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 VICIOUS LIAR
SAINT JULIET ACADEMY BOOK 2
A.J. LOGAN
Copyright © 2023 A.J. LOGAN
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner
without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations
in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Edited by KD Proofreading

www.kdproofreading.com
 CONTENTS

Author Note

1. Cade
2. Morgan
3. Cade
4. Morgan
5. Cade
6. Morgan
7. Cade
8. Morgan
9. Cade
10. Morgan
11. Cade
12. Cade
13. Morgan
14. Cade
15. Morgan
16. Cade
17. Morgan
18. Cade
19. Morgan
20. Morgan
21. Morgan
22. Cade
23. Cade
24. Morgan
25. Morgan
26. Cade
27. Cade
28. Cade

My Liar
About the Author
 Author Note:

This story contains sensitive topics that some may find

triggering and is intended for mature readers. Please check
author website for a list of content warnings.
~A.J. Logan
1
 CADE

Flames. They’re consuming my vision, but I still can’t believe what

I’m seeing is real. But it is. And so is the smile on her face. My feet
and brain finally sync up as I take off in a full sprint down the dock,
only stopping at a nearby vessel to grab a fire extinguisher.
The heat from the flames gives me fair warning not to step onto
the yacht. So, I stand as close as I can, pull the pin out, and
squeeze the trigger. But it’s useless. The fire is too large. Shit. The
boat’s tank is full of fuel, and there’re vessels docked on either side,
no more than ten feet away, that probably have full tanks too. This
is fucking bad. Like a-massive-explosion-is-impending-and-the-
entire-place-is-gonna-blow bad. But I still try to smother the fire and
pray that I live long enough to regret all of this—and her—a little
longer.
Looking back, I quickly take in her stance: unbothered, arms
folded over her chest. “What the fuck, Morgan?” My attempt to get
the blaze under control is pointless. “Call 911.”
Laugh. That’s what she does. And that’s when there’s no doubt
left in me—she did this. She might not have been on the boat and
physically struck the match, but this is her doing. Who helped her?
Someone did. Glancing around, I don’t spot anyone else, so I focus
on her. “You’re a fucking psychotic bitch.”
I grab my phone and dial emergency services. My eyes remain
on the monster in front of me who’s more dangerous than any fire
while I relay the address of my location to the dispatcher. Once she
tells me the fire department is on their way, I disconnect the call and
quickly shove the phone in my pocket. This is all happening like it’s a
dream. Seconds feel like an hour and the more I watch the silent,
cunning vixen in front of me, the more my anger grows.
“I really do fucking hate you, Morgan King.”
Turning my back to her, I make another desperate attempt to
douse the flames, to keep them as under control as possible until I
finally hear sirens in the distance. Thank fuck. I’m almost certain the
flames are getting higher with each second that ticks by and
everything I’m doing is making it worse. Kind of like with her, the
more I try to simmer her down, the wilder she gets. But my main
concern right now—other than the fiery boat—is the fact that she’s
still here. That truly scares me. She has no fear. Not only did she
start the blaze, but she’s sticking around to watch the fallout. Which
tells me it’s not over yet. It’ll never be over. She’ll never stop.
And that’s the moment my grip loosens, the fire extinguisher
drops from my hand to land on the dock with a loud thud. I take a
step back and admit defeat. And not only to the inferno nearby. To
all of it. To her.
Thankfully, a few firefighters begin battling the flames. Another
guides Morgan and me back several feet. “Is there anyone on
board?”
The question doesn’t register at first. Then he shouts it again,
and I look at her. “No. No, I don’t think so.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, looking between Morgan and me. But he
might as well ask her, because I have no clue.
“Is there, Morgan? Is anyone on the fucking boat? Did you
sacrifice someone just to play your stupid fucking game?”
I didn’t realize I’ve moved towards her until a fire dude steps in
between us. “Sir, calm down.”
“I think he’s in shock,” Morgan says, concern on her face,
“because it was just us hanging out on my dad’s boat.”
“Are either of you hurt?” the firefighter asks. Morgan says no as I
shake my head. The guy is rightfully on edge as he holds a hand to
me. “Stay here,” he says before heading off to help his team battle
the blaze.
 I listen to him because I wouldn’t know where else to go anyway.
So, I watch as they put out the flames. At least they are able to
douse what they’re up against, because I’ll never be able to
extinguish the hellfire that is this beast beside me.
Looking to the she-devil, I stare at her in silence as I pray this
will satisfy her need to torment me. At least for the next few hours
until I can snap back into reality. Because if she’ll set her own dad’s
yacht on fire, there’s no telling what else she’ll do just for fun. And I
need to be ready. I wasn’t ready for this. At all.
“Who helped you?” And why on earth would they risk this?
There’re vessels all around, each one of them a bomb poised to set
off the next in a chain reaction that could’ve easily engulfed the
entire marina. “Who did your dirty work this time?”
A smile peeks at her lips. “Why? Jealous that someone else is so
willing to get on their knees for me?”
Before I realize what I’m doing, I have her elbow in my grip and
pull her smirking face to me. “When will it be enough? After I’m
dead? After you burn the entire world to the ground without giving a
fuck who gets incinerated in the process?”
Her lips stay turned up; her eyes locked with mine. No regret. No
fear. Nothing of the sort anywhere in them. Only a challenge. One
we both know she’ll win.
I glance back to the charred yacht and release her as I take a
step back. “Was it worth it, Morgan? Are you finally done now?”
She leans into me, her breath feathering over my ear as she
whispers, “Don’t you wish it were that easy?”

I don’t know how long it’s been. Minutes? Hours? Time is moving so
strangely. Everywhere I look I’m reminded of the deep shit I’m in.
But when I spot my boss, that’s when my stomach drops. The harsh
reality of everything hits me full force.
Otis jogs up to me, his hands grip my biceps as he looks up and
down my frame. “Are you all right?” And he tugs me into a quick hug
then shifts back to examine the charred remnants of the King yacht.
“What happened?”
My eyes immediately snap to Morgan. She’s been lurking nearby,
presumably to remind me she can set my world on fire and stick
around to watch the smoke clear since she’s untouchable.
“I don’t know.” One minute, I was helping a drunken girl to my
truck to get her home safely. Then in a split-second, the fire was
raging. “She did it. That’s all I know,” I mumble as newly arrived
Coach King approaches.
“Cade, are you okay?” He glances to his ruined vessel. “What
happened?”
Morgan stands just behind him. A I-dare-you-to-tell-him look on
her face. But I won’t. She will. “Ask your daughter.”
Coach doesn’t bother to look at her evil sneer. “I’d rather hear
your version first.”
Wow. It hasn’t escaped my notice that he’s yet to check on her
or speak to her at all. And I’m sure this is only going to fuel her
rage, towards him and me.
“She did it,” I utter and seal my fate. I won’t take the fall for her.
“Oh, Cade.” She rolls her eyes and laughs. “You can’t be that
drunk.”
“That’s enough,” Coach shouts at his daughter, then turns back to
me. “Just get some sleep. We’ll get all this figured out tomorrow
when everyone has had time to think about their actions. I’m just
thankful no one was injured.” He nods to Otis, gives me a quick pat
on the shoulder, then steps to Morgan. Without speaking, he hooks
his fingers around her elbow and hauls her along with him. Instead
of being fearful of the consequences of her actions, she just looks
over her shoulder and gives me a smirk. She truly is psychotic.
2
 MORGAN

Dad has been surprisingly quiet on the ride home. And it’s not
shocking when he remains silent as we step into the house. What
does throw me off for a second is the sudden fury that he unleashes
as soon as the door shuts behind him. His continuous shouts boom
through the house. “What the fuck were you thinking? Do you know
what could’ve happened? How bad Cade could’ve been hurt?”
Laughing is probably not the wisest decision given Dad’s
escalated anger, but it’s all I’ve got in response to how bad Cade
could’ve been hurt. “Oh, don’t worry, Dad. I’d never hurt your star
player. I know I’m supposed to be taking care of him.”
His hand grips my arm, snatching me forward as he gets in my
face. “You think this is a fucking joke?”
My teeth bite harder as I attempt to hold in my response at the
sight of his anger. But the harder his fingers dig into my skin, the
more my anger grows. Fuck it. “I think your obsession with Cade is
the real joke.”
The grip on my arm is gone. In an instant, his hand connects
with my cheek, the sting remaining as I keep a fixed glare on him
and fight against the water forming in my eyes. But it’s not tears. I
don’t even have the want to cry. My dad just slapped me, and it
stings less than his words ever have. Much less than watching him
punch my brother in the gut.
His reddened face is in mine as he grits out, “Are you done
now?”
 No. I’m not.
I didn’t expect remorse. Us Kings don’t want forgiveness, we
want blood.
“Am I?” I ask, keeping my voice as steady as possible as I try to
brace for another hit. I can take it. Especially now that I know for a
fact this won’t put a target on Ryder. Because that was the best part
of this plan—giving both my dad and Cade a little payback at the
same time. Though it’s totally obvious that Dad cares much more
about his MVP than his damn boat. “Or does my pimp need me to
service another one of his players tonight?”
He keeps his hands at his sides, his face in mine. “You’re not
even good at that.”
I never know when to stop, and I’m not about to figure it out
now. “Really? I thought the video showed otherwise.”
“Shut up.” He snatches my arm, slinging me to the side as I
stumble a step before gaining my footing. Then I watch him walk
away. Wow. I figured he’d stay and fight for a little while. That’s
what I would’ve done. So, it’s clear which of us is really the pathetic
one. Him.
Walking upstairs to my room, I resist the urge to raise my hand
to my still throbbing cheek. I want the pain. It’s real. And reminds
me of exactly how much more I still have left to do. Once I’m inside
my bedroom, I close the door and take out my phone, swiping the
notification for a message from Warren. Let me know if you need
anything else.
Dumbass. He’s way too excited to commit a felony and wants
nothing in return but to torment Cade. But hey, can’t complain
because Cade never saw it coming.
There’s a quick knock on my bedroom door before it swings
open. “Did you do it?” Ryder’s troubled expression tells me he
already knows the answer to his question.
“Why? Wanted to roast marshmallows or something?”
Ryder peeks over his shoulder then quickly steps in my room,
shuts the door behind him, and moves in front of me. “Morgan,
seriously? You can’t do stuff like that. Someone could get hurt.”
 A snicker leaves my mouth as I tighten my jaw. “Yeah, like
precious Cade Crawford.”
Silence. He’s studying me. And the longer he does, the more my
unease grows.
“I need to shower.” And get the hell out of this room. Because
Ryder has a way of reading my mind. And right now, I don’t even
like my own pathetic thoughts. Anger and hatred are emotions I can
latch onto. I need those, actually. But sadness and pity, fuck no.
Ryder won’t simply leave me alone and has to pry deeper before
I’m in the serenity of my en suite bathroom. “Did he do that?”
I take in a long, deep inhale before I turn and face him. And tell
him the truth. “I did it. And I’d do it again just to see him squirm for
a second thinking his stupid state title and precious QB all went up
in flames.”
Ryder breaks eye contact, his hands rub over his face before his
sight is set back on me. “You’re almost out of here, Morgan. Just
stay away from Dad. If not for yourself, do it for me. Please.”
Next year, with any luck, I won’t be in this house. But Ryder will
be. He’ll have another school year left and be alone within these
walls. With Dad. That thought had never bothered me before I
watched Dad punch him. And now that I know our father has no
problem hitting either of his offspring, it scares me to think of what
could happen.
“And what about you?” Ryder doesn’t respond. Stepping to him, I
tell him, “I’m not leaving this house until you do. So, either you’re
coming with me next year or I’m staying.”
“You can’t stay here any longer than you have to.”
“Then the decision is made. You’re coming with me.”
“He’ll never allow.” Ryder shakes his head. “Because it won’t look
good to his buddies if both his kids haul ass out of here.”
“I don’t give a fuck. It’s not up to him.”
“I appreciate your big sister protective instinct, but you’re gonna
make it worse.” He lowers his voice. “You know, like by setting his
yacht on fire.”
“Eh. He wasn’t even mad about the damn thing being roasted.
Kind of disappointing in a way.”
 “Oh my gosh.” Ryder steps back. “You’ve perfected the talent of
pissing people off, Morgan, but for once, give it a rest. Please. At
least with Dad.”
Yeah. I can’t agree to that. “Stop worrying about me. I’ve also
perfected the talent of handling myself.”
“Then why are you trying to get away from me so fast?”
Damn it. “Because you’re a pain in the ass.”
I close the bathroom door before he can say anything else or ask
me to derail my plans again. Because I’m not done.
3
 CADE

I don’t know what’s worse, the burned coffee smell or the oil stench
that’s mixed with it. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Only now,
she’s taken a part of that away too. There are a few employees
around getting their day started, and each of them are giving me a
look. It’s obvious. They know. Or at least they think they know what
happened. Either way, it’s hard to miss the charred yacht down the
dock.
“Cade,” I hear Otis say my name and immediately stand out of
the chair as he moves to the opposite side of his desk. “What are
you doing here?” He glances at his watch. “Shouldn’t you be at
school?”
Yes. But there’s no way I could sit idle in a desk all day without
seeing my boss first. “I wanted to talk to you. To explain.”
Otis holds his hands up, his face sullen. “No need. I know you
wouldn’t do anything reckless.”
Wow. What a freaking relief. My legs feel weak as I drop into the
chair, my hands covering my face as I let out a long exhale. “Thank
you.”
“Cade.” I don’t like the tone I hear, and when I see his tight
expression, all the relief I had vanishes. And his words confirm what
I guessed. “Even with that said, I can’t keep you on board.”
“I need this job. Not just this job, I need this place.”
Otis gives me a sympathetic look. “I get it. I do.” He glances
around as he says, “This ole place really is an oasis.” Once he looks
back to me, he continues, “And it won’t be the same without you
around. I’ll make sure the records show you left on good terms, but
that’s about the best I can do.”
“That’s it? No trial? No explanation?” Even witches got a trial. Not
that they were fair and balanced, no presumed innocence back then,
but at least they had the opportunity (no matter how shallow) to
defend themselves.
“Coach isn’t going to push the issue, but part of that
arrangement was you no longer work here and focus one hundred
percent on football.”
One hundred percent football. She did it. That was her goal,
right? She doesn’t want to take football from me. She wants football
to be the only thing I have left—something I don’t even want—so
I’m as miserable as she is. But she won. She always does.
I stare at Otis in disbelief. Coach bargaining doesn’t surprise me.
But it feels like Otis sold me out and handed my soul to the devil.
And even so … I can’t blame him. This place is still his oasis. Not
mine. “What about after football?” Will I still be in one piece by
then? Not if Morgan King has any say-so I’m guessing.
“Just focus on the season and school. Then we’ll take it from
there. But the record will show you resigned on good terms.”
I think he’s wanting to sound hopeful, but I’m not. I know this is
it. “Thanks.” When I shove off the chair, I don’t look back to him
until he calls my name. I hesitate a second before I look over my
shoulder.
He keeps a warm smile as he says, “Take care of yourself, my
boy.”
I nod. That’s all I can do. Not because I’m about to get upset.
Something very different. Anger. That’s all I feel in this moment. She
did it. She took everything. Everything except football of course. And
there’s a part of me enjoying being back on the gridiron. But it won’t
be long before she ruins that too. Because that’s what Morgan King
does—ruins everything and everyone in her path.
4
 MORGAN

“Where’s Crawford?” Topher drops to the seat across from me. I

keep my eyes on my phone, ignoring him as best I can, though I
feel him hovering around.
“Hello. Morgan. I need to talk to him, like yesterday.” Topher
catches my attention with that.
Dropping my phone to the table, I recline back and watch as he
bites into a burrito. Obviously, whatever is so urgent hasn’t made
him lose his appetite. “About what?”
That’s when he stops chewing, his eyes quickly glance around
the café. “Nothing.”
“You sure need to find him quickly to discuss nothing.” I tilt my
head to the side and stare past Topher to where he keeps eyeing but
don’t spot anyone or anything out of place.
He quickly drops the burrito to his plate, swiping his hands
against each other. “Look. I just need to do some damage control
before things get out of hand and the entire season is shot.”
I laugh at the damage control part. “I doubt you can handle all
the damage that has been done.” And I’m not only talking about the
damn yacht. There’s too much history between us. Too many
moments where we could’ve chosen differently but made it a point
to make the other suffer. And thankfully, it’s not over yet. “But I’d
guess he’s hiding out in his brother’s classroom.” That’s usually his
go-to when he’s being a scared little dick.
 “Thanks,” Topher says, leaving his plate behind as he jogs out of
the café.
“What’d you do now?” Ava motions to Topher as she sits beside
me leaving an open chair between us.
“Just helping out a friend.” I smile at Ava then pick up my phone.
I need something to distract my mind. Because as much as I want to
focus on the bullshit with Cade, the thing that keeps replaying in my
mind is last night when Dad’s hand slapped across my face. And
every time I think about it, the angrier I get. And the more I want to
push his buttons again. After all, that’s the only scenario where he
has the time of day for me. When he’s slapping me across the face.
“What’s your problem?” Ava asks, breaking me out of my
thoughts.
“I don’t have a problem.” I look to her. “Or at least not one I
can’t handle. How’s Lenny? You never told me what he said—your
pussy or mine?”
Her eyes quickly dart away as she blinks, making it obvious she’s
fighting back tears. “Stop, Morgan. I don’t even care about him. I
just want to know why my best friend wants to hurt me so bad.”
I take a few seconds to watch her. Yeah, we call each other best
friend, but we’re far from it. And I don’t believe for one second she
isn’t still hung up on Lenny’s pathetic dick. Why else would she have
put up with him this long? “So, you broke up with him?”
She shakes her head. “But I plan to. I just want to give him a
little payback before I dump his ass.”
Now that I can get on board with, but I doubt Ava has the
backbone to do it to him—the payback or the breaking-up part.
Because she’s been obsessed with the dude since elementary. She
just makes this too easy. “Sounds fun. Too bad though. Because he’d
actually have to give a fuck about you to feel any payback.” I stand,
grabbing my bag as I watch her turn her face away, and I’m almost
certain she’s crying. But I still have to add one more thing. Stepping
behind her, I bend down and whisper in her ear, “He did say he’d
rather watch me than fuck you. So anytime you need some tips,
you’re welcome to watch too.”
 “I hate you,” Ava whispers, her hand swiping at her face as she
avoids looking at me.
“Good. See ya later, bestie.” I snicker before I walk out of the
café. At least I was able to make one person miserable today. Surely,
I can do better than that though, because Cade is right; misery loves
company, and I’m miserable as fuck right now.
5
 CADE

Topher practically falls through the doorway before he slams the

door closed. “Bruh, finally. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.
Morgan said you’d be here.”
Great. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since she set the
damn yacht on fire and she’s already back on her game. “Get the
fuck outta here.”
He looks shocked but doesn’t make a move to go back the way
he came. Instead, he moves closer, raising his hands with his palms
to me. “Man, just hear me out.”
I watch him for a second before I say, “No. I can’t deal with her
shit right now.”
“Her shit?” Topher waves his hands quickly, moving to the desk
next to me. “I’m not here because of Morgan. She only told me
where you’d be hiding out.”
“Noted.” Not that it’s hard to figure out, but I really should find
somewhere she can’t send her minions after me. There’s one place
she won’t look for me, but the thought of it is too painful. And not
exactly accessible for hiding out at lunchtime.
When I stand and walk towards the door, Topher moves into my
path a few feet in front of me. “It’s about Neil.”
That stops me. Every muscle in my body freezes in place except
my fist. That particular appendage clenches at my side. “What about
him?”
 Topher’s eyes drop to my fist as he shakes his head. “I had
nothing to do with it. I swear. I just found out what happened. I’m
so sorry.”
“Doesn’t changed that it happened.”
His chin drops to his chest as his hand moves over his face. “No,
it doesn’t.”
I don’t know if he’s a good actor or actually sincere, but he looks
like he feels bad for Neil when he finally lifts his face to me. “I
would’ve stopped them. I know I’ve done some shit in the past to
him, but I meant what I said. He’s one of us.”
“Even if he wasn’t, that doesn’t make it okay to fuck with him.”
“You’re right.” Topher sits in the seat nearest to him, elbows on
the desk. “And I’m sorry for what I did to Neil. He’s actually a pretty
funny dude.” Topher lets out a chuckle, but it just rubs me the wrong
way.
“Yeah. And he’s better than this bullshit.”
When I go to leave, Topher asks, “What’re you gonna do?”
“Nothing.” The word is one of the most painful I’ve ever spoken.
Every time I see Lenny and the other fuckers it gets worse. Keeping
my promise to Neil means keeping my mouth closed, and that’s the
only thing keeping me on track. But how long can I manage it? They
have a recording of his humiliation. They’re threatening to release it
if he doesn’t walk around and pretend like nothing’s transpired. How
can he when I can’t even do that, and it didn’t happen to me?
Topher still looks concerned as he asks, “What about ball?”
It’s my turn to chuckle. That’s all he’s worried about, if I’m gonna
stay on my leash and keep on playing. “I don’t know.” And that’s the
honest truth. Because every time I think of stepping on the field with
my teammates, my rage amplifies. I’d give up every single win for
the rest of the season just to kick their asses. But instead, I have to
play alongside them for the rest of the season. They’re not my team
and never will be.
“They won’t touch him again. I made sure of it.” Topher sounds
certain, but I’m not convinced, and he figures that out and adds, “I
have some shit on every one of them that they don’t want to get
out. Like prison-with-no-yard-time shit, so they know to stay away
from Neil.”
Blackmail. That’s how everyone gets things done around here.
But I’m thankful there’s at least a chance they’ll leave Neil alone.
“That’s great. But it doesn’t change what they did to him.” And what
I want to do to them. Prison time doesn’t sound so bad right now. At
least there’d be no blonde vixen lingering nearby.
“Agreed.”
“What do you have on them?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t out them. But that doesn’t mean I’ll
let them keep being dicks.”
He doesn’t trust me, and I don’t trust him. And he’s still
protecting his buddies, including Morgan. “I’ll handle it.”
Topher follows me out of the classroom. “Let me help. I want to.”
But it’s the bitch propped against the lockers that has my
undivided attention right now. She’s everywhere. Everything revolves
around her. I hold my hand up, signaling Topher to stop talking.
“Thanks, but I got it,” I say, leaving him to stand behind me before
continuing down the hallway.
If there’s one thing I know, it’s that I can’t trust anyone who
steps out on that field with me or anyone connected to her.
6
 MORGAN

“Can you please talk to him, Morgan? I swear I didn’t know,” Topher
begs, which isn’t something he does often, so now I’m really
intrigued.
“Know about what?”
He shifts awkwardly, breaking eye contact as he moves next to
me and places his back against the locker. He doesn’t trust me. He’s
one of the smart ones. But he’ll give me what I want like they all do.
“Fine. But I can’t help if I don’t know what the fucking problem is.”
As soon as I turn away from him, he starts to spill the
information. “Lenny. He’s the fucking problem.”
I look back to him, my hand on my hip as I agree with the
obvious. “Yeah. Now tell me something I don’t know.”
“Do you know what he did? To Neil I mean.” I give him my best
just-fucking-tell-me expression, so he continues. “He made him eat
some cockroaches and humiliated him. Savannah didn’t tell you?”
That’s what I took credit for. “Not all the details.”
“I didn’t want to know them, but Lenny was bragging about it
when I said Cade didn’t show for practice yesterday. And apparently
there was a boat fire at the marina where he works. Did you hear
about that?”
“Yeah. I heard.”
“We need Crawford to have a winning season. He’ll listen to you.
Talk to him, and I’ll handle Lenny.” Topher holds his hands together
like he is praying and steps closer. “Please. I’m sure your dad would
be grateful if you talked Cade into staying on the team, too, right?”
“True. I’ll talk to Cade for my dad.” But not how Topher thinks.
Dad wants Cade to play more than anything. Maybe I’m going about
this all wrong. I can still make Cade miserable and get the ultimate
stab at my dad.
Topher pulls me into a bear hug and kisses my forehead. “Thanks
so much. I owe you one.”
Before I can respond, Topher is jogging away and disappears
down the hallway. I turn to look in the direction Cade had walked in.
He wasn’t heading to his next class (which I know is in the opposite
direction) because that path only leads to one place—the student
lot. He’s leaving campus. Sounds like a plan to me.
So, I do the same. Grab my things and head out. Only when I
get to the parking lot, I notice the beat-up truck in its assigned spot.
He’s still here somewhere. My guess would be the cemetery since I
highly doubt he’s headed to the football field being that he’s so pissy.
I toss my bag in my car, then walk to the cemetery.
Score. He’s sitting on the steps of one of the larger mausoleums,
his head down, arms propped on his knees. “I can’t do this right
now.”
His defeated tone pleases me way too much. “Aw, poor baby has
had enough.”
He doesn’t respond with anything but an angry look my way. And
that’s when I offer something I never thought I would before. “Then
quit. Tell my dad you’re done. And you’ll never have to do this”—I
motion between us—“again.”
He laughs, his head shaking as he drops back against the stone.
“Yeah. Making a deal with the devil herself will make my life so much
easier.”
“It will. Cross my heart.” I make the dramatic movement of
drawing an X over my chest as he looks back to me.
His hands shove against the step as he stands and moves in front
of me. “You’d have to actually have a heart for that to work.” And
then he turns to walk away.
 I’m curious. “Or maybe you don’t want me to leave you alone?
After all, you claim you don’t even want to play, but you’re putting
up with hell.” That catches his attention a little too good, because
before I can react, he’s in front of me, my back hitting a stone wall
as he slams his hands on either side of my head and leans forward.
“I did it for my brother initially. But now, I’m only playing
because I know how much you hate it. And that’s the only thing I
want from you. To make you as miserable as you make me.” He
pauses for a few seconds, his breathing increasing as his eyes stay
locked with mine.
A smile spreads across my lips as his eyes drop to my mouth.
“You really didn’t enjoy yourself at all?” I know he did, so I move my
lips next to his ear. “That’s what you hate,” I whisper. “You want to
hate me, but you really hate yourself because, even now, you still
want me.”
His hands grip my biceps as he holds me away from him, my
back pressed against the hard stone. “No. I want you to get the fuck
away from me and keep your boy away from Neil.”
“Oh my God, you act like I fed him the damn bugs.” His grip
tightens as his anger grows, his face in mine.
“You didn’t have to, but it’s still your fault. It all goes back to you.
Because of your little mindfuck with Lenny, he left and terrorized my
best friend. Someone I actually care about. Because of you.”
Damn. This is too easy. “Blame me if it makes you feel better, but
you put him at the top of their list when you joined the team.”
He releases me, his hands pulling at his hair as he shouts out a
few curses. “You’re a fucking psycho, Morgan. I know you hate me,
your dad, and humanity in general. But what the fuck? You blow up
a yacht just to get back at me because I pissed you off?”
“And the best part is you still want me, psycho and all.” I grin as
I ask him. “So, what does that make you?”
“A fucking idiot.” He turns and starts to walk away. He didn’t deny
my assumption. Not that he could anyway. I know he still wants
more and will eventually let himself have it. But I’m getting tired of
him walking away from me. He’s done when I say he’s done.
 “See you on the field, Crawford.” I see the muscles in his back
tense as I add. “Unless you end up like the last QB.”
He stops and looks to me. “What the hell is that supposed to
mean?”
“I would tell you, but you wouldn’t believe me anyway since I’m
such a lying psycho and all. But take my advice … don’t turn your
back to anyone.”
He tries to play off his paranoia, but I see it in his tense posture
even as he says, “Just grab the knife out my back while you’re
there.”
And now I’m not sure if I’m happy or annoyed that he doesn’t
just quit the team and let Dad go directly into panic mode. But when
Cade lifts his hand, his index finger up before quickly switching to
his middle finger and circling in the air, I decide instantly I’m glad
he’s chosen to step onto the field again. Because now, everything
that comes his way is solely by his doing. Dad’s agony can wait.
Bringing Cade Crawford to his knees once and for all will be the
ultimate gratification. I need him to experience that same pain that I
felt in the moment I hit my knees. When I realized he’d left me
when I needed him the most. And that is how he deserves to feel—
empty, hopeless, worthless, and fuckin’ pathetic.
Those feelings are still too familiar. And I don’t want them,
especially from him again. A surge of rage runs through me as I
close my hand. My nails dig into my palm as I focus on that pain and
push out the feelings that are rising with the miserable memory I’ve
worked hard to never think of again. The moment that changed
everything that summer. Changed me so completely. The one Cade
wasn’t anywhere around for.
7
 CADE

“You ready?” Topher asks as he plops down on the bench beside me.
I nod, my sight locked on the mascot painted on the far wall of
Oakwood’s visiting team’s locker room, not a subtle mindfuck. And I
appreciate that. Just painting their message loud and clear instead
of lurking in the shadows … like a beast named Morgan has done all
week. She’s barely spoken a word to me, and I should be happy
about it. But I’m not. Again. I need her in my face, clawing my eyes
out, so I know where to situate my defense. I can’t handle a silent
predator. I need the screaming psycho. I’ve already been looking
over my shoulder way too often, waiting for her to stab me or set
something else on fire. Her simmering down her crazy won’t last. If
anything, holding back will only heighten her level of batshit crazy
when she does release it.
“Dude, did you hear me?” Topher breaks through my twisted
thoughts as I shake my head. “I said thanks for staying on the team.
I really need this more than you know.” There’s something almost
desperate about how he says it. And I get that. He’s played his
entire life and has planned for this, wanted this. Unlike me. I don’t
know what I want. Besides staying here to drive her crazy. I knew
she wouldn’t leave me alone even if I quit the team. But if I’m
honest with myself—and I haven’t been much lately—I want to be
on the field. Winning, being good, scoring and executing the plays,
it’s all making me feel good. And it almost feels like a “Fuck you, I’m
better off without you” to Morgan and my mom.
 “Hey, Neil,” Topher calls across the room, waving him over. Neil
gives me a nervous look, and it reminds me of why I shouldn’t have
stepped onto the field in the first place. Fuckin’ Morgan. She even
got to me because I was thinking maybe if I hadn’t played, Neil
wouldn’t be scarred for life. Yeah, he’s slowly getting back to himself,
but every so often, I see the horror on his face, he’s gotta be
wondering what’s coming next. He relaxes a bit when Topher says,
“Party at my house tomorrow night. You’d better be there.”
Neil gives me an anxious glance before saying, “I don’t know.
Maybe.”
That’s a big “no thanks” in Neil language, and apparently even
Topher knows that because he adds, “Come on, man. I need you
there.” Topher looks to me. “Both of you. Just come by and let’s
hang out. I’ll show you—things will be better. Nothing bad will
happen on my watch.”
Neil gives Topher a half smile before reluctantly agreeing, but I’m
not sure he’s fully on board yet. I know I’m not. And one of the
reasons is clear as Lenny walks past us.
“Yo, Neily, can you get me some water? My throat’s kinda
scratchy.” Lenny makes a crawling motion with his hand.
Motherfucker. I shove off the bench. “I’m gonna cut your fucking
throat if you don’t back the fuck off.”
“Oh, a threat.” Lenny laughs. “Maybe I should get it on video in
case I need proof.”
Another dig at Neil, reminding him that his most humiliating
moment was recorded. And he’s dangling the footage over his head.
When I attempt to go after Lenny, with plans of smashing my fist
into his face as hard as I can, I don’t get the chance because Topher
is up, his hands shoving my chest to keep me back as he yells at
Lenny, “That’s enough.”
“Oh, come on.” Lenny pouts and throws his hands in the air. “Any
other time you’d be the main instigator in this. What the fuck
happened to you, Toph, to make you defend the bitch boy like
Crawford does?”
Topher looks over his shoulder, his voice low and stern as he
says, “Last fucking warning or I’m done.”
 Something gets through and Lenny’s self-preservation kicks in.
He finally gives me one more smart-ass smirk before focusing back
to Topher as he takes a few steps back. “You picked your side, man.
Don’t forget that.”
“There’re no fucking sides here, dumbass,” Topher yells, his back
to me as he throws his hands up to Lenny. “We’re all on the same
team.”
Lenny saunters out of the locker room a few seconds later when
Coach calls him out to the hallway. But that doesn’t release the
tension from my fist that still aches to connect with that bastard’s
mouth.
“I made him delete the video, I swear,” Topher tells Neil. “He’s
just being a dick because he’s had a hard-on for Morgan and
Savannah forever, and neither would ever give him the time of day.”
Her name is enough to make me cringe. I can relate to having a
hard-on for her, but that doesn’t make me a complete ass to
everyone else.
“I need to get everything set for the game.” Neil hurries off and
it’s a good thing, because I have no clue what to say to make him
feel better. But I don’t know why Topher is all of a sudden Team Neil
when it wasn’t long ago I’d wanted to fight him for tormenting Neil.
“What’s your play? I’m not buying all this ‘we’re a team’ bullshit is
coming solely out of the kindness of your heart.” I watch as he takes
a seat on the bench, his elbows on his thighs as he says, “My little
brother—that’s what changed. He came home from school crying
with a busted lip and bruised eye—some bastard’s been picking on
him.”
Ah. Makes sense. If he’s telling the truth. I don’t trust any of
these fuckers, but I do know he has a younger brother in grade
school.
And Topher keeps trying to mount his defense. “Besides, I’m
tired of this shit. I just want to get my scholarship and get the hell
away from here.”
“Scholarship?” Since when does Topher Fontenot need help with
tuition? He realizes he’s revealed more than intended, and his
shocked expression is still in place as he takes a quick glance around
to see if a bystander has heard. “I’m trusting you, Cade. This isn’t
something anyone else at school knows, so I’ll know if it gets out.”
He hesitates for a few seconds as he lowers his voice. “My dad lost
his practice.” Topher takes another look for anyone in earshot before
he continues, “Everything. He was embezzling from a few of his
clients, and apparently he crossed the wrong one.”
“I get it.” A little too well. My family never could keep up with the
other families in town, but we weren’t hurting. Then dad lost it all.
Who would’ve ever thought in a million years that I would be sitting
here with Topher relating to his family BS and actually sympathizing
with the guy.
He stands and goes to walk away before he tells me, “Please
come to the party. Savannah really wants to make things right with
Neil. Besides, it’ll probably be one of the last parties at my place
before the bank takes it.”
I think he’s telling the truth, but I’ve been burned too many
times before. “If you’re setting him up, a losing season will be your
last worry.”
“I wouldn’t trust me either, but I’m good for it. I’m done with this
high school bullshit.”
Morgan flashes across my mind. “You and me both.” But it’s her
warning about the old QB that still bothers me. “Hey.” I catch Topher
before he takes off. “What happened with Fabian?”
“Shoulder injury and no hopes to ever play again.”
“Yeah. I heard. But is there more to the story?” There always is
when Morgan King’s involved. And when Topher shifts uncomfortably
and breaks eye contact, I know he’s aware of the rest of the story
even as he denies it. “Just a gruesome accident that I wouldn’t wish
on anyone.”
So, he either doesn’t trust me or doesn’t want to betray her.
Neither sits well with me, but I understand both.
8
 MORGAN

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask my brother, who’s been
pouting all damn day. Even though we’re on our way to Topher’s,
he’s being more of a sourpuss.
Ryder fidgets in the passenger seat and turns his body to face
out the window. I hate the silent treatment, particularly from him.
Because that’s when something is truly bothering him. And I have
two good guesses about his problem. “Is it Dad or Harrison?”
“Just drive, Morgan.” Damn. He’s not mad, he sounds sad.
“I am driving. And we still have plenty of time until we’re there.”
Fucking Topher insisted on having the party at his house. How he
drives this every morning to Saint Juliet, I don’t freakin’ know. Even
after crossing the river, it’s still another twenty-minute drive in the
pitch-ass-dark backwoods. But at least Ryder is stuck in the car with
me for a while. “You know I’m not gonna give up, so save us both
the headache and just tell me.”
He curses me under his breath but spares me a lot of effort as he
confesses, “It’s both. First, it was the damn game. So, I went to it
because Harrison wanted to. Now, it’s the damn workshop at New
Acadia U. Dad invited him, and he’s drooling over the prospect of
being on campus and getting a special pass. Dad used him to get to
me, and he’s using me to get Dad’s special NAU hookup.”
Fuck. After everything with Dad, I get why Ryder is upset he’s
involved in any way. But I don’t think Harrison is using him. “The
guy has full rides to his choice schools. He doesn’t need you to get
him a special pass, Ryder.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I really don’t. All I know is you’re letting Dad screw up
something that has made you happier than I’ve ever seen you. And
again, Harrison has options, both academic and fuckable. He doesn’t
need you to secure his prospects.”
“Harrison doesn’t know. He thinks Dad is this great legend who
loves the game. He doesn’t know what a piece of shit he really is.”
“Then tell him.”
“No, then he’ll pity me.”
“Oh my fuckin’ God. Then stop being a whiny bitch and don’t tell
him. But get out of this bitchy mood.”
“Yeah. Look who’s talking.” He gives a condescending laugh as he
motions to me.
“Exactly. I’m bitchy enough for the both of us so get over it.”
“You should take your own advice. Just get over it.”
Ryder is right about a lot of stuff. But that doesn’t mean I’m
going to follow his tip to take my own advice. “Fuck forgiveness.
Fuck moving on. And fuck letting things go.”
“Okay, Morgan. Because you being a raging bitch is gonna help
so much.”
“It helps me feel better.”
“If this is you feeling better, then I’m really concerned.” Ryder
pauses for a second and I know I’m going to hate whatever he’s
about to say. “You know Dad’s gonna get exactly what he wants,
right? That stupid state title will be his.” Ryder faces away and stares
out the passenger window. “And he’ll still be a miserable son of a
bitch.”
“Yeah. I guessed as much.” After the easy win last night against
Oakwood, I realized Cade wasn’t simply experiencing beginner’s
luck. The jackass truly has a gift for the sport. The kind of gift my
dad was so disappointed the universe didn’t bestow upon my
brother.
“But I guess it’s a good thing. The more he focuses on the game,
the less he gives a fuck what I’m doing. Most of the time.” His tone
makes it sound like anything but a good thing.
“Just talk to Harrison and tell him why you don’t want to go. He’ll
understand.”
Ryder lets out a sigh. “And if he doesn’t?”
“Then tell him to fuck off. Simple as that.”
“Yeah. Sure. Simple.”
After that, he’s silent for the remainder of the ride until we finally
pull into the drive of Topher’s house. The front yard is lined with
vehicles everywhere, but I find a spot to park finally. There’s already
a bonfire going in the back field, providing the main source of light.
Ryder gives me a concerned look. “I’d ask if that was your work,
but you were with me.”
“Ha-ha, jackass. I prefer to leave more of an impression with my
displays.”
He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have said anything, because I
really don’t want to hear this. The less incriminating info I have, the
better.”
“Agreed.”
He bails out of my car, and I follow behind as we walk around to
the back side of the house. The patio is packed with drunken
morons, and the pool is even more crowded. From the turnout, I’d
say Topher invited every person within driving distance and maybe a
few more. Speaking of the party host, I see him stumbling over,
looking a bit more wasted than usual.
“Morgan, my girl!” He pulls me into a hug and places a slobbery
kiss on my forehead. Immediately, I push at his damp skin to get
him away from me.
“What the fuck, Topher?” I wipe my palms against my jean shorts
as the intoxicated and clueless fool places a hand on my shoulder.
“Thank you so much for talking Crawford into staying on the team.”
“I didn’t. I wanted him to quit.” That wipes the goofy smile off his
face as his expression morphs into shock.
He anxiously looks around. “You did what?”
“Don’t worry. He didn’t go for it. Your precious QB isn’t going
anywhere yet.”
 Topher sways a bit, staring towards the bonfire before making his
best attempt to focus on me. “Don’t do anything crazy.” He holds up
his hands. “I know that’s asking a lot, but I promised him and Neil
everything would be good.” Topher points to where Neil and
Savannah are standing just beyond the patio, awkward as fuck.
But if Neil is here, that means his bodyguard is too. “Where’s
Cade?”
Topher gives me an uneasy look and remains closed lip for once.
“Oh, come on. Your bitch boy is safe. Besides, how much
damage can I really do when he’s so determined to stay away from
me?”
Topher slaps his hand against his face as he brushes off some
water dripping from his hair. “Ultimate damage. So that really does
not make me feel better. Just leave Neil out of it. Crawford can
handle his own.”
We’ll see. “Agreed. Where is the almighty guardian?”
Topher gives me a pleading look, but he already knows it’s
pointless as he motions towards the fire. “He was over there last
time I saw him.”
I give him a triumphant smile before grabbing a drink and
heading towards the fire.
I hear Topher still shouting, “Seriously. Behave, King.”
What a fucking pipe dream. And Topher knows it, which is why
I’m guessing he continues yelling behind me as I make my way
through the crowd. Neil notices me before Savannah does but
neither break from their awkward-as-fuck conversation while I
search around. I know he’s nearby. If bug boy is here, dipshit isn’t
far away.
Yep. He is. Predictable. That’s for sure. Because I spot him a few
yards back, sitting alone about halfway up the levee. But not for
long. I carefully make my way up the incline as he avoids looking my
way. The flame of the fire gives off enough light for me to make out
his grumpy mug.
“I’d ask if this seat is taken, but even if it was, I’d still sit.” So I
do, dropping beside him in the grass. “You know there’re better
places to hide out.”
 “I’m not hiding.” He finally meets my eyes. “If I was, you
wouldn’t find me.”
I take a drink of beer and look out over the field. People are
everywhere—dancing, having fun, acting carefree, falling down
drunk—while music blares in the background. “Hm. Sounds like a
challenge.” I shove one hand against the ground, stand, then dust
off my shorts. “Bet you can’t find me.”
Cade doesn’t get up and keeps his face turned away from me.
“Bet I won’t try.”
“Is that so?” I take a few steps backwards towards the top of the
levee. “You’d leave me all alone in the dark to fend for myself?”
“You’re more of a threat than anything out there.”
“Maybe. But I guess we’ll find out.”
When I reach the top of the levee, he finally stands and turns to
me. “Cut the shit, Morgan. It’s pitch-black over there.”
“I thought I was the one who was scared of the dark?” I glance
over to the river. Only parts of it are visible, but most is shrouded in
darkness. “Too bad I don’t remember our light signal. You know, just
in case something else is lurking in the dark.”
“Figures. One of your puppets is over there waiting to jump me
or fuck you, I’m guessing.”
“Nope. Just me.” I turn my back to him and walk down the
embankment, my eyes take a few seconds to adjust as I get near
the rocks, but I’m still far enough from the water that I should be
good even if I fall on my ass by mistake. These sandals probably
weren’t the best choice of footwear, but I had no idea I’d be
climbing around the banks of the Mississippi tonight.
Guess I’ll need to add this to the list of things that don’t make
sense. There still is a part of me that fears what I can’t see around
me, but there’s a stronger part that welcomes whatever the fuck
wants to come at me.
“Morgan, get your ass back up here. I’m not coming down there,
and I’m sure as fuck not jumping in the river after you.”
“Ah, that would solve some of your problems if I fell in though.” I
can barely make out his face, but I can tell he’s morphing from being
pissed to paranoid.
 I take a few steps on the rocks and get closer to the water.
“I said come back over here before you get your stupid ass hurt.”
“But I thought you didn’t care, Cade,” I singsong. Balancing on
the rocks, I quickly sit and intentionally toss the bottle, smiling as it
shatters against the stone nearby.
I hear Cade curse, then in a flash, he’s standing over me. All I do
is watch him and smile as his fingers dig into my arms, encouraging
me to stand, but I remain on the ground. “I told your stupid ass not
to come down here.”
Easily, I pull my arm from his grip then sit up. “You also said you
wouldn’t follow me. Yet, here you are.”
And that’s when he realizes there was no need to come help me,
that I’d proved my point. Clearly furious, he spits, “I really hope a
water moccasin bites you on the ass.”
“Eh. I’ll be fine. They’re more scared of us than we are of them,
right?” That’s the bullshit Cade and Ryder used to feed me at camp
when we’d go exploring at night. I hadn’t wanted to go with them,
but I sure as shit wasn’t going to be left behind either.
“Right. They’d probably die from biting your poisonous ass
anyways.” He remains hovering over me for a few seconds before he
huffs then turns to walk away.
And that’s when I do it. That’s when I ask the question I swore
to myself would never leave my lips. “You were there. Weren’t you?
At the camp.”
He stops, his back to me before he slowly rotates. “Yeah. It was
the first place I thought of when I found out my mom was gone and
not coming back. It was our safe place. So, tell me the truth—why
didn’t you show up? Why didn’t you know where I was back then?”
I slowly stand and navigate the rocks until I’m in front of him.
There’re so many things I’d like to say, and none of them are nice,
but not a damn thing will change. “Like I said, I couldn’t get my
head that far up my ass.”
My shoulder hits his as I shove past him and attempt to walk
back up the levee. But before I get to the top, his fingers grasp my
forearm, and he pulls me to him. My palms slam into his chest, the
momentum brings his face to mine. “Bullshit. You’re running. Again.
It still bothers you. That stone heart has a crack in the surface after
all. You actually care about me.”
Motherfucker. Now he wants to have this conversation? Too
fucking late. “I don’t give a fuck about you. Not now, not then.
That’s what made it so easy to forget about you. Just like your own
mommy did.”
His grip tightens on my arm, and he pulls me harder against him.
“Then why are you here, Morgan? Why the fuck do you keep coming
back?”
I try to steady myself before I say, “Because I’m fucking bored.
Making you suffer a little longer while I can gives me something to
do.”
Instead of getting angry like I expect, his lips curve into a grin. Is
he drunk? Hadn’t considered that until now. Until his mouth slams
against mine and his hands grip my hair as he holds me to him. His
tongue devours me like I’m the only thing he wants to taste. I know
the feeling. But right now, there’re too many raw feelings
overpowering my need to get off.
I attempt to push him away, but he loops an arm against my
lower back and keeps me against him. Balling up my fist, I lean back
enough to create some space to pound against his chest. The anger
I felt years ago spills out more than my frustration in this moment.
“Get your fucking hands off of me. Now.”
He doesn’t right away, but eventually, he releases me and takes a
step back. That’s when I can finally take a much-needed deep
breath. Not to calm my anger. But because I feel it—tears are
threatening to start flowing. Fuck. That. He’s not worth crying over.
None of this is.
But he’s not done taking his turn making me feel like shit.
“What’s the problem? Any other time, you’d be begging me to fuck
you.”
“Times change.” I steady myself before I add, “And we both
know there’s no going back.” I stomp past him and question why the
hell I’ve let it get to this point. What the fuck was I thinking? I knew
not to ask that stupid fucking question. But that’s what he does.
Makes me act like a fucking weak-ass bitch.
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monkeys; or, Ninety days in apeland
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Title: The man among the monkeys; or, Ninety days in apeland

Author: Léon Gozlan

Illustrator: Gustave Doré

Release date: May 13, 2022 [eBook #68059]

Language: English

Original publication: United Kingdom: Ward, Lock and Tyler, 1873

Credits: The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at

https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian
Libraries)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN AMONG

THE MONKEYS; OR, NINETY DAYS IN APELAND ***
 THE MAN AMONG THE MONKEYS;
OR,

NINETY DAYS IN APELAND.

THE ADVENTURES OF POLYDORUS MARASQUIN, THE MAN AMONG THE MONKEYS.

 BEETON’S BOY’S OWN LIBRARY.

THE
MAN AMONG THE MONKEYS;
OR,
NINETY DAYS IN APELAND.
TO WHICH ARE ADDED
THE PHILOSOPHER AND HIS MONKEYS,
THE PROFESSOR AND THE CROCODILE,
AND OTHER
STRANGE STORIES OF MEN AND ANIMALS.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS,
MANY OF THEM BY

GUSTAVE DORÉ.

LONDON:
WARD, LOCK, AND TYLER, PATERNOSTER ROW.
1873.
 CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.
Origin of my family name of Marasquin.—Mistake in this
respect on the part of my ambitious Grandfather.—
My Ancestors’ profession honourable, but
dangerous.—Mine the same.—A Tiger deprives me
of my Father, whose Business I carry on.—My
Fondness for Animals, and my skill in stuffing them.
—The terrible Tricks which they play me.—The
Malay Pirates more untamable than my Animals.—
The English Stations founded to destroy them are
devastated by Yellow Fever and something else.—
Vice-Admiral Campbell visits my Menagerie.—The
rare and curious Animals it contained.—Baboons
and Chimpanzees.—Passions and rivalries.—An
Ape as wicked as a Human Being.—My Mother
perishes in the Flames.—I determine on a voyage to
Oceania.—I charter a Chinese Junk, and find it
manned by Pirates.—We encounter a fearful
Tempest Page 9

CHAPTER II.
We are Shipwrecked.—I alone escape.—I find myself on Page 27
an unknown island.—A strange form appears to me
and vanishes.—A deluge of Apes.—I am cudgelled
 with a rattan cane.—Am saved at length by my
cravat.—I am parched with thirst.—I discover water.
—Four thousand of us drink in company.—
Ingenious way of procuring fruit from the top of a tall
tree.—Two valets-de-chambre, such as are seldom
seen in Europe.—I miraculously escape their care

CHAPTER III.
I am attacked with delirium.—I set out on a journey of
discovery in the dead of night.—I encounter a boa,
and a bat with gigantic wings.—I reach the sea
shore.—Simplicity of the oyster; acuteness of the
Ape.—I hoist a signal, and then fall asleep from
sheer exhaustion Page 44

CHAPTER IV.
I have a very agitated dream.—During my waking
moments I unconsciously commit a murder.—At
night time I encounter a strange apparition in the
middle of the forest.—A great light illumines the air.
—I advance towards it, buoyed up with hope.—It
suddenly disappears.—The dawn discloses to me a
most singular sight.—I witness the proceedings of a
court-martial the members composing which have
each four hands.—Disgraceful corruption of justice.
—Ridiculous parody on the manners and institutions
of the human race Page 52

CHAPTER V.
The court-martial breaks up.—I secretly follow the Page 66
members of it.—I distinguish some houses between
the trees, and believe myself to be at last among my
fellow-men.—My hopes are crushed by discovering
the devastated condition of the settlement.—I meet
with Saïmira and Mococo, the latter in captivity.—I
recognise in the president of the court-martial one of
 my two baboons of Macao.—This discovery troubles
me, the more so when I find that Karabouffi’s power
is supreme.—Foreseeing the peril I should be in if
recognised by him, I hide myself in a grotto.—I am
visited by Saïmira.—Weariness becomes at length
more intolerable than danger.—The light already
seen reappears.—I leave my retreat in search of it

CHAPTER VI.
Finding a volcano.—New peril to which I am exposed.—
The merchant is recognised by his old merchandise.
—Three guttural cries.—The living garland.—It
swings to and fro, and then performs a furious
rotatory movement over the crater of a blazing
volcano.—My thoughts at this moment.—I am flung
to the ground, and swoon away.—On recovering, I
am ushered into the presence of Karabouffi the
First, whom I find transformed into a bird.—Monkey
scribes and living telegraphic communication Page 73

CHAPTER VII.
Bell-ringing by the Monkeys.—Disorder in Monkey Villas.
—Hungry, I discover stores.—His Majesty in a jar of
quinces.—Scrambling for Nuts.—Monkeys tipsy.—
Fear of their intoxicated revels.—Night falls as I am
in the midst of a terrible uproar.—I discover candles
and lucifer matches.—The Monkeys find them also.
—Candle dance by the Apes Page 83

CHAPTER VIII.
An energetic pianiste.—Vigorous dancers.—A bevy of Page 91
quadrumanous beauties.—The parasol polka.—
Amatory tomfooleries.—I am compelled to take part
in a new musical air.—Am commanded to climb up
a tall pole.—Am forced to jump through hoops,
 throw somersaults, and cut capers.—Am indebted
to Saïmira for a respite

CHAPTER IX.
I barricade myself in.—I am besieged.—The verandah
becomes a fort.—What I discover at the end of a
forgotten room.—Lord Campbell’s journal.—What
this journal says.—The Malay pirates and the Sultan
of Sooloo.—Three hundred junks.—A formidable
hunt.—Death of a mysterious and colossal mandrill.
—Explanation of the white skeleton.—Torture of a
man compelled to drink nothing but excellent old
wine.—A poignard stuck in the sand.—The last fête
at the station.—How it terminates.—End of an
unfinished journal Page 102

CHAPTER X.
A hundred bottles of champagne not worth a glass of
water.—My clothes leave me.—I commence the
combat.—Great fight of a man against an island full
of apes.—The verandah about to fall.—It does not
last any longer.—A skin saves me Page 118

CHAPTER XI.
Whence this enchanted skin comes.—I owe to it my life
and the crown.—In what manner I govern.—I learn
the fate of the English station Page 127

CHAPTER XII.
Royal happiness troubled by a rent.—I am more and
more adored by my subjects.—A cloud in the sky.—
Sinister preoccupation.—My kingdom for a pair of
trousers!—Supreme joy of being an animal.—My
happiness again troubled.—A fatal tear Page 137

CHAPTER XIII.
Deliverance.—I see my native land again.—O Macao!— Page 144
My immortality
Herr von Schlieffen and His Monkeys 153
The Professor and the Crocodile 175
Tree Life in General, and Monkeys in Particular 195
The Monkey amongst Men, or the House in
Regent’s Park 247
Monkey Legends and Anecdotes 287
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
The Adventures of Polydorus Marasquin, the Man
among the Monkeys Frontispiece
PAGE.
Clouds upon clouds of apes, of all forms, colours, and
sizes, clambering up the trees, rolling themselves
among the branches like squirrels, or taking
possession of the ground about me 30
Quick as lightning, he seized the branch of cane
which I had thrown on the ground, and before I
had time to place myself in a posture of defence,
showered blow after blow on my arms and legs 33
The banks of the lake were covered along their entire
length by those very apes who had so pitilessly
tormented, jeered at, and beaten me 36
While he was speaking, these unfortunate wretches
trembled all over, from head to foot 63
They went to spend their honeymoon in an isolated
spot which I had selected for them 130
After having dug a trench seven feet long, I interred
myself with all possible precautions 132
Covered with my tattered and well-worn skin, but still 147
holding sufficiently together for me to be taken for
 a mandrill
Bonnet and Macaque Monkeys 252
Rhesus Monkey and Young 253
Anubis Baboon 255
Wanderoo Monkey 255
Black-faced Spider Monkey 259
Squirrel 263
Squirrel Monkey, and Tee-Tee 263
Ring-tailed Lemur 266
The Aye-Aye 268
THE MAN AMONG THE
MONKEYS.
 CHAPTER I.
Origin of my family name of Marasquin.—Mistake in this respect on the part of my
ambitious Grandfather.—My Ancestors’ profession honourable, but
dangerous.—Mine the same.—A Tiger deprives me of my Father, whose
Business I carry on.—My Fondness for Animals, and my skill in stuffing them.
—The terrible Tricks which they play me.—The Malay Pirates more untamable
than my Animals.—The English Stations founded to destroy them are
devastated by Yellow Fever and something else.—Vice-Admiral Campbell
visits my Menagerie.—The rare and curious Animals it contained.—Baboons
and Chimpanzees.—Passions and rivalries.—An Ape as wicked as a Human
Being.—My Mother perishes in the Flames.—I determine on a voyage to
Oceania.—I charter a Chinese Junk, and find it manned by Pirates.—We
encounter a fearful Tempest.

I was born at Macao, in China, and am descended from one of those

brave adventurers who, under the leadership of the celebrated
Vasco de Gama, boldly left Lisbon, towards the end of the fifteenth
century, to conquer the Indies.
If I have good reason to congratulate myself on the accuracy of my
pedigree, I have, nevertheless, no plausible grounds for believing
that I am descended from one of those sons of noble families who
were attached by the sole tie of glory to their illustrious chief. My
grandfather, it is true, used sometimes to say that our name of
Marasquin was a corruption of Marascarenhas, one of the greatest
of names among those adventurous Portuguese who followed Vasco
de Gama from the banks of the Tagus to the end of Asia; but I have
always had serious doubts upon this score.
Moreover, my worthy grandfather himself, Nicholas Marasquin,
was to my knowledge never anything more than an industrious
trader, established at Macao. My father, Juan Perez Marasquin, was
pretty much the same. To him I owe this testimony—that the extent
of his ambition, during a lifetime, too short, alas! to my great regret,
was simply to pass for an honest man, a good Christian, and a loyal
bird-fancier.
This, then, was his profession; I do not blush for it, although
certain persons, through ignorance, or actuated by jealousy, have
sought to reduce it to the level of a licensed dealer in game and
poultry.
Even without descending so low as this, it would still be very unfair
to regard the bird-fancier’s profession—which, by the way, became
in later years my own—as restricted to the mere sale of birds, such
as we know it ordinarily to be followed in Europe. My father
possessed in his vast menagerie one of the finest collections of
which the Portuguese Indies could boast, for it comprised not merely
birds, but all kinds of rare and curious animals. Sumatra, Java,
Borneo, New Guinea, were all represented there by specimens of
some of the strangest and most exquisitely formed creatures which
inhabit in their native state the almost impenetrable forests of the
eastern hemisphere. The profession of naturalist, when exercised on
this scale, is really a very lucrative one, for the taste of the European
colonists, and the almost insane passion of the Chinese, for these
interesting products of nature, are matters of notoriety.
To his trade in living animals my father added the art and mystery
of stuffing them when dead, which was not the least lucrative
profession of the two. He had given me lessons in this learned and
delicate art of restoring to defunct birds and quadrupeds not alone
the precise forms but the very attitudes which they affected during
lifetime. Thanks to the counsels of so excellent a demonstrator, I
acquired a remarkable skill in taxidermy; and you will find further on,
if you read through this account of my adventures, that I was
indebted to this useful and beautiful science for my escape from the
tragical end which at one period menaced me.
Our house had prospered for more than a century at Macao. My
father, on succeeding to the collection, added considerably to it, and
thanks to the intelligent care of the good, economical, and devoted
woman he espoused, he managed to raise his establishment to the
very highest position in that particular branch of industry in which he
was engaged.
But if this business yields, as I have already said, such rich
rewards, on the other hand it is attended not only with difficulties, but
with perils as well, as I have had only too many opportunities of
proving. It is carried on under conditions of which most people are
ignorant. It is not sufficient for a dealer in animals to purchase a
bargain, and then to sell it again at a profit. It is requisite that he
should go the length of procuring in a wild state those rarer kinds of
animals which, when obtained, are certain to realise a good price.
Hence the indispensable necessity of being at once both merchant
and hunter, or rather of being first of all hunter before becoming
merchant.
My father used to go himself to hunt most of the animals in which
he dealt—a laborious kind of occupation, which I, in my turn, learnt
to follow, whilst accompanying him on his expeditions—sometimes to
the coast of China—sometimes to the jungles of the Isle of Hainan,
so prolific in wild animals—sometimes as far as Japan, in spite of the
obstacles and perils of a navigation bravely undertaken in barques of
slender construction, spite of the Malay pirates—those veritable
sharks, who swallow everything that crosses their path; and spite of
the cruel punishments which used formerly to await those whom the
Chinese and Japanese chanced to find trespassing on their sacred
territories.
My father was in the habit of bringing back from those distant
expeditions—and later I had the satisfaction of bringing back with
him—panthers, tigers, boas, leopards, and, above all, innumerable
varieties of apes. It was during one of our last hunting expeditions in
the Island of Formosa that my father, assailed by a young tiger,
which he was on the point of enveloping in a net so as to capture it
alive, had half a shoulder and a portion of a thigh carried off by a
blow of the brute’s paw. I had the gratification of defending him and
protecting him from the further rage of the furious creature; and had,
moreover, the satisfaction of carrying him back with me to Macao,
though I had not the happiness of seeing him live. Badly tended by
the doctors of the country, he languished for a couple of years with
wounds which they did not know how to cicatrise, and died at length
after undergoing the most frightful sufferings. Just before he drew his
last breath in my arms, he begged of me not to continue in his
profession. I promised him I would not; but as he had left me nothing
else to live upon and to support my poor mother, and as, to speak
frankly, I had no taste for any other kind of pursuit, I was compelled
to break my promise. You will see from the tale which you are about
to peruse the fearful punishment I brought upon myself by so doing.
I stuck, then, to my father’s business, and, in order to prove to the
valuable connection acquired by long years of good and loyal
management how anxious I was to carry it on with energy, I
increased the number of my examples of rare animals, and sent afar
experienced hunters charged to bring back with them, to the
latitudes of the Indies, specimens hitherto unknown. Being satisfied
by long experience that luxury dazzled the eye, and consequently
attracted the attention of buyers, I set to work to renovate the interior
of my bazaar. Bronze and gilding were had recourse to, to relieve the
too apparent simplicity of my cages. An English cleanliness reigned
throughout all parts of the establishment, which, in the evening, I
lighted up with gas, a dazzling novelty in those days for Macao.
Here I ought to mention a singular trait in my character. I was
remarkably fond of animals at first, by reason of my benevolent
organisation; afterwards, as a natural result of the unremitting study
which I had been obliged to make of their forms, features,
movements, customs, manners, instincts, passions, and intelligence;
their sympathies and antipathies; their caprices, maladies, and
affinity, more or less expressed with man, with a thousand other
attributes essentially belonging to their nature, which is perhaps still
more obscure and mysterious than our own.
I had pushed my observations so far on those particular beings
with whom it is now-a-days maintained we have a certain affinity, that
I could easily recognise among them those whose instinctive
dispositions corresponded in a measure with our own, and who
would have become, for example, barristers, if any such profession
as that of the Bar existed amongst apes, for they were always
gesticulating, haranguing, and arguing. I recognised again such as
would have been doctors, among those who were continually
occupying themselves with the physical condition of their fellows,
examining their tongues, their throats, and the inside of their eyes;
others who would certainly have become comedians, for they were
perpetually making grimaces, and playing and dancing from morning
to night; others again who would have made first-rate astronomers,
for they invariably arranged themselves so as to have the sun
always shining on the tips of their noses. I recognised, moreover,
with a similar infallibility, those who possessed a taste for commerce,
apes who made a point of collecting together all the fruit and corn
which fell from the negligent hands of their fellows, and of piling it up
in a corner. In like manner I distinguished the misers, the
spendthrifts, the madcaps, the bullies, the good fathers and mothers,
the mothers given to flirting, and the incorrigibly bad sons; and
particularly thieves of every shade, from the sharper moving in good
society, who cheats at the card-table, to the more daring robber who
takes to the highway. I should have said of the one, “Here is an ape
who would loll in his carriage if he had only a white cravat;” of the
other, that “he would be safe to be hung if he only happened to wear
a coat.”
As apes are far more saleable animals when their natural talent for
imitation is developed by the aid of education, I made a point of
putting most of those in my collection through a course of instruction,
the object of which was to render them more attractive and engaging
in the eyes of intending purchasers. I taught them, for instance, to
throw somersaults, to jump through hoops, to dance, to play the
tambourine, to march, to fence, and to salute in approved military
style. Many among them, I admit, were unwilling scholars, and
chafed and fretted under the tuition they received; some so much so,
indeed, that, as is commonly the case with members of the human
family, they could only be persuaded to prosecute their studies by
the lively fear of a little wholesome correction. All this, however,
arose simply from their not knowing so well as I did what was really
for their own advantage.
Spite of the many little tiffs which arose between us in our several
capacities of master and scholars, I conceived, in my character of