Montgomery struggled to his feet. Blood dripped from Edward’s knuckles, though he hadn’t cut them. He balled his hands in pain and growled deep in his throat. Three black claws slid out from the knuckles on each hand. They were retractable, so in his human form there had been no sign of them lingering beneath the surface. One claw was missing on his right hand, I realized—cut off by my own shears.
I stumbled and my hip connected hard with the corner of the saddle stand, but I felt nothing. Shock had rendered me blank inside. I’d wanted not to believe it. The change in Edward was hard to define. He was larger. Darker. And yet as my eyes slid over his face and body, I couldn’t name one clear thing that was different. I’d have said his fingernails were black, and yet when I really looked, they were unchanged. It was like looking at stars—one could see them clearly only from the corner of one’s eye.
But the claws, at least, were no trick of my eye. He raised them like deadly knives in Montgomery’s direction. “Edward, stop!” I screamed. But he didn’t seem to hear me.
Edward slammed Montgomery against the wall of bridles with enough force to crack the boards. The seam of his shirt split around his shoulders. He had gotten larger. I rubbed my eyes, trying to make sense of it.
Montgomery managed to twist out of his grasp. Leather straps fell, tangling around them. If I could get closer, I could pull one down and try to get it around Edward’s neck like a noose.
Edward curled his gnarled fist. The black claws dripped with blood. Suddenly they retracted, and he punched Montgomery so hard that the wall cracked under his weight.
“Stop!” I said.
But Montgomery got back up. Blood trickled from his mouth. Edward threw another punch that Montgomery evaded. Something silver gleamed in his hand—a broken metal bit from one of the bridles, sharp and ragged at the end, dangerous as a dagger. Or claws. He slammed it into the side of Edward’s neck.
Edward howled. He wrenched the broken bit out of his flesh. For an instant he looked like himself again, and my heart twisted. I almost ran to help him.
Montgomery grabbed my arm. “Run,” he said.
But running was useless. Edward was already blocking the door. His claws were out. His face was the dark before a storm. He lunged for Montgomery, ducking just as Montgomery brought down the broken edge of the bit. They fell to the ground, wrestling in the straw. Dirt choked my throat, blinded my eyes. Edward’s claws too were like daggers. He swiped at Montgomery, grazing his arm. I pressed my back into the wall, the hanging bridles dangling over me like a curtain. I ripped one down and wrapped the leather strap around my hand, waiting for a clear shot at Edward’s throat.
Just as I was ready to lunge, they rolled, bumping into the table that held the lantern. It fell to the ground. Flames leapt to life in the straw.
“The straw’s on fire!” I yelled.
Montgomery thrust his fist at Edward’s jaw, causing him to fall back long enough for Montgomery to stand. Edward scrambled to his feet, ducking away from Montgomery’s fist. Montgomery swept out his leg, hooking it around Edward’s ankle. Edward slammed to the ground, his head smacking against the corner of the table with a sickening crack.
Montgomery held his fists up, ready to strike, but Edward didn’t get up. His eyes were closed. Blood pooled beneath his head. Suddenly he looked like an innocent young man again, and my heart cried out that we were making a terrible mistake. Had it all been a trick of my eyes? Or my mind? Montgomery felt for his pulse, but I grabbed his arm.
“Leave him,” I said.
“I have to finish it.” He reached for the old iron spade in the corner. An image flashed in my head of the sharp edge coming down across Edward’s neck. My stomach clenched. I stared at the blood trickling through Edward’s black hair, blood that was warm and flowing. A groan so low I could barely hear it slipped out of Edward’s mouth.
Still alive.
I glanced at Montgomery. The spade’s rusted blade was caught on a tangle of leather straps that he tugged on angrily.
A snarl sounded outside. Heat from the fire bathed me in an uncomfortable warmth and then, with a spray of sparks, a roof beam split and fell. I shrieked and covered my head. Montgomery rushed toward me, still holding the spade’s handle. I pulled it out of his grasp and threw it on the floor. “He’s no threat to us now,” I said. “The fire will kill him. Come on, before we burn with him.”
WE STUMBLED OUT OF the barn into the moonlight.
“Balthazar’s loading the wagon outside,” Montgomery said in a rush. “I just need to hitch Duke.” He started for the wooden gate, but I grabbed his arm. Duchess, the little mare Father had taken to find Montgomery, stood in the courtyard. She was loosely tied to the veranda rail, her eyes white and wild in the chaos.
I froze. “Father’s back,” I said.
Montgomery paused. Shadows darted in the edges of the courtyard, stealing my attention. “I know. He came back half an hour ago,” he said slowly. “The beasts were after him. He closed himself in his laboratory in a panic.” He ran a hand over the back of his hair, reluctantly. “He expects us to join him there. He said it’s the only place that’s safe.”