Page 13 of The Beast's Heart

“It’s not true, it’s just what you overheard her say.” To me, she adds, “He overheard her arguing with Meredith one day. She’s superstitious. The house isn’t haunted, it’s just old.”

“It is haunted,” Mal insists. “Geoff also said so.”

“Geoff was just trying to scare you.”

Ben pulls himself up tighter. “I saw the ghost,” he whispers.

“No, you didn’t. You were half asleep and imagined it,” Alisha insists. “Ghosts aren’t real, right Mister Belle?”

“Right.”

“See?”

That night I lie awake for ages staring up at the strange shadows playing across the top of the four-poster. The drizzle I arrived to has become a full-on downpour. I generally find the sound of the rain soothing, but tonight it plays a loud tattoo across my fractured nerves.

I somehow, miraculously, pulled it off. I’m here and Dad is not. And I have not been arrested. So why don’t I feel happier?

“These children are in need of so much more than me,” I whisper into the darkness. “They deserve so much more than this.” They deserve Dad.

My window rattles and my heart leaps into my throat. I am reminded of Lockwood on the first few pages of Wuthering Heights, ensconced in a forgotten room in Heathcliff’s neglected manor. Rattling windows, a ghostly presence, Heathcliff’s forlorn late soulmate calling his name and asking to be let in.

Stop it. Ghosts aren’t real.

I pull the blanket up to my chin and roll over, focusing on the strange shadows the rain is casting across the opposite wall.

I don’t have to stay. Meredith asked if I was up to the task. I could tell her I’m not. Get away, home free. Find a job I’m actually qualified for. Move on with my life while they find a different teacher who’s not Dad.

But then what would happen to these children? These young souls who’ve seen enough upheaval in their short lives without being shipped across the world as part of a publicity campaign.

These children might require a firm hand, Mister Belle.

If I leave, who’s to say the next hire won’t be perfectly willing to drive them hard and work them to tears in the name of the good salary and prestige? If Adam and Meredith’s only priority is the foundation, then what would they let such a person get away with? A cane to match the Victorian classroom? Only a few doors away, Mal is probably lying in the dark struggling to sleep while his stomach rumbles. He left his stew untouched and was not permitted to eat anything different.

There isn’t a choice. Not really.

I climb out of bed and throw on my dressing gown.

7

ADAM

Ijerk awake in my chair as the passage sensor beeps. The timestamp in the corner of the screen tells me it’s 22:07. I must have just nodded off.

I blink and rub sleep from my eyes, trying to focus on what’s happening on the screen. Jonathan Belle is in the passage with one of the children. Malakai.

What the hell is he doing? Where is he taking him?

I slip from my chair and follow. The rain masks my footsteps behind them, but my heart is pounding so loud I’m surprised they can’t hear it. My head is foggy with sleep, I can’t figure out what his plan might be. Is he trying to discipline him? Kidnap him?

They turn left at the bottom of the stairs and I wait a moment before following, turning into the passage just as they step into the warm light spilling from the kitchen.

Oh.

My sluggish brain catches up.

I explicitly told Malakai that if he didn’t at least try to eat Ray’s stew, then he would go to bed hungry. Everyone at the table heard. Malakai has to learn, just like we all had to. If I didn’t finish what was on my plate, I would have been told itwas ungrateful and wasteful. My mother would have kept the leftovers in the fridge and made me eat them the next day, cold.

Dayoneand already this imposter is undermining us. This isn’t going to work. What was I thinking?

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