One hundred twelve years.
Thats how long the menagerie had been in Rudolphs family. The technological boom had not been good to traveling circuses, but thanks to Rudolphs talent and attention, Metzgers had survived when many other menageries folded. But survival wasnt enough. He wanted Metzgers to flourish!
His gaze focused on the occupants of the room beyond the one-way glass, uncomfortably aware of the fact that if the woman hadnt been chained to both her chair and the floor, he wouldve had no idea she wasnt, in fact, a woman at all. She was a monster.
She wasnt trying to pass for human. She thought she was human. The world thought she was human. When audiences look at her, they will see themselves, locked up and helpless. When the other exhibits look at her, they will see possibility. Opportunity. She grew up in freedom and human privilege. Shes smart, shes loud, and she has a severely inflated sense of self-worth. Her delusions make her dangerous.
He turned to his boss of livestock. You must break her, Gallagher. She is the spark, and if that spark kindles, it will burn my menagerie to the ground.
Rudolph shook his head to disguise the chill traveling up his spine. This female could incite riots. She could save the carnivalor be the end of everything hed been working toward his entire life.
Praise for the novels of New York Times bestselling author Rachel Vincent
Compelling and edgy, dark and evocative, Stray is a must read! I loved it from beginning to end.
New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter on Stray
Well written, fresh, charming, great voiceBuffy meets Cat People. I loved it, and look forward to much more in the future from this talented author.
New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham
This is the kind of book that ups the ante in teen literature. The characters are true to life in a way not often captured by YA authors; Vincent writes dialogue as if she spends her days haunting the hallways of her local high school. The love triangle is fantastic This plot is driven by more relatable impulses: love, friendship, jealousy.
RT Book Reviews on My Soul to Steal
Vincent does a nice job of balancing all the various species of characterwith dollops of humor and enough backstory to keep readers new to the series engaged, without dousing the pace for those already in the know.
Booklist on If I Die
A well-thought-out vision of werecat social structure as well as a heroine who insists on carving her own path, even if it means breaking some of her societys most sacred taboos.
Library Journal on Rogue
Blood Bound offers a little something for everyone: a convincing magical system for urban fantasy fans; for romance readers, a love that time and distance cant break; and a twist-and-turn plot for mystery buffs.
Shelf Awareness on Blood Bound
Menagerie
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR
Rachel Vincent
www.mirabooks.co.uk
RACHEL VINCENT is the daughter of a registered nurse and an attorney/pianist, and only rarely has she ever seen either of them without a book in hand. As the oldest of three (then later, five) children, shes always known exactly when and how things should be done, and as a wife and mother, she has never once conceded an argument. A former English teacher and supporter of the serial comma, Rachel has written more than twenty novels and hopes to spend the rest of her life with her fingers on the keyboard and her head in the clouds.
www.rachelvincent.com
This one is for my husband and children, who suffered with me through three years, several rewrites, a shifted release date and the loss of my longtime editor while I wrote Menagerie. Its been a long road, but I think its been worth it, and I cant thank you all enough.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Praise
Title Page
About the Author
Dedication
Part 1: Exposé
Introduction
Quote 1
Rommily
Delilah
Quote 2
Delilah
Atherton
Quote 3
Delilah
Delilah
Quote 4
Charity
Delilah
Quote 5
Rudolph
Delilah
Part 2: Confiné
Rommily
Delilah
Quote 6
Delilah
Nalah
Delilah
Delilah
Eryx
Delilah
Quote 7
Delilah
Rommily
Delilah
Gallagher
Quote 8
Delilah
Geneviève
Delilah
Quote 9
Eryx
Delilah
Quote 10
Nalah
Delilah
Quote 11
Gallagher
Part 3: Émancipé
Delilah
Charity
Delilah
Quote 12
Delilah
Quote 13
Delilah
Delilah
Gallagher
Quote 14
Delilah
Abraxas
Delilah
Kevin
Delilah
Delilah
Rudolph
Delilah
Acknowledgments
Copyright
PART 1 Exposé
Twenty-five years ago...
The heat rippling over the surface of Charity Marlows blacktop driveway was one hundred twelve degrees. It was nearly one hundred nine in the shade from the scrub brush that passed for trees in her front yard.
She sat on a white iron bench in her backyard, picking at the paint flaking off the arm scrolls. A glass of sweet tea stood on the empty plant stand to her right, thinner on top, where the ice cubes melted, thicker on bottom, where the sugar settled.
Inside, the baby was crying.
Shed been going for close to three hours this time, and Charitys arms ached from holding her. Her head throbbed and her feet were sore from standing. From pacing and rocking in place. Her throat was raw from crooning, her nerves shot from exhaustion, and her patience long worn thin.
Shed decided to go inside again when the last ice cube had melted into her tea, and not a minute later.
Not a minute earlier either, even though the top of her head felt close to combusting from the heat of the sun.
She stared at the cracked earth beneath her feet, at the hands in her lap, watching her own fingers shake from exhaustion. Then she stared at her tea as the ice cubes shrank before her eyes, and still the baby screamed.
Then, the last ice cube melted.
Despair swallowed Charity like the whale swallowed Jonah, but she held no hope of being spit back out. Her arms felt like they were made of iron as she lifted her tea.
She closed her eyes while the top of her skull burned in the blazing sunlight. Lord, she whispered, condensation dripping over her fingers from the outside of her cold glass, wont you take this angry child and give me a quieter, happier one in her place?
As soon as shed said the words, she regretted them. Words spoken in pain and exhaustion are rarely meant, and Charity Marlows were no exception.
But there was no taking them back.
The moment the last word fell from her lips, the baby stopped crying.
Setting her glass down, she listened harder but heard only silence.
She stood and rounded the bench, headed for the kitchen door. By the time she got to the house, she was running. The screen door slammed behind her and her sandals slapped the floor, competing with the thunder of her own heartbeat in her ears as she raced down the hall.
She stopped in the nursery threshold, one hand clenched around the glossy white door frame, breathing too fast. Too hard. Her chest felt like it was constricting around her heart, as if her ribs were laced up too tight.
I didnt mean it. Please, I didnt mean it.
The baby was dead. Charity was sure of it. Shed committed the worst sin a mother could commit, and now she was being punished.
But there was no answer from above, so she had to take that next step forward. And the one after that.
By her third step into the nursery, she could see a chubby little fist propped against the pastel crib bumper. Anguish swelled up from her heart and caught in her throat, a lump she couldnt breathe through, yet couldnt swallow.
One more step, and she could see the whole crib and the baby lying in it, eyes peacefully closed.
Charity sobbed and sagged against the crib rail, one hand on her daughters round little stomach.
The childs eyes fluttered open, and Charitys shocked gasp was like a crack of thunder in the silent house. Her eyes filled with tears of joy and relief and she reached to pick up the child, already scolding herself for being such a superstitious fool.
Then the child smiled at her and Charity froze, her fingers inches from her daughters pale pink jumper. Chills raced up her spine and goose bumps erupted all over her body.
The child laughedsurely no purer sound of joy was ever heardand she stepped back from the crib, fear crawling beneath her skin.
The baby laughed again, and she took another step back, then another, and another, until her back hit the pale yellow wall. In that moment, as confusion, guilt and fear met within her, calling into question everything shed thought she understood about the world and her place in it, Charity Marlow knew only one thing for sure.