Krakens and Lies (20 page)

“I wish I could invite you over tonight,” Jasmin said. “My parents are having one of their massively boring dinner parties for big donors. I figured I'd lock myself in my room and watch
Frozen
like eight times in a row. Want to sneak in and join me?”

“That sounds like the most fun terrible idea ever,” Zoe said with a grin. “Hey, listen, if your parents do have a, um, mythical creature to show to the cameras on Tuesday, where might they be keeping it? Do you have any idea? Could it be in your house somewhere?”

“No way,” Jasmin said. “The cleaning people scrub every corner of this place from top to bottom once a week. Maybe our new summer cabin, the one on the lake? We haven't been out there since August.”

“If it's the creature I'm thinking of,” Zoe said, “then they've had it since the beginning of May. Maybe since your skiing trip? Do you remember that?”

“To Vail?” Jasmin asked. “You mean our skiing trip that was supposed to be all about family bonding and tradition, except Mom spent the whole time on her cell phone and Dad left early to do campaign stuff? I do remember that, yes, unfortunately.”

Zoe was silent for a moment, her mind racing. Mr. Sterling had left the ski resort early? Did Mr. Wilde's private investigator know about that? Had Jasmin's dad snuck back here to kidnap Abigail?

“Well, there definitely weren't any weird-looking creatures at the cabin this summer,” Jasmin said. “Sorry, I'll keep thinking about it.”

“Thanks,” Zoe said. Summer cabin on the lake . . . could that be where Pelly was taken? “Do you have any pictures of your cabin? Can you send me one?” Maybe Pelly would recognize it.

“Um . . . sure,” Jasmin said. “Give me a few minutes. Oof, that is not a flattering campaign photo, Dad.”

“I don't think you should be in his office,” Zoe said nervously.

“Here's what I want to know,” Jasmin said, clearly ignoring her. Zoe could hear papers rustling on the other end of the phone. “Why hasn't Jonathan gone back to college yet? He's been here, like, over a week, and he's obviously not leaving today because his stuff is still scattered in every room in the house, and P.S., why HE isn't getting yelled at for that is
ANOTHER mystery. Isn't he missing classes? He's so lame, maybe it doesn't make a difference.”

“He's probably sticking around for the big reveal on election night,” Zoe said.

“WHAT?” Jasmin said. “Jonathan is in on it, too? My family is so totally sinister.”

Oh, Jasmin
, Zoe thought.
I'm so worried they are, and I don't know how to protect you
.

“Whoops, that's Cadence on the other line,” said Jasmin. “She wants to rehash the whole party, which, like, whatever, it wasn't even that fun after Blue left. Poor Cadence. She's no substitute for you, Zoe.”

“No one's ever been a replacement for you, either,” Zoe said, holding the phone tighter.

“But I should take this anyhow. Talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay.” Zoe stared at her screen for a minute after she hung up, wishing she could run over to Jasmin's house and check on her right now.

Her mom slid open the doors and leaned out. “Hey, kiddo. Up for a pancake?”

“
Mom
,” Zoe said.

“No lectures,” her mom said, waving a spatula at her. “I know we're in the middle of yet another world-ending epic crisis, but we'll have a better chance of solving it on happy stomachs. Agreed?”

Zoe sighed and followed her mother back to the kitchen,
past Logan and his dad watching something on Logan's phone. Blueberries were scattered all over the counter, some of them half-buried in little mounds of spilled flour. The air smelled like maple syrup and melted butter. Zoe began collecting silverware and napkins for the big table.

“Morning,” Blue said sleepily, wandering through.

“Nice of you to join us,” Zoe said. “So far today we've interrogated Scratch, added mermaids to our sabotage suspect list, discovered there was something wonky in the dragon toothpaste, and carried Marco down the mountain on a mammoth because he tasted it and got knocked out. He's on the sofa, by the way.”

“Cool,” Blue said, propping himself against the counter. “Can I have whipped cream on my pancakes?”

“Mermaids, Blue!” Zoe said, banging forks and cups around. “Mermaids were poking around Scratch's chains the day they broke! They could totally be the ones sabotaging the Menagerie!”

“That seems pointless and unlikely,” Blue observed calmly. “They could do that just by going on strike, the way they are now.” He tipped his head toward the window. A number of merfolk were patrolling the lake again with their signs, splashing furiously up and down.

“Boy, I hope Matthew's friend is here by noon,” Zoe said, swiping one hand through her hair.

Logan came into the kitchen and exchanged casual boy
nods and grunts with Blue. He went over to the cabinet and got down two glasses. Zoe liked that he knew where they were; she liked that he felt like a natural part of her home now.

“Oh!” she said, remembering. “Mom! I have a question for you.”

“Oh dear, yes?” said her mother.

“Scratch told us his mother and sister were both exterminated,” Zoe said. “Isn't that totally weird? I didn't even realize he had a sister. What are the chances they'd both have to be exterminated—and that Scratch nearly was, too?”

Logan put down the water pitcher to listen. Her mother studied her with a puzzled frown. The pancakes on the griddle were starting to bubble around the edges, but she didn't notice.

“That is odd,” Mom said slowly. “I knew about what happened to his sister . . . but his mother, too? How very strange.”

“What happened to his sister?” Logan asked. “He said her name was Scritch.”

Zoe's mother turned back to the pancakes. “I didn't want to worry you, Zoe,” she said.

“I'm already worried!” Zoe said. “All the time! Just tell me everything!”

“Okay,” her mom said. “Scritch was the dragon at the Amazon menagerie.”

It took a moment before everything that meant hit Zoe. “The one who went crazy and killed someone?” she said with
a gasp. “That was why they closed the place down, wasn't it?”

“Right,” said her mom. “Your father and I—well, we thought Scratch wasn't that kind of dragon, but I must admit we were concerned, briefly, after what happened to Pelly. We thought perhaps he had gone bad like his sister.”

“Does anyone know why she went crazy?” Logan asked.

Zoe's mother shook her head. “There was no chance to talk with her or find out what set her off. She was on a rampage and had to be stopped . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

Zoe sometimes forgot how much her mother loved all the animals. Mom had devoted her whole life to protecting and caring for mythical creatures. Although she hid her worries better, she must be just as anxious and heartbroken as Zoe was.

Zoe wrapped her arms around her mother from behind and gave her a hug. “It'll be all right, Mom,” she said, trying to convince herself, too. “You'll see. SNAPA will help us stop the Sterlings, I know they will.”

Zoe's mom turned and hugged her back.

The doorbell rang.

“Whoa, again?” Blue said. “That's just weird. I can't say I'm a big fan of this doorbell thing.”

“I'LL GET IT!” Matthew bellowed, charging out of the living room and nearly running Logan over. “NO ONE ELSE TOUCH THAT DOOR!”

“Ooooooooooooooooooooh,” Zoe said. “It's Matthew's mystery Tracker camp girlfriend! The one who can mysteriously help with mermaid things! Quick, Mom, think of something wildly embarrassing to say.”

“Oh, I'm sure it'll come naturally,” her mom said with a grin.

Matthew skidded into the front hall, shot a stern look at the faces peeking out of the kitchen at him, smoothed down his hair, and opened the door.

It was not a mystery friend from Tracker camp.

It was Miss Sameera, the school librarian. The one whose mythical creature memories had been entirely wiped the day before.

“Hello!” she said brightly, beaming from ear to ear. “I'm here to see the unicorns!”

“H
oly smokes,” Matthew said.

Logan glanced at Zoe, but she looked as flabbergasted as he was. In fact, everyone looked as though they'd been smacked in the face with a mapinguari.

“Do I smell pancakes?” Miss Sameera sailed past Matthew, shrugging off her squashy neon pink coat to reveal a resplendently bright lime-green dress covered in yellow sunbursts. Gold tassels draped from the wrists and the hem where it brushed her toes. Her normally disheveled dark hair was smoothed back into a twisted updo. She noticed Matthew staring and twirled around, holding out her skirt. “Oh, yes, I dressed up! For the
unicorns
.” She clasped her hands
together with a dreamy sigh and then wafted into the kitchen.

“H-h-hi, Miss Sameera,” Zoe stammered.

“Good morning,” the librarian sang. “Oh, I would love a pancake. Perhaps it'll settle my stomach; I've been too excited to eat since yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Mrs. Kahn said carefully. “What happened yesterday?”

“I was released from my interrogation cell!” Miss Sameera said. “Sinister men-in-black types had been asking me questions for
ages
. And then they tried to wipe my brain and turned me loose, and here we are! Hello, Blue. Hello, Logan.” She patted them lightly on their heads. “Shall I bring the syrup to the table?”

“Wait,” Logan said. “They
tried
to wipe your brain, but it didn't work?”

“Well, some things are gone, but it'll come back to me eventually,” she answered airily, waving one hand at her head. “I'm used to little holes in my memory here and there. They've done this before, you know. Like I told the other Free Rangers, I'm on to the government's tricks now. I even offered to teach a seminar once on Preserving Your Memories by Keeping Your Faith in Unicorns, but nobody signed up. And they claim to be dedicated to the cause of freeing mythical creatures everywhere! Between you and me and the bookshelves, those people never respected me enough. It's as though they think I'm
making this all up
. Can you imagine?”

“Somehow, yes,” said Blue.

“But how do you remember us?” Zoe blurted.

“I just fix on the one thing that's most important to remember, and instead of trying to hold on to the memory, I connect it to a book in my mind,” Miss Sameera said. She closed her eyes and whispered, “Zoe,
The Last Unicorn
, Zoe,
The Last Unicorn
, Zoe,
The Last Unicorn
.” Her eyes popped open again and she smiled. “So no matter what else is gone, when I woke up today, I immediately knew I could come here and see unicorns. That's a wonderful book, by the way,” she added as an aside to Logan. “You should read it. I'll put it on hold for you.”

“Um, okay, thanks,” he said.

“You've also probably built up some immunity to the kraken ink,” Mrs. Kahn said. “From taking it so many times. Also, it only erases real supernatural memories, so anything you just imagined or hoped for would probably still be there.”

“Wow,” Zoe said.

“It didn't help me at all in Parkville,” Miss Sameera said with a sigh. “By the time I got back to where the unicorns were supposed to be, they were all gone. And as usual, nobody listened to me. You're not all going to disappear suddenly, are you?”

“That might depend on a few things,” Zoe said. “Such as how well you can keep a secret.”

“Dazzlingly well,” the librarian said promptly.

Logan and Zoe exchanged dubious looks. He remembered
what she'd said earlier—“If we can't wipe Miss Sameera's memories, what do we do with her?” He wondered if SNAPA had ever dealt with a problem like this before . . . and what their idea of a solution was.

“All right then,” said Mrs. Kahn. “Another place setting for breakfast, Zoe.”

“Come meet my dad,” Logan said to the librarian, picking up the glasses of water he'd poured for himself and his dad. She trailed him into the living room, where Logan's dad was trying very hard and very unsuccessfully to talk sports with Mr. Kahn.

“Oh!” said Mr. Kahn, startled by the sight of Miss Sameera, or possibly just by her dress. “Hello! Good heavens.”

“This is the school librarian, Miss Sameera Lahiri,” Logan said. “Kind of a long story.”

“Are you here to see the unicorns, too?” she said to Logan's dad, pumping his hand up and down.

“No way,” he said. “Not if the rumors about them are true.”

A little bewildered wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows, then vanished again quickly. “Is that Marco Jimenez?” she asked Mr. Kahn. “May I ask why he's snoring on your couch?”