Nina stared at the keys in her hand. “But—are you sure, Uncle Lou?”
“Absolutely. Impress that boyfriend of yours at the law firm. I can always borrow it back if I need to. Now, we’d better go—I don’t want to be late.”
He tucked the manila envelope beneath his arm. Once inside the car, he slid it into the glovebox. “Let’s remember it’s there,” he said, and sank into the leather seat.
They ran into heavy traffic heading north, but this eased as they approached Dunstable. The zoo was in the countryside a few miles outside town, within a greenbelt that was in stark contrast to the depressing sprawl behind them. Uncle Lou rolled down his window, letting in the smell of autumn leaves and smoke. On a distant green hillside, the immense chalk figure of a lion had been carved. Above the hill, a full moon had just begun to rise, tarnished silver against the periwinkle sky.
“Look at that,” said Nina. “Isn’t that beautiful?”
“Isn’t it,” said Uncle Lou, and squeezed her hand upon the gear-shift.
They arrived at the zoo entrance shortly after the reception’s opening time.
“Don’t park there,” Uncle Lou said when Nina put on her turn signal for the main carpark. “Keep going—there, on the left. Much less crowded, and you’ll be able to leave quickly later.”
Nina angled the Aston Martin through a narrow gate that opened into a much smaller lot. It held only a handful of vehicles, most of them zoo vans and trucks.
“Are we allowed to park here?” she asked, after following Uncle Lou’s directions to ease the Aston Martin beneath a large oak.
“Oh, yes. It never really fills up. Bit of a secret.” With an effort, he extricated himself from the car, steadying himself against the hood and sighing. “I swear, that car gets smaller every time I get inside it.” He pointed at a gap between an overgrown hedge. “That way.”
“How do you know about this?” asked Nina, stepping gingerly through the gap.
“I have friends here I visit sometimes. Ah, that must be where we’re supposed to be…”
This zoo was much more parklike than the London Zoo; more like the grounds of a stately home, only minus the home, and with elephants and oryx and other large wildlife. Dusk had deepened into early evening, the moon poised above them in a lapis sky where a few faint stars shimmered. Unearthly noises echoed through the night: high-pitched chitters; a loud snuffling that became a bellow; an odd hollow pumping sound.
“Least bittern,” said Uncle Lou, cocking his head in the direction of the sound.
Nina squinted in the fading light. “How do you know that?”
“I’m a font of useless knowledge. I’ve built my career on it.”
A path led them toward a large field where a crowd milled around an open-sided white marquee tent. A few security guards and several men and women in staff uniforms that marked them as animal keepers mingled with people wearing loose interpretations of fancy dress. At a small booth beside the tent, a middle-aged woman in a black faux-fur capelet examined Uncle Lou’s invitation.
“I know who you are,” she said, beaming up at him. “I met my husband because of Athens by Night. Is this your daughter?”
“My niece.” Uncle Lou tucked Nina’s arm into his.
The woman checked their names off a list and gestured toward the tent. “Go get some champagne. Enjoy!”
The reception was to raise funds for a new, state-of-the art Owl House, which would provide habitat for the endangered Eurasian Eagle-Owl and Pygmy Owl, along with more common species. Beneath the marquee, tables draped in black and silver held trays of canapes and elaborate hors d’oeuvre made to resemble owls, full moons, and bats. In one corner, a large owl with a slender chain attached to its leg perched upon a leather gauntlet covering the arm of a tall, blonde young man in zoo staff livery. A number of guests had gathered here, and the owl regarded them with baleful hauteur, now and then ruffling its feathers and clacking its beak noisily.
After making a beeline for the bar, Nina and Uncle Lou wandered around the tent, drinking their champagne and admiring a large display with three-dimensional models of the proposed Owl House. A few people walked over to clasp Uncle Lou’s hand and greet him by name, including Miranda Eccles, an ancient woman writer of some renown. Nina had often heard the rumor that the two had been lovers. While they spoke, Nina slipped away to get two more glasses of champagne. By the time she returned, the elderly woman was gone.
“Let’s go say hello to that owl,” said Uncle Lou.
He handed his empty glass to a passing waiter and took a full one from Nina. They edged their way to the front of the group, being careful not to spill their champagne. The owl had turned its back on the onlookers.
“It looks rather like Miranda, doesn’t it?” observed Uncle Lou.
The owl’s head abruptly swiveled in a disconcerting two-hundred-and-sixty-degree arc. Its yellow eyes fixed on Uncle Lou, the pupils large as pound coins. Without warning it raised its wings and flapped them menacingly, beak parting to emit an ear-splitting screech.
Nina gasped. A few people cried out, then laughed nervously as the owl-keeper swiftly produced a canvas hood that he quickly dropped over the bird.
“He’s getting restless,” he explained, adjusting the hood. “Full moon, he wants to hunt. And he’s not used to so many people.”
“I feel the same way.” Uncle Lou took Nina’s elbow and steered her toward an exit. “Let’s take a walk outside.”
They handed off their empty glasses and stepped back into the night. Uncle Lou seemed invigorated by the champagne: he threw his head back, gazing at the moon; laughed then pointed to a black tracery of trees some distance away.
“There,” he said.
He began walking so quickly that Nina had to run to catch up. When she reached his side, he took her hand, slowing his pace.
“You’ve been a very good niece.” He glanced down at her. For the first time Nina noticed he had neglected to shave, perhaps for several days: gray stubble covered his jaw and chin. “I don’t know how my brother and your mother managed to produce such a wonderful daughter, but I’m very glad they did.”
“Oh, Uncle Lou.” Nina’s eyes filled with tears. “I feel the same way.”
“I know you do. Here.” He stopped, with some effort twisted the heavy silver ring from his hand. He grasped Nina’s wrist and slid the ring onto her right pointer finger. “I want you to have this.”
She looked at him in surprise. “It fits! It always looked so big.”
Moonlight glinted on the silver band as Uncle Lou drew it to his lips and kissed her knuckle, the gray hairs on his chin soft where they brushed her fingertips.
“Of course it fits. You have my hands,” he said, and let hers drop. “Come on.”
They passed artfully landscaped habitats with placards that indicated that antelopes or Bactrian camels lived there, behind hidden moats or fences cunningly designed to resemble vines or reeds or waist-high grass. A gated road permitted cars and zoo buses to drive through a mock savanna where lions and cheetahs prowled.
Nina saw no sign of any animals, though she occasionally caught the ripe scents of dung or musk, the muddy green smell of a manmade pond or marsh. The snorts and hoots had diminished as night deepened and creatures either settled to sleep or, in the case of predators, grew silent and watchful.
But then a single wavering cry rang out from the direction of the trees, ending as abruptly as it began. Nina’s entire body flashed cold.
“What was that?” she whispered. But Uncle Lou didn’t reply.