Thud. Thud. Thud.
My heart pounded in my chest, my blood rushing through my ears. My hands scrambled against the cool chalky surface of the wall as I shakily exhaled. Keeping my eyes closed I dropped my head into my palms. That's the second intern we've lost this month. It can't continue like this.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
His new razor sharp claws screeched against the concrete floor of the booth. Hector let out…was that a whimper? The scratching stopped, but the keening whine continued. There was faint whisper of fur brushing against the door.
I sighed, looking down the corridor towards the ever present glowing door of station management. The last traces of the French toast scented carbon monoxide were still seeping out from under their door. They hadn't listened to the cheerfully toned warnings of Lacy about opening all windows and doors. But then probably the management didn't have haemoglobin to be bothered by something as petty as a little carbon monoxide anyway.
Antiques didn't have to be dangerous, they were wild animals sure. But that doesn't stop the sheriff's secret police from using lions as patrol partners. In fact it's been over three days since any lion related incident appeared on my list of local news.
Keep half an eye, literally, on the door of station management I slowly opened the door to my office, ahem, the stations office. A feathered wing quickly slipped out, followed by a tiny spherical body, shaped roughly like an owl but trailing the tail and claws of hyena beneath it. Hectors luminous eyes bore into me, he was in pain. Looking around quickly I picked him up, shoved him in my pocket and ran to my car. Nodding politely to the police officer hiding in the bush besides the parking lot, and took off as fast as the speeding lights ahead of me would allow.
If anyone knew I had an Antique in my possession without a licence for dealership, the penalties could be severe. We're talking loss-of-existence-privilege-severe. But Hector now waddled into my hand, trusting me to look after him.
Inside my cluttered apartment I gently washed the clear viscous goo he was covered in from the change. After a few terse moments of him staring across the table at me unblinkingly I shook my head and picked up my phone. I needed a scientist.