City of the Beasts Read Online Free PDF Page B

had never been combed. She was proud of her teeth, large and strong enough to crack walnuts and pop bottle caps. She was also proud that she had never broken a bone, never seen a doctor, and had survived everything from malaria to scorpion bites. She drank straight vodka and smoked black tobacco in a sailor's pipe. Winter and summer she wore the same baggy trousers and a sleeveless jacket covered with pockets in which she carried everything she needed to survive in case of a disaster. On the rare occasions when she needed to get dressed up, she took off the vest and put on a necklace of bear's teeth, the gift of an Apache chieftain.
    Lisa, Alex's mother, was afraid of Kate, but the children eagerly awaited her visits. This outlandish grandmother, the protagonist of incredible adventures, brought them word of places so exotic it was hard to imagine them. The three grandchildren collected the stories of her journeys that had been published in various magazines and newspapers, and the postcards and photographs she sent them from the four corners of the globe. Although her grandchildren were sometimes embarrassed to introduce her to their friends, deep down they were proud that a member of their family was almost a celebrity.
    A half hour later, Alex had warmed up with his hot bath and, swaddled in a bathrobe and wool socks, was devouring meatballs and mashed potatoes, one of the few things he liked to eat and the only thing Kate knew how to cook. "These are leftovers from yesterday," she said, but Alex suspected she had prepared them especially for him. He did not want to tell about his adventure with Morgana and look like a yokel, but he had to admit that everything he had brought with him had been stolen.
    "I suppose you're going to tell me to learn not to trust anyone," he mumbled, blushing.
    "On the contrary, I was going to tell you to learn to trust yourself. You see, Alexander, in spite of everything, you got here to my apartment without problems."
    "Without problems? I almost froze to death on the way. They could have discovered my corpse in the spring thaw," he replied.
    "'A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.' What about your passport?" Kate inquired.
    "It's safe because I had it in my pocket."
    "Tape it to your chest with adhesive, because if you lose that, you've had it."
    "What I hate most is that I lost my flute," Alex commented.
    "Well, I will have to give you your grandfather's flute. I meant to keep it until you showed some talent, but I suppose it's better in your hands than just lying around here."
    She searched through the shelves that covered the walls of her apartment from floor to ceiling, and handed him a case covered with thick black dust.
    "Here, Alexander. Your grandfather played this for forty years. Take care of it."
    The case held the flute of Joseph Cold, "the most celebrated flutist of the century," as the critics had written when he died. "It would have been better if they'd said that while poor Joseph was alive," was Kate's comment when she read the notices in the newspaper. They had been divorced for thirty years, but in his will Joseph left half of everything he had to his ex-wife, including his best flute, which his grandson now held in his hands. Alex opened the worn leather case with reverence, and stroked the flute; it was beautiful. He picked it up and delicately placed it to his lips. When he blew, the notes escaped from the instrument with such beauty that he himself was surprised. It sounded very different from the flute Morgana had stolen from him.
    Kate gave her grandson time to inspect the instrument and to thank her profusely, as she expected, then handed him a big yellow book with a loose binding:
Health Tips for the Adventurous Traveler
. Alex opened it at random and read the symptoms of a deadly illness acquired by eating the brain of one's ancestors.
    "I don't eat organ meats," he said.
    "You never know what people put in meatballs," was his grandmother's