Page 10 of A Malicious Menagerie (Fangs & Fables #1)

“Let go of me,” I snap, but my command is drowned out by a snarl so vicious it makes all my fine hairs stand on end and all my muscles tense with the instinctive urge to flee.

Both John and I freeze and snap our gazes to Fionn. He has his lips pulled back to reveal fangs twice as long as they were a moment before. “Let. Her. Go,” he growls, his eyes swirling like liquid mercury as he stares John down.

John immediately lets go of my arm. I stagger away a couple of steps before rubbing away his touch with a vicious scowl of my own.

Almost immediately after releasing me, John seems to realize what he’s done and levels Fionn with a taunting smirk.

“What are you gonna do about it anyway, stuck in a cage?”

This time, when Fionn grins, all his teeth are sharp and pointed. I suppress a shudder. “This isn’t your first offense, human, and each-uisce hold grudges.”

John scoffs. “I’m shaking in my boots.” Still, despite his bravado, he keeps a wide berth around the kelpie, pointedly looking away from him but holding his shoulders stiffly as he continues to the door with the wheelbarrow.

When I glance back at Fionn, his eyes are still glued to John’s back.

His massive body is held completely still except for the almost imperceptible tremor of tension you might expect to see in a wolf immediately before it lunges.

I have not a shred of doubt that, given the chance, Fionn would tear John limb from limb and enjoy every gory second of it.

While I can relate to his disdain for the callous caretaker, the intensity of the violence in the kelpie’s gaze makes me wary.

He may be able to look like a man, but there’s something feral in him that marks him as other .

And, suddenly, I remember Nathan’s words that day in his office.

“I won’t tell you that every animal is innocuous.

” As if that wasn’t the understatement of the year.

He must have known that any sane person would go running if he told them the whole truth.

Not that I’ve ever been particularly sane when it comes to animals.

Didn’t I get bit feeding that junkyard dog when I was twelve and still go back the next day to do it all over again?

And I wondered from the beginning why the job was so well-paid.

Well, here’s my answer: there’s some hazard pay built in that no one wanted to tell me about.

Like an underwater welder or one of those guys who collects lobsters on reality shows.

And with that in mind… what are the chances I survive this job with all of my limbs attached?

Twelve dollars. Dammit, I can’t leave. Not yet. I need that first paycheck. I can at least make it until then. I have to.

Once John leaves the enclosure, Fionn turns his attention back to me and raises his eyebrows in surprise when he sees that I’m not running for the hills. After a long pause, I manage to school my voice into something calm and grateful. “Thank you.”

Some of the tension leaves his shoulders, and he quirks me a friendly, lopsided smile.

“There’s no need to thank me. For each-uisce , the punishment for laying hand or hoof in anger on a mare is two days chained beside the water but unable to touch it.

A fate you would only understand if you felt the call of the water as we do. ”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I tell him with a faint smile.

The black kelpie, who had been hanging back and watching the exchange with wary obsidian eyes, finally plods forward to nudge their companion’s shoulder with their nose.

Fionn tilts his head with a slight grimace.

“I know, Ciara, but I couldn’t help myself.

He’s just such a gobshite.” I snort a laugh, and Fionn shoots me a wry grin.

“Ahh, I almost forgot. Introductions. This is my sister, Ciara.”

The black kelpie shows no indication of shifting forms or wanting to chat, but she does incline her head slightly despite her wary look. I nod politely back. “It’s a pleasure, Ciara,” I say, making sure to repeat her name exactly as Fionn said it, kee-ra. “I’m Anna.”

Ciara nudges Fionn again, and he sighs. “Best let you get back to it,” he says reluctantly.

I should not find that charming, that he’d like to keep talking to me, especially knowing what I do about what he is.

But, then again, those abs. That accent .

He grins at me, and his teeth are normal again, blunt but for those slightly pointed canines. “Don’t be a stranger, Anna.”

“I won’t,” I promise, making sure to include Ciara in my goodbye wave as I finally follow John back out.

The second I cross the threshold, John slams the door shut before hitting the switch to open the divider.

Once the chain-link wall begins to retreat, the kelpies, both now in their equine forms, duck out and trot off into the trees.

“Don’t let them fool you,” John warns me. “That’s what they do—change shape to lure stupid little girls like you to a watery grave.”

The nerve of this asshole. Ignoring him, I return to my previous point from yesterday. “Are you also going to try to convince me that Fionn isn’t a person?”

John crams the wheelbarrow back into its place beside the big fish tank with more force than necessary. “He’s an angler fish,” he grumps, “dangling a pretty light in front of desperate guppies to lure them between his teeth.”

Ignoring the dig, I insist, “Angler fish don’t talk. Or flirt. Or threaten men for being bullies.”

John has the gall to look offended. “ I’m the bully? I was just trying to save you from getting eaten or, at the very least, making a fool of yourself.”

“I wasn’t going to throw myself at him,” I defend hotly, and I’m about ninety-five percent sure I’m telling the truth. “I was just curious. I had no idea he could turn into a man, maybe because you didn’t bother to tell me. ”

“Do you think the guy before me stopped to warn me about everything in here?” he asks scathingly.

“Why do you keep saying that like it’s justification for doing it to me? ‘I had to walk ten miles in the snow uphill both ways to get to school every day,’” I mock, deepening my voice to sound like the stupid, uncaring, ‘macho’ man in front of me. “Why does that mean I should have to do it, too?”

“Builds character,” he replies shortly, not rising to the bait. “Now, do you want me to show you how to feed the wolf, or do you want to figure it out for yourself like I had to?”

I grind my teeth to bite off whatever angry retort I might have made. “I would like you to show me, please,” I grit out, managing a semi-polite tone.

“Well, alright then,” John says, and with that, we leave the deadly water horses to their fishing.