He stopped just paces away. This was the creature Montgomery had once called a brother. And were we really so different? We were all animals, in a sense. Even a sixteen-year-old girl needed to eat and drink and survive—and might kill to do so.
A rustling within the laboratory drew Jaguar’s attention. He glided past me, his tail flicking against my feet as he slunk toward the door. His thick paw slashed at the door latch with claws as long as my fingers. He tried a few times, cutting grooves in the door but unable to grip the latch. A growl rumbled in his throat, low and angry. His golden eyes looked back at me.
I knew what he wanted.
But twisting that latch didn’t just mean opening a door. It meant murder. Jaguar wouldn’t hesitate to slice my father into little chunks of flesh. It was exactly what he wanted—what all of them wanted. Revenge. If Jaguar could speak, he’d tell me it had to be this way. Father was brilliant. He’d escape from the burning laboratory. He’d start over. There’d be another island. Another Jaguar. Another Edward. Or worse.
My fingers dropped to the latch.
Jaguar’s hind legs tensed, ready to spring. But how could I open that door, knowing what lay on the other side? No good-bye. No reconciliation. Only a bitter, ragged end.
The barn roof cracked and splintered. A shower of sparks rained down. In another minute the whole structure would collapse. Edward would be killed, burned alive or crushed under falling beams. Even though logic told me Edward couldn’t be allowed to live, my heart said he didn’t deserve to die either. It wasn’t his fault. It was that of his maker, who hid in a locked room while his children burned alive.
Edward had said I could make things right.
Maybe I could.
My fingers felt for the latch. The flames leapt to the bunkhouse. It would catch quickly, then the salon, then my room. Beside me, Jaguar’s claws dug into the portico ground, ready to spring.
I squeezed the latch.
The door came open in my hand, almost too easily. Father’s fail-safe had accounted for the beasts’ limited dexterity, but not for deceit. He’d been too arrogant to think one of us would betray him.
I opened the door an inch—that was all it took, just an inch.
I fell back, my face burning from the heat. Jaguar slunk inside.
The barn roof collapsed with a roar. The heat singed my cheeks as I clutched the wooden box to my chest and stumbled back toward the main gate. Montgomery was there in the entryway, calling for me. Whether he’d seen me open the door I didn’t know. His hand latched onto mine, and he pulled me from the flaming compound into the cool evening air, where Duke pawed at the ground, ready to bolt. Balthazar took up the reins as we clambered into the wagon and vanished into the jungle, leaving the smoldering wreckage behind us.
FORTY-FIVE
FROM THE STRIP OF sand at the ocean’s edge, we could still hear the fire’s roar. The beasts had started howling as the fire intensified, filling the night with wild screams. Montgomery held me close in the back of the wagon, hands pressed over my ears. But nothing could keep the sounds away. They’d haunted me since childhood. They would haunt me forever.
At the dock Balthazar stopped the wagon. Our blue-and-white boat waited, tethered to the pile, ready to take us to sea. Only when Balthazar climbed down from the driver’s seat and offered me his massive hand did I remember my promise. You can come with us, I’d told him. But I’d never had any intention of bringing him. Someone would find out what he was and try to replicate him. Someone would take it too far, just like my father.
Balthazar cocked his head at my hesitation. I took his hand and climbed out of the wagon. Montgomery was already carrying an armful of jars down the dock. His steps were purposeful and determined, as if he was as ready to get off the island as I was, even if it meant abandoning the place he’d called home for six years.
Would he be the one to tell Balthazar or would I? We’d never spoken of it, but I knew Montgomery felt the same way. This island was my father’s prison, his tomb, and all evidence of his work had to be buried with him. Even Balthazar.
Balthazar picked up two water jars, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, and followed Montgomery down the dock. My heart wrenched. Was I a monster for leaving him behind? Balthazar was the only innocent one of us. He hadn’t killed. I didn’t think he was capable of it.
I cradled a glass jar in the crook of my arm, watching the two of them in the moonlight. There should have been so many more of us. Alice. Edward. Their ashes tied their souls to this horrid island.
Montgomery came back to fetch a small trunk that contained an expensive china set. He glanced at me. I sensed that his resolve had hardened, as if he was steeling himself for the awful task of leaving Balthazar behind.