“That’s preposterous,” he said. “They can’t climb the wall. You’re mistaken.”
“The mistake was to create them!”
He struck my jaw. Pain shot up the side of my face. I stumbled back, stunned. Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised. But somewhere deep inside, I still thought there might be hope for him and me.
Now I understood that there would never be.
Edward stepped in, fast, and twisted the stiff lapel of Father’s jacket. “Don’t ever strike her.”
Father pulled away, seething. “Punch me again, Prince, and you’ll wish you’d never set foot on this island.”
“Stop it. Just stop it.” I stretched my jaw, testing. Nothing broken, just bruised. I understood now. He didn’t care what happened to any of us. He’d gone mad with delusions. But as little as he cared for us, he might still listen to reason. “Whatever you did to make them docile … it failed. They’re animals. They won’t obey you forever. There’s only one choice, and that’s to abandon your work. Leave this place.”
Father smoothed his cravat, which had gotten ruffled in his tussle with Edward. His eyes were black as the churning sea. “As soon as the weather breaks, we’re going to the village. You’ll see for yourselves that I have everything under control.”
I touched the bruised edge of my jaw, knowing further discussion was useless.
He was beyond reason.
THIRTY-THREE
THE STORM RAGED FOR several days. By the time we were able to leave for the village, the jungle was so humid, it felt as though the wagon was rolling underwater. We had to stop every quarter mile to clear the road of downed trees.
I could smell the village long before we arrived. The stench hung like a pestilence. Not just the smell of animals, but a rotten miasma that made me cover my mouth and nose. The beasts were overdue for their treatments, and Montgomery said the change would happen quickly. Father kept insisting they would be peaceful and domesticated in temperament now that the serum was dissipating from their systems.
Pigs, sheep, dairy cows, he’d said.
The road was practically a lake as we neared the village. Duke stopped, unwilling to go farther. Montgomery had to climb out and drag him by the harness.
The village was filthy. Huts had been torn down or clawed. Smoke billowed from piles of burning refuse. I exchanged an uncertain glance with Edward. This didn’t look like the work of dairy cows.
We passed a creature wallowing in the mud, belly distended as though it was drunk. Its back legs were so bent, I doubted it could walk. It watched the wagon pass with a vacant stare. Father motioned to it as we passed. “Is this the beast that scaled a twenty-foot wall, Juliet?”
I folded my arms. He was delusional. Nothing I could say would change that.
The wagon jerked to a halt. We were in the village center, though I hardly recognized it. Gone was the praying crowd, the man with the sweeping red robe, the beasts clamoring for a glimpse of their venerable creator.
“No one to greet us,” Montgomery observed.
Father dismissed it with a wave. “That’s to be expected. They’re like livestock now, I told you. Either wallowing like pigs or rooting out grain somewhere.”
I glimpsed a few eyes watching us from sunken doorways. I hugged my arms, feeling a chill despite the heat.
Edward pointed to one of the few huts still standing. Cymbeline peered at us from within, apparently unchanged except for a hardened, distrustful turn to his mouth. I waved. He hissed, baring inch-long fangs he’d never had before. I hugged my arms tighter.
Father climbed down and dusted off his hands. He extended his arms, smiling, like a savior returning to his adoring masses.
“Come out!” he called. “Let me see your beautiful faces.”
No one came. I detected a flicker of uncertainty in his face, but it was gone as fast as the buzzing flies. “You there!” He pointed a long finger at a figure in a doorway. “Don’t be shy. Come on.”
The figure slunk forward on all fours, moving rhythmically. Its limbs popped in the sockets as it moved. It circled us slowly and then stood upright on two feet and slunk closer.
The python-woman. Her face was horribly stretched, and she no longer wore clothing. She approached my father with the grace of a snake.
He smiled, oblivious to her horrible appearance. “Where is Caesar, my dear?”
“Caesar,” she repeated. She slunk along the side of the wagon. My stomach clenched. Montgomery swore I wasn’t like the beasts, but I couldn’t help but fear I’d end up like her if I stopped taking my treatment.
She gave a few hissing chuckles. “Caesar says no more.”
More creatures emerged, creeping toward us slowly. Bodies stretched unnaturally, moving on four legs. Montgomery calmly placed a hand on his rifle.
“Where is he?” Father commanded. The smile was gone. “Bring him out!”