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I touched my dress pocket, where the silver pistol dragged against the ground. If I got the chance to take a shot, I couldn’t afford to miss.
The line of women continued through the walls, down a precarious ladder into the sewer system, where we were finally able to stand. Light winked around the corners of a square grate that I kicked open with Elizabeth’s help. Fresh air poured in. It was freezing outside, but after being trapped in the frigid cellar, the touch of sunlight was heavenly.
I climbed through the grate, jumping down on the other side. I scanned the southern gardens and moors beyond, but saw no movement. Wherever Montgomery had led the Beast, it seemed to have worked.
“All right,” I said. “Pass the girls to me, Elizabeth.”
They crawled through, one at a time, dusting off their clothes.
“We can take it from here,” Elizabeth said. “Do what you must, but be careful.”
“I will.”
She and McKenna led the girls to the barn, where they disappeared one by one inside. Now that they were safe, I hurried to the windmill, which was spinning briskly in the midday breeze, and climbed the ladder attached to the side of the building. Reaching into my basket, I took out four vials of Elizabeth’s beetroot iodine solution, and as each white sheet passed, splashed it with the dark red liquid. Gazing up at them, the white sails looked streaked with blood. An unsettling signal, but an effective one.
I left the basket, taking only the knife tucked in my boot and the silver pistol, and went to the front door, pacing, shading my eyes to search the moors for any sign of Montgomery. There were only three or four hours of daylight left. We had to confront the Beast before night fell; with the electricity cut off in the manor, only the Beast, with his superior animal vision, would be able to see.
In another second, my signal worked. Montgomery appeared around the side of the house, running as fast as he could with his wounded shoulder. “Get inside. He’s right behind me!”
I threw open the main door. The Beast rounded the corner behind him, twenty feet away, lumbering as if he wasn’t used to his restrictive human body. Fury gleamed in his eyes.
“Hurry!” I called to Montgomery.
He took the steps two at a time, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. I squeezed the doorknob harder, urging him on. At last he reached the doorway and I slammed the door and locked it. Half a breath later, the Beast collided into the other side of the door, growling with frustration.
“There’s more than one way inside!” he bellowed through the thick wood.
I ran to Montgomery, touching his shoulder. “Are you hurt?”
“He caught me once, but without the claws he wasn’t as powerful.”
“It won’t take him long to break through a window,” I said. “Everyone’s safe in the barn, except for Balthazar. He’s still in the cellar. Go fetch him, and I’ll check on Lucy. We’ll meet back here.”
As he stumbled off toward the cellar, I paused long enough to take the pistol out of my pocket and make sure it was loaded, then headed for the kitchen. It was empty, save the vat of untouched potatoes and a dozen overturned pots and pans on the floor—Lucy must have set them out as a trap to announce if someone was coming.
“Lucy?” I called, but heard nothing in return. I threw open the door to the pickling closet. “Lucy, are you there?”
The sound of shattering glass came from some unseen room, and I jerked upright. It had to be the Beast breaking his way into the house, which meant I didn’t have much time. I crawled on hand and knees to the trapdoor, knocking on it frantically.
“Lucy, answer me!”
There was still no response, and I felt paralyzed. Where would she have gone?
Two hands suddenly grabbed my ankles, dragging me out of the closet with terrifying strength. I screamed, clawing at the floor for grip, but my fingernails tore uselessly on the tile. As soon as we were back in the kitchen, I was released abruptly.
I scrambled onto my back.
The Beast stared back at me.
His face was just as mercurial and mysterious as ever. He was made with Montgomery’s blood, though I had never seen any similarities in their features. Now however, there was an echo. It wasn’t the shape of his nose or the spacing of his ears, but a depth to his eyes that looked so much like Montgomery, just for a flash, that I nearly forgot who I was looking at.
I fumbled in my dress for the pistol and aimed it at him. “Don’t come any closer.”
He cocked his head, unconcerned. A strange voice whispered in the back of my head that he’d never looked more human before.
“Why aren’t you attacking?” I demanded.
“Why aren’t you?” he countered.
I aimed the gun at him again. This was just another game to him—show a well-calculated flash of humanity, confuse me, then once I started questioning myself he’d claw me to pieces. I clenched my jaw. I aimed the pistol between his eyes, at the diseased brain that was his origin. At only ten feet, I couldn’t miss. And yet my finger wouldn’t pull that trigger.
“Well?” He even moved a step closer to make my aim better. “Now that you’re faced with killing me, it isn’t so appealing, is it? Because without me, there’s nothing darker than your own heart. I’ve always been more ruthless than you. Without me, you’ll be left to stare at your own capacity for evil.”
“Stop talking,” I hissed, cocking the pistol. I urged my finger to shoot. He’s toying with you. He’d say anything to make you spare his life.
And yet try as I could, I couldn’t pull that trigger. In some terrible way, I agreed with part of what he said. Having the Beast meant I wasn’t the most violent person in the room, nor the darkest. Besides, it was Edward’s face looking at me, and a little bit of Montgomery’s as well, and even a bit of my own.
“You can’t do it, can you?” There was a ring of sympathy to his voice that had never been there before.
Suddenly, one of the cabinets flew open, and Lucy sprang down, the surgical knife gripped tightly in her hand. At last I understood why the pots and pans were on the floor—she’d emptied the cabinet as a place to hide.
She hurled herself at the Beast. “Maybe she can’t, but I can.”
TWENTY-ONE
LUCY DUG THE BLADE into the side of the Beast’s neck before he could react. I froze. This was Lucy, who was afraid of practically everything, who had never so much as smashed a spider under her shoe.
“I should have done that the first time!” she yelled.
