The Madman's Daughter (The Madman's Daughter 1)

“We’ll leave this island before it comes back,” he said, his voice low so as to not wake Alice.

“The monster, you mean.”

His hands dropped to my waist. Temptation whispered in my ear, ruffling the lace on my collar, drawing me closer. “Whatever you want to call it.”

The door creaked. Montgomery stood on the doorway, frozen for a beat. I pulled away from Edward, face on fire. Edward toyed with the loose button on his shirt as if nothing had happened.

But something had happened, and I wasn’t sure how to interpret it.

“I was looking for Alice,” Montgomery said, his eyes shifting between me and Edward almost imperceptibly.

I brushed a strand of hair behind my ear and nodded toward the bed. “She’s here.”

He came in, relieved. “She wasn’t in her room. I was worried. . . .”

He checks on her first, I thought. Not me. But I shook the jealous thoughts out of my head. I was drawing inaccurate conclusions. When he’d come in and seen me with Edward, he might have come to a similar conclusion. But he’d have been wrong. Surely.

“Something got into the compound. One of the beasts, or else . . .”

“Or else what?” Montgomery asked.

“I don’t know. What else might be on the island?” I asked, my eyes flashing, and set the claw on the dressing table.

Alice muttered something in her sleep and turned over. Montgomery’s hand hesitated an inch above the claw.

“We can’t stay here,” Edward said, voice rising. He picked up the claw and thrust it into the obscurity of his pocket. “We need to get off this island.”

“Sh!” I hissed. Alice jerked awake, disoriented, crying out.

My first thought was to tell her it had been a bad dream. But Montgomery was already by her side, smoothing a hand over her beautiful fair hair. “We’re back,” he said. “You’re safe.”

Because I kept her safe, I thought. Father obviously wasn’t taking care of the island residents, so someone had to.

But she kept shrieking, breathing so quickly I thought she might hyperventilate. At last Montgomery scooped her in his arms and carried her out. He passed someone in the courtyard, coming quickly, carrying a lantern.

Father burst into the room. “What’s happened? The barn door is off its hinges and there are a dozen broken tiles.”

I stood up. “One of your monsters came in over the roof.” Venom laced my words.

“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 long 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.

Not unlike 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.