Twelve: Wolf (Part 2)

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CHAPTER TWELVE - Wolf (Part 2)

The next sound Josie heard was a voice speaking in Arabic.

Josie lifted his head a bit off the floor. He could see Manhattan in one of the over-stuffed chairs. She was listening closely, sucking nervously on a piece of her hair. She was, Josie thought, trying to decide whether Teta was talking to the plants again or whether what she was saying was true.

Josie heard the word "Bangkok" and saw Manhattan take a deep mournful breath.

Josie also saw Emerald, sitting cross legged on the floor off to the side.

Josie pulled himself up a little and winced. His ribs were hot pokers. But when he touched his side, he saw that he was bandaged and that a thick cream, which smelled like head cheese and feet, must have been made by Teta and applied while he was knocked out.

It was obvious that whatever danger he had been in before had stopped.

He raised his head a bit and saw that Bacon had waddled down the hall and was now sitting outside one of the bedrooms. Marty's bedroom he guessed. His big square head was resting on a stuffed light green plane, probably Marty's.

Bacon's eyes looked heavy and sad.

Josie watched Manhattan listening to the words, letting them sink in. There were tears in her eyes as she listened. Teta got up, let the afghan fall on the floor, and wrapped herself around her granddaughter, cupped her young hands in her old hands, and told her the whole story, or as much as she knew about Bangkok, and Trinket and Marty.

All of it was in Arabic, except the last part which Josie suspected was for his benefit.

"...and so you see, dear Rasha, this boy is the Shintawk," Teta said, glancing at Josie, aware that he was listening. Manhattan looked at him, too.

"... and if we help him, he might be able to bring our Bashir home."

And then Josie heard the old woman say something he thought no one in the world would ever say, "Josie Brown is our only hope."

&&&&

They talked all afternoon, Josie, Teta, and Manhattan, with Bacon snoring, unmoving, in the hallway in front of Marty's room.

Manhattan occasionally got up to fill her grandmother's tea cup, or rub her old hands. Teta checked Josie's bandages, feeling her away around his wounds with the tips of her fingers, and where she thought it was needed, she applied more healing salve.

Manhattan rummaged through the refrigerator and made them lamb kebabs, sprinkled in cumin, salt and mint, which she served with a little pot of thick yogurt, a bowl of steaming cous cous, and a hot flat bread that Teta called saj.

It was the kindest meal Josie had ever eaten. They sat around the coffee table, eating with their fingers, drinking tea, and listening to Teta.

She told them all the stories she knew - about Bangkok, and shapeshifting Taipan that lived in nests in the swamps of Northern Australia, and a zombie crocodile-raptor named Verdoon that snatched people from their beds, and a gigantic blood-thirsty Red Back that wraps babies in her web and eats them when she's hungry.

She talked about the Organic Food Store and how it was a den for Bangkok, and how there were other dens, posing as shops and markets, and other monsters living among the people in various towns and inlets in Australia.

To listen to her tell it, all of Australia was besotted by secret enclaves of malevolent, robotic Funnel Webs, and Box Jellyfish that lived in drains and reached up grabbed people when they showered.

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