“Yeah, I don’t know what that is.”
“A cryptid is a plant or animal that people believe exists despite the fact that there’s no definitive proof,” he lectured. “Bigfoot, the chupacabra, the Loch Ness Monster, that kind of thing.”
“I don’t believe in any of those things.”
“Well, that’s all right. I don’t either.” He waved a hand. “The thing is, belief in a specific cryptid is usually regional—the people of Loch Ness believed in Nessie, so it became a local legend. That’s standard. What’s interesting is when there are multiple cultures across the world that develop a belief in the same thing.”
I finished my calzone and pushed the cardboard box aside. “Gimme an example.”
Simon smirked. “Vampires. Hundreds of different cultures around the world have developed a myth about a parasitic creature that could pass as human and is intricately linked to the dead.”
I made a face at him. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”
“Yep. Anyway, when you look at the folklore about a carnivorous worm- or snakelike creature that dwells underground, you run into the same widespread legends.” He began ticking off numbers on his fingers. “There are a number of Central American myths about the Minhocão—a giant snakelike earthworm that was theorized to be part of the caecilian family. Which are amphibians that look like snakes,” he hurried to add, before I could ask. “In the Gobi Desert there is supposedly a creature called the Mongolian Death Worm—seriously—that spits a paralyzing venom before dragging its prey underground to be consumed. It can also electrocute people from several feet away. Then there’s the lamia—half woman, half enormous snake body. And European bestiaries tell of the basilisk, the king of snakes that can kill with a single glance—”
I held up a hand to stop him. “I read Harry Potter with my cousin’s kids. I’ve heard of a basilisk.”
Quick nod. “Anyway, you have to realize that South America, China, and Europe are thousands of miles apart, and when these legends originated, the natives had no way of traveling those distances,” he said excitedly. “Then you add on the creatures we know to be real—Komodo dragons, anacondas, and the other members of the genus Eunectes, and of course the many appearances in science fiction of the sandworm—”
“Science fiction?” I interrupted him. “Simon. You are a scientist, for crying out loud. Get your shit together.”
He deflated, but only a little. “You’re right, I am a scientist. But remember, when we look at the fossil record and make all the connections, there are always bits and pieces of evidence left over: footprints or tail prints or coprolites that we can’t conclusively say came from any certain creature. All I’m suggesting is that perhaps there is, or at least there was, some kind of snakelike creature that inspired some of these myths.”
“But where has it been?” I demanded. “Even if this cryptid thingy once existed right around here, how could something that big disappear for a thousand years and then pop right back up?”
Simon grinned. “Magic.” My face must have indicated that I was ready to punch him, because he hurried to add, “No, seriously. Remember, that gastric pellet was drenched in magic. It’s possible that magic allows it to slumber for centuries, or move around the tectonic plates from place to place so it’s never spotted. And now it’s here.”
“And it’s gonna need to eat again soon,” I said grimly. I didn’t love how excited he was getting about something that was literally eating people.
“Well, there’s that, yeah. But if I could study this thing, or even autopsy it once we find it, I could learn so much about magic, about where we came from.”
It was hard to give a shit about that, considering John took Charlie to the playground at Chautauqua. Seeing that I wasn’t invested, Simon pressed, “Look, Lex, you asked me to find a connection between nulls and boundary witches, remember? Well, it’s entirely possible that this thing could provide us with some clues.”
I fell silent, considering that. I did want to know if there was a connection between boundary magic and nulls, but was I willing to risk more lives in order to find out?
No. I was not. “Can’t the witches help?” I asked him. “Put up a barrier or ward or something?”
“We can try,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “But deflection spells don’t work that far underground. All that earth, well, grounds them.” He gave a helpless shrug, not meeting my eyes. I was pretty sure there was something Simon wasn’t telling me about the witch clan. It stung a little, but I wasn’t really in a position to push him on it. I did sort of work for the oppressor.
Moving on. “You’re not gonna like this,” I said, “but I think we better talk to Maven about pressing someone to close down the park for a couple of days, until we can figure out what this thing is.”
“You’re right, I don’t like it,” he said immediately. “That’s the most popular park in Boulder, Lex. Shutting it down is gonna bring up a lot of questions.” He drummed his fingers on the table for a moment, and I let him think it over. “But yeah, I agree,” he said at last. “It has to be done. We just gotta move faster.” I saw him shoot a venomous glare toward his cane. “The snakelike creature . . . God, I don’t even know what to call it.” For a second his eyes gleamed, and I could see the words “Eunectes pellaricus” practically glowing off him.