Of Monsters and Madness (21 page)

“No, Grand-père. There’s nothing more.” I curtsy, and then find myself hugging him. “Thank you for telling me the truth about Father. Sleep well.”

He returns my hug. “Ahem. Yes. Well, then, sleep well.”

Eventually, I succumb to sleep, though my head is full of dark dreams, and when the clock outside my door chimes three, I’m suddenly awakened.

I lie still, trying to determine what has woken me. Something tells me that the answers lie downstairs in Father’s laboratory.

My dressing gown floats around my feet as I move silently through the house. A full moon lights my path. The kitchen is empty when I finally enter, while the door to the laboratory stands open. The key still hangs
in the lock. Gathering my courage, I take a step, and go through the door.

The air in the stairwell is increasingly cold, and a familiar scent teases the edges of my memories. When I reach the bottom, I find the door there is open as well. I creep silently closer.

The operating theater is dark—only a single candle burns on the table—and I slowly enter. The smell is stronger inside the room, acidic and tangy, and my mind races as I try to place it. I feel my eyes widen when recognition finally comes.

Blood
.

I blindly step back and bump into something. Reaching behind me, my fingers encounter two large wheels and a handle connected to them, then the seat of a chair. It’s some sort of wheeled contraption.

A faint shuffling sound comes from outside the room, and I freeze. Someone is coming down the stairs.

My heart speeds up.
Father. He’s coming this way
.

I scramble to hide behind the wheeled chair and try desperately to slow my shallow breathing. Something frantic pulses at the base of my neck, and I pray that the darkness will hide me. I do not want to be found like this.

A figure enters the room and walks slowly toward the table. He drags a burlap sack, and with a grunt, he hauls it up onto the table.

A lifeless arm suddenly flops out of the sack.

I bite down hard on my thumb so I don’t scream.

I don’t know what to do. I cannot be discovered! Father has already shown how angry he becomes when I displease him. If he were to find out what I’ve witnessed, who knows what he might do?

Something rolls off the table and he curses. His back is turned to me as he bends to retrieve the object, and I know I must make my escape.

I slowly stand. But just as I take my first step, he holds up the retrieved item.

It’s a cane.

I gasp, and he turns around instantly. “Who’s there?”

The voice is not my Father’s. It’s Edgar’s.

I stumble against the wheeled chair. Flinging out a hand to catch myself, I feel glass beneath my fingers only moments before a jar crashes to the ground. The sound ricochets around me.

“Stop!” Edgar shouts.

I knock more jars off the shelves, trying frantically to regain my footing. A sharp
pop, pop, pop
comes, one
right after another. The room is closing in on me. It’s too hard to breathe.

I see myself being trapped in this room forever with Edgar as he slowly murders me and leaves my body to rot. I whimper at the thought. My panic is turning me into a caged animal and I blindly pull things off the shelf in a desperate attempt to break free.

I don’t hear him come up behind me, but he grabs my arm. I thrash wildly, until he reaches for my other arm and pins them at my sides. “Annabel?” he says.

“Please,” I gasp. Tears are choking me, and I cannot draw a breath. “Let me go. Please … I beg of you.”

He pulls me closer to still my body, and the gesture makes me think of how only hours ago I was embracing Allan. Wanting nothing to taint that memory, I say, “I will not scream. But you must let me go. I cannot breathe.”

He pauses a moment, then releases me. I draw in a deep breath as I try to gain control of my thoughts.

“How long have you been here?” he demands.

“Only a short time. I thought my father was down here.”

He glances over at the body on the table. “He was.”

Tears instantly fill my eyes. “Is that … is that …” I cannot say the words.

“You mean is that him?” Edgar glances back at me. “It’s not, if that’s what you were thinking.”

Relief floods through me.

“He
was
here, but he left me to take care of this.” Edgar waves carelessly at the body, as if it’s nothing more than a place setting. “He is the doctor, and I am the student after all. A student’s work can be quite … messy at times.”

I stare at him. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“He commits the act, and I clean up after him. It’s rather simple.”

“Are you saying my father is a murderer?”

“Bird, flying because it’s supposed to fly? Remember? We had this conversation already. Now”—he grabs my elbow—“if you will be so kind as to come with me. I have a long night of disposal ahead of me, and I should like to get back to it.”

He marches me toward the door. “Naturally, you cannot speak of this to anyone. Your father would be arrested for his crimes. Almost
certainly
hanged. Shame would come upon your family name, the house would be sold, the fortune lost.… And, as far as the deceased, well, I don’t think anyone will be missing her.”

I keep my eyes cast down as we walk—I do not wish
to see what they have done—but as we draw closer to the table, my eyes betray me. My feet come to a sudden stop. The edges of the sack are open, exposing the lifeless body lying on the table.

It’s Mrs. Tusk.

Twenty

E
dgar forces me up to my bedroom, holding on to my arm the entire way. As soon as he lets go of me, I whirl around to face him. But the door shuts just as quickly as it was opened, and I hear the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock. I pound on the door, but his footsteps have already started to fade. “No!” I cry. “Let me out! Let me out!”

He does not return, and after several minutes of futile banging, I realize no one can hear me.

I move to the window.
Perhaps I can climb down
. But I quickly see I’m too high up. The outside wall is
smooth, and offers no chance of escape. Frustrated, I clench my hands.
I must tell someone what Edgar’s done!

My throat begins to tighten, and I cough several times. Then my eyes start to burn. The air is growing heavier. Almost as if a window has been opened, and a thick fog is creeping in.

And then I realize, it isn’t fog inside my bedroom—it’s smoke.

Hurrying to the door, I bang again and again. I glance around wildly, desperate for something that can break through the solid wood. My gaze falls on the bedside table and I move to pick it up, when I see something else. Something better. The button Maddy told me to use to get her attention.

I push the button until I hear feet running down the hallway. The doorknob rattles when someone tries to open it from the other side.

“Miss Annabel!” Maddy yells. “Annabel! Yer door is locked. Do you know what happened to the key? The house is on fire! We must get out!”

I put my face up close to the door. The smoke makes my eyes water. “It was taken. Can you get the keys from Cook?”

Silence greets me.

“Maddy?” I bang on the door again. “Maddy!”

A sound comes from the knob below my hand, and I glance down. It is a key being fitted into the lock. The door swings open, and I see Maddy there, chest heaving, eyes wide. She holds a damp cloth to her face, covering her nose. “I remembered the skeleton was at the end of the hall, Miss Annabel!” she says triumphantly.

“Good girl, Maddy.” I grab her hand and pull her toward the staircase leading to the kitchen. I can hear footsteps running through the house and someone yelling below, only now I can make out the words being shouted. “
Fire! Fire!
”

Maddy pulls back on my hand, forcing me to stop. “Not that way! The fire started down there. We have to use the main stairs.”

Reversing our course, we hurry down as fast as we can. When we reach the great room, Cook comes rushing toward us. Her arms are filled with silver platters. “Miss!” she says urgently. “Come with me!”

“Where’s Grand-père? Is he still in his study?”

She shakes her head. “He’s fine, miss. He was the first one to alert us to the fire. Come now, we’ve got to get you out. I tried to save what I could—”

“What about Father?”

Maddy tugs on my hand again and urges me to the door. “The Master is probably outside, Miss Annabel.”

“Where was he the last time you saw him?” She looks down at the ground and quickly shakes her head. “Cook?” I demand. “Do you know where my father is?”

“I think he was in the laboratory, miss. But you can’t—”

I push Maddy toward her. “Go! Go! I won’t leave without Father. I must find him!”

Maddy tries one last time to make me come with her, but I slip free from her grasp. “At least take this with you, Miss Annabel,” she says, handing me the wet cloth.

I take it from her and turn in the direction of the dining room. The walls are black, and I cannot stop coughing even though I’m breathing through the cloth.

My vision only seems to get worse as I keep moving. Stumbling into the kitchen, I narrowly miss stepping on a hutch that’s fallen over. Broken dishes cover the floor. Even though there are no flames, the smoke is overwhelming. I call for Father until my throat grows weak, and I make my way over to the door that leads down to the laboratory.

The knob is hot to the touch, and I don’t realize my fingers are burned until it’s too late. I pull back, but my skin is already red and blistered. Using the sleeve of my dressing gown as a buffer, I turn the knob again. When the door opens, smoke billows out.

I drop to my knees. The fire must have started in the laboratory.

“Father!” I cry weakly. “Father!” But I can no longer tell if any sound is coming out. My throat seizes up as a coughing fit overcomes me. “Father …”

His name is a whisper.

Suddenly, someone grabs my shoulder and pulls me back from the door. Then I’m lifted into the air.

“Annabel!” a voice yells into my ear. My rescuer stumbles and curses. His voice is faint, but it sounds like Allan. Catching himself, he carries me across the kitchen. He stumbles again and I almost fall from his arms. “Damn you!” he yells down at me.