Of Monsters and Madness (24 page)

Edgar waits for me to respond, but I have no words. He is mad. Truly mad.

“Swear that you will convince your father to find a way to free me. His fingers dig harshly into my arm, and I cry out. “Swear it.”

“He will not listen to me,” I say feebly.

“Your precious maid will be next, then. Only I will not burn her. I have been pondering a story in which the character is buried while still alive. I shall need to witness that.”

“No!” I pull my arm free from his grasp. “I’ll talk to
Father. I swear it! I will find a way.”

“Excellent.” He twists his cane top and gives me a short bow. “I’m glad we could come to this arrangement.”

Twenty-Three

I
return to the house as soon as Edgar leaves so I’m not wasting any time in speaking with Father. But my breath catches when I pass Grand-père’s study doors. I stop before them.

A soft sound comes from behind me, and I turn around nervously, expecting to see Edgar. But it’s only Maddy. Her nose is red and traces of tears stain her cheeks. She sobs, and then covers her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry, Miss Annabel,” she says. “It’s so hard to believe.…”

“I know, Maddy.” I bow my head. I cannot look at her grief.

“His body is inside there.” She gestures toward the study. “Mourning customs dictate a laying-in time, but with the fire an’ all, I don’t know what will happen now.” She starts to softly cry again.

“What’s wrong with me, Maddy?” I ask desperately. “I cannot cry. Even though I only knew him for a short time, I loved Grand-père as much as I loved my mother. I was able to cry for her. Even to this day, I still cry. But for Grand-père, I can do nothing.…”

“Everyone is diff’rent, Miss Annabel. Johanna cried up a great storm, while Cook set to making food. Even now with the kitchen all burned up, she’s still cooking. Johanna said it’s just her way.”

“I don’t have a way,” I say bitterly. “I’m like Father. Cold and callous.”

“That’s not true.” Maddy gently touches my arm. “I know that’s not true.” She pulls out the handkerchief I gave her and holds it out to me. “I saw yer caring in this. An’ when you brought me yer special tea, an’ helped Mama, an’ fixed Johanna’s finger. You are nothing like yer father, Miss Annabel.”

“But all I have is this tightness inside me, Maddy. It wraps around my chest and constricts my lungs. It squeezes the very breath out of me. It’s a coldness. Like … 
him
.”

“That’s not coldness.” Her voice lifts, and I meet her eyes. “Don’t you see? It’s sorrow. I felt much the same when I learned Mama would never be right. That she would always need someone to watch her. Sorrow slips beneath yer very bones an’ wraps you in an embrace that never leaves.” She pats my hand. “Even if you can’t cry now, one day, you will. You’ll find yer way.”

Maddy’s words sink into me, and my thoughts finally become clear. Suddenly remembering the reason why I returned to the house, Edgar’s threat, I grip her fingers. “Have you seen my father? I must speak with him. It’s urgent.”

“He left early this morning, right after the fire. Said he was meeting someone an’ would be gone all day.”

I touch my scarf. “Please let me know the moment he returns, Maddy. I have need to speak with him right away.”

She nods and I turn toward the stairs, silently urging Father to hurry back home. Until he returns, all I can do is hope Edgar doesn’t grow too impatient. For now, we both must wait.

As the hour grows late, I cannot sleep. Father has not yet returned, and I’m pacing the confines of my room. When I hear a knock at the door, I open it to find Johanna holding a letter.

“This came for you, miss.” She offers it to me with a slight bob of her head. Her expression is one of curiosity. “It was delivered by Master Allan.”

It’s very strange for me to receive a letter at such a late hour. But this has been a strange day. Thanking her, I wait until she’s gone before I open it. The dark script says:

My heart beats fast at the thought of going to him. Hurrying to the armoire, I remove my cloak and put it on. I place the letter in the pocket and find Johanna again to ask for directions. It’s not far, only two streets over, and she tells me to follow the cobbled alleyway.

Slipping out the kitchen door, I cross the courtyard under the light of a half-moon. It takes me little time to find where 12th and Pine streets intersect. There’s a house on the corner, with a sign on the door that says
rooms are available. A bust of Pallas Athena greets me as I step inside, and a long hallway stretches out before me. Room number four is the second door on the left.

I knock quietly and pray that Allan answers quickly.
If anyone sees me …
But there is no answer, and when I knock again, the door gives beneath my fingertips. Silently, I enter.

My breath is quick. It abandons me, then rushes back so fiercely I fear I’m going to faint. The horrors—such horrors!—lie before me.

Blood is everywhere. Splashed on the walls and spilled across the floor. The scent, heavy upon the air, is like a fog that rises up early in the morning. Loops of glistening flesh are strung out upon a table, and in the middle of it all is a single lock of hair. Dark. Curled. Obscene in its loveliness amongst such carnage. I cannot comprehend that such a horrible act has been committed upon someone, and I close my eyes to say a silent prayer for their soul.

I’ve been witness to grim scenes as Mother’s assistant, but nothing could prepare me for this. Only moments ago, this poor person was alive. And now …

A sound comes from behind me. I whirl around, and Edgar steps out of the shadows. “Do you like it?”
he purrs. “The small intestine stretches quite far. It is remarkable.”

“You did this?”

At his nod, I put one hand up to cover my mouth. Bile rises in the back of my throat and nausea threatens to overcome me. “Why …?”

“To show you that I keep my word. If you deny my request, this will be Cook next. Carved upon my table like a Christmas ham. Or perhaps Johanna.”

I take a step back and stumble. “I tried to find Father … to speak with him … But he’s gone out of town and has not yet returned.”

Voices come from outside the room, and Edgar springs into action, pushing the door shut behind me, and shoving me backward. Curling his fingers into the collar of my cloak, he holds me up against the wall. My feet barely brush the floor.

“It’s my best work yet,” Edgar says. “Although rather messy.” His voice, low in my ear, is taunting. “Don’t you think?”

My heart thumps, and I silently beg him to let me go. To erase this horror from my mad, feverish brain. To let this torment finally come to an end.

His leg is pressed against mine and I feel the heat
of his body singeing me through my dress. He pulls back to study me, cocking his head to one side, and I do what I should have done from the moment he first laid his hands on me—I struggle.

But Edgar holds me tight. He dips his head, and his mouth is dangerously close to my throat. He pushes aside my scarf and I cry out.

And then, suddenly, he lets me go.

Blindly, I stumble away from him. With one hand against the wall, I feel my way toward the door. If I can only be free of this room, away from this house, I know I will be safe.

“Annabel,” he calls out, and something in his voice gives me pause. “Do not forget your promise.”

Twenty-Four

I
keep one hand on my mouth as I find my way back to Father’s house. The horrors of that room will not leave my mind. It wasn’t Allan who wanted to meet me, it was Edgar. He drew me to that place so I could see what he’s capable of.