I folded my arms tightly, suddenly very aware of the cold. “I’m afraid I haven’t. Some things are best left in the past.”
“It isn’t wise to let something like this go unresolved. Until the case is closed, your father will be in your mind—and in the mind of the public. His death has never been more than a rumor. A dead cat was found in Cheshire six months ago, vivisected alive. A distasteful prank, we believe. But rumors could start so easily. Who’s to say Henri Moreau isn’t back in England, picking up where he left off—”
“He’s dead,” I said, unable to hear more. The thought of that cat, prank or not, filled me with malaise. I raised my hand to my aching head but it grazed the champagne flute, which slipped and fell to the ground below with a shattering of glass.
Inspector Newcastle didn’t flinch. “How do you know that? Have you had contact with him? Am I to believe—”
“Believe what you like,” I interrupted, angry with myself for the slip. I shouldn’t have let a mere mention of Father get under my skin. I picked up my mask and headed for the door. “I assure you he’s dead. You can close your case and stop asking me about it.”
Perhaps I was too harsh, but I threw open the door into the warm ballroom and left him just the same. As I pushed through the thick crowd, something brushed by my head, nearly pulling my hair, and I stepped on a woman’s trailing blue satin dress and mumbled an apology. I moved near the wall, away from the thick crowd.
With luck, Inspector Newcastle would ignore what I’d said about Father and react to my words about Lucy instead. He’d stay with her for the rest of the night, keeping her safe from Edward. From Radcliffe, too, I thought darkly, thinking of the brain. But as I headed for an empty chair, a woman dressed as a masked bandit grabbed my arm. I jerked away until she pulled her mask off and gave me a crooked smile. Elizabeth.
“I’ve been wondering where you’ve been all night,” she said. “I thought I’d find you with Lucy.”
I rested a hand against the tight bodice of my dress. “I stepped out onto the balcony for a breath of air.”
She reached up to remove something caught in my hair, the same place where one of the partygoers had bumped into me.
A little white flower.
The room, with all its whirling commotion, stopped as though captured in a photograph.
“What a beautiful flower,” Elizabeth said. “I don’t recognize this one. Wherever did you get it?”
A gift from a monster.
I took the delicate flower, thinking of the matching one at home pressed between the pages of my journal. When I turned it over, this one too was tinged with blood. I crumpled it in my fist before Elizabeth could see.
My throat went dry with the memory of the Beast’s transformation.
“Lucy gave it to me,” I lied, while my eyes darted among the crowd, and my heart pounded harder. The flower meant the Beast was here, yet every face was covered in a mask. For a monster with his skills, this ball was a playground for his killing.
“I should find her.” I balled my fist. “If you’ll excuse me.”
I stepped away, but Elizabeth held my arm. “Don’t think I don’t know what this is about,” she whispered. I froze until a smile slowly worked across her face. She nodded across the ballroom. “That man in the black mask has been staring at you throughout our entire conversation. He’s smitten, the poor fellow. You didn’t tell me you’d an admirer.”
I halfheartedly searched the crowd of faces. What use was an admirer, when a monster was in our midst? The masked partygoers swirled together in a gossiping tide, impossible to single out just one face for long.
Except for one.
Amid the crowd one masked man stood still, eyes turned in my direction. He wasn’t just looking at me. His every sense was trained on me in a way that made my heart race. This wasn’t an admirer. This was a predator stalking his prey.
“Yes, that’s the one,” Elizabeth said, teasing me. “Who is he?”
His mask was black, covering his whole face, with two points like ears or horns and a sinister painted grin. It reminded me of an animal. A wolf. A jackal.
“He’s no one. If you’ll excuse me . . .” I stumbled away from Elizabeth, toward the twinkling Christmas tree filled with tiny wrapped presents and gold bows, and leaned against the wall. Apparently it didn’t matter that I had hidden my face behind a mask. Someone had recognized me.
The Beast was here.
TWENTY
INSTINCTIVELY, I SCANNED FOR exits. There were only two—the grand spiral staircase and the balcony door to the gardens. Should I run? Or would it be safer in a crowd? Not even the Beast would attack a person amid all these witnesses. Then again, at some point the ball must end. The crowd would leave. I would have to leave too, with only Elizabeth to escort me into the dark streets.
A woman near us let out a laugh so shrill it sounded like a scream. The music was loud. The chatter louder. People were dancing out of order, tipsy from wine. The Beast stood so calmly among them, not taking his eyes off me.
I could ask Elizabeth for help, but she would think me mad. Inspector Newcastle was here with a dozen officers, but I didn’t dare tell him that the very murderer he was hunting was here, just so Edward could fall into the hand of those who might cut him apart, snip snip snip, to learn my father’s science.
“Are you feeling all right?” Elizabeth asked, the teasing gone from her voice.
“I might have had too much champagne.” I fanned my face, wanting her away from me, since close by was the most dangerous place for her to be. “I’m just going to rest here a moment, then I’ll dance. Go on, really.”
Her face relaxed. “You’d better,” she said. “Or I’ll make you dance with old Mr. Willowby, and he’s all left feet.”
The moment she left my side, the masked man started toward me. A dagger of fear twisted my insides. I had only the window behind me, no place to run. He moved so gracefully through the dancers, as if they parted to make way for him. In a few moments he’d be here, and what would he say? Would he threaten me? Attack me?
Or would he tell me, once more, that he loved me?
The mask choked me with the smell of newsprint. I tore it off and hurried toward the balcony door. Nothing mattered but luring him away from these warm, tempting bodies.
He’d come for me, not them.
The man in the wolf mask cocked his head, dark eyes watching as I hurried across the dance floor. He paused for just a beat before changing his direction and following me. The doors to the balcony were still cracked from before, making the white drapes flutter. Men and women stood near the door talking, red glows to their cheeks, wineglasses in hand. I pushed my way into their midst and through the door.