Anger seeped backward up my spine.
“You’ve been listening to this silly boy. He’s not one of us—I told you that from the beginning. Come back to the compound. You need an injection, and food and water. I shall explain my work to you. It’s only the shock of it that has you so tightly wound. Once you understand the science behind it, you’ll see things my way.”
My growing anger was overshadowed by an encroaching weakness in my legs. I could feel my illness’s cold grip on me tighten. I doubled over, bracing myself on my knees. As my legs faltered, Montgomery’s arms were suddenly around me, picking me up effortlessly. His heart beat wildly through his shirt.
“Get her back at once,” I heard Father say, though my senses were fading. “And you, Prince. When we return, you and I will need to reexamine the nature of our arrangement.”
If the arrangement had anything to do with Father’s plan to marry me off to Edward, I couldn’t imagine Father was still pleased with his choice for son-in-law.
The village spun as Montgomery carried me through the crowd. The python-woman pushed forward, grazing her fleshy fingers delicately against my cheek. Montgomery ordered her away. I grabbed at his biceps, feeling vertigo. His heart beat faster.
“I tried to warn you.” His voice was a fierce whisper.
I heard the big draft horse grunt, and then the rusty hinges of the wagon’s back gate. Suddenly Montgomery’s arms were gone, replaced by stiff wooden boards. Something was beside me in the wagon bed, something long and wrapped in cloth. The stench of congealed blood choked my throat. I twisted away from the smell, too weak to sit up.
“You insisted on coming here,” Montgomery whispered harshly. I couldn’t tell if he was mad at me or mad at himself. “I should have refused. I’d hoped … Blast, it doesn’t matter.”
Then he was gone and the wagon was moving. Each jostle felt like the tossing waves at sea. A sudden bump rolled me into the wrapped fabric. My hand fell into a sticky substance.
I looked down at my hand. Congealed blood clotted between my fingers. I’d rolled over onto a canvas shroud wrapped around what had to be a body. Blood soaked through the fabric in three red streaks across its chest. Another victim.
The monster, Jaguar had said.
The wagon bumped again, and the canvas fell away from the face. It was an islander woman, or had been. The jaw had been ripped away, leaving only long jagged incisors poised in a permanent scream. Gashes streaked her cheeks and forehead, already covered with a voracious swarm of flies. A scream hurled up my throat, but I never heard it. I’d slipped into a welcoming darkness.
TWENTY-FIVE
I AWOKE IN MY bed at the compound. My memories were hazy, sunken into the moss-laden swamps of my mind, where I was content to leave them. I remembered only hints. Peeling skin on the dead woman’s face. Bloodstains on the canvas tarpaulin. Flies buzzing like thunderclouds. There was a lingering stench of blood in my mouth and the smell of lavender in the air.
A soft humming filled the corners of the room like sunlight. I imagined for a moment that I was back home on Belgrave Square, with Mother humming while she made me tea. But it was a poor fantasy. London had never been so stiflingly humid.
I opened my eyes. The humming was nothing more than an insect’s steady drone, but the lavender was real. Alice stood over a steaming copper pot on the dresser, her back to me, rolling the flower between her palms to release the fragrance. Tiny purple blooms tumbled into the pot, filling the room with their calming scent. Montgomery leaned beside her, painting a clear gummy substance onto the mirror with a thick brush. Half the glass was shattered into fine cracks like a spider’s web. When had it broken?
Alice brought her fingers to her face, breathing in the soft, earthy scent. She held her cupped hands to Montgomery. He inhaled deeply, giving her an easy smile I hadn’t seen since we were children—and even then only rarely. My heart wrenched a little. They were in my room, but I felt like the intruder.
“Alice,” I said. Her name caught in my rusty throat. She and Montgomery turned in surprise. Her hand instinctively flew to cover her harelip. I cleared my throat. Seeing them so playful should have cheered me, but it only twisted something inside me.
Montgomery crossed his arms at the foot of the bed, the lightness gone from his face. “You’re awake. Are you feeling well?”
“There was a body. Someone died.”
His hands clutched the footboard. “A woman from the village.”
“Another accident?”
He didn’t reply.
I caught my reflection in the mirror. The gossamer cracks split my face into a hundred little pieces. “What happened to the mirror?”
He gave it a glance, showing a thousand frowns. “Don’t you remember? You threw your silver brush. It shattered.”
I sat up, studying the fractured wall of eyes. “Why would I do that?”