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The crowd repeated the word, rolling it like thunder.

Caesar. Caesar. Caesar.

The antlered man brought down his staff. The sharp points of his antlers gleamed in the sunlight. “I am Caesar,” he said. “Minister of the island.”

A beast posing as a religious man. It was as absurd as the commandments that Balthasar had chanted on the ship. Montgomery had refused to tell me what they meant, and now I understood why. I’d have thought him mad.

“Where have you come from, five-finger?” he asked.

There was something too human about his dark-brown eyes. “England,” I said.

The crowd parroted the word, but it sounded foreign on their tongues.

“Across the sea,” Caesar explained. The crowd murmured and nodded, but still seemed vaguely confused.

“You come with the other one.” Caesar nodded to the boar-faced man. “Bring the five-finger man.”

I strained to see about the bobbing heads as he disappeared into the crowd. The python-woman eagerly petted the smooth skin of my arms, her fingers tickling my skin. Another woman slid forward, reaching for my ring, but the python-woman snapped at her. She grinned at me as though she and I were both in a higher class from the others.

The crowd started yapping as the boar-faced man returned. He shoved a scraped and dirty body at my feet.

“Edward!” I dropped to my knees. He sat up, a hand to his head where a small cut bled. “Are you all right?”

He nodded, throwing a wary look at the boar-faced man. He wiped the dried blood off his forehead with his shirt cuff. “As well as can be.” He spit a bloody line of saliva into the dirt. “They grabbed me by the falls. Your father’s behind this. They think he’s some kind of god.”

The crowd grew more agitated. They circled us, leaning in, watching our every move. Cymbeline and the two other boys dropped to all fours, crawling closer, but Caesar pointed his staff at them.

“Thou shalt not crawl in the dirt!”

The boys shrank back and stumbled to their feet.

I pushed myself up, but Edward pulled me closer, just for a second. “Whatever happens, stay close.”

Before I could ask him what he meant, a shadow was cast over his face. The crowd suddenly grew quiet. I spun to find the face of a different kind of beast peering at us, a white parasol balanced on his shoulder.

Twenty-four

FATHER SMILED. “AH, THERE you are. You’ve given us a devil of a time trying to find you.”

Edward and I scrambled to our feet. Through a break in the crowd I caught a glimpse of Montgomery standing next to the wagon with a rifle resting on his hip, avoiding my gaze. I was in part relieved to see him. He’d take us back to the compound’s strong walls and away from the lurking danger in the jungle. But I couldn’t get the image out of my head of the beast strapped to the table, Father humming while the candle wax slowly dripped and Montgomery assisting. I felt betrayed, as though the boy I’d idolized was nothing more than a fantasy. And yet watching him through the crowd, I still felt that pang of the bond between us, a bond now complicated by Edward.

“I see you’ve already met our neighbors,” Father said. “Let me introduce you properly.”

Father was acting like nothing was amiss. I glanced at Edward. We’d said we would play along until we had a chance to escape the island, but this was excruciating. Father had abandoned me. Lied to me. Ruined my life. It was all I could do not to claw his face. I almost would have rather faced the murderer than go back with him.

The beasts stared at him with wide eyes and quivering lips. He was king here. And Montgomery hovered on the outskirts like a reluctant prince.

My knees buckled suddenly. The snakes of my illness were coming fast, coiling up my legs. Edward grabbed my elbow but I waved him away, swaying slightly. I needed an injection. I needed to get away from my father’s all-consuming presence that stole the oxygen from the air.

I leaned on my knees, drawing in quick breaths. Trembling. Trying to quell the rage at this man I once called family. I felt Edward’s hand on my shoulder, heard a few reassuring words in my ear, but I couldn’t make them out. All I could picture was the beast strapped to the table, writhing in pain. Its torturer’s blood flowed in my own veins, a cruel inheritance. I pressed my fingers against my eyes to keep from crying. But a single sob escaped.

Then Edward’s hand was gone.

I saw it happen from the corner of my eye, just a quick movement. The crowd gasped. There was a crack like a twig snapping. And then a flash of blood.

It happened so fast.

Father stumbled back, clutching his face, the parasol falling to the ground. Blood trickled between the white slats of his fingers. Edward’s arm was still balled in a fist. He’d punched Father in the mouth. I gaped.

What happened to pretending everything was fine?

Edward flexed his hand. “He made you cry,” he explained.

Montgomery rushed through the crowd as the islanders erupted in a frenzy of excitement at the smell of the blood. Caesar raised his staff, the red robes sweeping out like a curtain. He seemed more refined, but even his nose flared at the smell.

Montgomery tackled Edward to the ground. They scuffled, kicking up clouds of dust. The python-woman threw herself in front of Father protectively. Several others followed her lead. At last Montgomery wrestled Edward to his knees and pinned his arms behind his back.

My skull pounded as if I were drunk. Montgomery was slave to my father’s will. Helping him with his terrible work, defending him, even at Edward’s expense. Montgomery wasn’t cruel, I knew that to my core. Father might have dragged him here as a child, raised him to do terrible things, but Montgomery wasn’t a monster. He shouldn’t act as Father’s puppet.

“Don’t listen to him!” I yelled, pounding my fist against Montgomery’s shoulder. The surprise made him hesitate. I dug my fingers into his hand, trying to pry his fingers off Edward. “Let him go!”

“Stop this!” Father’s voice was like the thunderous voice of God. Specks of blood spattered as he spoke.

A rough hand closed over my mouth. Lumpy scales grazed my lips—Puck. I recoiled in disgust, tasting the sweat on his palm. He wrapped his other arm around my chest and pulled me off Montgomery with the strength of two men.

My chest heaved. Tension still crackled in the air. The islanders fawned over Father, but he waved them away, rubbing at his split bottom lip. I stared at Montgomery. Don’t listen to him, my every thought urged. You know this is wrong.


Tags: Megan Shepherd The Madman's Daughter Horror