The Madman’s Daughter

“A coconut fell,” I said quickly. “The wind blows them down. I hear them occasionally.” I hoped she was too distracted to remember there were no palm trees anywhere near the compound.

 

She tore her eyes from the window to see if I was serious. I swallowed the fear creeping up my throat. There was no telling what was on the other side of those iron bars. Jaguar, perhaps. A pack of islanders starting to regress. If only the window had a screen or shutters to seal off that awful darkness.

 

Another thump sounded. We both jumped. And then a long scraping sound, as if something were running a knife against the side of the building. Alice’s small hand found mine and squeezed. My mind raced. I needed to devise an explanation to keep the fear from blooming in our hearts.

 

“The wind,” I muttered. It was a poor answer, and it didn’t soothe either of us. Her breath came in quick little gasps. Something tapped against the iron bars. Tap. Tap. Tap. As if the darkness were knocking.

 

Alice’s mouth fell open. I clapped my hand over it to keep her from screaming. She struggled but I wrapped an arm around her, holding her tight, like Montgomery did to calm the rabbits.

 

“Quickly. Get on the floor,” I whispered.

 

We tumbled off the bed, hiding behind the mattress, where anything outside couldn’t see.

 

“What’s out there?” she asked, squeezing my arm as though she was afraid I would leave her. No explanation came to my lips. It wasn’t the wind, that was for sure.

 

“Stay low. You’ll be fine.” I crawled across the floor to the dressing table. I pulled the rusty shears out of a drawer and hid them in the folds of my nightdress. Seeing them would only frighten her more.

 

My heart thumped painfully. Slowly, I pulled myself up and approached the window with careful steps. The wind whistled outside, a thousand malignant whispers.

 

The shears felt small but powerful in my hand. Heavy clouds blocked all traces of moonlight. Whatever was outside, it could be standing three feet away, or with its face inches from the bars, and I wouldn’t know.

 

Lightning flashed. Fear shot up my throat, making me gasp. I had a quick glimpse of the valley. Shaking leaves. The stormy ocean beyond. No face, not unless I hadn’t seen right. The island played tricks on my eyes.

 

I stepped closer to the window. My face almost pressed against the bars. I held the shears to my chest, ready to strike. Lightning flashed again. There was nothing out there but the island, erratic and tumultuous. Yet I felt watched.

 

“Hello?” I called. My voice was hoarse. “Is someone there?”

 

“Miss, don’t!”

 

I turned toward the bed. The tip of Alice’s head peeked above the mattress, her eyes wide and glassy.

 

“Get down!” I breathed. Her head disappeared faster than a blink. I tightened my grip on the shears. Maybe the traces of Father’s madness in me had its uses—if it made me able to chop a rabbit’s head off and maim Dr. Hastings, it made me able to fight whatever was lurking outside.

 

I turned back to the window and forced myself to do what I feared most. Grabbed the iron bars.

 

“Hello?” I called again.

 

Only the howling wind answered. What lurked out there, watching?

 

I heard the scraping sound again, just outside the window. Inches away. My body went rigid. Something inside me screamed to run, but I gritted my teeth, ready to thrust the shears into those watching eyes. Hungry to do it.

 

Alice was forgotten. It was only me and the monster and the rolling thunder. Tap tap tap. Coming from so close. The thrill made my blood flow backward. I was ready. I squeezed the bars, knuckles white. In the pit of my stomach I knew that not even iron bars would keep us safe from the thing outside.

 

The wind howled, blowing cracks and wrinkles in the dark clouds. Faint moonlight broke through and glistened off three long, black claws on the other side of the bars.

 

Stretching close enough, almost, to graze my fingertips.

 

 

 

 

 

THIRTY-ONE

 

 

A JOLT OF FEAR nailed my feet to the floor. The claws found the stone windowsill, grazing gently, scraping at the rusty bars. Then three slow, sinister taps. Tap, tap, tap. Asking for entrance.

 

My heart crashed and throbbed, trying to break free of my ribs, pulled toward that monster in the night like rivers to the sea. I was hopelessly bound to the thing outside.

 

I leaned even closer, my trembling fingers a hair away from the glistening claws. I felt a deep, pulsing need to know the nature of the beast still hidden in shadows.

 

Alice screamed. The spell broke. I blinked, looking at the claws that were even now reaching for me. I slammed the shears into the longest one. It split down the ridge, shattering at the point. I dug the shears harder until I wrenched the broken claw off. The beast howled. The claws were pulled back into the darkness, save for one that fell to the floor.

 

“Miss, get away from the window!”

 

I crawled over the bed, fast as I could, and collapsed beside her. The wind whistled, calling me back. I fought the urge and pulled Alice into my arms instead. “It’s gone,” I said.

 

Megan Shepherd's books