With trembling fingers I opened the letter, read the contents. An induction letter into the King’s Club, pending certain unspecified achievements, to be announced and enacted upon in the new year.
I dropped the letter, stunned. It fell on a tin of tobacco and a handful of personal trinkets. Cuff links, a cigar clipper, an old pair of spectacles.
Trembling, I lifted the spectacles to the light. They were simple, well-worn, with wire rims that curved around the ear. There was a scratch on the left lens and a single drop of blood on the right.
They belonged to the professor.
I dropped them back into the drawer and slammed it shut, skirting away from the desk as though it had singed my flesh.
There was only one reason Inspector Newcastle would have the professor’s missing spectacles among his personal effects, not carefully catalogued into the evidence room as they should be: The Beast had been telling the truth. He didn’t kill the professor. Inspector Newcastle must have arranged for the professor’s murder—or had killed him himself, though I couldn’t imagine it.
Either way, I was in the den of the enemy.
I flung open the door, racing down the polished-wood floor. I nearly tripped on the stairs in my hurry to get back to Montgomery and tell him everything—that Newcastle was a King’s Man, was Moreau’s protégé, had framed Edward in what must have been a bid to get me to cooperate—but I ran into Newcastle himself coming up the stairs.
“Miss Moreau,” he said, shocked to see me. “The tea will be up momentarily. Why are you—”
“I’m nauseous, I’m afraid,” I stuttered. “It came upon me all of a sudden. We can continue this conversation later.”
“You were going to tell me a theory.”
“Oh, it was nothing. Excuse me.” I pushed past him and stumbled down the rest of the stairs.
Montgomery rushed over when he saw the state I was in. I slipped my hand in his and stood on tiptoe to reach his ear.
“I was wrong about being safe here,” I whispered. “We need to get out. Now.”
THIRTY-FIVE
I DIDN’T DARE EXPLAIN what had happened until we were safely within the walls of the professor’s house. Elizabeth gave us a questioning glance when we entered, but I walked straight past her to the kitchen, where I threw open the cellar door and hurried down the dark stairs.
“Edward,” I whispered. Through the bars in the cellar door I saw hints of a figure pacing back and forth. “Edward, I must speak with you.”
The shadowy form moved closer until the light from the stairs spilled over the edges of his face. The eyes that met mine glowed unnaturally, like cats’ eyes. I drew in a quick breath.
“Come to visit me, love?” the Beast asked.
“I need to speak to Edward.”
“You’ll be waiting a long time, then.” Behind me came the sound of Montgomery’s boots on the wooden stairs as he joined me by the cellar door. The Beast smiled slowly. “Ah, Moreau’s hunting dog. I thought you would have gotten yourself killed by now. No bother; I’ll remedy that soon enough. Now, why have you come to see me?”
My heart clanked in my chest like the rattling of chains. “It’s about the professor’s murder.”
His glowing eyes grew closer. “I told you already I wasn’t responsible, and if you’re here asking me that question, it’s because you know I was telling the truth.” He cocked his head. “Let me guess. There was no flower left with the body, was there?”
“How did you know that?” I gasped.
The Beast threw his head back and laughed. “Those fools at Scotland Yard never did figure out where I got the flowers from. I know I didn’t kill him, so whoever did wouldn’t have left a flower.” He studied us again, cold and calculating. “Let me out, and I’ll help you find his real murderer.”
“We don’t need your help,” Montgomery snapped. His words were so cold. I understood his anger, but where was that boy I had known, who knew the world wasn’t black and white, who believed in second chances even for a man as ruthless as my father?
But the Beast wasn’t focused on Montgomery. “Let me out, my love,” he whispered. “I’ll do what you cannot. I’ll rip his heart out and get you your justice.”
There was a purr to his voice, both alluring and dangerous, and it spoke to the parts of me that were like him: restless, prowling. He was close enough to reach through the bars, but he didn’t. I had the sudden urge to touch his face instead, rough features that were so like Edward’s but weren’t.
Montgomery pulled me away from the door. “Come on. We’ll get only lies from him.”
I let him lead me up the stairs into the kitchen, though I couldn’t quite tear my mind away from the haunted face behind that door.
The Beast was many things, but I didn’t think a liar was one of them.
ELIZABETH WAS WAITING ANXIOUSLY for us in the kitchen. Balthazar had gone to bed, so we made tea and I told her about what I’d discovered at Scotland Yard.
“Newcastle is part of the King’s Club,” I said. “He knew I was protecting Edward, so he framed him in hopes I’d turn against him and help the police catch him. I nearly did.”
“The King’s Club already used Juliet as bait at the masquerade,” Montgomery added. “Now they’re willing to commit murder. They aren’t going to stop at anything until they have Edward. There’s only one thing to do.”
He meant killing Edward.
I studied his face to gauge how serious he was. I didn’t like this side of him—the hardened hunter—yet at the same time I feared I had been the one to make him into this. I’d shattered his faith in my father, I’d brought about the regression of the beast-men, I’d made him face the terrible things he’d been doing with his own hands.
“No,” I breathed. “We can’t.”
Elizabeth paced behind the sofa. Her jaw was clenched tight, but her hands were surprisingly steady. “Perhaps he’s right, Juliet.”
“It would be murder!”
“He’s killed a dozen people!” Montgomery countered. “And twice that on the island. The fact that he didn’t kill the professor hardly makes him innocent. Why are you so desperate to protect him?”
Because he protected me, I thought. Because you weren’t here, and he came back for me, and in his own way tried to save me. Because the Beast was right when he said we weren’t so different.