Free Her Dark Curiosity by Megan Shepherd

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, 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 pooled 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.
    Sitting here, 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 couldn’t bear this, having tea with a murderer. I clutched the sofa’s arm, rubbing my thumb against the rough upholstery seam to stay connected to the present.
    Outside, the sun was just 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.”
    Lucy and her aunt kept arguing, oblivious to us. 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, shaking, and