One hundred twelve years.
Thatâs how long the menagerie had been in Rudolphâs family. The technological boom had not been good to traveling circuses, but thanks to Rudolphâs talent and attention, Metzgerâs had survived when many other menageries folded. But survival wasnât enough. He wanted Metzgerâs 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 hadnât been chained to both her chair and the floor, he wouldâve had no idea she wasnât, in fact, a woman at all. She was a monster.
âShe wasnât 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. Sheâs smart, sheâs loud, and she has a severely inflated sense of self-worth. Her delusions make her dangerous.â
He turned to his boss of livestock. âYou must break her, Gallagher. She is the spark, and if that spark kindles, it will burn my menagerie to the ground.â
Rudolph shook his head to disguise the chill traveling up his spine. This female could incite riots. She could save the carnivalâor be the end of everything heâd been working toward his entire life.
Praise for the novels of New York Times bestselling author Rachel Vincent
âCompelling and edgy, dark and evocative, Stray is a must read! I loved it from beginning to end.â
âNew York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter on Stray
âWell written, fresh, charming, great voiceâBuffy meets Cat People. I loved it, and look forward to much more in the future from this talented author.â
âNew York Times bestselling author Heather Graham
âThis 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.â
âRT Book Reviews on My Soul to Steal
âVincent does a nice job of balancing all the various species of characterâ¦with dollops of humor and enough backstory to keep readers new to the series engaged, without dousing the pace for those already in the know.â
âBooklist on If I Die
âA 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 societyâs most sacred taboos.â
âLibrary Journal on Rogue
âBlood Bound offers a little something for everyone: a convincing magical system for urban fantasy fans; for romance readers, a love that time and distance canât break; and a twist-and-turn plot for mystery buffs.â
âShelf Awareness on Blood Bound
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, sheâs 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. Itâs been a long road, but I think itâs been worth it, and I canât thank you all enough.
Twenty-five years ago...
The heat rippling over the surface of Charity Marlowâs 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.
Sheâd been going for close to three hours this time, and Charityâs 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.