"I'm going to the black market, and I need you to come with me."
The caracal stares at Desmond for a painfully long time with an unreadable expression. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, he answers.
"And what makes you think I would agree to this?"
"This is for Hafsa's sake," The ram explains quickly. "And yours, and every carnivore in this academy. If you don't want what happened today to repeat itself, help me. I'm gonna find out what's going on. You don't even have to do anything, I'll do all the investigation work."
Solomon closes his eyes, his expression halfway between contemplative and amused. After a few seconds, he opens them.
"Why aren't you asking Hafsa herself? I was under the impression you two were… close."
Desmond flinches. "That's… not important. I just need a carnivore to come with me for safety."
He hears a snort. Startled, the ram looks up at the secretary. His head is tucked in the crook of his neck, as if stifling a sneeze. His shoulders tremble, each quake more violent than the last until suddenly, the cat explodes into a cacophonous fit of laughter.
Desmond's jaw drops. He had never seen Solomon guffaw like that, even exposing his fangs with each inhale of air. He just stands there in stunned silence until the cat's hysterics finally settle.
"Y-you know, Desmond," He wheezes, wiping a tear from his eye. "I understand why you were voted Vice President. You really are adorable."
"H-huh…?"
"Do you really think you're some kind of hero of justice for carnies now?" Solomon says, still chuckling. "Do you really think you can catch the bad guy and solve all your problems just like that? Do you really think that will make her want you?"
His eyes turn steely though his grin remains. "You are so delusional it hurts. It's clear to me that Hafsa decided to distance herself from you. I suppose she can't bring herself to indulge in your… fetish, no matter how nice she is. So, is storming into the black market your idea of a grand gesture? No matter how much you play the hero, you're setting yourself up for failure. And failure for a herbivore means death."
"You think I don't know that?!" Desmond roars. He pounces on Solomon, pinning him by the wrists on Hafsa's desk. "But while you sit on your ass and jerk off to how smart you are, the fucking killer is still out there! So even if I can't do anything about it, even if I get my head bitten off the second I step foot into the black market, I can die knowing I at least cared more about her and all the students more than you!"
Solomon's smirk fades, leaving only a frigid glare. "I'm not going with you. If this what you consider 'caring', then find another carnie to indulge in your egotistical suicide mission. Better yet, go alone and find out how weak you really are."
He shoves the sheep off of him with ease and straightens out his clothing. Without even sparing a final look back, he strides out of the door, leaving Desmond alone in the maddeningly silent office.
The caracal tries to keep his footsteps coordinated and light, but he almost leaps into the male's restroom on the ground floor. Rushing into a stall and fastening the lock with a trembling hand, he uses his free hand to tear open the toilet paper dispenser off its hinges. He clutches the large wheel-shaped roll of paper and furiously claws at it, each swipe accentuated with a beastly snarl.
In a matter of seconds, the once bulky roll of paper is disemboweled across the tiled floor as jagged, minuscule tatters as the feline heaves over it, struggling to relax his breathing.
Something about that sheep always seem to bring out the worst in him, something that transcends mere jealously over a female. For a herbivore like him to pity carnivores so much that he would blindly scavenge the black market for leads on a serial predator… it's beyond sickening. As if taking down the criminal would magically fix his own twisted relationship with carnivores. When will he realize that herbivores and carnivores will never understand each other? Never, ever, not even in a million years, not even if convergent evolution bring them together again. To assume otherwise, and deign to call it activism or caring, is utter delusion. Solomon could never understand. He would never understand the lives of the herbivores he had eaten, what they had been through. And Desmond could never understand the hunger boiling inside the cat's stomach.
He spits out the large excess of saliva pooling inside his mouth into the open toilet and watches mirthlessly as the bubbles swirl around in the water. He thinks back to Desmond's request. The ram's expression seemed to say that he knows something about the matter. Perhaps he has even gone to the black market before. But it is all an exercise in futility.
If Solomon wanted to, he could go through his father's black market trade records and discover what's been causing the abnormal meat demands as soon as he returned home. He could be the hero Desmond so desperately wants to be. But that in itself is a fallacy. Justice can never be served to a creature so putrid as a carnivore. Catching the culprit, arresting them, even killing them would mean nothing. That would be like punishing a fly for having wings.
And a herbivore like Desmond could never understand that.
Desmond stares at his smartphone's screen, rereading the message he had sent five minutes ago. He knew that it was unlikely Solomon would actually accept his request and risk ruining his reputation by being spotted in the black market. So now it's time to move on to Plan B.
His list of potential carnivores is extremely limited, so Plan B is less than ideal, but if he was desperate enough to ask Solomon, then he couldn't afford to back out now. He suddenly hears footsteps approaching the student council office, and readjusts his posture in anticipation.
"Knock, knock…" Goes a quiet voice from the other side of the door.
"Come in."
A gangly white tigress ducks her head down to fit under the doorframe and quickly scuffles in the room. Upon seeing the ram's face, she offers a polite smile and a bow.
"Sorry to have called you on such short notice." Desmond begins, returning her bow. "You must be busy with packing."
Priya dismisses the apology with a wave of her hand. "It's fine, really. My family will only be able to pick me up in the evening. This is all really sudden, isn't it?"
"Yeah…" Desmond mutters, unable to meet her gaze. God, is this really how low he's stooped? Recruiting a disabled albino female to be his bodyguard? He swallows his guilt before it has the chance to change his mind. "I need to ask you a huge favor."
Priya's azure eyes widen, taken aback by his sudden seriousness. "Of course. Anything for the captain of the ram fighting team."
"First, I should probably explain the real reason behind the school shutting down." The sophomore explains the tragic tale of Jasmine the wolverine, as well as its possible link to the other suspicious happenings both on and off the Noah's Arc campus. The feline silently listens to every word, unblinking.
"You have every right not to believe me," Desmond prefaces. "But I think the school is in danger, and the police and headmaster are not gonna do shit about it."
Priya stumbles to the closest chair available to her, the one behind Hafsa's desk. Desmond jumps to his feet and offers the seat to her, suddenly aware of how inconsiderate he's been towards her frail condition.
"Jasmine…" Priya sobs weakly as she repositions her nasal cannula. "We had classes together… Is she really…?"
Desmond grimaces. "Yeah. I'm sorry."
The tiger sniffs, wiping her tears with her gargantuan hands. "No, thank you for telling me. I believe you."
The sheep sighs, both out of relief and melancholy. "I'm gonna do something about it. I'll find out whoever's behind this and make sure no more students get hurt. But for that, I need your help."
"My help?" Priya points to herself incredulously.
"I already have an idea of what's going on…" Desmond explains, albeit aggrandizing his confidence a little bit. "Isaac's disappearance had to be linked to the black market, so it's possible that Jasmine's murder is too. If the next trend in meat trading is carnivorous meat, maybe we can find out who's been influencing the market and why. And that can trace us back to the Noah's Arc predator."
"But, Jasmine was just m-murdered, wasn't she? That means the predator didn't eat or sell her body. Are you sure those two things are connected?"
"I'm not sure," He admits. "That's why I need to go to the black market and see for myself. And that's why I need your help."
Priya's face turns even paler. "You want me to go to the black market with you? Just because I'm a carnie doesn't mean I've been there before, I'll have you know."
"I don't mean it like that!" The male dismisses. "I just mean… If I go in there alone, I'll get devoured for sure. Just having a carnivore by my side would help. You don't have to do a thing."
"Can't the president or secretary go with you?"
"Th-that's not an option right now."
The tigress squirms, shrinking into herself in discomfort. "But… for an albino animal like myself to go… I'll probably be a target too."
He can't argue with that. What he's asking for is truly a lot, too much for mere acquaintances. It was foolish to think he could drag other people into this mess. The most sensible thing to do is to risk going in by himself.
"Okay, I'll go."
Desmond whips his head towards her. Her unsure expression has vanished, now replaced by a look of resolution.
"Y-you will?"
"Yes, I'll go with you." Priya repeats with a nod. "After all, when you asked me, you had such a troubled look on your face. You must care for this school an awful lot. That's what makes you such a good Vice President after all."
"Priya…"
"I need to work hard for Jasmine's sake too. I could hardly go home now knowing all this and feel comfortable sitting around." She grins as she tugs on her scarf.
The ram blinks hard, desperately forcing back the tears that want to come out. He clasps her hand with both of his and gives it a hearty shake. "Thanks. It means a lot."
Priya smiles shyly. "Let me know when we're going. I have an idea."
Unaware of the sheep and tiger's meeting above, Hafsa slinks around the Emzara building, her back pressed firmly against the painted brick wall. Stealthily, she makes her way to the northern depths of the campus, careful to avoid bumping into patrolling faculty and hustling students.
There's something she needs to check.
She arrives at the school's garden, now speckled with bright yellows and oranges as befitting of early autumn. She creeps past plump pumpkins and blooming begonias to the garden shed, which remains as dilapidated as ever. Grabbing the rusted handle, she tries opening the door, but it doesn't budge. Seems even an ancient shack like this has a lock. She could just bust through the rotten wooden walls, but damaging the building is not an option. Instead she opts to jump atop the roof, and carefully tiptoes around to the back ledge hoping her weight wouldn't cause the shed to cave in on itself.
She gingerly sits on her legs and crouches to peek through the narrow rectangular window which is thankfully missing a glass pane. Although her vision is upside-down, the view of the inside of the shed seems to be normal. Clouds of dust dance in the trickling beams of light that leak through the cracks of the wooden planks. Busted equipment and molded bags of seeds sit as if they had never been touched in their life. It's all normal, except one very large, very glaring exception.
A dark pool of blood in the center of the shed. Flies buzz around the crimson in excitement.
A sudden burning sensation reaches her nose.
Her pupils shrink to the size of paper cuts.
She heaves her torso back up and violently slams her back against the tin roof, causing a deafening metallic clank. Thankfully, the rusted roof did not break, but Hafsa is too distracted to care about that or the pain in her spine.
The stench of fresh blood blinds every other sense.
Priya.
AN: Thanks for reading! We're getting close to the climax of the story, so things won't be slowing down. Of course, a big twist is par for the course. I wonder how many of you pieced it all together a long time ago? I left a lot of hints...
How did Hafsa know to check the shed? That's for next chapter. Until then, hope you guys take it easy and stay safe.