“Pete!”
The voice didn’t come through the air. It came inside his head. It was that familiar buzzing he recognized from his brain-to-brain conversations with Harriet, but the voice didn’t sound like Harriet’s. Pete kept his eyes closed and waited.
“Are you there?”
“Fanon?” Pete didn’t think it was possible he was hearing his alligator familiar. How could Fanon be talking to him inside his head? He’d only heard Harriet talk to him that way.
“Yep. It’s me. I’m here to help you guys.”
“Where are you now?”
“It’s a zoo. I picked it for a good hiding place, but it’s not working out as I planned.” There was a breathy pause. “I kind of stick out. Nothing here looks like me. And the trip zapped my scales. I can’t get all my super powers to work.”
“Your what?” Pete wriggled a finger in his ear as if he needed to hear better, then remembered he wasn’t hearing Fanon that way.
“I’m working on powers. Uncle Cenozo says I got to have some, so I can start keeping you out of trouble.”
“Like what powers?” Pete asked.
“Well, telepathy’s my best one so far. But I’ve almost got trans … trans something down. It’s when I can get someplace fast without crawling or swimming. It’s kind of neat, but tricky. Like right now I can’t make it work, so I’m stuck in this zoo place.”
Pete reached across and shook Weasel awake. “Fanon’s here.”
Weasel jumped up and turned in a circle. “Where?”
“A zoo.”
Weasel rubbed his eyes. “He’s here. In a zoo.” He slowly settled his glasses on his nose, and kept talking, but to himself not to Pete. “And why do I know he’s telling me the truth? Because this is how wizards work, Weasel. They see things that are here, but they’re not here. It’s you who doesn’t understand. It’s your problem. It’s—”
“Knock it off, okay? Fanon’s here,” Pete pointed to his head. “I’m hearing him. You’ve got to help me find out how we can meet up. And no more long sighs and rolling your eyes. He’s really here, and he needs help.”
Weasel dropped onto his straw bed. “Ask him what he sees around him.”
“What do you see around you?”
“Orangutan on one side. A cousin of his on the other. They’re not happy.”
Pete waited before he said this to Weasel, but when he did, Weasel shrugged. “He’s in a zoo, all right.”
“Where’s there a zoo around here?”
Weasel pointed at his chest. “You’re asking me?”
“You read that book about England and Queen. You know everything about where we are and what happens when we’re here.”
“Oh, that’s great news. Thanks for telling me that.” Weasel fell back against the rough wall of the stable, his arms crossed, his eyes squeezed shut.
“Weaze?”
“Quiet. Thinking.”
“Weasel’s thinking, Fanon. I’ll be back when I’ve got some answers.”
As the minutes ticked off, Pete wanted to shake Weasel and make him talk, but he knew better than that. When Weasel went this quiet and this still, he was somewhere inside his head searching for data. What they needed right now was as much of the stuff Weasel had stored in his brain as he could pull up. Without it Pete didn’t have a clue how he was going to find Fanon. He thought about using just a little magic. Just one spell to bring Fanon to him. Teleporting wasn’t that big a deal. Maybe if he—
“Regent’s Park,” Weasel said without opening his eyes. “A zoo was there. I think.” He looked at Pete. “Yes. Regent’s Park. Oldest zoo in the world. Not open to the public. Not yet. Later in the 1800s.”
Pete relayed what Weasel said.
Fanon answered right away. “Can you come here?”
“We’ll try.”
“Soon, okay? The food’s not good and the monkeys smell like … monkeys.”
Pete laughed. “I know all about bad food and bad smells. We’ll find you.” He sat next to Weasel. “Where’s Regent Park from here?”
“You are amazing, you know that?”
“You always say that, but I know what you really mean, so just help find the park. We have to get to Fanon. He might be able to help us out of this place. Besides, he sounds kind of miserable.”
In the morning, Pete trailed after Bailey, helping him more than Bailey wanted him to. Bailey scowled at Pete every time he had to step around him.
“What is it you’re wanting now?” Bailey asked, turning around so fast that Pete ran into him, their noses close to touching.
“Umm. It’s, well it’s about—”
“Regent’s Park.” The voice was high and very sweet. “Bailey, he would like you to tell him where the zoological gardens are located.”
Pete whipped around to face a girl just a few years older than he was—ninth grader, he guessed. She smiled at him and came closer, her long golden curls bouncing as she walked. She held a large pad of paper in one hand.
Bailey took off his cap and clutched it to his chest. “Miss Margaret. Very fine to see you here. Will you be riding today?”
“Not today.” She leaned her head to one side and studied Pete until he felt his face go red. “Perhaps I could show you where it is. It isn’t far from here. A short distance, really.”
“Great. Yes.” That was all Pete could get out. His tongue kept sticking on the roof of his mouth and no amount of swallowing was helping.
“It seems we should go straight away, then,” she said. “Bailey, we will need the buggy with Flower, please.”
Bailey hesitated as if he hadn’t heard her right. “Uh. Yes, Miss.” Bailey jerked his head toward the stall with the horse named Flower. “Pete, bring her out.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Weasel, get on it, boy. We need the buggy brought up here now.”
Pete was grateful to have a job to distract him. He wasn’t sure he understood what had happened in these few minutes, but he knew Miss Margaret had very blue eyes and very blonde curls and she somehow had found out he needed to get to the zoo.
How? How? How? kept running through his mind as he walked Flower from her stall and backed her between the shafts of the buggy that Weasel wheeled out.
Bailey helped Miss Margaret into the small buggy, but Pete knew she didn’t need any of his help. He knew she let him do it for Bailey, not for her. It was the way she moved and the way she waited for Bailey when she’d almost leapt up on her own, then thought better of it.
“Up with you, then,” she said to Pete. “You, too, Weasel. We can’t go without you along now, can we?”
Weasel didn’t wait. He hopped in and sat next to Pete. “What’s this about,” he whispered into Pete’s ear.
Pete took a moment, then raised his shoulders in a slow shrug to show just how surprised he was by what had happened.
“Hand me those blankets, Bailey,” Miss Margaret said. “There may be a chill.”
Bailey did what she asked, but as he set the blankets inside the buggy, he scowled at Pete and Weasel. He didn’t have to say so, but he made it clear he didn’t like them riding off in a fine buggy with Miss Margaret.
She flicked the reins over Flower’s sleek brown back and off they went down the dirt road. Soon they came to the park they’d seen on their way to the Kingsley house. Only this time, Pete saw the tall fence, hidden behind the trees and shrubs.
They didn’t talk until they’d arrived at a sturdy iron gate with a bell to the side, then Miss Margaret pulled Flower to a stop. “You have some questions about me that you are hesitant to ask, so let me answer them for you.” She faced Pete and Weasel. “My name is Margaret Kingsley. I have a special talent or curse some might say of second sight.”
She pulled her shoulders back and tilted her head, so her curls fell across one shoulder.
“What’s that mean, uh…Miss Margaret?” Pete asked.
“It means I often know of things before they happen or that others think, but don’t share. And please, just Margaret will do. I’m more modern in my thinking than some. My father says I’m in danger of ruining the family name.” She smiled. “He’s only teasing me, of course. I’m very lucky to have a father who understands this talent of mine and gives me great latitude to help others when it’s necessary.”
“So you know about us?” Pete asked.
“Yes. I know, for example, that you and your friend,” she nodded at Weasel, “are not from my time. I know that you are in trouble and that someone named Harriet Hadley is working to help you out of that trouble.”
“Amazing,” Weasel said, and this time Pete knew he meant what he said. Weasel wasn’t wising off.
“Not very amazing, I’m afraid,” Margaret said. “No one likes being around me. No one understands how it’s possible that I see into the future or that I know what they think is secret.” She looked into the near distance. “It’s lonely having second sight.” She sighed. “It’s sometimes scary, too.”
“How’s that?” Pete asked.
“Last night I visited an alligator—in my vision, of course. Inside there.” She pointed toward the gate. “I’m not used to alligators. I’ve never seen one before, so that was frightening. Then he talked to me, and that was much more frightening. I was sure my mind was gone, you see, and that was a most unpleasant thought.”
“Fanon’s my special friend where I come from. He’s supposed to give me advice and stuff.”
“And keep you out of trouble,” Weasel mumbled.
Pete ignored him. “Somehow he’s followed me here, but he says he can’t hide like he thought. I guess there’s no other alligators where he is. Only monkeys and he doesn’t like that much.”
“Yes. I know,” Margaret said. “Now we have two things to consider. First, how to get inside the gardens and take Fanon out. The zoo only allows in people who study animals for science. Then we must think of where we will hide him until we can find a way for all of you to return where you belong.”
“Weasel’s smart enough to be a scientist.” Pete clapped Weasel on the back. “You go tell them you’re here to study something.”
Weasel shook his head. “They’re not letting a kid in. We need somebody who’s a member of the Zoological Society.” He looked at Margaret. “You got anybody like that?”
“My father’s a member, but I can’t ask him to intercede. However,” she picked up her large pad of paper from the seat, “I’ve brought my sketchpad and I have an idea for gaining us entrance once we can find someone with a key.”
“Okay.” Pete hopped down from the small buggy and ran to the gate.
“Now what are you doing?” Weasel yelled.
“Getting us in the zoo.” Pete grabbed the clapper on the bell and yanked it.