Montgomery leaned his weight against the door. He put a hand to his brow in thought. “He must be eavesdropping on the compound. It’s the only way.” He grabbed my shoulder. “And he didn’t hurt you? Do you swear? He’s not some docile farm animal, Juliet. He’s dangerous.”
I shook my head, my heart pounding harder. I remembered the feel of Jaguar’s rough tongue on my skin. Fearful sweat began to drip down my face. Had I been in the company of the murderer? I hadn’t trusted him, which was why I’d slipped away. It might have saved my life.
“He didn’t hurt me,” I stuttered. “But he killed a rabbit.”
Montgomery’s hand gripped mine protectively. He squeezed so hard it hurt. “Killed a rabbit? Are you sure?”
“I saw him arguing with another man about it.” I swallowed, wanting to find some logical explanation. “They can’t be perfect always, can they? They must break commandments sometimes.”
“Not that one. Not to kill. We didn’t think they knew how to kill.” An idea seemed to strike him. The blood drained from his face. I remembered the stinking corpse in the back of the wagon. All the other accidents. He pulled a pistol off the gun rack in the back of the barn. Checking the chamber, he started for the half door, but I held it closed.
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
“You were right. That woman in the wagon wasn’t an accident. There’ve been more bodies. Many. All with three slashes across the chest. We thought it must be an escaped animal. A bobcat got loose once.… It didn’t occur to us that one of them might be responsible.” He grabbed my shoulders. The butt of the pistol lay between his hand and my clothes, a harsh reminder of what was out there. “Whatever you do, don’t go back into the jungle.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
THE NEXT MORNING, IN the salon, I peered between the long shutter slats at the courtyard outside. Father and Montgomery argued furiously, tramping up dirt, sweat staining their shirts. They’d been arguing like this for hours. It must have been serious for Montgomery to be so defensive. The pistol butt gleamed in his waistband. I made out only two words: Rabbit. Ajax.
I didn’t need to hear more.
Edward sat in a chair reading, his attention on the musty pages rather than the argument in the courtyard. I sank into the green sofa opposite him.
“There’s a murderous beast on the island. How can you just sit and read?”
He flipped a page. Then another. “I can’t. It’s impossible to concentrate.”
“You could have fooled me.” I raised an eyebrow, but my sarcasm was lost on him. I leaned forward to read the title. The Tempest. “I’ve read that one. Shall I tell you the ending and save you the bother?”
He closed the book on his finger to mark the place he’d stopped. “I’m not reading it for pleasure.” He cocked his head toward the courtyard. “I’m trying to find something that might help us escape. The book’s about castaways on an island. They get off eventually.”
I rolled my eyes. “With the aid of magic.”
He dipped his head, going back to the book. “We’ll have to be a little more creative.”
A door slammed outside and I peered through the shutters. Father and Montgomery were gone. Only the chickens pecked in the courtyard. The familiar trickle of worry returned.
“The doctor came in here earlier furious over something,” Edward said, his voice lower.
“It’s about that dead rabbit I found. They think one of the islanders killed it. The one who calls himself Jaguar. And so that must make him the murderer.”
“But you think he didn’t kill the rabbit?”
I frowned. “No, I’m sure he did. I saw him waving the bloody head around. It’s just … never mind.” A dull pain throbbed at the base of my skull. I rubbed the stiff muscles there. My hands still felt the weight of the ax I’d brought down over the rabbit’s neck in the operating theater. I couldn’t exactly condemn Jaguar for separating a rabbit from its head when I’d done the same.
“Have you at least found anything useful?” I said, nodding at the book.
Edward set the book on a pile of warped leather volumes. “Not unless you have a magic wand. We need a vessel. That’s easy enough—the launch at the dock. We can steal enough food from the garden and the kitchen. There are a few waterskins—not ideal, but enough to survive, I think. The only problem is—”
His words died as Alice entered the room. Her eyes grew wide. She knew she was interrupting something. She quickly flitted around, picking up a dirty towel on a peg by the door, the napkins from breakfast, the rag Puck had used to clean up the spilled tea last night. Her long blond hair floated behind her like that of some ephemeral being. She slipped from the room as silently as she had entered, leaving behind the faint scent of lavender.
“The only problem,” Edward whispered, once she was gone, “is navigation.”
“Montgomery knows the way,” I said. “You said he told you there’s a shipping lane not far.”