The Daughter of Doctor Moreau(41)

Carlota’s magic seemed to have worked on him. She was pretty, her eyes were large and sweet, and either Eduardo was honestly touched by her or else he’d assessed the situation and wagered he’d best be served by playing the gallant man.

The doctor tapped his cane against the floor, as if in thought. “I’ll punish him physically tomorrow morning. You may watch, but the whip would be excessive. I wouldn’t wish to resort to it. Besides, he was intoxicated and had been drinking with Mr. Laughton and some of the other hybrids. The aguardiente must have muddled his thoughts.”

“And what about Laughton? Will he go unpunished?” Isidro asked.

“Mr. Laughton will have his wages garnished for a couple of months. It’ll teach him to mind his manners.”

“That would be a feat.”

“Tomorrow, after I administer the punishment, I will show you the hybrids and explain any lingering questions. I assure you: this has been a horrid accident. But it is a rare one. Please, gentlemen, I beg of you, let us speak in the morning.”

“Very well. We shall talk tomorrow,” Eduardo said.

Isidro stood up, grumbling a curse, and both of the men retired for the night. Once the three of them were alone, Carlota stepped closer to her father, her fingers hovering upon his arm.

“You won’t really hit Cachito, will you?” she asked.

He made a sharp motion, almost like a horse rearing up, and brushed the girl’s hand away. “Of course I will! Can’t you see how close you’ve been in engineering my destruction? I should have said yes to the whip, so do not even think to demand another concession!”

Carlota looked at her father with wide, anxious eyes. Montgomery thought she’d say nothing else, but the girl surprised him by speaking up again. “But it wasn’t Cachito’s fault. It was us…it was me.”

“Listen carefully, silly girl, since you don’t seem to understand what we are faced with. If Hernando Lizalde is headed here to discuss important matters with me, it means he is about to yank the financial support he provides for my research. He’s threatened as much already and now, no doubt, this incident with Isidro will serve as the perfect excuse. So I will not do anything to displease his relatives any further and I will punish that stupid animal. He best be grateful I don’t skin him tomorrow morning! What would we do without the Lizaldes, girl? What?!”

Moreau’s voice had been steadily rising, and his daughter had slowly retreated with each word until she bumped against a table. The instruments on it clattered.

“And you,” the doctor muttered, turning around and pointing at Montgomery. “I thought you smarter than this. I thought you understood. Brawling, like you’re at a cheap tavern! If we lose the Lizaldes then how will I be able to care for the hybrids? How will I engineer the medicine to sustain my daughter?”

“I’ll get you a hundred jaguars if you need them,” Montgomery said. “She won’t suffer because of me.”

“Jaguars! And the other ingredients? And the lab materials? And the lab space? Will you also get me that?” Moreau demanded. “Without the money from the Lizaldes my daughter would be doomed! You are a cretin and my child is a constant failure! My life’s work…you threaten my life’s work. Everything…life, the creation of life, life perfected…”

Montgomery knew that when Moreau got himself into a state like this he could roar for a good hour. Yet this time he winced and gripped his cane tight, and a strange expression fell upon his face. He’d gone pale.

“Father?” Carlota asked, moving close to him.

There were beads of sweat on the doctor’s forehead. He shoved the girl aside, walking quickly out of the room. “Enough of you. Of all of you,” he muttered.

Carlota gripped her hands together and stood in the middle of the lab, her lips quivering. “Let him go,” Montgomery said tiredly. “You’ll make it worse if you follow him now.”

“What would you know?” she whispered.

“I know Dr. Moreau.”

Carlota stood half in shadow and looked up at him. Her eyes almost seemed to glow, catlike. He’d idly wondered before what Moreau’s treatment amounted to and how it might affect the mechanism of the girl’s body. Was it merely her blood that it strengthened? The doctor had not said. He hunted jaguars for him, brought him the great cats’ corpses every few months, and Moreau wove his strange alchemy. Gemmules from the jaguar, to keep her alive.

And without them, without this laboratory with its pipettes and measuring flasks, she’d wither as quickly as a cut flower. And the Lizaldes, they owned her safety and her future. She was an orchid, to be kept under glass.

“I’m sorry about today,” he said.

“I’m sorry, too,” she whispered and quickly stepped out of the laboratory.

He didn’t sleep much after that. He was ready in the morning, dressed and shaved, when the doctor came knocking and curtly told Montgomery that he wanted him to fetch Cachito and take him to the donkey’s hut.

Cachito was sitting outside, next to the spot where the bonfire had burned merrily the night before. Lupe sat next to him, wrapped in a rebozo. When they saw him they both stood up.

“The doctor says you are to go to the donkey’s hut.”

“Into the House of Pain,” Lupe said.