Her sleek eyebrows lifted. “Should I be?”

“I don’t like games,” Jaq stated plainly.

“Obviously. You play them very poorly.”

Owensby cleared his throat. “If you’re going to argue, make it clear to everyone what the issue is.”

“What is in that antidote you administered to Sir Teagan?” Vanessa continued, ignoring Owensby.

“An enzyme,” she said readily. “It reacts with the immune system to defend against antibodies.”

“How did you come across such a miracle in medicine?”

“My step-father is a botanist and biochemist,” Jaq murmured.

Vanessa shrugged her shoulders. “Why isn’t such healing known to the public? Your step-father could do the world a great service.”

“Knowledge is power,” Jaq stated, “and power is dangerous.”

“Which is the only reason you’re here,” Mrs. Wroll finished. “Isabelle is a very gifted girl but the knowledge she is privy to could place her in a lot of danger.”

“So you’ll keep her like a caged animal?” Jaq questioned. “There is a reason the city panics when a creature escapes from the zoo.”

“I would know the nature of her gifts,” she defended, “even if that means keeping her here. The world is too cruel for a girl like her to venture out undefended.”

Both women were sitting up now. “With the things she sees, the things she screams, do you think she does not know what is out there? I am not optimistic, Mrs. Wroll. She is. Isabelle knows this world possibly better than any of us and she still craves to go outside. You call her abilities ‘gifts’ but you treat them like curses and what a person is born with should never be held against them.”

The doors burst open, then, and Isabelle came running in, waving papers. “I’m done! What do you think?” She was all smiles, her blond hair flying as she thrust the damp sheets into Jaq’s face.

“Hold on, set them down carefully, or they’ll tear,” Jaq laughed, her former fervour diminished. Viktor held the glass of water and fruit bowl to make room for the pages on the table. Isabelle’s pencil and ink lines could be seen through the vivid splashes of color but the effect was striking, not hindering.

Mrs. Wroll’s hand covered her mouth as she held up a profile portrait of her late husband. “W-Where did you find…?”

She looked at Jaq, who shook her head innocently. There were no portraits of the late Mr. Wroll anywhere in the house. Isabelle explained simply, “I know what Mr. Wroll looks like.”

Owensby came over and pointed to a picture of a young woman, with blond hair, blue eyes, and rosy cheeks. “Who is that lovely thing?”

“That’s the girl Thomas fucked,” she responded. “So is this one,” she pointed to another portrait of a girl with red hair and brown eyes. “You’ll know this one, Sir Owensby.”

Isabelle handed him one of the papers, which he handled carefully even while his face paled. “Who is it?” Vanessa dared to ask.

He swallowed and said with a hollow voice, “My daughter. She died long ago. Consumption.”

“I didn’t know you had a daughter,” she breathed.

“No, you wouldn’t,” he said. “I never married.”

Jaq examined another piece, a simple pistol with a floral design in the handle. “This is beautiful. Did your father have guns?”

“He did, but mother never let me see them,” Isabelle said. “That’s the pistol your mother used.”

Jaq’s chin jerked responsively. Mrs. Wroll barely subdued her smirk. “Rabidity is genetic.”

Isabelle looked at Mrs. Wroll oddly. “Jaq didn’t kill Ives. He died of a heart attack. She wouldn’t kill her own grandfather.”

Viktor looked at her but Isabelle’s eyes fell on Sir Owensby next. “Blood may be thicker than water, but yours reeks like spoiled wine.”

“What have I told you about reading thoughts, Isabelle!” Mrs. Wroll demanded.

“Nothing!” she shot back. “You haven’t said anything because you’ve only recently admitted to yourself that I’m different!”

She looked around the table, at every one of them. “I know what all of you think of me! You talk behind my back like I can’t hear you! He used to talk to dead people,” she pointed at Viktor, “but I’m the freak! Owensby fucked a stranger, and when she had his baby he refused her because she was below his station! She died in the cold because you wouldn’t open your door to her!”

Jaq was nearest to her, so Isabelle attacked her next. “Mommy shot daddy in the head and gave birth to a monster! You’re a filthy, naughty bastard!”

She turned back to Vanessa, her face red and shaking. “MR. WROLL DIED BECAUSE YOU SLIT HIS THROAT! BUT HE CAME BACK AND CRAWLED OVER SIR TEAGAN’S TABLE! YOU BURIED HIM, DEAD AND SQUIRMING, WITHOUT A FUNERAL!”

Isabelle was trembling, livid. None of them dared move, for she might harm one of them or herself. She leaned forward, yelling in Mrs. Wroll’s face so the woman had to press her back to the chair.

“YOU’RE GOING TO KILL ME! I’M GOING TO BE A BODY ON DOCTOR TEAGAN’S TABLE, AND IT TERRIFIES YOU THAT I MIGHT JUST CRAWL OFF AND PUNISH YOU FOR WHAT YOU DID TO ME!”

“Isabelle,” Jaq said softly. The girl whirled around, hair in her face. Jaq held a hand in the air between them, a defense as well as an offering. Isabelle blinked at her, as if confused, lost in her madness.

Suddenly tears filled the girl’s eyes and ran down her face. “Would you kill me if I begged you?”

“Why?” Jaq asked, just as softly as she said her name.

“This world is turning black,” Isabelle sobbed. “I’m sorry, Jacqueline!” She ran into her arms, crying on Jaq’s shoulder. The others exhaled collectively, avoiding one another’s gaze.

“Isabelle?” Jaq murmured.

She had stopped crying. She pulled away only to clutch at the girl’s unconscious body so she did not fall. “Isabelle!”

Viktor leapt up and came around the table, lifting Isabelle and striding out of the library. He took her to her bedroom, lying her down and lifting her eyelids, checking her pulse. “She’s not breathing.”

Jaq came in with his black medical bag. Quickly, he extracted a vial, syringe, and his stethoscope. He took a moment to check her pulse again, then stilled. “She’s dead.”