She tried not to sway too much from satisfaction.
Raven let out a disgusted choking noise and flew up into one of the chandeliers. He started cleaning himself, as if soiled.
‘You should go back,’ said Jest. ‘In case anyone should come out here. We wouldn’t want them . . . It would seem . . .’
Her lips twitched. It was such an unusual thing for him to be out of words.
‘You’re right,’ she said, backing away from him. She drifted around the banister, placed a hand on the rail, and looked up the long staircase. Her heart began to sink, like an anchor had been chained to it.
Back to the King. Back to her beau.
A cheer rumbled through the theatre, drawing her attention to the closed doors.
‘Lady Pinkerton?’ said Jest.
She glanced back.
‘Have you decided what you will say once he asks?’
Inside the theatre, more cheers exploded, louder still. The Raven let out a shrill caw.
‘Do you think I could possibly say yes?’ she asked, for in this moment, it seemed impossible to her.
Jest was expressionless for a moment, before it turned to pain, the kohl creasing around his eyes. ‘I think you have to say yes,’ he whispered, and it sounded like he was pleading with her, but the words sent an arrow into her heart.
She took half a step towards him, but stopped again. ‘Why, Jest? Why do you keep doing this? You say you’re jealous, or mesmerized, or that I could be your reason to stay in Hearts, yet in the very next breath you encourage me to accept the King. I don’t understand you.’
His expression was pained when he opened his mouth to speak again, but suddenly the building shook. Cath jolted, ducking at the distant crash of breaking glass.
A door burst off its hinges on the second floor. A wave of heat flooded the lobby, along with the smell of smoke.
Catherine reeled back but Jest was already beside her, catching her. She realized that what she’d thought were cheers were actually screams, and applause the stampede of feet.
Through the sizzling door, a creature burst on to the lobby’s second level, all black skin and scales and dark, rabid eyes.
Cath froze.
It was the Jabberwock.
CHAPTER 34
A GREAT SHUDDER COURSED through Catherine as she stared at the enormous beast. Though it had terrified her in the glen outside Hatta’s shop, it had been too dark then to get a clear look at the beast. But now it towered over her, all claws and scales and rolling muscles. She could see the saliva clinging to its fangs. She could smell its rotted breath.
‘Cath, back away, slowly,’ Jest whispered.
The beast fixed its burning eyes on them and hissed. Catherine stumbled back and Jest shifted, putting himself between them. ‘Run.’
She gripped the railing, but her body wouldn’t move. The Jabberwock crawled towards her on its massive limbs. Steam hissed from its nostrils.
With a gurgle in its throat, the Jabberwock leaped forward, jaw unhinged. Catherine screamed. Jest braced himself.
There was a screech and a storm of black feathers. A drop of ink fell from the sky – Raven, fast as a dart, plunged his beak into one of the monster’s ember eyes. The Jabberwock screeched and reared back on its hind legs. When it dropped back to the ground, the entire theatre shook and Cath could see that one of the embers in its eyes had been extinguished. Charcoal-tinged blood leaked down the right side of its face.
With another roar, it swiped its claws towards the sky, but Raven was already out of reach, beating his wings against the theatre’s ceiling.
‘Now! Go!’ Jest yelled, holding his sceptre like a weapon. He leaped on to the stair’s balustrade and dashed towards the beast like running up a slanted tightrope. The sceptre twirled. One leather boot pressed off a marble statue. He rolled in the air, landed on the back of the monster’s long neck, and grabbed one of the spindly whiskers that grew from its head as if he were gripping a leash. Jest yanked the monster’s head back. The Jabberwock screeched and bucked, but Jest held firm.
Cath trembled, still rooted to the stair.
Raven darted again, aiming for the second eye, but the Jabberwock careened away, batting Raven back with a flailing claw.
‘Cath! Run!’
She managed to tear her eyes away and spin around, but she had taken only a step when her toes caught on the voluminous fabric of her gown. Cath screamed and lurched, felt herself falling, crashing down the stairs in a tangle of satin and petticoats.
Her ankle snapped.
Her scream was lost in a torrent of shrieks and the thunder of footsteps. The lobby filled with guests fleeing the theatre, surging down the staircase, lobbing themselves over the balcony rails, flooding towards the exit. Catherine curled into the pillow of her gown, her vision white with pain, and hoped not to be trampled.
‘Pinkerton?’
She looked up through her cascade of tangled hair and spotted Jack a few feet away, his back pressed against the same pillar she’d hidden behind.
‘Jack! Help me – my ankle – I think it’s—’ She swallowed back a sob.
Nostrils flared, Jack took a step towards her, but was halted by another piercing cry from the Jabberwock. He glanced up and paled. After a moment of indecision, he shook his head. ‘Not even you’re worth it, Lady Pinkerton!’ he yelled, before turning on his heels and bolting towards the exit along with the rest of the stampeding crowd.
‘Jack! Come back here, you knave!’
But he was gone, lost in the chaos.
Locking her jaw, Catherine rolled on to her back, trying not to disturb her ankle. The sharp pain had turned to agony, but she didn’t see any blood.