Her Dark Curiosity

by Megan Shepherd

  I collapsed back into the chair, a hand over my mouth. I was hardly a prude when it came to such things. Half the girls who came to Lucy’s teas probably had indiscretions with men they weren’t engaged to, but this was different.

  This was Edward. This was a murderer.

  “No,” I stuttered. “I don’t want to get married. We can’t.”

  He swallowed, though his eyes still gleamed with hope. “All right, then. Yes, you’re right, we should wait until after we’ve cured ourselves. Then we’ll have a lifetime together.”

  “No, Edward, you don’t understand.”

  The light in his eyes flickered. “What do you mean?”

  “It was a mistake,” I said, though my voice broke. “I care about you, but I was lonely. I needed someone…”

  “Juliet, shh,” he started, shaking his head a little too quickly.

  “ . . . but I’ve never stopped loving Montgomery. I thought you understood that.”

  For a moment the entire room was still, no wind at the window, no cracking in the fire. Just me, and him, and Montgomery’s name between us.

  “Montgomery?” he repeated, barely above a whisper.

  When I didn’t answer, his hands curled on the wooden armchair rails so hard the wood splintered. I jumped at the reminder of how strong Edward could be, how quickly his moods could shift. He pushed himself up to pace before the fire. “Montgomery left you. He didn’t come back for you. I did.”

  My heart started pounding. This was wrong—talking of Montgomery here, now.

  “I must get home. It’s nearly morning. I’ll need to give myself an injection, and I haven’t any here.”

  I crawled out of the chair and snatched my dress from the floor, shaking it out and struggling into fabric that was stiff with dried blood. I started to reach for my coat, but Edward grabbed my arm. “Wait.”

  I didn’t dare look at him. “I’ll come back tonight and we’ll work on the serum.”

  But his hand held me with an unnatural strength. Outside, the wind howled all the same warnings that my heart was whispering to me. My thoughts turned back to the broken chair rail and how easily that could be my bones splintered in two. I shivered, but not because of the cold.

  Sharkey picked his head up and growled low in his throat.

  “He’ll never understand what’s inside you,” Edward whispered. “He wants Moreau’s daughter, the girl he used to know, but that’s not who you are now. You’re no one’s daughter anymore. You can think for yourself, take care of yourself. You’re Juliet, and that’s enough, and Montgomery will never fully understand that.”

  His other hand slid to touch the delicate skin above my rib cage but I twisted out of his grasp, not certain if I dared believe his words.

  “The professor will worry,” I stuttered.

  “I don’t care about the professor. I won’t let anything, or anyone, come between us.” He stepped close enough that I could feel his breath on my neck, warm and moist. I noted a different smell in the air—an animal smell. Not Sharkey’s light musty scent, but something heavier, more primal. I felt like here, in this moment, I was seeing that tenuous line between man and Beast I had been so curious about.

  And now my curiosity might get me killed.

  “I love you, Juliet.”

  Sharkey stood up now, growling louder. I could tell by the deeper timbre in Edward’s voice that the boy I knew was slipping. The Beast was used to getting his way, and I was refusing him what he wanted most—me. How far would he go to get what he wanted?

  I had to be careful, now. Very careful.

  “Edward, please…”

  His fingers curled into mine nearly hard enough to bruise. When I met his gaze, my breath caught. His pupils were already starting to elongate. In moments the Beast would fully emerge. He leaned close enough that his lips grazed my earlobe. “I won’t let you go.”

  It was the Beast talking. Not Edward. Edward would never scare me like this.

  Sharkey barked now, twice, very loud.

  “I must get home,” I said, trying to keep my shaking voice under control. “If I don’t, the professor will send half the police after me, and they’d soon trace me here. We can’t let them find this place. Find you. I’ll come back tonight, and we’ll be together.”

  I forced myself to look him in his animal eyes. I ignored how broad his shoulders were growing, how dark the hair on his arms was becoming. I pulled my lips into a smile that I prayed would convince him. His tight grip eased a small degree, and I cautiously slid from his grasp. I reached for one of my boots, though the moment I picked it up, the knife slid from its holster and clattered to the floor.

  Blast. I dove for it, but he was faster.

  His hand clamped over my wrist. Sharkey exploded in barks that tore at my ears.

  “Let me go!” I lunged for the knife again, but it only seemed to excite his predator instincts more. As he clutched my wrist, I could feel the bones in his hand shifting and popping as the transformation came faster.

  A flurry of noise came charging across the room as Sharkey tore at Edward, growling. Edward gave him a single kick that sent him cringing under the bed.

  “Don’t you dare hurt him!” I cried, trying to pull him away from the dog. But my hands on his arm had the wrong effect, and he turned to me with a leer.

  “Juliet,” he muttered, his eyes dilated and glowing. The Beast was coming, fast. “How I missed you.” He leaned in close, his forehead against my temple, breathing in the smell of my hair and skin. His lips grazed my cheek and I shivered, painfully aware of the coldness of his flesh.

  “I can’t help it,” he said. “I am what I am. An animal. Can you blame me for that?”

  He nuzzled my cheek again, breath cold against my skin, as the last traces of Edward’s voice dissipated. That voice. That humanity. It was unnaturally deep in tone and yet spoken like a man, calculated, polite. The creature before me was larger, taller, stronger—the same body and yet such a different person. I couldn’t control the shivers of fear that ran along my spine, nor the goose bumps on my bare skin.

  Before I could think, he was kissing me. It wasn’t Edward’s gentle, slow kisses from last night. Now the animal was coming out and it was passionate—no, famished—and it started to awake something in me, too, a wildness, a recklessness, but I shoved that part of me away as my heart pounded frantically back to life. This is what had fascinated me about him—monster and man sharing the same breath—and now it terrified me.

  Well, I could be a monster, too.

  I just needed a weapon. The knife . . . it was too far away. My gaze darted around the room for anything within arm’s reach that I could use. A jar of potassium powder sat on the table, and in my desperation I reached for it just as a terrible sound like bones sliding began, a sound I’d heard only once before, when the Beast had let loose its claws.

  I shut my eyes as my hand closed over the potassium. I felt the tips of five sharp claws on my back, gentle at first, soon hard enough to tear my dress’s fabric and press into my skin. I jerked, and his claws sliced into the front of my shoulder with a sting of pain.

  “You can fight it if you like,” he breathed. “It won’t change anything.” His kisses mixed with sharp pain from his claws, and I hurled the jar of potassium to the floor. The shatter of glass surprised him long enough for me to pull away and kick over the basin of water.

  The instant the water hit the potassium powder, a chemical reaction began. The mixture hissed and sputtered, starting to gain heat. I braced my hands over my head just as the reaction exploded with a cloud of sparks and smoke.

  He let out a furious growl as I pushed away from him. In the smoke it was impossible to see anything as I fumbled on the floor for the knife. I drove it into his side, pushing him back against my worktable.

  Glass crashed as the Beast fell on my equipment. The sound of breaking tools mixed with his growls. Coughing, I fumbled along the floor until I found my boots, then called for Sharkey and
threw the door open. Sharkey darted out ahead of me, racing down the stairs. I stumbled behind him, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end, certain the Beast was just a breath behind me.

  We reached the lodging house’s front door and I shoved it open, breathing in great gulps of cold winter air. And then I was running, Sharkey at my heels. It was all a blur, just flashes mixed with the smell of chemical smoke. The falling snow. A crack of ice. Blazing lanterns and Christmas wreaths. And then suddenly Sharkey wasn’t there anymore, lost in the streets. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t look for him.

  I disappeared into the city of smoke and steel, not once looking back.

  SEVENTEEN

  I MADE IT OVER the garden trellis and back into my room only seconds before the cuckoo clock chimed seven in the morning. A minute later the floorboards overhead squeaked as the professor made his way down the stairs to the dining room on the first floor.

  It was all I could do to strip off my bloody clothes, hide them under the bed, change into a fresh chemise, and crawl between the covers. I seemed to have forgotten how to speak, or stand, or do anything but sit amongst the hills of pillows with my knees clutched tightly against my chest.

  My mind kept replaying Edward’s transformation into the Beast. The slow elongation of his pupils, the splitting of his knuckles to let his claws emerge. I pulled my collar down and touched the angry red scratches on my shoulder. All those nights together in my workshop, comforted by the presence of someone else who shared my secrets, between the old wooden walls and the creaking woodstove. I had thought myself happy there.

  I’d been a fool, and now I’d even lost Sharkey in the chaos.

  A knock came at the door.

  “Miss Juliet?” Mary’s voice called through the door. “A letter was just delivered for you by messenger.”

  “Slide it under the door,” I said in a hoarse voice.

  There was a crinkle of paper as Mary did so. I waited for her footsteps to recede before pulling on a sweater to hide the cuts on my shoulder, and then I picked up the letter. It was sealed in wax still soft to the touch. I ripped the envelope open and drew out a single piece of paper, with but three words written upon them.

  Please forgive me.

  I crumpled the letter and threw it into the fire, watching the edges singe and curl inward. Edward wanted my forgiveness, but how could I give it? Part of me wanted to blame everything on the Beast. He was the guilty one, not Edward. And yet hadn’t Edward said they were two sides of the same coin? The longer he lived, the more he and the Beast grew together.

  I was certainly no physical match for the Beast. The only way I could stop him was to cure Edward—yet how could I even be in the same room with him again, after the Beast had nearly sliced me open?

  And after what you and Edward did in that bed, a voice whispered.

  I slumped to the floor. I was alone again. I could tell the professor and Elizabeth, but they already thought my mind dangerously unstable. Without Edward, I had no one to trust.

  I was lost in my thoughts all morning. Afraid to leave my room. Afraid to stay. After all, his note meant he could find me anywhere. Hours had passed when another knock sounded at the door, this time Elizabeth. “Are you ill again, Juliet? Would you like tea brought up? You know, if you’ve changed your mind about the masquerade tonight, I can send a note canceling.”

  The Radcliffe masquerade—it had been the last thing on my mind. What a terrible friend Lucy must think me, and she didn’t even know what I’d done last night with the young man she loved. I doubled over, bracing my head with my hands. Edward’s voice from this morning returned to me.

  I won’t let anything, or anyone, come between us.

  I sat up, a tickle of worry at my spine. I had assumed he meant the professor, or Montgomery, but what would he stop at? Or rather, who? Lucy was between us, after all. He knew how strong willed she was, that she’d do anything to protect me. Would he hurt her just to keep me to himself?

  I brushed back my hair with my fingers and then threw open the door. Elizabeth seemed surprised by my sudden energy, and she gave me a suspicious once-over.

  “I haven’t changed my mind,” I said. “What time is it?”

  Elizabeth glanced at the cuckoo clock. “Quarter past one.”

  “I’ll get dressed at Lucy’s—my gown and mask are already there. Please have Ellis bring the carriage around at three.”

  She bit the inside of her lip, looking as though she didn’t believe a word that came out of my mouth. Well, let her suspect something. Anything she imagined couldn’t possibly be worse than the truth.

  “I’ll see you there tonight, then. The professor won’t come, not even with the promise of Radcliffe’s finest brandy.” She paused. “It will be nice to have a bit of fun again.”

  THAT AFTERNOON, ELLIS LET me off in front of Lucy’s house, where the iron gate hung wide open as though beckoning me in. A small fleet of workmen filled the front garden, sweeping the walk and securing candles among the trees that would be lit later tonight when guests arrived. I didn’t want to get in their way, so I walked around back to the servants’ entrance, where I used to sneak into the house to visit Lucy before her parents approved of me. It felt strange turning that corner, seeing the hedges trampled by too many workmen’s boots, and dirty with street salt and all manner of muck. A flash of my former life—a life I never wanted to return to.

  A delivery wagon waited in the alleyway, the horses’ feet stamping impatiently. I could only imagine the extravagant purchases Lucy’s father must have made for the party—lace tablecloths woven with red and green threads, white pillar candles of every height, champagne by the case. I knocked on the servants’ door tentatively. It swung open to reveal Clara’s tired face. Her mouth hung open to scold, but when she recognized me her face lit up.

  “Miss Juliet! Why didn’t you come to the front? Oh, never mind that. Hurry in, Miss Lucy’s been expecting you.” She waved me in and closed the door a little breathlessly as she wiped her hands on her apron. “Come—I’ll take you upstairs before I’m missed. Goodness, you’ve no idea how many deliveries we’ve gotten today.”

  We both jumped as someone shouted in the kitchen, followed by the honking of a goose and a clatter of pans. Clara rushed me through the pantry and up a narrow set of stairs to the second floor, where I caught a glimpse of the sprawling ballroom with its enormous fir Christmas tree, a peek of polished floors, workmen on ladders, and housemaids carrying silver warming trays. Just as quickly, we were climbing up to the third-floor bedrooms.

  It was blessedly quieter here, with the soft carpet and empty hallways, and I started to feel calmer until a curse came from a room to our left.

  “Oh, stuff it, and this blasted ribbon, too!”

  I sighed in relief. Only Lucy cursed like that and got away with it. Clara hurried me across the plush carpet runner to Lucy’s room and stuck her head through the doorway.

  “Clara, I’ve had an awful time with these curls. Won’t you send Molly up?”

  “Yes, miss. And Miss Juliet is here.”

  I heard a commotion like metal dropping to the floor, and then Lucy’s disheveled head popped through the doorway. She was in her corset and a combination with lace trim, ribbons half untied in her curled hair, her blue eyes wide and beautiful.

  She grabbed me with something like a growl and pulled me into the room. “You devil! I’d started to think you weren’t coming.”

  I caught myself against a dressing table that was littered with ribbons and brushes and an overturned tin of face powder. It looked like a wild animal had been set loose in her room.

  She picked up a mask from the table, a delicate thing of black and soft purple, made to cover just the eyes, with shimmering green feathers along the side like a bird taking wing. It was the most beautiful mask I’d ever seen, and she thrust it at me like a can of beans.

  “Mother picked this one out. I detest it.” She flopped into the dresser chair, tossing the mas
k to the side. “It’s so boring. John will probably adore it.”

  I bent down to right the overturned powder tin. All the makeup, and ribbons, and the vase of lilies on her desk didn’t fit with the words I’d come here to say. If only the masquerade wasn’t tonight, and she and I could dance and drink champagne and have one last night together, before I had to shatter her world with my confession.

  But Edward was out there, and she needed to know the truth about the man she claimed to love.

  While she hummed a sweet little song and admired herself in the mirror, I went to her bedroom door and closed it softly. An array of brushes and powders and rouges was laid out in front of her as she debated which to apply first.

  I took a deep breath. “Lucy…”

  “If you don’t start getting ready, we’ll miss the masquerade altogether.” She picked up a thick brush and started dusting powder on her cheeks. I remained by the door, not sure how to say the words warring in my throat. She threw me an exasperated glance and I crossed to her dresser, fiddling halfheartedly with a stick of rouge. The lilies on the table stole my attention. Flowers were subject to the laws of mathematics, a fact few people knew. You could see the repeating patterns if you looked hard enough. And I tried to look hard, but Lucy snapped her fingers.

  She met my eyes in the mirror, giving me a questioning look. “Juliet, what’s going through your head?”

  Her voice had a softer timbre than normal. For everyone else she pitched her voice higher, exaggerating her words. But now, in the intimacy of the small room, she had dropped the act. The least I could do was show her the same courtesy.

  I perched on the edge of the chair next to her. “Do you remember when you said we were like sisters, and we should tell each other everything?” She nodded slowly. “I lied to you about the island.”

  Her eyes went wide. She didn’t speak right away; instead she set down the makeup brush and stood, then twisted the key in the door’s lock before coming back and taking her seat again.