A Cold Legacy

Thunder cracked in distant skies as rain fell on the moors. Montgomery reached for his pistol.

 

“You won’t be needing that, brother,” Ajax said. “I’ve come to help, not to harm.” He whistled behind him, and the rest of his carnival troupe appeared from amid the trees, some on horses, some on foot, all wearing heavy cloaks that hid their satin performing clothes. I recognized the old man among them who I’d mistakenly thought was their leader, as well as the belching old woman. “As has my troupe. You’re going to need us.”

 

A door slammed in the courtyard. Lucy came out with Balthazar behind her, hurrying toward the commotion.

 

I couldn’t tear my eyes off the bones and planes of his face. I felt a fool for not recognizing him earlier, but how would I have known what he looked like in his fully developed state? Montgomery had never said that when Ajax had been a man, he’d had black skin and a mysterious smile. Montgomery had only ever said that he was one of Moreau’s best creations, able to pass for a human nearly as well as Edward.

 

Now that I looked at Jack more closely, it all made sense. That strange feeling I’d had that I knew him and that he knew me. He did know me, and it had nothing to do with premonitions and fortune-telling. We had spoken together on the island. He had led me through the jungle to safety. He had looked into my eyes and silently begged me to open the locked laboratory door so he could kill my father.

 

Jack glanced at me as if sensing my thoughts. His brown eyes flashed with gold flecks and my breath caught. His eyes hadn’t changed.

 

Lucy and Balthazar reached us. “The fortune-teller,” she said in surprise, and then caught sight of the rest of his troupe. “You’ve all come back.”

 

Montgomery frowned. “Fortune-teller?”

 

I leaned in to explain. “He’s been posing as a fortune-teller. He and his troupe were at the inn on the road to Inverness, and they performed at the Twelfth Night festival.” I turned to Jack Serra. “Why did you hide yourself from Montgomery all those times?”

 

“He would have recognized me. As it happened, I had my own business to attend to first, and it required anonymity.” His eyes settled on Balthazar. “Balthazar knew who I was, but you know your place in the pack, don’t you, brother? I told him to keep my identity secret, and he had no choice but to obey.”

 

I glanced at Balthazar, who was hanging his head guiltily. It seemed I wasn’t the only one taking advantage of Balthazar’s animal nature.

 

Clouds had rolled in; the rain started to fall, though no one moved.

 

“I don’t understand,” Lucy said, her eyes trained on Jack. “You mean you’re a . . . a creation? Like Balthazar? And Edward?”

 

“Indeed I am, Miss Radcliffe.”

 

“Who brought you back to your human form?” she asked.

 

“I did,” Montgomery answered, to my surprise. “After you left the island, Juliet, it was chaos. The beast-men went feral, and Edward’s other half had escaped. I needed help, so I went to Ajax. I begged him to let me restore him to human form to help me hunt for Edward. He agreed, and we left the island together. He, Balthazar, and I.” He swallowed, and a look of both hurt and distrust crossed his face. “But Ajax disappeared in the deserts of southern Morocco. We didn’t hear any word of him since then, until this moment.” He met Jack’s eyes. “I trusted you with my life, yet you abandoned us.”

 

“I’ve always been a friend to you,” Ajax said. “But not a servant. I obey only myself.”

 

“Why come back, then?” Montgomery asked. “If it’s the human experience you’re after, you could be in France, or Australia, or you could have stayed in the desert.”

 

Jack pointed straight at me. “I’m here because of her.”

 

All eyes turned to me and I shifted nervously, wiping the rain off of my face.

 

“The doctor’s daughter,” Jack continued. “I made it my mission to end the doctor’s work, but his ruthlessness found a home in her. I needed to be certain she chose a different path in life.”

 

My lips parted. The fortunes, those cryptic words about my father and my fate—they were all part of a calculated plan to learn if I was as cruel-hearted as my father. I winced, pressing a hand over the charm he had given me.

 

“And what if I do choose my father’s path?” I asked hotly. “Would you kill me like you killed him?”

 

“Yes.” The directness of his answer was like a slap in the face. Montgomery drew his pistol and I took a quick step back, but then Jack’s eyes softened. “But you aren’t like him. I learned that the day you came to my tent in the fields. It wasn’t your own fate you were most worried about, but that of your sick friend. Henri Moreau never once cared about anyone but himself. He turned to darkness for his own selfish reasons. You were drawn to the darkness, but that wasn’t what made up your mind. It was the hope of saving a friend’s life.” He paused. “You can be ruthless, pretty girl, but not cruel. Determined, but not mad.”

 

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