Free The Menagerie by Tui T. Sutherland

Squorp’s golden fur. “Maybe I can come back and visit sometimes. I can even bring you hamburger meat, if they let me.”
    He looked up and caught Matthew shaking his head at Zoe. That didn’t look promising. But now that he knew about the Menagerie, would they really keep him away from it forever?
    Cow for me, Squorp gurgled wistfully. He draped his wings over Logan’s shoulders.
    Mr. Kahn carefully arranged palm fronds around the phoenix ashes. “Pelly, when Nero emerges, please tell him we hope he’s all right and we’ll come back to check on him later.”
    The goose was indignantly huddled on the far side of the nest from the ash pile. “Oh,” she said, “I suppose it makes sense that I should also start delivering messages for everyone, since I’m already the only reason this menagerie can survive. It does seem logical that I should do even more work around here. Especially when it involves talking to serial arsonists . Don’t worry about my feathers or my beautiful nest at all. No, no, I’ll just sit here in the thick toxic clouds of smoke until he crawls out and fails to apologize.” She coughed dramatically.
    Logan looked down at the tiny wisp of smoke curling up from the ashes. Zoe shook her head at him, like, Don’t bother saying anything.
    Squorp clung to Logan as they followed Mr. Kahn out of the Aviary and back around the lake toward the griffin enclosure. The sun was drifting low in the sky, turning the high trails of clouds cherry and tangerine.
    Another golf cart came zipping down the path from the house. Strapped to the back was a crate of gardening tools: long shears, a rake, trowels, some empty pots. In the front, driving, was an abominable snowman.
    Logan pushed Squorp’s feathers out of his face and stared as the cart came closer. The driver was at least eleven feet tall and covered in shaggy white fur, stained with dirt and grassy green smudges, particularly around the knees and paws. He wore a pair of enormous dark sunglasses and a safari-type sun hat on his head. His mouth was a wide gap in his furry face, like a Muppet’s.
    â€œHello there, Mooncrusher!” Mr. Kahn called. “How are the rosebushes?”
    â€œBLAAAARGH!” answered the creature. The golf cart reached the road around the lake and turned to drive away from them.
    â€œDid you see the hole by the cellar door? I think Jaws has been trying to bury protein bars again. We need to get that filled before SNAPA returns.”
    â€œBLAAAAARRRGH!” The cart followed the curve of the lake, getting smaller.
    â€œAnd don’t forget the Captain’s exercise!” Zoe shouted. “His ball is in your yurt!”
    â€œBLAAAAAARGH!” A massive white paw emerged from the cart and waved. Then the cart bumped off onto another fork in the path and sped into the distance.
    Mr. Kahn saw Logan’s expression and smiled. “Our groundskeeper is, let’s say, a yeti of few words,” he said.
    â€œUnlike all those super-chatty yetis,” Matthew joked. At least, Logan guessed he was joking. “I’ll go feed the hellhounds and catch up to you guys later.” He whistled for the four hellhounds, who were still flopped on the ground outside the unicorn stable. They lumbered to their feet and raced him up to the house.
    The door to the griffin enclosure was a solid black metal gate with unicorns facing each other on the two sides, outlined in gold. Three deadbolts punctuated the center gap like menacing buttons. Logan noticed that Zoe watched her father intently as he opened the gate, and Mr. Kahn gave her a quick, worried look at the same time.
    The doors opened inward a few feet from the large, flat boulder where the white griffin was sprawled, sunning herself in the last rays of daylight. She opened one eye to a slit and peered at Squorp.
    Oh, Logan heard her say. Fantastic.
    SON! The black griffin came galloping across the