water dish. To my surprise, it didn’t fluoresce at all. “Huh,” I murmured. There were a few scraps of meat lying a short distance away; I checked them out in case the poison had been introduced that way, but they appeared to be antifreeze-free.
Then I turned my attention to the waterfall pool.
When I shone the UV light on it, it lit up with a ghostly green luminescence. The whole pool was contaminated. It and the waterfall were a self-contained, constantly refiltered closed system, so as soon as the blacklight hit the falling water it glowed with the same eerie light. It would have been beautiful if it weren’t utterly lethal; it was like watching liquid radioactivity gushing from a breach in a nuclear reactor, and just as deadly.
I brought the light around slowly, knowing what I was going to see but still dreading it. It fell on Augustus, and the liger’s whole body fluoresced—not as strongly as the water, but there just the same. I knew why the glow was weaker, and so did Caroline. “Oh, God,” she whispered.
Augustus had gone for a late-night swim. And then he’d cleaned his wet fur off the same way all cats do—with his tongue.
When Caroline spoke her voice sounded detached, like it had broken under the load of emotion and had stopped trying to convey it. “It’s even worse than it looks. Ethylene glycol is also absorbed through the skin. If he was in the pool for any length of time, he would have received a fatal dose without ingesting a single drop.”
And that’s when I noticed Augustus’s chest wasn’t moving anymore.
C HAPTER S EVEN
I guess I should have expected what happened next.
Augustus’s spirit rose from his body. It wasn’t transparent and it didn’t drift up like smoke; it was as if a more vibrant, focused version of Augustus suddenly got to his feet, while a dull imitation remained motionless on the ground.
I gasped. I’ve seen a lot of animal spirits, so I should be used to the incredible colors and internal illumination they give off—the ghost of a peacock has to be seen to be believed—but this was different. He was a white so pure it brought me to tears. He radiated strength and nobility and something deep and powerful I couldn’t define—not until I met his eyes.
Sadness.
And then he bounded away.
Toward the graveyard, of course.
I looked down at where Caroline was doing her best to get his heart going again. “Don’t,” I said. “He’s gone.”
She stopped what she was doing, then let out a scream of pure frustration and pounded on Augustus’s body. She did it a few more times, then broke down in tears. I was crying, too.
And then somebody else joined in.
Ever hear a cat cry? It’s the saddest, most heart-wrenching sound in the world. It’s pure misery and loneliness and suffering, and you’ll do just about anything to make it stop. That’s what Tango sounded like; she must have been nearby. I couldn’t tell if Caroline heard it, too, or if it was just in my head.
When I had myself under control, I pulled out my phone and called ZZ.
And then I took the blacklight and began a slow, methodical search of every inch of ground in the enclosure and around it, because I intended to catch whoever had done this and make them pay.
Whiskey paced around the outside of the fence, sniffing the ground. Tango’s keening hadn’t lasted long; I thought she might have chased after Augustus’s ghost.
Neither Whiskey nor I found anything—no tracks, no spots in the fence where someone might have cut their way in. I stopped and stared at the black, rocky peak of the artificial mountain crag the waterfall flowed out of, set into a tall concrete wall, and tried to figure out how someone could have approached the enclosure without being seen by either Shondra’s cameras or Tango.
[I’m not picking up any scents other than guests, staff, or residents,] Whiskey reported. [I suppose any of them could have put the antifreeze in the pool.]
“How? It would have
Then I turned my attention to the waterfall pool.
When I shone the UV light on it, it lit up with a ghostly green luminescence. The whole pool was contaminated. It and the waterfall were a self-contained, constantly refiltered closed system, so as soon as the blacklight hit the falling water it glowed with the same eerie light. It would have been beautiful if it weren’t utterly lethal; it was like watching liquid radioactivity gushing from a breach in a nuclear reactor, and just as deadly.
I brought the light around slowly, knowing what I was going to see but still dreading it. It fell on Augustus, and the liger’s whole body fluoresced—not as strongly as the water, but there just the same. I knew why the glow was weaker, and so did Caroline. “Oh, God,” she whispered.
Augustus had gone for a late-night swim. And then he’d cleaned his wet fur off the same way all cats do—with his tongue.
When Caroline spoke her voice sounded detached, like it had broken under the load of emotion and had stopped trying to convey it. “It’s even worse than it looks. Ethylene glycol is also absorbed through the skin. If he was in the pool for any length of time, he would have received a fatal dose without ingesting a single drop.”
And that’s when I noticed Augustus’s chest wasn’t moving anymore.
C HAPTER S EVEN
I guess I should have expected what happened next.
Augustus’s spirit rose from his body. It wasn’t transparent and it didn’t drift up like smoke; it was as if a more vibrant, focused version of Augustus suddenly got to his feet, while a dull imitation remained motionless on the ground.
I gasped. I’ve seen a lot of animal spirits, so I should be used to the incredible colors and internal illumination they give off—the ghost of a peacock has to be seen to be believed—but this was different. He was a white so pure it brought me to tears. He radiated strength and nobility and something deep and powerful I couldn’t define—not until I met his eyes.
Sadness.
And then he bounded away.
Toward the graveyard, of course.
I looked down at where Caroline was doing her best to get his heart going again. “Don’t,” I said. “He’s gone.”
She stopped what she was doing, then let out a scream of pure frustration and pounded on Augustus’s body. She did it a few more times, then broke down in tears. I was crying, too.
And then somebody else joined in.
Ever hear a cat cry? It’s the saddest, most heart-wrenching sound in the world. It’s pure misery and loneliness and suffering, and you’ll do just about anything to make it stop. That’s what Tango sounded like; she must have been nearby. I couldn’t tell if Caroline heard it, too, or if it was just in my head.
When I had myself under control, I pulled out my phone and called ZZ.
And then I took the blacklight and began a slow, methodical search of every inch of ground in the enclosure and around it, because I intended to catch whoever had done this and make them pay.
Whiskey paced around the outside of the fence, sniffing the ground. Tango’s keening hadn’t lasted long; I thought she might have chased after Augustus’s ghost.
Neither Whiskey nor I found anything—no tracks, no spots in the fence where someone might have cut their way in. I stopped and stared at the black, rocky peak of the artificial mountain crag the waterfall flowed out of, set into a tall concrete wall, and tried to figure out how someone could have approached the enclosure without being seen by either Shondra’s cameras or Tango.
[I’m not picking up any scents other than guests, staff, or residents,] Whiskey reported. [I suppose any of them could have put the antifreeze in the pool.]
“How? It would have
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