even bother? A painting didn’t sound as if it would be helpful. Still, he had nothing else. Maybe he’d spot something in the image.
Khalid strode in one direction, Nadirah in another. He followed the latter and, by the lack of hesitation in her stride, assumed she knew exactly where to go.
They passed through a series of rooms of which he only got quick glimpses.
He stuck close to Nadirah rather than pause because being in a strange museum after dark proved to be a little spookier than expected.
There was something eerie about walking amongst exhibits that emanated an old vibe and smell that had his nose twitching.
The hair on his nape also prickled, making him wary, despite hearing and scenting no one.
It should be noted, Phoenix would never admit his uneasiness, not when Nadirah seemed nonplussed. Instead, he became hypervigilant.
They entered an area where the walls held artwork of varying sizes and not just traditional type paintings. Behind glass, there were scrolls with faded drawings. Etchings on wood. Beautiful and intricate displays that drew the eye.
Nadirah pointed out a hanging fabric mural. “There’s the batik Khalid said to check out.”
“What’s batik mean?” he asked.
“It’s an artform that’s been around for a long time. It involves applying wax to a fabric before dying it. Then you remove the wax to see the vibrant images left behind.”
Stepping closer to the mural led to Phoenix’s jaw dropping. Not because of the jungle meticulously rendered with the big green fronds and brilliantly hued flowers, but because of the striped faces peeking at random through the foliage.
Tiger visages with human eyes. For those that didn’t know, tigers possessed vertical pupils—many animals did—whereas humans had round ones. Interesting fact, though: when he shifted, his eyes remained the same shape. Only the hue of them changed from a hazel brown to amber.
“Who made this?” he asked.
“The placard says unknown. It was recovered from a temple discovered in a southern jungle.”
“Did they find anything else?”
“Nothing that would likely interest. Some pottery. Beads.
“Can I go to this temple?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. According to Khalid, given its disrepair, it’s considered too dangerous for the public.”
“Is it guarded?”
“I don’t know. Why? Are you thinking of sneaking inside?”
He pointed. “The artist obviously met tiger shifters. How else would he know about their eyes?”
She understood immediately and pursed her lips. “The pupils aren’t vertical.” She glanced at Phoenix. “I noticed yours were odd when we first met, but I assumed a genetic anomaly.”
“I’m an anomaly, all right,” his wry reply.
Her phone beeped, and she glanced at it. “Khalid has the keys and says to meet him by the access door next to the gift shop.”
They walked quickly back in the direction they’d arrived, veering to the left of the elevators toward a brightly colored sign, under which sat a rack holding stuffed animals. A plain door to the side stood partially ajar.
Nadirah walked through it without hesitation, and Phoenix—scenting nothing—followed.
The custodian waited in the narrow corridor and beckoned. Khalid led them down a set of steps into a dingy but wide corridor with several closed doors.
“Khalid says they recently recovered some artifacts that seem related to the harimau. The curators are currently itemizing them, as well as trying to discern their origin before displaying them to the public.
“Where was the stuff found?”
Rapid-fire conversation with the custodian had her nodding before saying in English, “Numerous items were recovered from someone’s house after they died.
The family didn’t know what to do with it and contacted the museum.
Khalid says the man was a part of the team that discovered the ruin with the batik, and it appears he might have stolen some of the items rather than hand them over. ”
Suddenly Phoenix found himself a lot more interested in what might be in that storage room. A mural might not have answered any questions, but perhaps these other artifacts held some clues.
The door Khalid opened looked like the others.
Plain gray with dings in several spots. He flicked a light switch, illuminating a claustrophobic space.
Boxes stacked in precarious towers. Wooden crates, some of them pried open, showing the stuffing used to keep the items cushioned during transit.
A few tables with no chairs took up the center of the room, the tops of them strewn with a variety of items.
Khalid waved his hands and said something to which Nadirah nodded before addressing Phoenix. “He says some of the items are on the table with the rest over there.” She pointed to a stack of three cardboard boxes.
“Does he know why we’re looking for tiger shifters?” Phoenix had noticed Khalid staring at him.
“Not the real reason. I told him you were doing a research paper on shapeshifter legends from around the world.”
“Tell him thanks.”
The man nodded. “Wel. Come.” Then added something Phoenix couldn’t understand before he left them alone.
“What did he say?”
“Just to text him when we leave so he can lock up. He also warned us to be careful, as some of the items are fragile.”
Fragile and eclectic. Phoenix wandered to the nearest table, which appeared to hold figurines.
Male mostly, but none of them fully human.
One had a tail, or at least the remnants of one, as part of it had broken off.
Another reminded Phoenix of a minotaur, only with a feline head instead of a bull.
A few were actual tigers but in poses that seemed more human than cat.
Paws over the eyes. Clapping. His gaze kept returning, though, to the two-legged versions with feline characteristics.
He pointed. “Is it me, or do these imply a partial shift?”
Nadirah crouched for a closer look. “Is that possible?”
“I don’t know.”
“Either it is, or the artist chose to be very creative.”
“What was on the table you were looking at?”
Nadirah returned and bent down to murmur, “Some handwritten letters.”
“Why would the curators keep a bunch of correspondence?”
“I’m not sure. I’m having a bit of trouble with some of the language. The dialect is not one I’m familiar with. But there must be a reason they thought them important enough to study. Give me a moment and I’ll see if I can gather the gist.”
Phoenix wandered over to the stacked boxes and lifted a flap to see dry straw packing the top.
“Hmm.”
Her slight hum had him pivoting. “Did you find something?”
“Maybe. This missive is a thank-you.” She frowned. “Let me see if I can translate it into English for you. Um, ‘your warning about the hunters proved timely. We kept the children confined until they left.’ Then it goes on to discuss how the supplies sent were much appreciated.”
“Do you think the letter writer was a shifter?” Phoenix couldn’t contain his excitement.
“Could be. Or we’re reading what we want to in the words.”
“What about the other letters?”
Nadirah scanned two before tapping a third. “In this one, there’s mention about a granddaughter that might not carry the blood and asks if they know of a family that can foster.”
Phoenix frowned. “Sounds as if it’s saying those who can’t change are kicked out. That seems kind of cruel.”
“Or it’s about protection. If these are indeed from a harimau, and they live in hiding, then it could be they wished to offer the child a life outside their ambush.”
“Ambush?” He questioned.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know what they call a group of tigers?”
He couldn’t help a sheepish grin. “Guess I’ve still got lots to learn. Anything else that stands out in the letters?”
She shook her head. “Most of it is just a banal exchange, talking about the weather, a sporting event they were excited about.”
“What about this?” He pointed to a scroll with intricate lettering woven with vines and flowers.