“A brain?”
“Yes, in Radcliffe’s study, in a hatbox. He doesn’t practice science himself—he must have been holding it for one of the others. Whatever they’re doing, it involves humans, not just animals.”
Montgomery jerked his chin toward the balcony. “I think there were four of them,” he said. “Five maybe—one might have been small. It means . . .” He rubbed his face, letting it all settle in.
I finished his thought. “It means this isn’t limited to Radcliffe. It’s much larger than we ever imagined. That makes sense now—Radcliffe’s a businessman, not a scientist. He’s providing the funding while the others are handling the research, the specimens, the politics. There are several members of Parliament in the King’s Club. They even mentioned Rochefort, the French ambassador. That means this goes beyond one man or even a group in London. They have connections in France, Germany . . . who knows how far this reaches?” I leaned against the wall, body numb but thoughts churning like a steam engine.
I pressed my hand against my chest. Men like that, with limitless resources and connections, could change the entire system. They could make vivisection and animal experimentation legal, if they chose to. They could establish entire colleges dedicated to Father’s research. They could recreate his creatures. They could take everything Father had done on that isolated island, and spread it through the globe.
“Montgomery, we can’t let them—”
But I didn’t get a chance to finish. A scream rang out from the ballroom.
MONTGOMERY AND I RACED up the balcony steps and through the glass-paned door. The crowd inside the ballroom was packed tightly, everyone murmuring and pushing forward to see what had happened.
The girl in the swan mask stood on tiptoe next to me, trying to see over everyone’s heads.
“What happened?” I asked her.
“A woman screamed,” she said. “I think it was Mrs. Radcliffe.”
“That’s Lucy’s mother!” I gasped. I tugged Montgomery toward the grand spiral staircase, the swan girl forgotten. “Something might have happened to Lucy.”
I tried to push through the crowd, but no one made room for me, so Montgomery took the lead instead. He had a way of moving among people as gracefully as ducking trees and brambles in the jungle. I had to trip over my own feet to keep up with him. Soon we were at the front of the murmuring crowd.
“Lucy!” I yelled, spotting her by the stairs. She was leaning against the grand staircase banister, mask off, face white, looking shaken but unharmed. I wrapped my hand around hers.
“What happened?” I whispered.
Half dazed, she pointed to a clump of people on the stairs. “Mother screamed. There was a commotion on the landing and then she tumbled down the stairs covered in blood.”
Lucy’s eyes were fixed on the bottom of the stairs, where Inspector Newcastle, Mr. Radcliffe, and several men were leaning over Lucy’s mother. She was still screaming, though when I pushed closer I could tell with one glimpse that the wounds were only superficial. Just shallow cuts on her arm, though the three slash marks spilled a startling amount of blood onto her white gown.
Three slash marks.
I glanced at Montgomery and saw my fears confirmed in his face—three slash marks meant the Beast.
Apparently we weren’t the only person who noticed that particular detail, because once Mrs. Radcliffe’s shock wore off, she started screaming, “The Wolf! It was the Wolf!”
“The Wolf is here!” a woman in the crowd yelled behind me. “Run!”
My imagination started churning. I pictured blood pouring out beneath torn flesh, pooling on the floor, staining everyone’s fine dancing shoes. The blood just kept coming until the dance floor was covered, choking the quartet’s instruments, spilling out in a waterfall over the balcony into the garden where Montgomery and I had stood.
Montgomery grabbed my arm, and the hallucination disappeared. I prayed a fit wasn’t coming on, here in public and at such a terrible time, and massaged the joints of my knuckles. Everyone was screaming, grabbing their belongings, hurrying for the front door. “He’s toying with us,” Montgomery said. “I’ve got to get you out of here.”
The room churned with panic. In the turmoil someone smashed into the enormous Christmas tree at my side. Strong hands pulled me out of the way a second before it crashed to the ground, glass ornaments shattering, igniting another round of screams.
I turned to thank the person who’d pulled me out of the way. A massive man, and young, judging by his dark hair, though a red mask hid his face from me—all except for his eyes. My lips parted as I saw their deep yellow glow.
The Beast.
I screamed for Montgomery, but my voice was lost in the chaos as everyone ran for the door. I looked around frantically and caught a glimpse of him thirty feet away, helping a woman who’d been trapped under the enormous Christmas tree. But he didn’t see me, and the Beast dug his knobby fingers into my arm and pulled me in the opposite direction everyone else was running.
I twisted my wrist, but I was powerless against him without a weapon. He pulled me into the doorway leading toward the rear halls and pushed my back against the hallway, in the shadows where we’d be overlooked.
“I’ll kill you for what you’ve done,” I seethed.
“I think that quite unlikely,” he said in that inhumanly deep voice. “You’ve had two chances to kill me and you haven’t.”
“Only because Edward inhabits this body too. Now let me go. If Montgomery sees you . . .”