Nikolai. I trip over my feet as I turn to see where he is, but I can’t tell.
“You should never have questioned my intelligence, Mary...”
I keep running, ignoring the scrapes on my hands as I push through the overgrown hedges. This far in, they weren’t as groomed as the entrance, and I begin to stumble more. My legs burn as I struggle to keep upright on the uneven ground. Trees are rising up over the maze, their roots rising to trap anyone caught unawares.
“Vampires are real, Mary...”
How are they so close?
“Leave me alone!” I scream, sucking in heavy pants.
I hate Crowsrest Manor. I wish I’d never come here, that I’d never met Frankenstein, Jekyll, and Van Helsing. I’m nothing but shards of glass, held together by bone and sinew, covered in a skin made of desperation-fueled anger. Every moment those boys looked at me or touched me is branded into my skin, a blackened scar that sinks into my core, scarring me.
I stumble into a clearing, the hedge giving way, and I fall to my hands and knees. Fat tears fall to the dry dirt, but I can’t get up. Tear after tear pools below me until I’m crying so hard I can’t see. Any moment, my tormentors will fall on me and there’s no point in this. I’m so tired from running, not just today. My whole life has been running from monsters and I’ve lost everything.
Why not lose a little more?
They don’t come, though. No one does. It’s only me and my rage, pushed down until it’s only a smolder. There aren’t even any spirits around me.
Staggering upwards, I take in the center of the labyrinth. Movies always have gazebos or gardens in the center, somewhere to relax and enjoy. The only thing in the wide expanse is a crooked dead tree and a mausoleum.
The stone building must be ancient, or at least a couple hundred years old. The overgrown hedge boxes in the center, with the building dominating the exact center. English ivy grows over it, crawling up the sides but never quite reaching the roof. A single gargoyle perches on the roof overlooking the steps. Anyone who enters would have to face the gaze of the stone creature. As I study it, I swear it smiles at me, but when I blink, it’s gone. It’s still looking at something, I know this as easily as I know how to breathe. I study the ground as I approach the stairs and then I see it.
Crouching down, I brush the dirt and dried leaves from the broken tiles that once made a path. The tile I uncover, though, isn’t broken. Carved into the stone is a symbol, filled with dirt making it easier to see. Glancing upwards, I jump when I meet the stone eyes of the gargoyle. I’m right that this is where it’s looking.
The symbol is a serpent in a circle eating its own tail, a sword perpendicular through its center. It’s designed simply enough, but there’s no mistaking the snake’s opened jaw, its fangs clearly carved striking its own tail.
The hairs raise on the back of my neck and I stand, turning to see who’s found me. It’s a man, older, but not more than fifty. He’s dressed well in a tailored charcoal suit, the only thing lacking perfection are the russet-colored curls on his head. He’s watching me with light hazel eyes that spark with curiosity, and a slight curl of amusement on his lips.
He waits a beat longer before stepping further into the center of the labyrinth until he’s just out of arm’s reach.
“Hello, Mary,” he greets but doesn’t hold out a hand to shake. “My name is Percy Shelley. I’m your father.”
My father? He isn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow. He must see my confusion as he continues.
“My business concluded early, and so I’ve returned to Crowsrest.” He moves around me, pacing along the outside of the mausoleum. I follow him, both out of curiosity and caution. “It’s been years since I’ve been here. Ever since I graduated early. Has Mrs. Browning told you about this site?”
He looks over his shoulder at me and I shake my head once. My father was a graduate of the institute? Why hadn’t she told me?
“Only a true descendant of our bloodline can find this place,” he trails his fingers over the ivy reverently, as if speaking to the person buried within. “I’m glad to know that you’re truly my daughter. A shame about your mother.”
He may as well have slapped me, and he cocks an eyebrow.
“She kept you from me.” My father’s words are hard, laced with a venom so unexpected I step back. “Every time I would nearly find you”—he raised his hands, closing and then opening them while mouthing a poof—“you’d vanish, as if into thin air.”
We’ve walked far enough we’ve come back around to the beginning. He stops, looking down at the symbol I uncovered, then at me with a question in his eyes.
“What’s it mean?” It’s the first thing I’ve said to my father, ever potentially.
“It’s a symbol of power and strength, and the symbol of a promise—to break the bonds of possibilities.” He holds out his arm to me, and I carefully slip my arm through it. “Let’s return to speak with Mrs. Browning about your place in this world.”
If Victor, Nikolai, and Malcolm feel like predators, this man who claims to be my father is a dangerous mythological beast. A creature used to threaten children into behaving. He guides us through the labyrinth with absolute confidence, as if there are no other routes to take. The sky darkens with clouds as we make our way towards the grand manor, and his hand covers mine.
It doesn’t feel affectionate, not in the least. It feels like I’m in his grip, unable to escape. He walks us around to the front doors, letting go of my hand only long enough to open one of the heavy oak doors and usher me inside.
Mrs. Browning is waiting for us, her face impassive as she dips into a slight curtsy.
“Master Shelley, I see you’ve found your daughter.”
“Indeed.” His tone is clipped and his grip tightens on my hand where it’s on his arm. I look everywhere but at him. It’s like he’s cursed and if I look at him, I shall be turned to a pillar of salt. “Miss Shelley and I will join you in the private study.”
I startle when I realize he means me. I’ve never used that name, I didn’t even know it until today. This is too much.
“May I please change?” There’s a meekness to my voice but it seems to please him as he lets me go. It’s like I can breathe again.
“Go. Mrs. Browning and I have business to speak. I shall send for you in half an hour’s time.”
I slip away, keeping my eyes on the floor as I speed towards the stairs. My father and great-aunt turn down the hall and I pause halfway up to watch them. Across from me, on the floor above, are Victor, Nikolai, and Malcolm. I expect to see arrogant hostility in their eyes, but they aren’t looking at me.
They’re watching my father, studying him. Then their eyes slide up to meet mine, and I know they understand the same thing. I wonder if they knew before I did.
I’ve only ever had one monster. And he’s found me.
Chapter Twenty
The door closes and I lean my head against the solid wood, eyes closed. It smells faintly of too sweet orange juice and... something else. I turn around and Malcolm is here, leaning against the wall next to my bed.
“Get out.”
“Mary—”
“I don’t care,” I interrupt, slashing my hand through the air. His eyebrows go up, and his lips tighten. His kiss still affects me, as if he were a drug from Victor’s stash. Despite what happened this morning, my body still reacts to him and I grit my teeth. Stomping over to my drawer, I begin stuffing my clothes into my suitcase carelessly. “I’m leaving. Just like you told me to.”
“You can’t.”
The way he says it freezes me, a bunched-up tee shirt in my fist. I can’t look at him, if I do the tears constricting my throat will spill over. I won’t give him the satisfaction. Steadying myself, I pack the shirt and reach for the next piece.
“I’m leaving with my father,” I whisper, holding back tears. I don’t want to go with my father, but I can’t stay here. I breathe in shuddery pants, struggling to stay calm and hi
de my emotions.
“Mary,” Malcolm says my name gently as his fingers wrap around my wrist, his other hand taking the skirt from my hands. The skirt I was wearing when he gave me my first kiss. “You can’t leave with your father.”
I tug away from him and after a moment, he lets me go. My wrist feels like he’s branded me and I still can’t look at him.
“Can you trust me?”
His question, so earnestly said, startles a harsh laugh from me.
“Can I trust you?” I almost shriek back and he winces. I hate how good he looks, his brown hair perfectly tousled, begging me to brush it out of his eyes. “After what you did to me? After everything that’s happened since I got here?”
His eyes drop to the floor, and I hope it’s shame making his cheeks go red but I doubt he knows the emotion. Does he know any damn emotions? Does anyone at this godforsaken school?
“We’re not perfect,” he starts and I try to speak but he shoots me a glare. I cross my arms with a huff, but stay silent. “We’re not even close to good. It’s why we’re here, at this school. It’s why we’re all here. It was this or... worse.”
With a sigh I move to the foot of my bed and Malcolm stays where he is. “What do you mean ‘or worse?’”
He chews on his cheek, looking as if he’s struggling to find an explanation. He pulls a face and closes his eyes, his expression full of resignation.
“All of us have been deemed a danger to society.”
That’s the last thing I expect him to say. He’s not looking at me, his eyes still closed as if he’s waiting for the guillotine to fall. I can’t help it. I start to laugh. When he glares at me, I laugh harder, falling on my back, struggling to breathe.
“You expect me to believe this school is some sort of reformatory for mad scientists?”
That gets a snort out of him and he shoves his hands in his front pockets.
“Less reformatory and more... containment?” He shrugs with a single shoulder. “We graduate, just like a normal school. But instead of going to college, we go to the government or to a contractor. We’re too brilliant to lose.”
The last part is said so bitterly that sympathy presses against the cracks they’ve made within me.
“So...” I draw out, beginning to understand, “when it says Institute for Gifted Minds, it’s really an institution?”
He nods and I stare up at the ceiling, blessedly normal with no ghosts or spirits trying to press their way through to get to me.
It makes sense, really. They’re so bipolar with how they treat me. One moment they’re cruel, the next they’re trying to get in my pants, literally.
“Why were you trying to get me to leave?” I turn my head to him as I ask the question. Everything inside of me is quiet. It’s as if the next few minutes will decide my fate and he, Victor, and Nikolai are wrapped up in it either way.
“Some of the younger boys started fixating on you,” he answered quietly. “It’s happened before. When we heard you were leaving, we wanted to make sure you left as fast as you could.”
“By declaring me the school slut. No one would ever confuse you three with Prince Charming, no matter how pretty you are.”
Scrubbing my face with my palms, I struggle to fathom everything he’s revealed with so few words. The justification of their cruelty sucks and I don’t know if I can ever forgive them. Their words and actions this morning dug knives deep into my skin, the laughter of the fellow students burrowing into my tearing heart.
“Why can’t I leave with my father?”
It’s the only question that matters now. Even Malcolm knows it as he crouches in front of me, careful not to touch me. I sit up, needing to see his face as he answers me.
“If you think we’re bad, he’s worse.” He speaks as if he’s reciting facts found in a study, with absolute belief in science. “Mr. Shelley is the main benefactor of this institute. He graduated from here and has risen to prominence in the government. He’s why we can research what we want, Mary. He leads the Society, the only ones that don’t condemn us for our sins.”
Hearing Malcolm say it shouldn’t mean much to me, but it confirms my own instinct. I’ve known my father for less than twenty minutes and now I understand why my mother and I were always running.
And now he’s caught me.
“I can’t just say no,” I say. “Mrs. Browning said he gets to decide my position at the school. If he wants to take me away, he can.”
He nods, of course he already knows that. Did his parents leave him here? Or was he taken from them by a judge after he hurt somebody?
“We’ve got a plan,” he tells me. “But you have to trust us. Just long enough until he leaves.”
I stand, moving around him, and pace the short length of my room. I feel like I’m back in the car, water filling up around me. Rubbing my chest as if I can dispel the ache, I weigh the options. Trust the boys who’ve made my life a nightmare for the past few months, or trust the father I’ve just met and immediately fear?
My mother would tell me to run. And I can’t run if my monster is already here.
“Fine. What do we do?”
He grabs my clothes out of my suitcase. “Put these back. You can’t let it seem like you were packing to leave, not yet.” I do as he says while he runs his hands over the wall he was leaning against. He shoves his shoulder against it, and with groan, a panel clicks under the pressure. Malcolm opens the small door that opens below his waist. It’s not even tall enough to hunch under, we’re going to have to crawl.
“Seriously? There’s been a secret door into my room this whole time?”
“How do you think Victor got your bag the night you stayed with him?” Malcolm doesn’t wait for my answer as he drops to his knees and disappears into the darkness.
“I knew I didn’t take my bag with me,” I grumble. Still, I follow him, not really wanting to argue about personal belongings, especially since they’re apparently mad scientists. Once again, I find myself standing in the dark tunnels between the walls with Malcolm. “Don’t you dare leave me this time.”
His hands find my face, and then he’s kissing me. I melt into him, clutching his shirt to stay upright. He pulls away too soon, and even though I can’t see him, I know he’s smirking.
“Come on, we’re going to Victor’s practical lab.”
He doesn’t let go, not even when he needs both hands to open a door I can’t tell is there. He moves my hand to his waist, hooking my fingers through his belt loop until he can take it again. In here, there’s no sense of time, and I wonder how long it took him to memorize the routes. Did he get lost in here and need a way out, or did he approach this like a mystery to solve like the blood disease in his family? By now my father must have sent for me. How would he react when he finds me missing?
Fear shudders through me.
The door to Victor’s practical lab opens easier than the one to my room, suggesting regular use. Nikolai and Victor look up as we walk in, and I have to shield my eyes from the bright lights above the worktable.
When I see what they’re working on, I scream—only to have Malcolm clamp his hand over my mouth.
“Mrs. Browning instructed Victor to conduct the autopsy,” he explains slowly as if trying to calm a skittish beast. Maybe that’s what I am to them. Something to be studied, to be pulled apart and examined. How many times have they suggested that very thing to me?
Still... I can’t look at Melissa’s naked body, her chest opened, and Victor’s bloody hands. I feel the vomit coming, and Nikolai’s there as I fall to my knees, holding a biohazardous waste bin under me just in time. Thankfully it was empty, but the thought of Melissa being biohazardous waste has me retching more. Malcolm smooths back my hair, the only sound in the entire lab is me emptying my stomach until nothing but bile remains.
Nikolai takes the bin away and I expect them to scoff at my weakness, but they aren’t. Not even Victor, who’s covered up the body with a sheet and is drying his hands afte
r washing them.
“Why?” I croak out but damn if I actually know what I’m asking. Why is he, of all people, doing an autopsy? Why did Melissa die—how did she die? Why won’t they call the police... but if they called the police, would they even do anything since everyone here is considered dangerous?
“We don’t have much time, Mary.” Victor helps me up and Malcolm closes the door in the wall. “We need to get you and Nikolai in place, so that way your father and Mrs. Browning will think you came to say goodbye and this was a terrible accident.”
“Wha—” I try to ask what he means, but he’s tugging me to the other side of the lab towards what looks to be a barred cage. Nikolai is pacing beside it, sweating and looking the worst I’ve ever seen. Malcolm runs ahead of us and opens the door, the metal creaking and making Nikolai flinch. I dig in my heels, pulling with my whole body away from Victor.
“Tell me what the plan is, right now.”
He’s shaking his head though, yanking me forward. “We can’t, Mary, it has to sound real.” I’m so close to the cage that I grab ahold of the bars, trying to shut the door, but Victor throws his leg in, stopping it from closing.
My eyes are burning with tears again and I don’t know if they’re from anger or fear or both.
“Tell me something,” I whisper the plea, looking deep into Victor’s honey amber eyes. The pupils look normal for once, and I wonder if he’s sober.
“If you listen to us, and trust us, everything will be okay. That’s all I can say, Mary.”
I swallow hard, and he doesn’t look away from me. I’ve never seen him look at anyone as long as he’s looking at me. He doesn’t do eye contact, but he’s begging me right now. His thumb rubs gently against my arm and I remember the feeling of his skin against mine, the look in his eyes as he held himself over me, touching me. I trusted him with that and he branded me a slut. If I believe Malcolm, it was to save me from this school, to save me from them.
I suck in a breath, looking past Victor and into the cage. It looks like a shark cage that divers use in the ocean, but this one is bolted to the floor and wall. What does Victor need a cage like this for?
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