“They’d make more.”
“We could warn the authorities about their plans for the paupers’ ball.”
“They are the authorities. Newcastle controls the police, and the members of Parliament have control over the military.”
He sighed, still unwilling to accept that my plan was the only option. “It makes me think of Edward, how I was so certain he had to die. Then I learned that we share the same blood, and it changed something. I’m so tired of killing, Juliet. Man or creature.”
I placed my hands over his, kissing each of his knuckles. “I wish there was another way too,” I said. “But I’ve thought it through. It has to be this.”
“You’ve never operated on one of these things. You’ve only seen it happen, and as I recall it was enough to send you running into the jungle in horror.”
“I won’t run this time,” I said quietly.
I could still see the hesitation written in the tense muscles of his neck. I walked over to the wall and took down two leather aprons. I slid one over my neck and cinched it at the waist, then handed Montgomery the other.
“I swore I’d never touch a scalpel again,” he whispered.
“You don’t have to touch a scalpel,” I said. “I’ve studied Father’s journal. I know every word he wrote about the procedures.” I held out the vial of Edward’s spinal fluid. “All we have to do is inject them with this material, and then stress the bodies with an electric shock. No cutting. No slicing. The electric current will weaken the cells to allow the material to permeate, which will bring them to life. We’ll awaken five and poison the rest, then throw all the journals and instructions into the tank water with them. The chemicals will destroy the writing.”
Montgomery leaned on the counter, studying the blood-red liquid in the vial. I would have paid dearly to know what was going through his mind. Did he think I was lying to myself? If he did, he was wrong. This had nothing to do with besting Father’s work, or even giving the King’s Men the cruel justice they deserved. This was about that family next door on Dumbarton Street, and the girls at Lucy’s teas, and Mrs. Bell and her cleaning crew. There was still beauty in the world, still innocence.
I squeezed Montgomery’s arm. “We can’t let them win. We’re to be married, and we’ve Edward, who’s practically your brother, and Elizabeth, who’s my guardian now. If you won’t do it for the good of the city, do it for them.”
His hand took mine, circled the silver ring. He spun it a few times, thinking, and then let my hand fall. He pulled the loose strands of his hair back into a ponytail and glanced at the chemistry equipment. “Go through the cabinets and look for a neural stimulant. We’ll need at least a hundred milligrams per creature to ensure their heart rate increases enough to give out after ten minutes.” His voice was flat, unemotional. He paused. “How exactly do you intend on transporting five ravenous creatures with claws and sharp teeth to the upstairs smoking room?”
I swallowed. “I have a plan for that. It sounds a bit mad, but hear me out. The entire upstairs was fitted with electricity within the last two years. They had to run the electric wires in external casings along the walls. It won’t be hard to expose a bit of wire. Enough to provide an electric shock if attached to living flesh.” I paused. “They won’t notice a few more animal bodies among all that taxidermy. Once they go in and flip on the lights . . .”
Montgomery looked torn between illness over what I was proposing and a strange sort of admiration. I swallowed back the part of me that was secretly thrilled by my plan.
Montgomery selected five of the healthiest-looking specimens, while I searched through the cabinets for a neural stimulant strong enough to kill the creatures after ten minutes. He handed me five needles.
Together, we brought to fruition the terrible plans of the King’s Club.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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FORTY-TWO
EVEN WITHOUT SURGERY, THE work was a grisly task.
The creatures in the tanks might have been created in an ungodly way, but their little bodies were warm with life. Each weighed perhaps twenty-five pounds, not so different than holding Sharkey in my arms. The liquid within the tanks wasn’t water, but rather a viscous chemical bath that clung to my leather apron and dress. As we laid the creatures out on the table, fluid dripping off their drenched fur and onto the floor, my heart twisted.