I got dizzy looking up and turning and then finally spotted my sloth friend. He hugged the trunk of a tree about twelve feet above my head. I grinned and waved at him. He smiled back—but that was probably just the expression he always made.
I let out a series of squeaks. Hey, buddy! You were trying to tell me something earlier, and I think I might know what it was. I took a deep breath, my stomach and chest tight. Snakes, I hope I was wrong.
It blinked its dark, globular eyes at me.
I squeaked again. Are you a shifter?
It seemed to freeze—then again, it was a sloth. That could’ve been its normal speed. Then it slowly opened its little mouth and squeaked. Yes.
An icy cold washed over me. Holy shell. It made sense now. The lemurs too, I suspected were shifters. My powers weren’t fading. Shifters typically weren’t as fluent in their animal forms as a native animal speaker. For instance, when I’d been able to change into an owl, I’d been able to exchange pleasantries with other owls, but couldn’t manage much beyond that.
I edged closer, my head tipped all the way back, and spoke sloth. Do the people who work here know you’re a shifter? Are all the other animals shifters, too? Are you trapped? Are you unable to change back?
As I waited for the sloth to respond, I realized I probably should have asked more succinct questions, but my heart was racing, and I could barely stand still.
It squeaked. Ludolf… Caterwaul…
My hands trembled and I shoved them in my pockets. Hoo boy. This was big. Big and horrible. A mix of terror and rage rushed through me.
Peter’s voice filtered through the foliage. “—not so bad. I appreciate you finding these.”
“Where’s your associate?”
Quincy sounded irritated.
Oh, I’d show him irritated. I bounced on my heels, debating if I should try to get more information out of the sloth, but decided I wanted to confront Quincy.
I squeaked up at the sloth. Don’t worry. We’ll be back, and we’ll figure out a way to free you. Then I took off back the way I’d come, following the sound of Peter’s voice. They were nearly right in front of me when I wandered back out of the magical enclosure and knocked on the invisible force field.
Peter and Quincy whirled in my direction, and Daisy barked.
There she is!
Quincy gripped the rope railing of the swaying walkway. “What’s she doing in there again?”
Peter grinned at me, then turned to Quincy. “Please lower the magical barrier so she can get back out.”
He obliged, begrudgingly, and I stepped forward. The magic rushed back into place as soon as I was free of the enclosure. Peter withdrew his wand and gave me a magical boost back up to the swaying rope bridge.
I grinned my thanks at Peter and grabbed the lapel of his uniform. “A word, Officer? In private?’ I shot a scathing look at Quincy, who spluttered in response. Typical.
“Uh, sure.” Peter and I moved a few feet away, and he muttered a silencing spell so we could talk with candor.
I pointed at him. “You first—what’d you find?” My heart still pounded in my chest. I felt like I could rip a few trees out of the ground.
He frowned as he looked me over, clearly concerned, but he cleared his throat and spoke. “We found the permits. The phoenix was from the Underground Animal Rescue, the one Zane Perez told us about.”
My nostrils flared as I huffed. “The mysterious one that no one in the animal rights world knows anything about?”
Peter nodded. “Just from a cursory glance at the papers, I’d guess they get about 90 percent of their animals from the UAR.”
I shook my head, jaw tight. If I kept this up, I’d probably grind my molars down to nubs. “It’s Ludolf Caterwaul!” I flashed my eyes at him. “The Underground Animal Rescue is Ludolf! The sloth, the lemurs, probably 90 percent of the animals here—they’re shifters!”
Peter blanched. “That’s—”
“Depraved?” I nodded.
A red flush spread up Peter’s neck and cheeks. He whirled and marched up to Quincy, me right behind him. “Who’s your contact?”
Quincy frowned and pointed at one of his large ears.
Peter huffed, irritated, then waved his wand and ended the silencing spell. “Who’s your contact at the Underground Animal Rescue?”
Quincy scoffed. “I—I don’t know…. It wasn’t my business to handle.”
I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess— Malorie handled it?”
Quincy lifted his weak chin. “Actually, I believe Libbie did for a while, until she left us.”
Peter and I exchanged looks. We’d be paying Libbie a visit soon, I had no doubt. I turned back to Quincy, adrenaline making my hands and voice shake. “Did you know that all your animals are shifters trapped in animal form?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
Daisy growled, and I grinned. “You’re lying.”
Quincy bristled. “These are outrageous claims!”
Oh. I’d show him outrageous. I balled my trembling hands into fists, ready to attack, but Peter clamped a warm hand down on my shoulder and pulled me toward him. I spun to face him.
“Come on, Jolene. We need to leave this for now.”
“What the shell?” I scoffed. “We have to shut this down and free those people!” I threw an arm toward the jungle-like enclosure.
Peter’s blue eyes bored into mine, his brow pinched, expression pained. “I know. And we will. But we need proof.”
I gawked at him. “Uh, the sloth told me it’s a shifter!” I threw an arm toward the German shepherd. “Daisy will back me up.”
Peter sighed. “No offense, but there’s still a lot of skepticism about a pet psychic and a dog who can supposedly smell lies.” He shook his head. “You two are invaluable for getting to the
