The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer (Mara Dyer #1)(93)

We wound deeper into the park, hand in hand as a hot breeze ruffled the foliage and our hair. Past the gazelles and antelopes, which stirred as we approached. Hooves stamped the ground, and a low nickering swept through the herd. We increased our pace.

Something rustled in the branches above us but I couldn’t see anything in the dark. I read the exhibit sign: white gibbons to the right, chimpanzees to the left. As soon as I finished reading, a shrill scream pierced the air and something crashed through the brush toward us. My feet and my heart froze.

The chimpanzee stopped short right at the moat. And not one of the cute, tan-faced charmers usually conscripted into the entertainment industry; this one was enormous. It sat, tense and coiled at the precipice. It stared at me with human eyes that followed us as we started walking again. The hair stood up on the back of my neck.

Noah turned into a small niche and withdrew a set of keys from his pocket as we approached a small structure disguised by large plants and trees. The door read employees only.

“What are we doing?”

“It’s a work room. They’re preparing for an exhibit on insects of the world or something,” Noah said as he opened the door.

I hated the idea of killing anything, but at least bugs reproduced like—well, like roaches—and no one would miss a few.

“How’d you work this out?” I asked, looking behind us. My skin prickled. I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched.

“My mother’s done some volunteer work here. And gives them an obscene amount of money.”

Noah flipped on the lights, illuminating the long metal table in the center, and closed the door behind us. Metal shelves lined the walls, holding bins and plastic tubs. Noah walked around, his eyes scanning their small labels. I was rooted to the doorway, and couldn’t read them from where I stood.

Finally, Noah held up a translucent plastic box. My eyes narrowed at him.

“What are those?”

“Leeches,” he said casually. He avoided my stare.

A wave of disgust rolled through me. “No. No way.”

“You have to.”

I shuddered. “Pick something else,” I said, and rushed to the far side of the room. “Here.” I pointed at an opaque tub with a label I couldn’t pronounce. “Somethingsomething scorpions.”

“Those are poisonous,” Noah said, studying my face.

“Even better.”

“They’re also endangered.”

“Fine,” I said, my voice and legs beginning to tremble as I walked over to a transparent box and pointed. “The big-ass spider.”

Noah walked over and read the label, still holding the box of leeches close. Way too close. I backed away. “Also poisonous,” Noah said evenly.

“Then that will be plenty of incentive.”

“It could bite before you kill it.”

My heart wanted to escape from my throat. “A perfect opportunity to practice your healing,” I choked out.

Noah shook his head. “I’m not going to experiment with your life. No.”

“Then pick something else,” I said, growing breathless with terror. “Not the leeches.”

Noah rubbed his forehead. “They’re harmless, Mara.”

“I don’t care!” I heard the insects in the room beat their chitinous wings against their plastic prisons. I began to lose it and felt myself sway on my feet.

“If it doesn’t work, I’ll take it off immediately,” Noah said. “It won’t hurt you.”

“No. I’m serious, Noah,” I said. “I can’t do it. They burrow under skin and suck blood. Oh my God. Oh my God.” I wrapped my arms around my body to stop it from shaking.

“It will be over quickly, I promise,” he said. “You won’t feel anything.” He reached his hand into the tank.

“No.” I could only croak this in a hoarse whisper. I couldn’t breathe. Multicolored spots appeared behind my eyelids that I couldn’t blink away.

Noah scooped up a leech in his hand and I felt myself sink. Then …

Nothing.

“Mara.”

My eyes fluttered open.

“It’s dead. Unbelievable,” he said. “You did it.”

Noah walked over with his palm open to show me, but I recoiled, scrambled up against the door. He looked at me with an unreadable expression, then went to discard the dead leech. When he lifted the bin to replace it back on the shelf, he stopped.

“My God,” he said.

“What?” My voice was still nothing but a shaky whisper.

“They’re all dead.”

“The leeches?”

Noah put the bin back on the shelf with an unsteady hand. He walked among the rows of insects, eyes scanning the transparent tubs and opening the others to inspect them.

When he reached the spot he started in, he stared at the wall.

“Everything,” he said. “Everything’s dead.”





55


THE STENCH OF ROT FILLED MY NOSTRILS, AND a voice buzzed in my ear.

“Biologists are reporting that the fish kill in Everglades City was most likely due to oxygen depletion in the water.”

Images of bloated, belly-up alligators appeared in my dark consciousness.