by Jon Skovron
THE VILLA DIODATI and its surrounding grounds looked exactly the same as before. Except instead of fall, it was now spring. New leaves were budding on the trees and flowers sprouted everywhere. Well, there were a few other differences. Like the dryads running through the woods, naiads in the lake, sprites flitting from flower to flower, and a gigantic dragon perched on the roof.
As soon as we parked, the Dragon Lady dropped down to the ground next to us.
“Welcome home, little patchwork monster,” she said. She had a thick scar that ran diagonally across her face, and a few patches of scales that looked like they were still healing, but otherwise she seemed fine.
“It’s great to see you.” I remembered the Sphinx’s final moments, getting napalmed. His screams echoed in my head. “I’m sorry about the Sphinx.”
She bowed her head slightly. “Thank you. He is finally at peace now.” She inclined her head toward the door. “We can talk more another time. I do not wish to keep you. There are people inside very eager to see you.”
I stumped up the front steps. When I opened the door, I saw William, Elisa, Giselle, and Henri all sitting in the living room. And right in the middle of them sat my mother. It was so strange to see her there, tall and thin, with her shock of black-and-white hair, amidst the antique furniture and finely dressed humans. For once her expression of perpetual vague surprise looked completely appropriate to the situation.
As soon as she saw me, she hurried over and started fussing.
“You did not take care of this arm. You were too rough on this leg. These robotic parts are too delicate for you. I think we should go back to flesh. But you don’t take care of that, either. Have you been eating? You look too thin.”
“Okay, Mom, okay,” I said, and pulled her into a one-armed hug until she quieted down.
“Group hug!” said Henri as he came and embraced both of us.
William, Elisa, and Giselle also came over. Giselle looked almost in awe of my mother. William and Elisa seemed more shell-shocked. I supposed when that many monsters move onto your property at once, it might be a little overwhelming.
“It’s great to see you all,” I said to them.
I looked around and realized that this was my family now. My father’s dream had come true. I wished he could have been a part of it. His loss had become a quiet little hollow in my chest that I’d grown accustomed to. But now and then at moments like this, it seemed to open back up into that dark chasm of emptiness again.
My mom turned to me then, and I wondered if she was feeling the same way. She put her hand on my shoulder and nodded.
“He would be so proud of you,” she said. “He would not want the sadness of his loss to ruin this for you.”
I nodded. No promises, but I would try not to let it.
THAT NIGHT I sat out on the front porch overlooking the lake, drinking wine with Sophie, Henri, and La Perricholi.
“I hope those naiads are safe with that freshwater mermaid,” I said.
“They say they’ve sorted it all out,” said Sophie. “Apparently, you did quite a number on her. She was still pretty injured when they arrived and they’ve been nursing her back to health.”
“So Villa Diodati is basically like a monster haven then?” I asked.
“Well, we have the space,” said Henri. “And with monsters in the family, how could my parents say no? Of course, there are also my ladies to consider.”
“How’s that going?” I asked.
He smiled that old, crooked Henri grin. “It’s spring. They keep me busy.”
“Are we going to see a bunch of Henri-faced dryads in the near future?” asked Sophie.
“No idea how it works, honestly. But I hope so.”
“You, of all people, wanting to be a dad,” I said.
His smile faded. “There was so much loss, Boy. So much death. I feel . . . I feel like there should be something added. New life. You know?”
“I do.”
Sophie held up her glass. “To life.”
We clinked glasses, and then there was a moment of silence as we drank. Then I turned to La Perricholi. “What about you? Gonna stick around?”
She shook her head. “I need to get back to Lima. Maria and Laurellen are up to their necks in rabbit people. I also want to take another trip out to Noble’s Isle and see who and what remains there. If anything.”
“Good call,” I said. “The last thing we need is for some Moreau wannabe to get ahold of all his research. What happened to the wild monsters he released from The Commune?”
“Ruthven, Liel, and the rest of the trowe are working with Montgomery to hunt down the stragglers,” said La Perricholi. “It’s going so well, I’m starting to wonder if Montgomery doesn’t envision turning Ruthven and the trowe into some sort of official special forces unit.”
“Is that a good thing?” I asked.
“A little legitimacy couldn’t hurt,” she said.
“What about you?” I asked Sophie. “You planning to stick around or are you going back to LA?”
“There isn’t really a reason to go back,” said Sophie sadly. “That hiatus Kemp put The Studio on before he defected seems more or less permanent. I haven’t heard from any of them since all of this began.” Then she smiled mischievously and leaned in close. “Besides, I thought I’d like to spend a bit of time with you. Seeing as how I just saved your life and all, I’d say you owe me.”
“Fair enough,” I said, cupping her chin in my hand.
“We should probably give them a bit of privacy,” La Perricholi said to Henri as she stood up. “Let’s go see if your parents and the Bride have opened that champagne yet.”
“Good idea,” said Henri, and followed her inside.
Sophie and I sat there for a while, the sound of insects, frogs, and sprites faintly calling in the background. Sophie put her head on my shoulder, and we stared out at the lake that glittered with moonlight as the winds came down from the mountains and rippled the surface.
“So, I never got to hear your side of it,” I said. “Why did you try to give Claire your life?”
“Because she needed it to beat Stephen.”
“But what about you?”
She shrugged.
“Didn’t you realize that she wouldn’t want that? That . . . I wouldn’t want that?”
“I dunno. I thought you’d both get along better without me.”
I sat up and looked at her. “Wait, what?”
She sighed and closed her eyes. “Must we talk about this right now?”
“Yes, we must. Sophie, how could you ever think I would get along better without you?”
“You guys have your little bickering old couple thing. And she’s always there to save you and be all heroic. What do I do except make jokes and fritter on about nonsense? I’m useless.”
“Sophie.” I moved my locked metal leg and awkwardly got down on the ground in front of her. I took her small, pale freckled hands in mine. “Remember when I almost killed the dryads? Liel and Claire couldn’t stop me. But all you had to do was call my name. And what about when we were at The Show after the raid and I was totally freaking out? Claire said, ‘I think you need some Sophie time.’ And God, I really did. I don’t know how I would have continued on if you hadn’t been there.”
I kissed her hands and looked up into those bright eyes of hers. “Sophie Jekyll, you have saved me every day since the moment I met you.”
“Oh.” She took in a deep, shuddering breath. “You . . . are getting dangerously good at sweet-talking me.” Then she leaned forward and pressed her lips against mine. I had missed their softness so much. That’s when I realized: this was what home felt like.
Eventually, Sophie whispered in my ear, “We should probably go inside and spend some more time with everyone before it gets too late. I know your mum wanted to star
t fixing you up first thing in the morning.”
“Yeah, okay,” I said. “Give me a minute. I’ll be right behind you.”
She leaned over and gently kissed my forehead. She turned to go inside, then stopped.
“You do remember your promise, don’t you?”
“Uh . . .”
“Remember in Philadelphia? At The Museum, you promised me that when this was all over, we’d go somewhere warm and tropical.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Well, once your mother’s got you all sorted, I think perhaps the Bahamas or somewhere like that would be the perfect place for us to recover. Don’t you?”
I smiled. “Sure.”
She nodded, satisfied, and went inside.
I sat there for a moment, listening to the wind and watching the lake. Finally, I pulled out the new phone Henri had given me.
“Hey, Vi,” I said.
“Yes, Boy?”
“Remember when I said that you and I were going to change the world?”
“Yes. I take it . . . this was not what you had in mind.”
I don’t know why that struck me as funny, but I let out a laugh. Then, to my amazement, Vi laughed, too. She had this goofy, high titter that made me laugh even more: a big snorting burst that then made her laugh even harder. I laughed so hard there were tears streaming down my cheeks.
Finally, we calmed down and everything was quiet.
“Boy?” said Vi. “What’s going to happen to us?”
“Apparently, we’re going to the Bahamas.”
“I mean after that? Do you think the humans will really let us be equals?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But let’s not worry about it tonight. Let’s just go inside and be with our family.”
“Our family,” said Vi. “Yes.”
I slowly got to my feet and clumped into the Villa Diodati, where the warm, rich sounds of conversation and laughter waited for us.
Acknowledgments
THIS BOOK REQUIRED a great deal of research in a fairly short amount of time, and I couldn’t have done it without help. Thanks to Elise Bernardoni at the National Zoological Park for her extensive knowledge of wild animals and her patience with my often strange questions. Thanks to Esther Langan at the National Museum of Natural History for giving me a tour of her necropsy lab, letting me hold an elephant heart, and explaining to me in detail how to remove a skullcap. Thanks to Alejandra Guerra Morales and Roberta Valderrama for their insight on Peru and its culture. Thanks to my brother, Chris Skovron, for the French translations. Thanks to Brian Selznick for convincing me to visit the Mütter Museum, which served as the inspiration for the Selznick Museum of Comparative Anatomy and Teratology that appears in this book. Thanks to Diana Peterfreund for being such a great sounding board throughout the writing process, and to Malinda Lo for her keen-eyed revision notes. As always, thanks to my agent, Jill Grinberg, and her assistant, Katelyn Detweiler, who provided tireless support and enthusiasm. And to my editor, Kendra Levin, who continues to champion my work with a fierceness that leaves me awestruck and grateful.
In the same way that Mary Shelley’s life and works informed Man Made Boy, this book owes a great debt to the life and works of Herbert George Wells. Not only for his novels The Island of Doctor Moreau and The Invisible Man, but also for his essays on war, politics, and society. Additionally, I owe a debt to Zora Neale Hurston, whose Tell My Horse: Voodoo and Life in Haiti and Jamaica had an incalculable impact on me even beyond the obvious scope of zombie lore. Lastly, I would be remiss without mentioning that the original La Perricholi was a real person named Maria Micaela Villegas Hurtado, who lived from 1748 to 1819 and has since inspired folktales, songs, operas, plays, telenovelas, and novels both in Peru and around the world.
Looking for more?
Visit Penguin.com for more about this author and a complete list of their books.
Discover your next great read!
