Chapter 29

They stood for a second in the foyer, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the dark. An empty welcome desk advertised the price of admission at ten cents.

“Hall of Prehistoric Evolution, Hall of Biological Curiosities, Hall of Anthropological History . . .” Elizabeth read off the signs that pointed the way to different exhibits that encircled the entrance hall. “Where are we supposed to begin?”

Cordelia shook her head. Something felt wrong. It was too quiet, too still, too dark. There was no whir of pixie wings, no chatter of excited diggles, no slosh of squelch feet in the muddy water that formed their habitat. Only a cavernous silence that echoed back every footstep and rustle, only louder.

But perhaps Byron Newton-Plancke had found a way to keep them quiet. . . .

She didn’t want to think about what else he might have done.

“We’ll start with Biological Curiosities and search the rooms one by one,” Cordelia said. She knew it would be faster to split up, but she couldn’t bear to be alone in the gloom and silence, with the wet slick of fear moving down her back.

They passed from exhibit to exhibit, past the skeletal remains of ancient species and the vivid reconstructions of extinct predators glowering from dioramas. Past murky jars of three-eyed fish and dead jellyfish, giant walls of butterflies and insects pinned into place, taxidermy snakes and fossil remnants.

But no monsters.

With every passing minute, the knot of anxiety in Cordelia’s stomach grew bigger. Where were the monsters? She was sure they weren’t wrong about Byron Newton-Plancke. She was sure this wasn’t another dead end.

So where were they?

When they were satisfied they’d explored every corner of the ground floor, they headed upstairs. By now, Cordelia had lost track of how much time had passed. Ten minutes? Thirty? The shadowed halls seemed to suction not just light, but time. And the longer they stayed, the greater the chances they would be discovered.

The second-floor landing fanned left and right, into the Hall of Prehistoric Evolution and the Hall of Anthropological History. Between them, a sweeping set of velvet curtains pooled fabric on the floor. Then the fabric rippled slightly and discharged a marble into the open.

Immediately, Cabal lunged.

“Cabal, no.” Gregory tried to grab hold of his collar, but Cabal was too fast. The marble skittered beneath the curtains when he walloped it with a paw, and Cabal went under them after it.

“Cabal!” Gregory leapt forward and swept the curtains apart.

Cordelia sucked in a breath. Icky whimpered.

Cabal was gone—vanished into the dark mouth of a concealed exhibit hall, roped off from visitors with a sign that marked it as Incomplete.

But the newly painted letters stenciled above the entrance made its purpose clear.

Hall of Monsters.

A mounted placard on the wall welcomed visitors to:

THE WORLD’S FIRST COMPREHENSIVE HISTORICAL COLLECTION OF MONSTROSITY, TRACING THE EVOLUTION OF MONSTERS FROM THEIR PREHISTORIC ORIGINS TO THE DIVERSITY OF THEIR MODERN FORMS. PLEASE USE CAUTION WHEN APPROACHING LIVE SPECIMENS.

With a growing sense of horror, Cordelia, Gregory, and Elizabeth moved into the soupy dark of a vast hall, five times the size of any of the others. Cabal was sniffing around the base of a towering mural that dominated the center of the room. Even in the dark, Cordelia recognized the twisted shape of what looked like two inverted trees, side by side, and the neat lettering beneath them. One inscription read The Origin of Species.

And written beneath, the dark one, the twistier one, the uglier one: The Origin of Monsters.

It was the only thing in the room—besides the long, skeletal rows of empty iron cages.

Elizabeth sucked in a deep breath. Gregory whispered a bad word he had only just learned from Captain Wincombe. Cabal began growling.

“Hush,” Cordelia said. But he only growled louder and made a sudden leap toward the marble he’d been chasing before, which promptly rolled behind one of the cages, shooting into the narrow space that separated it from the wall. Cabal tried to squeeze in after it, but had to settle for swiping with a paw.

“Be quiet, Cabal,” Cordelia said urgently, as Cabal’s barking became louder and more frenzied.

“He’s going to get us killed,” Elizabeth said in a shrill, terrified voice.

“Stop it,” Cordelia said. She dropped to her knees just as Cabal managed to dislodge the cage a few more inches from the wall and disappeared. She reached for him and missed. Instead, her hand came down on something puddled on the floor—something slimy and very cold. She jerked back immediately and saw a long trail of green goo coating her palm. For a moment she simply stared, bewildered.

She had seen that goo before.

She had seen it on the floor of her father’s bedroom.

Time seemed to slow down, and awareness gathered on the edges of Cordelia’s consciousness like waves swelling in the ocean before a storm. Still on her knees, she pivoted the cage out from the wall a little more, so that she too could squeeze behind it.

Cabal was in a crouch, growling terribly at the marble, with all the fur standing along his spine. Suddenly he turned, whimpering, and fled into the open.

The marble retreated another few inches into the shadows.

But not before Cordelia had seen that it was not a marble. Not at all.

It was an eyeball. A moving eyeball, with a pale blue iris and a pupil as dark as ink.

Suddenly, it zoomed into the open, missing her by inches, leaving a trail of thick slime behind it.

Cordelia opened her mouth to scream. But she didn’t need to; Elizabeth screamed for her, then abruptly went silent, even as the dragon started screeching.

Hands gripped Cordelia’s ankles. She tried to turn. A heavy burlap sack was thrown over her head, and there was a starburst explosion of pain at her temples, then darkness.