Such Wicked Intent

  “There’s no one out here,” I said, eager to get back inside.

  “Maybe he’s in the stables,” she said.

  “Elizabeth, he’s not—”

  “We should’ve opened the door faster.”

  I began to wonder if maybe she was still sleepwalking, and pinched her arm.

  “I’m awake!” she said with a fiery look.

  “We’ll have the dogs up if we don’t get back,” I said. “We’ll wake the household.”

  But she insisted on entering the stables. The horses were familiar with the two of us, and softly snorted their greetings. After a night of phantasms I was comforted by their solid, friendly presence.

  “No one here,” I said, quickly walking the length of the stable, looking into the stalls and tack room.

  Elizabeth frowned and headed back out to the courtyard, squinting into the night.

  “It was a branch against the door,” I said impatiently.

  I took her elbow and steered her toward the door, but she pulled her arm free and walked on ahead. Inside, I closed the door and quietly bolted it.

  “Victor,” she whispered, and something in the choked tone of her voice sent a chill through me.

  She was pointing at the floor of the cloakroom. Muddy footprints led down the hall into the house.

  We said not a word, only followed the trail with all possible speed. My body felt strangely light, my heartbeat thudding in my ears. My left hand, I realized, still clenched the walking stick. The footprints led us to the base of the main staircase, and I looked up and thought I saw a shadowy figure disappearing from sight. I vaulted up the stairs, Elizabeth at my side.

  The footprints were fainter now, little more than a smudge of heel and big toe. We passed Elizabeth’s bedchamber, then mine. After that the trail disappeared altogether, but down the dark hallway I heard the telltale sound of a door opening. I rushed ahead.

  The door to the nursery was ajar, and my pulse raged in apprehension as I slipped inside. A curtain had been left open. Frantic moonlight, filtered through the branches of a wind-whipped tree, filled the room.

  There it was, leaning over little William’s crib, reaching down with both hands. It had grown yet more and had the body of a strapping thirteen-year-old. It was completely naked, and in the turbulent light the silhouette of its face was not Konrad’s. It was that same brutal face I’d seen in the forest—an aggressively jutting jaw, a low heavy brow. It was the expression of an animal sighting its prey. My pulse became a warrior’s drumbeat, and I strode toward the creature, the stick raised over my shoulder. It saw me coming and whirled with a low whine that sounded to me like a hungry growl. Its muscled arm lifted to ward off my blow.

  Elizabeth sped ahead of me and placed her body between us.

  “Konrad, it’s all right,” I heard her whisper as she took the creature by the shoulders. She looked back at me severely. “Put that down. You’ve frightened him!”

  I did not put it down but lowered it only slightly as I stepped hurriedly to the crib to check on William. My littlest brother was deep asleep. He looked completely unharmed, but I made sure his chest was rising and falling. Beside him in his crib was the soft felt doll Elizabeth had given the creature a few days ago.

  My eyes met Elizabeth’s. She’d seen it too but said nothing. The creature had wrapped its arms around her, and she was stroking its hair soothingly. It was now the same height as Elizabeth, and its resemblance to my twin was uncanny. It gazed at me with wide frightened eyes.

  I heard a murmur and turned to see Ernest shift in his bed at the far end of the chamber. In the adjoining room was their nurse, Justine. Elizabeth lead the docile creature out, and in the hallway I closed the door softly behind me. We hurried away.

  “What did you think he was going to do?” she demanded.

  I said nothing.

  “He was just giving William his doll,” she insisted.

  There was not time for me to speak, or order the maelstrom of my thoughts.

  “We need to get it out of here,” was all I said. “Back to the cottage.”

  For a moment I thought Elizabeth was going to object, but she nodded. We made our way downstairs to the cloakroom, found coats and boots for all of us, and stepped out into the windy night.

  We walked with the creature between us. Even now, when it looked so much like my brother, so much like me, I didn’t like to touch it. I did not take my eyes off it, for fear it would transform once more and lunge at me. But it only watched the moonlit clouds, the stars, the swaying silhouette of the distant wind-racked forest. When we were little more than halfway to the cottage, it began to stumble, and I realized it was falling asleep on its feet. It was still growing so fast that it couldn’t stay awake for long.

  When I finally made out the dark outlines of the cottage, Elizabeth said, “It seems so cruel. He must’ve been cold, or lonely. Why else would he come all this way?”

  By this time the creature was completely asleep, and we had to half carry, half drag it between us. When we reached the shed, I saw an untidy mound of dirt surrounding a ragged hole against one wall.

  “It tunneled out,” I said, taking the key from my robe and unlocking the door.

  Inside we lowered the sleeping body into its earthen crib, which it almost entirely filled now. Elizabeth loosened its cloak—for its body would surely be growing even more before morning—and covered it with the blanket as the wind lowered outside.

  I looked about and found a short length of rope. One end I tied snugly around the creature’s ankle, and the other to a metal ring on the wall.

  “Is that really necessary?” Elizabeth asked indignantly.

  “You want it escaping again?” I seized a shovel and began filling in the hole it had dug under the wall.

  The creature made a small whimpering sound, and one of its hands patted searchingly at the blanket.

  “He’s missing his doll,” said Elizabeth, distressed. “We should’ve brought it with us.”

  “That’s how it found us,” I said, suddenly realizing. “The smell of the doll.”

  She looked at me dubiously.

  “Remember, outside, I saw the way it sniffed it and looked straight toward the château. He could smell it in the wind. Like a hunting dog.”

  “That seems far-fetched.”

  “Any more far-fetched than birthing a body from mud?”

  We left and locked the cottage, and pulled the cloaks about ourselves, for the wind was at our faces now. As we hunched our way toward home, my words finally burst out of me.

  “Did you see the way it looked in the nursery?” I demanded. “The way it was staring down at William? That was hunger!”

  “It was curiosity! He was giving him back his doll!”

  “Or maybe the thing just dropped it so it could grab William!”

  “What did you think he was going to do?”

  My response was instant. “Eat him!”

  She stared at me as though I were a lunatic.

  “You talk about him like he’s a monster!”

  “Elizabeth, you can’t tell me you didn’t notice this time. When we first entered, it didn’t even look properly human! Its face was completely transformed, and—”

  She was shaking her head. “Did you take laudanum tonight?”

  I forced myself to draw a calming breath. “I’ve never taken the laudanum. Listen to me. Are you absolutely sure this is the body we want Konrad’s spirit to inhabit?”

  “It’s the butterflies, just as I suspected!” she said, voice raised against the wind. “You’ve abused their power, and now you’re seeing things, Victor. How many do you have on you right now?”

  “None,” I said. “I left them behind.”

  “So you went again tonight. I’ve told you, that place is best avoided!”

  A sudden wave of nausea crested over me as I remembered my last visit. My mind felt filled to bursting. “I think you might be right. The thing in the pit is growing. Not growing
, exactly…” The proper word came to me with a chill of cold wind. “We’re waking it.”

  “What?”

  I told her how I’d seen my butterflies disgorge their color into the massive form, invigorating it. “They’re like worker bees, or termites, feeding the queen. And the food is us.”

  “Dear God,” she murmured. She took my hands and looked at me urgently. “Victor, you’ve strayed too long in that place, and I scarcely know whether to trust you. One thing I do know. We need to get Konrad out of there as soon as possible. And this body we’ve grown is his only way out. That is our goal. And after tomorrow night you must bid that place farewell forever. Do you understand?” She took a breath, and her eyes softened. “I know how hard you’ve worked to bring Konrad back. I’m sorry I’ve been so severe with you. You were the one who brought us this wonderful plan, and I know you’ll have the strength to follow through with it. But first you need to rest properly. You’ve let these spirits suckle on you, and they’ve clouded your judgment. You can’t expect to see things clearly and make sound decisions when you’re perpetually exhausted.”

  “I… I don’t recognize myself sometimes,” I murmured, feeling overwhelmed.

  She led me like a child across the fields the rest of the way to the château. Inside, I was surprised when she accompanied me all the way to my bedchamber.

  “Into bed now,” she instructed.

  I did as I was told.

  “You’ll take some laudanum to help you sleep,” she said.

  I looked at the unopened bottle the doctor had left me. My missing fingers throbbed, and I felt fatigued beyond endurance. I sighed, wanting to surrender, wanting sleep. “One measure, no more,” I said.

  “There now,” she said as she held up the dropper and dripped the opiate onto my tongue. She leaned over me and gave me a kiss that almost grazed my mouth, and seemed to promise more. Then she stood and wished me good night.

  After she left, I could still feel the imprint of her lips on my cheek, feel the heat of her face against mine.

  But even as my body grew heavier, and my eyes drooped, I could not forget the creature’s monstrous face in the nursery.

  And then I slept, and dreamed.

  * * *

  I am on a sled pulled by a pack of dogs, hurtling over a plain of ice, exhilarated. The sky is molten lead, lit from the west by a sinking sun. I am traveling north. At the summit of a low hill, the dogs falter, exhausted.

  Before me a massive plate of ice, as big as a field, juts up and grinds over the frozen ground, and I realize that this is not ground at all but the sea, hardened by the same cold that turns the vapor of my breath to ice crystals the moment it leaves my mouth.

  What am I doing in such a forlorn place? Surely I must be nearly at the pole. Are Konrad and I finally having our adventure, just the two of us? But as I cast my eyes to all horizons, I see that I am alone.

  Mercilessly I drive the dogs onward, intent only on moving north, on finding Konrad. Each pulse of my fevered heart is filled with yearning.

  Silhouetted in the distance like a frozen city, great jagged ramparts of ice lean and shriek and crack. My gloved hands are clawed around the reins of the sled.

  My exhilaration is congealing to despair as darkness fast approaches. But then I catch sight of a smudge of movement on the white wastes. Squinting, I make out the telltale shape of a sledge in motion, and standing upon it is a fur-clad figure so familiar that I give a cry of ecstasy. Tears flood my eyes and threaten to freeze them shut before I can clumsily wipe them away with my leather mitt.

  I urge the dogs to give me the last of their flagging strength, to speed me to my heart’s desire.

  I feel as if a promise has been made.

  It is Konrad. My brother lives again.

  CHAPTER 16

  SOMETHING MONSTROUS

  I SLEPT HARD AND WOKE TO A MORNING SO BRIGHT AND STILL that the tempestuous events of the previous night seemed pure impossibility. A maid must already have been to my room, for my curtains were drawn and on my bureau rested a basin of fresh water and a tray of tea and rolls. I stared out at the blue sky and mountains, and remembered my dream of Konrad and me on the ice. For the first time in a long time I felt calm and properly anchored.

  When I looked at my clock, I was surprised to see that it was close to noon. I dressed, and when I stepped out into the hallway, Maria was passing.

  “It seems I’ve overslept,” I said.

  “And I’m glad of it,” she replied, smiling with satisfaction. “You still look peaky, though. You need feeding up.”

  “Have you seen Elizabeth and Henry?” I asked.

  “They checked in on you, but you were dead to the world. I told them to let you sleep.”

  “Where are they?”

  “They headed off on their picnic about an hour ago. They said you’d find them in their usual place. But let me fix you something in the kitchen to tide you over.”

  “Thank you, Maria,” I said, and we walked together toward the main staircase.

  The house was bustling with servants carrying traveling cases and dust sheets, simultaneously starting to put our château to bed for the winter while preparing for our hasty departure to Italy in two days.

  As we passed the library, Professor Neumeyer emerged, looking distinctly dusty and more than a little excited.

  “Ah, good,” he said. “Is your father at home?”

  “He’s gone to Geneva to attend to some business, sir,” said Maria stiffly, scarcely concealing her distaste for this man. To her way of thinking, he’d opened a tomb within our family home and unleashed more misery into it. “And Madame Frankenstein is not to be disturbed.”

  “Of course, of course,” he said, looking expectantly at me now.

  “What have you discovered?” I asked, feeling uneasy.

  “Some remains in the burial pit,” he said. “They were very deep, and it took us some time, but there’s something very interesting indeed.”

  My stomach clenched as I remembered the wailing and thrashing of the fleshy womb in the spirit world, but I heard myself asking, “May I see it, please?”

  “Of course, yes.”

  The professor led me through the caverns I’d become so familiar with, in this world and the one beyond our own. The walls were lit by the amber glow of many lanterns. We passed several dusty workers, stripped to their undershirts, strong limbs gleaming from their recent exertions.

  For the first time my step faltered as we started down the steep passage to the burial chamber. Inside, great mounds of moist, richly stinking earth were piled high, an odor that recalled both rot and a freshly plowed field.

  “The body,” the professor told me, “was not in one piece.”

  A chill prickled my flesh.

  “Has it just decayed over time?” I asked.

  “No. It was intentionally massacred. Whoever he was, his people must have thought there was a chance he might somehow return. Clearly he was greatly feared. Come. See.”

  The professor led me to the pit, and I could see it had been excavated some seven feet. A ladder led down to the bottom, where many pieces of all different shapes had been carefully laid out. The professor nodded for me to descend.

  “Just mind where you step,” he said, following after me. His voice seemed to come from a long way away. “Originally the body seems to have been buried upright on some kind of elaborate bier—a platform on which the dead were often transported. The ones I’ve typically seen were made of wood. But this one appears to have been constructed entirely of bones.”

  Step by step down the ladder, panic and claustrophobia squeezed tighter upon me. I reached the muddy earth and moved aside to make room for the professor.

  “You can see those long lengths of bone tipped up against the wall, perhaps thigh bones or upper arm bones. Those appear to have been part of the bier.”

  “They’re all hacked apart,” I said, noting their splintered ends.

  “Yes. My guess would
be that the grave was dug up shortly after the burial. The bier was smashed and the body itself torn apart. We’ve only recovered pieces so far.”

  The professor reached down and picked up a large smooth curve of bone. He passed it to me.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “That,” he said, “is part of a skull.”

  I swallowed, remembering the shadowy shape I’d seen within the fleshy membrane, how it had jerked as though turning to look directly upon me. “This… this is huge.”

  The professor nodded. “Perhaps twice the size of a normal man’s. And here.” He picked up a thick wedge of connected bones. “The talus, tarsus, and navicular bones are apparent enough, but the metatarsals seem to be fused together into a single mass.”

  “I’m sorry. What part of the body is this?” I asked, my empty stomach giving an unpleasant twist.

  “That is a foot,” he said. “A clubbed one, curiously.”

  I swallowed. “It’s so large that it seems more of a hoof.”

  “Most unusual, I agree.”

  “Professor, what was this creature?”

  For a moment he looked as shaken as I felt. “Young sir, I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s possible, of course, that this was merely a person of giant proportions—though, I’ve certainly never heard an account of one so big. And there are always rumors in my field of study, things that defy scientific explanation. Things so bizarre they could only be monsters.”

  He bent low and picked up something else.

  “And here, the last piece we’ve recovered so far.”

  He passed me an L-shaped span of bone that I knew at once was part of a very large jaw. On the lower half some teeth were still attached.

  They were not the teeth of a human. But I’d seen the like before. They were all strangely serrated into four points, still venomously sharp.

  They were just like the one I’d seen on the creature Elizabeth had already named Konrad.

  * * *

  I ran across the pastures, vaulting fences. As I neared the cottage, my sweat was icy against my skin. I flung open the door to find the place deserted. They must’ve taken him to the glade again. Before I left, I grabbed a shovel.