Page 27 of The Beast's Heart

The response is ringing silence. I suck in a breath as my words land.

The Beast stares at me. Then he jerks his head towards the control room. “In my office.”

I follow him in and close the door behind me with some force. I turn, knowing that I’m about to be fired and willing to go out fighting. My mouth is opening on my next retort, when I see the screens.

There are about a dozen of them, showing nearly every room of the house. I can see the other children in the playroom around the TV, I can see Lily-Iris in the laundry. I can see Ray cleaning the table in the Kitchen. No wonder Adam made this place his office. He can see what all of us are doing without ever having to actually speak to us. My eyes linger on the empty classroom as it dawns on me just how much he’s likely witnessed.

I forget what I was going to say and instead what comes out is, “You’ve been spying on us.”

“It’s hardly spying. It’s my house.”

“You’ve been watching us. You’ve seen everything.”

My every failure in the classroom, every mistake the children made.

“Yes, I’ve seen everything. Of course I’ve been watching. You’re still in probation, unless you’ve forgotten our agreement?”

I finally tear my eyes away from the screens to settle on Adam again. Now he’s behind his desk, leaning forward on it, knuckles white.

I really am about to be fired.

“I don’t appreciate you speaking to me like that in front of the children,” he says. He sounds surprisingly level.

My pulse is still thrumming. “Noted. And I don’t appreciate you speaking to the children like that.”

“They’remychildren.” Our eyes meet. He immediately looks away. “Foster children.”

“I wish you believed that.”

“Excuse me?”

“I wish that you treated them like they were yours and not some project. You should have seen Mal on that piano.” I gesture at the screen that shows the piano. If he had been in here instead of hiding away in his private wing, maybe he would have. “I’ve never seen him so engaged in anything. And now he’s…”

I scan the screens, searching for him.

Now he’s gone.

In my first few days here, I couldn’t wait for the chance to explore. But somehow, weeks have passed and I’ve hardly left the familiar rooms and passages I travel daily with the children.

But Mal was not to be found in any of those rooms, despite us calling for him. It’s still pouring outside, the wind rattling the windows. No chance he left the house. Which leaves the ground floor. We search from room to room, calling his name.There are wallpapered bedrooms, empty of furniture, waiting to be done up for guests who’ll never arrive. There’s the parlor that was mentioned in the magazine article, looking out at the forest. There’s a set of huge wooden doors at the end of a dark corridor that Adam informs me are locked before I even bother checking.

Finally, there’s a dusty office. I stick my head in, taking in the sturdy leather furniture and beautiful Tiffany lamp on the wide wooden desk. I’m about to close the door again when I hear a sniffle.

I glance at Adam. He hangs back, moving quietly into the shadows beyond the door. I step inside. “Mal?”

Another sniffle, the shuffle of fabric. If it weren’t for the absolute silence of the room, I would have missed them. I crouch and find myself eye level with the adolescent, tucked up under the desk. He has his knees drawn up to his chin and he’s clearly been crying, but he dashes athis eyes.

“It’s all right, you can come out.”

“Did he sack you?” Mal asks.

“We didn’t really get to that part of the conversation.”

I’m trying for levity but Mal ducks his head and makes a sobbing noise. He says something, but the words are muffled by his knees.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get that.”

He repeats it and it sounds very much like, “I don’t want you to go.” Except this is Mal.

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