Perdita refused to cause further harm to the rat, and sat out of the dissection altogether—which Mr. Button was not pleased about.
Fola, Romeo, and Adam were the only children from the bunch who managed to do a decent job. Fola was clean and efficient, Romeo slow but precise, and Adam, who was four years older than the children, managed just fine.
“Well done for your… efforts, children. Next time should be easier,” Mr. Button said.
“Next time?” Octavius repeated, his voice wobbling.
“Of course, next Thursday—we’ve got much bigger fish to fry.”
Octavius’s eyes widened. “We’re cutting open fish?” he asked, looking nauseous.
“Of course not, no! It’s a metaphor, and fish are lousy animals for taxidermy. Next week we’ll be cutting into a pig and the week after that, a deer. I hope to teach you how to correctly detach and reattach the antlers. That is my favorite part of taxidermy, a process I hope you will all grow to appreciate.”
No one spoke then, and they didn’t have to. The fear was woven onto every single one of their faces.
Even Adam looked frightened, and he was older than them and had seen a great deal more than the younger children had. Adam and his sister, Evelyn, would sometimes go hunting with Mr. Button when their parents were too busy working. Adam and Evie would watch as Mr. Button held his shotgun with pride, as he walked them into the clearing near to the Manor, angled his gun at unsuspecting animals, and took a clean shot each time.
They weren’t sure why they had to go, only that their parents said that making Mr. Button happy was going to ensure that they kept their jobs and that they would have enough money to later send their kids to school.
Adam had no idea what taxidermy, or lessons on dissection and hunting, had to do with university, but he trusted his parents, as children do.
There was, of course, a link between all of those things. A link that wouldn’t become clear until several years later, three years before the present day, where Adam and Evie would attend the seventh-annual Prodigy Ball as special guests of Mr. Button’s.
It wouldn’t be clear to anyone else until Adam and Evie would get on the stage and Mr. Button would unveil them like art pieces hung in the Louvre for everyone to gawk at.
“Everyone, meet Adam and Evie, the genesis of the Button Method. Before I adopted my four brilliant heirs, I had an idea to diversify my prodigy experiment by seeing if slightly different conditions can impact the outcome of genius. I first began work on Adam and then a few years later his sister, Evie, both of whom were generously loaned to me by their parents with the promise that I would turn them into pictures of excellence, and now… well, I’ll let them show you what they are capable of themselves.”
There had been a round of applause as the siblings stepped forward.
Adam, then eighteen, was an archery prodigy. His aim, accuracy, and precision was at a percentage higher than many of the world’s greatest archers.
Evie, at almost fifteen, was a ballet prodigy. She was primed to be one of the world’s most revered ballerinas, dancing with the renowned ManhattanBallet Company, but was of course being scouted by companies all over the world.
As they performed for the audience that year, no one yet knew that this would be Adam’s last Prodigy Ball. In fact, this would be Adam’s last of anything.
Mr. Button had his methods and his reasons for doing everything he did.
Though the dissection demonstrations were one of his more barbarous methods yet. Having seven-year-olds gut animals had nothing to do with scientific knowledge or even the lost art of taxidermy. To any bystander, it seemed nonsensical, and that was because it was never meant to make any sense at all.
The lessons in dissection were a practice of desensitization.
If the children got used to seeing such brutality done to once-harmless living things, then how could they recognize and spot when that brutality was turned on them?
That was the point, the cruel, twisted point. Mr. Button thought it was the most important lesson they learned while they were young:
That the world was brutal, and the rats were everywhere.
7:22P.M.—THE BUTTON MANOR
The bell’s chime echoed through the grounds.
Chief Waxler had just released ten more guests, leaving behind what Octavius counted were ten other suspects—fifteen if you counted himself and his siblings.
They were all now back to being sequestered in the drawing room. The Manor staff had managed to board up the doors there too and clean up the glass, which Octavius did feel really bad about, especially since he had little to no recollection of the horse incident. He didn’t even remember going to the stables. It was like he blacked out and his brain went on autopilot.
The last thing he remembered was Fola shouting at him after he’d thrown up all over her. She was probably off in her room now getting changed, he wasn’t sure. Chief Waxler had been the one to help Octavius back down here, while Henry immediately went to grab a glass of water and several bottles of medicine. Octavius didn’t bother taking the medicine though because he didn’t feel unwell or hazy anymore. In fact he felt awake for the first time that day. It was like puking up his guts had a similar effect to a bucket of ice being thrown over his head.
Now he was just in the corner counting his sins and biding his time before the inevitable happened. He could not wait for this day to be over and done with.
