Her Dark Curiosity (20 page)

“So many damn masks in there, it’s hard to keep straight,” another man said.

“The masquerade is necessary for our purposes,” Radcliffe answered. “Moreau’s creation wouldn’t have come unless he could disguise himself. You’re certain no men tried to talk to her? I’d stake my life they’ve been in contact. That fool who brought Moreau’s last letter—Captain Claggan, isn’t it?—said the boy was quite taken with her.”

My breath halted as I realized the girl they spoke of was me.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

TWENTY-TWO

I
JERKED MY HEAD
toward Montgomery. Worse, they also spoke of “Moreau’s creation,” which meant they knew about Edward, too. Montgomery kept a finger to his lips and silently reached for a revolver holstered at his side.

“She got lost in the crowd,” another man answered.

“Well, find her,” Radcliffe said. “She’s the best chance we have of hunting him down. If only Claggan could have given us a better description before he drank himself to death. Dark hair, not yet twenty—that could describe half the young men in there.”

One of the men spit over the side of the balustrade, and added, “That old blatherskite von Stein won’t say a word. The moment he hears the name Moreau, he slams the door in my face, and he practically threw Lessing out by the collar.”

“Leave von Stein to me,” Radcliffe said, and then added, “What of the preparations?”

“The specimens will be ready within two weeks, providing we can capture Moreau’s creation. Then it’ll be a simple matter of extracting what we need from him and finishing the preparations for New Year’s Day.”

“Rochefort is speaking to his contacts about the exact delivery date. They’re threatening to change their minds, but once they see what we have planned, they’ll double their current order.”

“Excellent.” Radcliffe snuffed out his cigar, and it fell to the garden at my feet. I drew in a gasp as it singed my slipper, but Montgomery pressed his hand to my mouth. It felt like an eternity while we waited until their footsteps receded and the balcony door swung closed, leaving us alone in the garden once more.

Montgomery let go of my mouth, and I gulped in air.

“They know about Edward!” I gasped. “Claggan must have learned on the ship about his two sides and somehow gotten in touch with the King’s Club. This whole party is a trap. They knew I’d be here and thought it would lure him. That ‘guest of honor’ nonsense—I thought they were just trying to win favor with the professor, and all the while Radcliffe wanted me here as
bait.”

Montgomery ran a hand over his forehead. “They don’t know what Edward looks like—that’s good at least, so we can get to him first. Damn it all, how do they even know he
exists
?”

“Radcliffe is the one Father was writing to on the island—his secret colleague who went by the code name ‘A King’s Man.’ Don’t you know about the letters? You must have delivered them.”

Montgomery shook his head. “I did, but all Radcliffe ever did was pay the bills for my travel and the exotic animals and other supplies—chartering a ship to the island was exorbitantly expensive. There was never any science exchanged, or else I would have put an end to it.”

“Did you ever actually read the letters?”

“Of course not—they were sealed. But your father swore. . . .” His voice trailed off as he realized Father had lied to him, as he’d lied to all of us. As much as Father had loved Montgomery, he wasn’t above lying to him.

I put a hand to my head as everything started to come together. “They
did
exchange science. They must have, because Lucy’s read some of the letters that reference it, and you heard them talking about specimens. They said all they needed was to extract something from Edward. His blood, perhaps, or bone marrow, I can’t imagine what else. They have to be attempting to replicate Father’s creatures.”

Montgomery’s face hardened. He didn’t disagree, and this worried me even more. I continued, “They said everything would be ready in two weeks, in time for New Year’s Day. What are they planning?”

“I don’t know,” he said gruffly. “But we need to find out.”

I chewed on a fingernail, pacing in the snow. “Earlier tonight I found a human brain.”

“A
brain
?”

“Yes, in Radcliffe’s study, in a hatbox. He doesn’t practice science himself—he must have been holding it for one of the others. Whatever they’re doing, it involves humans, not just animals.”

Montgomery jerked his chin toward the balcony. “I think there were four of them,” he said. “Five maybe—one might have been small. It means . . .” He rubbed his face, letting it all settle in.

I finished his thought. “It means this isn’t limited to Radcliffe. It’s much larger than we ever imagined. That makes sense now—Radcliffe’s a businessman, not a scientist. He’s providing the funding while the others are handling the research, the specimens, the politics. There are several members of Parliament in the King’s Club. They even mentioned Rochefort, the French ambassador. That means this goes beyond one man or even a group in London. They have connections in France, Germany . . . who knows how far this reaches?” I leaned against the wall, body numb but thoughts churning like a steam engine.

I pressed my hand against my chest. Men like that, with limitless resources and connections, could change the entire system. They could make vivisection and animal experimentation legal, if they chose to. They could establish entire colleges dedicated to Father’s research. They could recreate his creatures. They could take everything Father had done on that isolated island, and spread it through the globe.

“Montgomery, we can’t let them—”

But I didn’t get a chance to finish. A scream rang out from the ballroom.

M
ONTGOMERY AND
I
RACED
up the balcony steps and through the glass-paned door. The crowd inside the ballroom was packed tightly, everyone murmuring and pushing forward to see what had happened.

The girl in the swan mask stood on tiptoe next to me, trying to see over everyone’s heads.

“What happened?” I asked her.

“A woman screamed,” she said. “I think it was Mrs. Radcliffe.”

“That’s Lucy’s mother!” I gasped. I tugged Montgomery toward the grand spiral staircase, the swan girl forgotten. “Something might have happened to Lucy.”

I tried to push through the crowd, but no one made room for me, so Montgomery took the lead instead. He had a way of moving among people as gracefully as ducking trees and brambles in the jungle. I had to trip over my own feet to keep up with him. Soon we were at the front of the murmuring crowd.

“Lucy!” I yelled, spotting her by the stairs. She was leaning against the grand staircase banister, mask off, face white, looking shaken but unharmed. I wrapped my hand around hers.

“What happened?” I whispered.

Half dazed, she pointed to a clump of people on the stairs. “Mother screamed. There was a commotion on the landing and then she tumbled down the stairs covered in blood.”

Lucy’s eyes were fixed on the bottom of the stairs, where Inspector Newcastle, Mr. Radcliffe, and several men were leaning over Lucy’s mother. She was still screaming, though when I pushed closer I could tell with one glimpse that the wounds were only superficial. Just shallow cuts on her arm, though the three slash marks spilled a startling amount of blood onto her white gown.

Three slash marks.

I glanced at Montgomery and saw my fears confirmed in his face—three slash marks meant the Beast.

Apparently we weren’t the only person who noticed that particular detail, because once Mrs. Radcliffe’s shock wore off, she started screaming, “The Wolf! It was the Wolf!”

“The Wolf is here!” a woman in the crowd yelled behind me. “Run!”

My imagination started churning. I pictured blood pouring out beneath torn flesh, pooling on the floor, staining everyone’s fine dancing shoes. The blood just kept coming until the dance floor was covered, choking the quartet’s instruments, spilling out in a waterfall over the balcony into the garden where Montgomery and I had stood.

Montgomery grabbed my arm, and the hallucination disappeared. I prayed a fit wasn’t coming on, here in public and at such a terrible time, and massaged the joints of my knuckles. Everyone was screaming, grabbing their belongings, hurrying for the front door. “He’s toying with us,” Montgomery said. “I’ve got to get you out of here.”

The room churned with panic. In the turmoil someone smashed into the enormous Christmas tree at my side. Strong hands pulled me out of the way a second before it crashed to the ground, glass ornaments shattering, igniting another round of screams.

I turned to thank the person who’d pulled me out of the way. A massive man, and young, judging by his dark hair, though a red mask hid his face from me—all except for his eyes. My lips parted as I saw their deep yellow glow.

The Beast.

I screamed for Montgomery, but my voice was lost in the chaos as everyone ran for the door. I looked around frantically and caught a glimpse of him thirty feet away, helping a woman who’d been trapped under the enormous Christmas tree. But he didn’t see me, and the Beast dug his knobby fingers into my arm and pulled me in the opposite direction everyone else was running.

I twisted my wrist, but I was powerless against him without a weapon. He pulled me into the doorway leading toward the rear halls and pushed my back against the hallway, in the shadows where we’d be overlooked.

“I’ll kill you for what you’ve done,” I seethed.

“I think that quite unlikely,” he said in that inhumanly deep voice. “You’ve had two chances to kill me and you haven’t.”

“Only because Edward inhabits this body too. Now let me go. If Montgomery sees you . . .”

A laugh came from deep in his throat, and I was glad for the mask that hid the face that was and wasn’t Edward at the same time.

“You mean Moreau’s hunting dog? He’s certainly nothing I fear, and from what I saw in the garden, it seems he means nothing to you, either.” He leaned in close enough that I could feel his unnatural heat, as though a powerful fever burned from within. “You spurned his advances, my love.”

I twisted to look back to the crowd, but it was still chaotic, still filled with screams, and Montgomery nowhere.

“You didn’t want his kisses, did you? You wanted mine,” growled the Beast, low and seductive.

He leaned forward as though to kiss me, and I shoved him hard, but he only laughed, a game between two lovers, and pinned me against the wall. The corset ribbing stabbed into me, and I pressed a hand to my stomach. The Beast felt the stiff corset too, and whispered, “You don’t belong like this, trussed up. Like me, you’re too wild to be caged. Why don’t you take it off?”

Hearing those same words Edward had once spoken, in his innocence, only made the pain sharper. I gritted my teeth. For the first time I noticed a small handful of mistletoe hung from a red ribbon over our heads.

“It’s
my
lips you want to feel, isn’t it?” he breathed.

I felt his breath closer, smelling of rum and meat, so unlike Edward.

“My love,” he said, drawing the word out as though he could taste it, as though he yearned to swallow it whole.

Now.

I dug my elbow into the place beneath his rib where I’d stabbed him the night before. He howled in pain as I pulled away, restricted in my stiff clothes, frantically stumbling back into the ballroom. The fallen Christmas tree spanned the entire room, cutting me off from the doorway.

“Juliet!”

Montgomery stood on the stairs, searching the crowd for me. I raced toward him as he rushed down the stairs and climbed over the fallen fir tree in a few graceful movements.

“The Beast found me,” I panted. “I wounded him, but it won’t slow him down for long.”

“Long enough, I hope.” He grabbed my hands and helped to pull me over the Christmas tree, which smelled of rich sap from broken branches that pulled at my silk dress. I tore the skirts away, freeing myself, and once my feet were on the polished floor again he pulled me toward the door. I caught a glimpse of Lucy’s green satin dress bent over her mother, with Inspector Newcastle standing close to protect her.

“I can’t leave Lucy here,” I breathed.

“She’ll be safe. He’s not after her.” Montgomery pulled me to my feet, ready to drag me out despite my protests. Lucy turned at the last moment and saw me. Her frightened lips parted, and I thought of how I wished more than anything that she wasn’t wrapped up in this.

But before I could call to her, Montgomery pulled me away toward the door. His blond hair had come loose and he looked half wild, a savage amidst royalty. “Juliet, we must go now!”

I had only a second to look at Lucy. “Stay close to John,” I yelled. “We’ll talk tomorrow. I’m sorry—”

She was swallowed by the crowd. Montgomery’s hand tightened over mine as he pushed through the partygoers toward the grand entrance.

“Did he hurt you?” Montgomery asked.

“He tried to kiss me.”

Montgomery threw me an alarmed look as we raced up the staircase among the masked people. We moved so fast I had to raise my skirts practically to my knees.

We reached the top of the stairs and hurried out with the rest of the finely dressed guests. The night was freezing. It was late enough that no carriages were out save the ones belonging to the attendees, too early for the bakers and early-morning vendors. Montgomery picked a direction and started down the street at a quick pace. I had to jog in my tight slippers to keep up with him.

As we were dashing away from Lucy’s house, my slippers soaked and torn, I realized I still had pollen from the little white flower under my fingernails.

I wiped the pollen off on my dress. I’d been a fool to keep the first flower. Now Lucy—and Elizabeth, and everyone at that party—was in danger. Would I find one of their names in the newspapers the next morning, listed among the Wolf of Whitechapel’s victims?