The Daughter of Doctor Moreau(78)

“I went with them and followed the trail. It’s not far from here. But I turned back after a while,” Lupe said. She had not said much since they’d walked into the house. Montgomery had told them he’d go see how the doctor was doing, therefore giving them a chance to converse.

“I thought you wanted to leave.”

“I talked it over with Cachito while we walked. We both think you are foolish, and I decided you might need me here.”

“I’m glad you came back,” Carlota said and squeezed Lupe’s furry hand. “You were angry at me, you hardly said a word when you left.”

Lupe drew her hand away; she clacked her nails against her clay cup. Her lips twitched but no sound emerged.

“You are my sister,” Carlota said softly, and Lupe stared at her.

“That is a lie.”

“It is true. I don’t care how we came to be. You’re still my sister. Cachito is my brother. You’re my family.”

“An interesting family we are,” Lupe muttered. “Dr. Moreau’s twisted mistakes.”

“My father said he created the hybrids for a great purpose, in order to solve humanity’s ills. Even when he mentioned that Hernando Lizalde funded his research in order to secure new workers, he always emphasized that other point. I’ve wanted to believe that he was indeed searching for an important piece of knowledge and that he would never let any of the hybrids come to harm. But now, knowing the ease with which he lied, and thinking about all the things he said, I can’t…Lupe, I am sorry.”

Silence settled between them. Carlota clenched her hands together.

“You asked me a few times why I liked going to the hut with the donkey’s skull rather than the chapel,” Lupe said. “I think it was because I thought a more truthful God lived there than the God your father spoke about. Your father said God willed him to right the mistakes of nature by fashioning our flesh, and gifted us pain, but that must be a cruel God who could do such a thing. He held that Bible up and read from it, but I don’t think he knew the words.”

“My father has been irresponsible, utterly careless,” Carlota whispered.

His investigations had birthed creatures bound to suffer, to die painfully, and he’d masked his aimless pursuits with talk of God and great purposes, then padded all this with careful lies she didn’t fully understand yet.

“Yes. And for all of that you should leave him to die in his own piss and go away with me, but I know you won’t and I won’t ask you to do it. So here we are, to stand vigil by a dying man. I came back, because I didn’t want you to face this without me.”

“Lupe.”

“Don’t cry, Carlota. You cry far too easily.”

Carlota smiled at that, and Lupe smiled back. When they’d been little, Lupe had braided Carlota’s hair, and Carlota giggled and ran a brush across the soft fur of Lupe’s back. They’d followed rows of ants back to their anthill and clapped their hands together, played games of hide-and-seek throughout the house. She’d liked Cachito, but she’d been closest to Lupe. Then, somewhere in the past few months, the divide between them had surfaced and grown very wide. But she felt that, for the first time, this chasm might be crossed.

“Your father is awake,” Montgomery said, standing at the doorway. “He wishes to speak to you.”

Carlota rose quickly. They walked back to her father’s room. Montgomery had lit two lamps, so that the bed was bathed in a yellowish light. Dr. Moreau lay pale and frail under the bedsheets. He was indeed awake, and when Carlota sat next to the bed, he turned his face in her direction and raised a hand, his fingers reaching for her. Carlota grasped his hand, but weakly, where before she would have kissed it and laid her cheek against it.

“Carlota, there you are,” he muttered.

She said nothing. She was ashamed of her fury, of having hurt him. She feared for his life. She also couldn’t look him in the eye. She poured him a glass of water and held it up so he could drink. He did so slowly. When he was done, she put the glass back on the night table.

The roles were now reversed. In her earliest years her father had sat by her bed and she had clutched his hand for comfort, powerless and weak. Now the doctor lay there, his sturdy body looking as if it might dissolve under her fingertips, sinews and bones coming loose.

“Child, I do not blame you for what has happened,” her father said, his voice low.

“I do blame you for it. For keeping secrets from me. For not telling me who I am,” she said in turn, calmly, and saw him wince as if she’d struck him again.

“I could not speak freely, Carlota.”

“You told me I was your daughter and that I was ill and needed a special treatment. You said the hybrids needed to have their medication, too, but that wasn’t true, either. You were trying to maintain us docile and quiet.”

“I had to tell you that you needed constant medicating. I couldn’t have you leaving Yaxaktun. It was also necessary to maintain the fiction because of Hernando Lizalde. This way, he couldn’t take the hybrids from me.”

“Was it also necessary to give us painful, truncated lives?” Lupe asked. She stood on the other side of the bed, eyes fixed on the doctor.

Her father sighed. “I admit I blundered. But sometimes I struck gold, and could claim a near-perfect victory. Carlota, for example…Carlota, you provided me with such valuable information!” he said, his voice filled with excitement. “The younger hybrids are much improved. No more monstrosities like Aj Kaab with his ever-growing teeth or the tumors previous hybrids developed. And it was thanks to you that I was able to create stronger hybrids with less defects and extended life spans.”