Megan Shepherd - Her Dark Curiosity

Everything but Edward.

Jakyll , I thought. Another false name, just like the other name he’d created – Edward Prince, or rather Prince Edward, a name borrowed from the pages of Shakespeare. Edward didn’t have a given name since he’d never truly been born, but made in a laboratory out of a handful of animal parts. Fox. Heron. Jackal. Of course – that was the source of his false name, a testament to his darker animal side.

The jackal side.

He had changed in the months since I’d seen him. Though the scar under his left eye still marred his face, his features had sharpened in a way that gave him a dramatic, brooding look. His eyes seemed a darker shade of brown – very nearly black – as did his hair. The most shocking change, however, was his size. Never a large young man, he now stood several inches above me and seemed to have put on a stone of muscle.

No wonder Lucy was so taken with him.

I gradually became aware that the room had gone silent and that Aunt Edith and Lucy stared at me expectantly. Edward’s outstretched hand, no longer skeletal but strong, powerful, hiding six-inch-long claws, awaited my own.

I had to make a choice. I could scream. I could tell Lucy and her aunt everything, accuse Edward of being the Wolf of Whitechapel, throw the boiling tea in his face to blind him, and run him through with the poker.

But the hand extended to me wasn’t that of a monster. Edward was split into two selves that shared the same body: one a sharp-clawed monster, the other a tortured young man who wanted nothing more than to be free from his curse. I thought of the little white flower tinged with blood I’d pressed into my journal. A gift from this young man before me, who had once loved me madly.

Well, whatever Edward had felt, it didn’t matter. Everything had changed when I walked into this parlor to discover Edward had involved Lucy in this. He might not intend to harm her, but the Beast could have other plans.

Edward’s throat constricted as he swallowed. I wondered, fleetingly, if he was as thrown off balance by seeing me as I was seeing him.

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Jakyll,’ I said at last.

Lucy flopped onto the sofa and reached for her tea. Aunt Edith might have greeted me; I wasn’t sure. If she had, it had been brief and normal, just as though today was any other day and this was any other tea. But it wasn’t any other day. And this wasn’t any young man.

Clara bustled in with a tray of gingerbread cakes. ‘Pardon me, miss,’ she said with a grin, shuffling around me.

I slowly sank onto the sofa next to Lucy, feeling it first with my hands to make sure I wouldn’t miss the seat. Edward sat directly across from me in a dark green velvet chair. My head couldn’t reconcile his presence with Clara’s smile, Lucy’s carefree posture, the sunlight pouring in from the window.

None of them knew they were having tea with the Wolf of Whitechapel.

‘Juliet’s traveled the world as well,’ Lucy said to Edward, throwing her arm casually on the sofa back. ‘Henry’s been all over, knows about practically every country in the world, but you’ll have to forgive him if his customs are strange. He’s from Finland, you know.’

I raised an eyebrow. ‘Finland.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t bear it,’ Aunt Edith said, brushing a crumb off her dress. ‘All that cold year-round.’

I stared at them as though they spoke a foreign language. Lucy reached for another gingerbread cake and Aunt Edith made a disapproving cough in her throat.

My eyes trailed back to Edward. The last time I’d seen him, blood was pooling beneath his head into fresh straw. Why had I stopped Montgomery from slicing his throat? I wasn’t sure, but it might have had something to do with the look on his face now, somehow innocent despite all his hands had done.

‘I’ve heard quite a bit about you, Henry ,’ I said.

The accusation was heavy in my voice, and though the ladies didn’t seem to notice it, Edward did. His eyes searched mine, pleading for forgiveness. How could I forgive him for placing Lucy in danger? For making me care about him when everything had been a lie? For murder ?

Edward stood and began to pace as though he needed to stretch his legs, but I recognized that nervous agitation. The Beast was there, lurking just below the surface. ‘Yes, I wondered when we might meet each other,’ he said quietly. ‘From what Lucy has said, we seem to have some interests in common.’

Lucy clapped her hands. ‘Oh yes, I forgot to tell you! Henry was interested in something about chemistry … that was it, wasn’t it? I told him you were much better at science than any boy I know.’

Edward’s haunted eyes stayed on me. They said everything his voice couldn’t. He hated his dark other half – the Beast – and the terrible things it led him to do. Even now, his eyes pleaded with me for help.

I couldn’t bear this, having tea with a murderer. All I could think about was the bodies in the morgue. Four people no longer breathed because of him. He’d killed people I cared about, like Alice. Innocent people. And yet, wasn’t I as good as a murderer myself? Father might still be alive if I hadn’t opened that door to his laboratory for Jaguar.

I clutched the sofa’s arm, rubbing my thumb against the rough upholstery seam to stay connected to the present.

Outside, the sun was past its zenith.

‘I should go,’ I choked. Lucy and her aunt looked at me, surprised. ‘I didn’t tell the professor when I’d be home.’

‘No, you don’t,’ Lucy said. ‘You’re not running off without even touching your tea. If the professor is in need of you, I’m certain this is the first place he’ll look. Oh my, Juliet, do you feel all right? You’ve gone pale.’

Aunt Edith said something droll about her own constitution and Lucy answered back smartly, and they started arguing again.

‘Drink some tea, Miss Moreau,’ Edward said quietly. ‘You’ll soon feel better.’

I tried to pick up the delicate cup, but it was like my hands were paws, my fingers too thick. It trembled so badly, I had to set it down.

Edward leaned on the back of the chair opposite me, his dark hair falling over his forehead. ‘Have you seen the hedge maze in the garden, Miss Moreau? There’s a wonderful view from the window.’ His eyes flickered toward the sun-drenched windowpanes. It was a good ten paces from where Lucy and her aunt argued – well out of earshot. He wanted to speak in private. When I hesitated, he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. ‘ Please , Juliet.’

There was such tightly controlled desperation in his words that I set down my tea and glanced at Lucy. They were talking of the grand Christmas tree that would soon be delivered in preparation for the masquerade. I stood and walked to the window with unsteady steps, Edward right behind me. It was a beautiful winter’s day outside, the hedges evergreen, not a cloud in the sky.

I kept my voice at a whisper. ‘If you dare to hurt Lucy—’

‘I won’t,’ he said quickly, matching my hushed tone. ‘I would never hurt her. I have some measure of control over—’

‘Henry!’ Lucy called behind us. ‘Henry, come tell Aunt Edith how we met that day in the rain. She wants to hear, and you know I’ve no patience for storytelling.’

His smile to her was artificial, though not unkind. ‘One moment, darling.’

When his eyes returned to mine, the false smile had vanished. ‘I swear to you I mean Lucy no harm. I wouldn’t ever let myself be around her if I thought the Beast might get free. I have a small measure of control over him; not enough to prevent the transformations, nor the crimes he commits, but I can delay them.’